In some corner of Jorge Posada's mind, he knows that collisions are bound to happen. He's aware that crashes -- such as the one he endured when Eric Hinske bowled into him last Saturday in Boston -- are a part of his profession, and so he's as prepared as possible for each and every one of them.
But still, they hurt.
And they're also an awfully sharp barometer to measure the resilience that separates a good catcher from a great one.
Take Saturday, for example. A 235-pound man -- running about as quickly as 235-pound men are able -- had just flattened Posada with all the grace of a wrecking ball. And Posada didn't seem to care. His head was ringing and his neck twisted back, yet his priority remained unchanged. The catcher just wanted to catch. It's what he does.
As far as baseball plays go, this one ranked with comparable rarity to a grand slam or a complete-game shutout. But what was even remarkable was what unfolded next.
A day later, Posada mustered his way back onto the field, confined to a designated-hitter role that wasn't quite his idea. And two days later, he was back to his old -- or perhaps new -- tricks, pounding out three hits and leading his team to yet another win.
It seems for all his bumps and bruises, and all the mounting friction of a decade starting behind the plate, Posada is experiencing something of a renaissance at the age of 36. He's not just having a good season for a catcher -- he's having a remarkable season for anyone. And as far as aging backstops go, he's posting arguably the best season in the history of the game.
"Believe me," said first-base coach Tony Pena. "It's very, very tough to do what he's done."
Sure, Posada's not that old, but as far as catchers go, he long ago began ringing up a senior discount. Catching, it seems, is a unique position. Between the incessant foul balls denting the wires of his mask, the constant crouch wreaking havoc on his knees, and -- lest we forget -- those all-too-common collisions, Posada's body has once again morphed into an oversized punching bag. That much is par for the course in the game's most demanding position.
What's not is how he's been able to ignore all of that, shove it aside, then step up to the plate and once more bend the boundaries of what's possible.
"You're getting older," said Andy Pettitte, who's been reunited this season with his most familiar backstop. "But if you take care of yourself, you feel like you can almost put out some of the better years of your career." Try one of the better years in history. Since Roosevelt was in office -- the first Roosevelt (Theodore, 1901-09), mind you -- only three catchers on the wrong side of 30 have finished a season batting .320 or higher with at least 20 homers and 85 RBIs. One of them, Bill Dickey, is in the Hall of Fame, and another one, Mike Piazza, is headed there. The third of them, Javy Lopez, was also the oldest to do it, clocking in at 32 years and change.
Posada has already posted a .335 average, 20 homers and 85 RBIs, with 10 games remaining. And at 36, he's also the oldest of that bunch by no small margin. Even Piazza, widely considered to be the greatest offensive catcher of all time, was well on his way to becoming a part-time player by the time he hit 36.
The only catcher in history, in fact, to match Posada's power totals at such an advanced age was Carlton Fisk, who in 1985 went as far as to mash one homer for each of his 37 years. But even Fisk hit only .238 that summer, while Posada's .335 mark is fourth in the league.
"It's easier to do when you have something else to occupy your mind," manager Joe Torre said, alluding to the pennant race. "The last thing on Jorge's mind is what his batting average is."
Still, it's hard to ignore. And all of it from a catcher whose primary job is to steady a pitching staff that's been about as stable as a chemistry lab.
For all the responsibility heaped on Posada this season -- the Yankees have wrung out usefulness from a franchise-record 28 pitchers, nine of whom have made their Major League debuts -- he's seemingly gotten better. Torre lauds his catcher's improved defense around the plate, while Pettitte raves about Posada's refined ability to call a game. But what stands out most is the hitting.
In some ways, it doesn't make sense. While his power totals are right in line with what the Yankees expect, Posada's average is off the charts. He's never hit .300 in a season, let alone .335. And in September, at a time when even the sturdiest catchers are fighting just for their health, he's bounced that mark up to a robust .396.
Posada can't even feign an explanation. He swears he hasn't changed a thing -- that it all boils down to some heavy winter workouts, and an acute sense of how to care for his body throughout the season's grind.
"[I'm] just having a good year," he shrugs. "We're all just kind of having a good year."
But we all don't play the diamond's most demanding position, and we're all not the hottest thing this side of A-Rod. It's not as if Posada is immune to all the pains of catching. Far from it. He enjoys his regular off-days, sure, but he's already caught over 130 games for an eighth straight year. That's well over 1,000 innings crouched behind the plate, at the mercy of foul balls and flailing bats and 235-pound Red Sox players.
The trick, claims Posada, as well as former catchers Pena and Torre, is to keep all those pains out of mind -- "mental conditioning," the manager calls it.
"Some days are better than others," Posada said. "You try to block everything out and just go. You've just got to find a way of being healthy."
Oh, so that's it. Just ignore the bumps, the bruises, the nicks and the dings, ignore the scrapes and the cuts and all those fun headaches, and pretend like none of them exist.
"You have to forget about hitting when you're catching, and forget about catching when you're hitting," explains backup catcher Jose Molina.
Molina paused, considering what he just said. "That's one of the hardest things, you know?"
Difficult at 25, impossible at 35. Or so it seemed, until Posada began doing things that had never been done before. And that makes him yearn to stretch the boundaries of possibility until they snap.
He'd love to play until he's 40 or -- "knock on wood," he said -- beyond. And this season gives him hope that he can. His contract is up this year, and the Yankees have made it perfectly clear that they won't be discussing a new one until the offseason. And while Posada has made it equally clear that his heart lies in the Bronx, other possibilities are sure to tempt.
Simply put, there won't be many starting catchers to be had this winter. Posada is one, and Ivan Rodriguez -- should the Tigers decline their option, which they certainly might not -- could be another. Paul Lo Duca, Michael Barrett and Jason Kendall are all for hire, but none of them have come even close to Posada's production, and none of them are particularly young.
What that means is that someone -- or more likely, everyone -- will offer Posada a fat contract this winter, and he'll ink the type of deal that 36-year-old catchers aren't supposed to see.
Which makes sense, considering Posada's doing a lot of things that 36-year-old catchers aren't supposed to do. The Yankees know that best, and they know if they don't re-sign their rock, they'll lose a heavy chunk of offense with no way to replace it. Not to mention that they'll drop one of only four teammates -- Derek Jeter, Pettitte and Mariano Rivera are the others -- who have had a hand in all four of this generation's World Series championships for the Yankees.
Four, of course, isn't the goal. Five is, for now, and with the way Posada's career has accelerated, six or seven would work just fine, too.
And perhaps that's the trick. As the Yankees have slowly climbed back into contention this summer, Posada's season has simultaneously bridged the gap from remarkable to unthinkable. He's been an engine behind that comeback every step of the way, and it's only fair that the energy flows both ways.
So maybe -- just maybe -- all those Yankees victories have become something of a band-aid for a catcher who either doesn't notice his pain or just doesn't care.
"When you are in the pennant race, you don't feel anything," Pena said, as if to further the theory. "You don't feel any pain. There's only one thing on your mind."
And it's certainly not a collision.
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