Dave Henderson: A man that lit up the baseball diamond

Growing up a fan of the Oakland Athletics in the late 1980s and early 1990s was an experience. The personalities on that team came out in droves on the television screen and when you are sitting at the Oakland Coliseum with Mount Davis as the backdrop.

Of course, the likes of Mark McGwire, Jose Canseco, Rickey Henderson and Dave Stewart were the faces of this all-time great team.

But it was one man that stood above the rest in one aspect — a man that could light up a baseball diamond with his all-out play an affectionate smile.

Already well known in baseball circles when he joined the A’s in 1988, Dave Henderson brought a completely different feeling to the game we loved as children, and still do as adults.

He played baseball for the fun of it. He was someone that we could look up to — a big league player that seemed to have as much fun as we did as small children.

“Hendu,” as he was known during his playing days passed away Sunday at the young age of 57. The immediate cause of Henderson’s untimely death is said to have been a massive heart attack. He had recently fallen ill after undergoing a kidney transplant just a month ago.

We mourn the death of someone that seemed so full of life. We mourn the death not just because Henderson was one of those larger-than-life figures, but because the angel that eternity gained is an almost unbearable loss for those of us who knew him for what he was: A great guy.

On a summer day in 1990, I remember heading to the Oakland Coliseum with my grandfather — a man that acted every part of a father figure to a child without one.

As was the case most of the time we attended an A’s game, we arrived early for batting practice. It was a tradition — something I still hold dear to this day.

Pining for autographs behind the home dugout, Canseco was the guy most young kids were practically throwing their baseball cards and other souvenirs at for an autograph.

In the most Jose of ways, the AL MVP from just a couple years earlier wasn’t having any of it. In the end, he blew us off.

It was Henderson who then emerged from the dugout — likely knowing Canseco for what he was — to take time out of his pregame ritual to sign autographs for us wide-eyed children.

Talking up the fans and asking questions about about our little league “careers,” as he called it, Henderson spent a good 15 minutes interacting with us.

It was then that he became my “new” favorite baseball player.

For many of us, “Henduland” in the center field bleachers became more synonymous with the A’s than the “Bash Brothers.” It was, in all likelihood, mainly due to his ability to make us seem like we were part of the team — part of the team’s success.

We all have stories like this. An athlete stepping up and giving us a memorable sports moment during our adolescence.

Years after Henderson’s retirement from the game, our paths crossed again. This time it was at a sports collectible show in Northern California. I couldn’t tell you who else was in attendance outside of a grumpy former Oakland Raiders linebacker by the name of Ted Hendricks.

But there Henderson was — grayed in the hair — sitting there with a bright smile on his face and chatting up a new generation of young baseball fans. “Man,” I thought to myself. “These kids missed out on watching this dude bring his own brand of excitement to Oakland.”

I didn’t ask for an autograph, nor did I seek to take time from the younger kids at the event.

I just walked up to Henderson in passing. In lieu of any verbal interaction, he winked at me and gave this long-time A’s fan a high five.

I like to believe it was him remembering our encounter in Oakland years before. Though, that obviously wasn’t the case.

Instead, it was an always happy Henderson reaching out to what had been a young kid (one of many) that he impacted growing up.

In his post MLB life, Henderson was rarely seen around the Oakland Coliseum. He served as a broadcaster for the Seattle Mariners, returning to Northern California only when his team was playing the A’s.

He did, however, return for the 25th anniversary celebration of the A’s 1989 championship squad back in 2014, at which point the man that we all knew possessed the grandest of all hearts welcomed a former teammate back into his life:

Canseco continued:

“Just woke up. I am in shock about Dave Henderson I can’t believe it. Just spoke with him a couple weeks ago. Just in shock … My condolences to the Henderson family. We will surely miss him. Let me know if I can do anything.”

This is the type of person we grew up rooting for. Whether we were fans of the Boston Red Sox earlier in his career or enjoyed listening to him broadcast Mariners game, Henderson’s willingness to accept Canseco’s faults wasn’t all too surprising.

Former teammate and current A’s president Billy Beane repeated what so many said about Henderson following his death on Sunday:

“It’s shocking, because Dave was so full of life and he was so powerfully built,” Beane said, via the San Francisco Chronicle. “With his size and his personality, he seemed indestructible.”

It’s times like these that we take a step back and realize just how fragile life itself can be.

An energetic person with personality to match, Henderson will certainly be missed — even by those who only viewed his life from afar. I guess that’s the biggest compliment we can pay to a man whose life ended way too early.

RIP Hendu, we will always remember you for what you were: A man that lit up the baseball diamond with a smile of gold and a passion for life most of us only hope to meet.

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