THEY all think they know, and they don't. Not fully.
Roger Clemens didn't. Jason Giambi didn't. Alex Rodriguez didn't.
"Until you play as a home player before this crowd, in this atmosphere, until you experience every pitch, every homer being scrutinized, you really have no idea," Tino Martinez said.
So Randy Johnson does not know yet. He should not think that little confrontation on Madison Avenue and its aftermath has much to do with what awaits tonight and continues until sometime in October. Around 8 p.m., the real education of Johnson commences. His learning curve, as much as his slider, may determine how far into October these 2005 Yankees go.
The Yanks need Johnson to be a No. 1 starter in every way. That covers the standard stuff that goes with the title of ace: 220 innings, 18-20 wins. But for the Yankees of this era it involves more.
It means not inflating those totals simply against the Devil Rays and Royals, but staring down the Red Sox from April through the ALCS and providing cover to ease the transitions of Carl Pavano and Jaret Wright. It means being the man to end the first four-game losing streak that has George Steinbrenner issuing his first babbling "Winners never quit" press release. It means being the man to end the four-year title-less stretch.
Johnson will not exactly be dipping his toe into his new environment, either. He goes right to the deep end. He will throw the first pitch of the 2005 season against the Red Sox, against David Wells, on national TV. This is his introduction to The Monster, the overwhelming cocktail of voluminous media, demanding fans, unrivaled history, bottomless finances and overbearing Boss that makes playing for the Yankees unique.
"I actually think it is a good thing that he starts against the Red Sox rather than have that wait until July," Martinez said. "This way you knock two things out of the way the first time out."
It will only be a good thing if after seven innings tonight he is walking toward the dugout to a standing ovation, having taken a positive first step into The Rivalry and The Monster. Of course, a good first step assures nothing, nor does a misstep guarantee failure.
Javier Vazquez held the White Sox to two hits in the home opener and his Yankees debut last April, and Kevin Brown beat the Devil Rays three times in three cities to initiate his season. Johnson is here in large part because of the disaster those two pitchers became, swallowed whole by The Monster.
Martinez, on the other hand, had a first three weeks in April 1996 to suggest he never would shed Don Mattingly's shadow, yet his return to pinstripes as a hero says otherwise. Gary Sheffield had one homer last April and nearly won AL MVP.
So while Johnson is about to endure an Opening Day start that in attention and relevance will feel greater than his other 12 combined, it will merely be part of the mosaic that will determine whether the Big Unit tames The Monster.
Recent history is no ally. The Yanks tend to obtain one player that in reputation and salary symbolizes that offseason. The acclimation for those types —Giambi, Hideki Matsui and A-Rod — was slow and often agonizing. But the comparable for Johnson is Clemens, who arrived with 230 wins in 449 career starts, his Cooperstown ticket already punched, a reputation for hard work and a game face that was supposed to be impervious to all elements.
Aside from 246 wins and 479 starts, Johnson comes with the same credentials. Clemens could not freeze out the world, having his worst season as a Yankee in his first year. The Yanks won it all in 1999 anyway because they were talented and mentally tough enough to carry Clemens when need be. These Yankees are more fragile. Johnson cannot be carried; he must do the carrying.
So the Yankees must hope that Johnson's adaptability is like his fastball: very, very quick. http://www.nypost.com/sports/yankees/43744.htm