Elite company

Rice himself could have commanded top dollar as a free agent, but opted not to test the market.

“I didn’t think about going for the money,’’ he says. “And at the time, where were you going to go? The only place you could go was New York, and I didn’t want to go to New York. I had already established myself here. My wife loved it here, my kids were born here. Why pack up and go anyplace else?’’

So Rice stayed and eventually was named captain. He hadn’t sought the role and, like Yaz before him, didn’t want the unofficial spokesman duties that came with it. He’d never been comfortable with the daily give-and-take with the press, particularly if they wanted comments about his teammates, the manager, or the front office.

“I didn’t have an issue with any writers,’’ Rice says. “I think writers had an issue with me and the issue was one thing: I never would tell them what they wanted to hear. I didn’t think I should be a mouthpiece for my teammates when I have no idea.

“My trouble wasn’t being nasty to writers. If you’ve got anything to ask me about my teammates or the front office, go ask them. If you want to talk about me, about why I screwed up tonight, I will tell you. Anything besides that, that’s not me.’’

Rice approached the captaincy much as Yastrzemski had.

“By being a veteran player and being a leader and by the numbers I put on the board,’’ he says. “That was more of a captain symbol than anything else.’’

Genuine numbers

Had his body not broken down, Rice might well have had the numbers to make it to the Hall earlier. His last great year came in 1986, when he hit .324 with 200 hits, 110 RBIs, and 20 homers, helping the Sox to their first pennant in 11 years. His final three seasons were shortened by knee and elbow injuries that required surgery and in 1989, after the front office told him he wouldn’t be asked back, Rice retired at 36.