Unsolved Miseries

Faced with describing the current plight of the Yankees , The Record of Bergen , N.J. , responded on Sunday with a story that began: "It's no secret that Alex Rodriguez has sunk to the bottom of a cesspool filled by self-doubt."

Ignoring for a moment the imagery involved--are there also septic systems of shame, latrines of laziness?--the sentiment is telling for two reasons. First, it's indicative of the drubbing Rodriguez , or "E-Rod" as the tabloids have taken to calling him, has taken in New York of late. Second, it is essentially accurate.

The nadir came last weekend. After Rodriguez made five errors in five games (hence the E-Rod tag), Yankees manager Joe Torre mercifully installed him as the DH last Saturday, an admission that his star player might need a mental health day. Rodriguez was back at third base the next afternoon and survived without an error. But he did go 0 for 4, prolonging a 4-for-22 slump riddled with ugly strikeouts. (He whiffed four times during his DH stint.) His .277 average is his lowest since his rookie year, and his power numbers--21 home runs and 71 RBIs--also sag below his lofty standards. Regardless, after Saturday's game, Rodriguez told reporters, "I still feel good."

It was classic A-Rod , whose public party line could be summed up as, "Move along, there's nothing to see here." During his tenure in New York , he has seemed distant, orchestrated and disingenuous. Things are always fine, nothing ever bothers him, obstacles are reconfigured as challenges. He would make a wonderful press secretary someday.

Sure, we've seen meltdowns like this before, but none have been endured by such a talented figure, or as heavily scrutinized. Rodriguez is on track to be the greatest ever; last week he became the youngest player to hit 450 home runs. This is not Nick Anderson missing free throws; this is Michael Jordan , in his prime, air balling layups, Joe Montana flubbing spirals.

Worse, Rodriguez has no social capital to spend in New York . There is no leeway, no understanding. He hits a home run and the hordes wonder why it came during a rout (Newsday headline: if it doesn't count, count on a-rod). He goes to Central Park with his family, as he did last week, and he's painted as vain (for taking his shirt off) and unprepared (he made three errors that night, leading news outlets to speculate a rather unlikely cause and effect). He biffs a play, and teammates proffer not the usual no-I-in-team-isms but this, from pitcher Mike Mussina , after he threw wide of home against the Jays last week: "All he had to do was throw it on target and [the runner] was out by 20 feet." Ouch.

Unlike, say, Jason Giambi, who has rehabilitated his steroid-tainted image despite looking again like a Frigidaire, A-Rod cannot seem to make a lasting impression unless it's negative. In psychology there's a concept called primacy. When faced with successive pieces of information, humans tend to remember whichever came first. Thus, Rodriguez will forever be remembered as the $252 million man. There is also a recency effect: People tend to recall the last thing that happened, which in Rodriguez's case would be his flameout in the ALDS last fall or his Strangeglove adventures this year. His 2005 MVP season? It's sandwiched in the easily forgotten middle.

None of this would matter if Rodriguez didn't let it. He is famously self-motivated, a guy who lists Jack Welch's Straight from the Gut and Pat Riley 's The Winner Within as his favorite books, but he also admits to reading his own press. When asked recently what he would change about himself, he said, "to be more content with where I am, on and off the field," because "I'm never happy with my performance." He is brave enough to admit he goes to therapy--but maybe some things shouldn't be deconstructed, athletic confidence being one. There's a reason many pros are superstitious, putting on their socks in the same order and eating the same pregame sandwich. Despite immense skill and years of practice, they want to attribute success, and failure, to reasons beyond their control. Strike out and it's not an internal flaw but the gyro you had for lunch.

Perhaps Rodriguez's downfall is that, like New York fans, he is too quick to blame A-Rod . Worry too much, and even throwing to first base gets hard. When Jim McLean , a respected golf teacher, was struggling with tee shots while at the University of Houston , his instructor, 1956 Masters winner Jack Burke Jr. , told him to drive to Galveston and hit three balls into the Gulf of Mexico . As recounted in Golf Digest, McLean said the next day that he'd hit them well, and Burke responded, "Well, gawdam, that's it! You've been steering that s.o.b. out there! You've got to let it go! The Gulf of Mexico 's not big enough for you! Think of the Atlantic Ocean --there's no way to miss it!"

If Rodriguez headed to the Hudson and started heaving baseballs, it might have little effect other than to make the day of tabloid headline writers (a-rod in waterworld!). Still, until he begins to see Yankee Stadium as his own ocean, it will remain a most unnavigable body of water. Like, say, a cesspool.