Enter Sandman

It has been an extraordinary run and it has been a privilege to watch as the youngsters of the '96 team -- Posada, Jeter, and Mariano Rivera -- grow up, two of whom will be first-ballot HOFers and the other, Posada, will likely be a source of argument until, hopefully, he's in there too.

But more than anyone, Mariano Rivera has been the most interesting to watch. Quiet, professional, human, Mo has simply dominated, year after year, long after many ninth inning pitchers have flamed to stardom only to flameout. And he does it, basically, with one pitch. A pitch thrown more or less at the same speed, in the same place, over and over again. The hitters know what's coming. Still Rivera nails down the saves. In the regular season and, with a few painful exceptions, the post season.

Salmon continued: “Without a doubt, he’s the biggest reason they were the team that they were. They had a great team all the way around, but they had a guy they knew could close the door every night.”

Salmon, who retired in 2006 after 14 seasons, faced Rivera 12 more times after Rivera’s debut. He never reached base again. The pitcher who seemed so ordinary as a starter had perfected a cutter that may still be the most effective weapon in baseball.

“It just got on you so quick, with the cutting action,” Salmon said. “I never even squared another ball up on him. Any kind of good swing was a foul tip or maybe something off the end of the bat. He was sort of magicianlike. It was like I had a hole in my bat.”

Salmon played with three renowned closers: the hulking Lee Smith, whose 478 saves rank third on the career list, behind Rivera and Trevor Hoffman; Troy Percival, whose high leg kick and violent delivery confounded hitters; and Francisco Rodriguez, a mess of arms and legs flying in all directions.

Rivera is different. His mechanics are pristine, with no wasted energy. He comes at hitters in an easy, fluid motion, lulling them to sleep and then carving them up. One at-bat a night is not enough for most hitters to adjust.

“I faced guys who were more intimidating, in the sense that you don’t see the ball, or they’re throwing so hard, it’s just power,” Salmon said. “But it was real comfortable to hit off him, because he wasn’t doing anything special. You see the ball and you start to swing, and it jumps and it’s by you, and you’re like, ‘What happened?’ It just always surprised me.”

Rivera is 39, but his stuff remains so sharp that since April 21, 2007, he has converted 87 of 91 save opportunities, the best rate in the majors. More than his pitches, though, Rivera has an unwavering ability to compartmentalize every game, to never let one outing bleed into the next. And he knows his body, conserving pitches in the winter and the bullpen, throwing just enough to be ready for maximum effort when needed.

Jonathan Papelbon, the Red Sox all-star closer who is as emotional on the mound as Rivera is reserved, stated recently that he'd "consider" closing for the Yankees. When asked about this the other night Rivera laughed and said, "He have to wait until I'm retired." When will that be? "When I'm not competitive." Papelbon may prove to have been another flameout before that happens.