Ramirez still being Manny

After he arrived at the clubhouse at 4:10 p.m. he walked right past people he’s known for years. He barely acknowledged fans trying to get his attention. He laughed it up with David Ortiz, and other Sox players who knew him gave him a nudge or a tap with their bats as he made his way near the batting cage. There were a few stray signs trumpeting Ramirez’s return and even Sox owner John Henry waited for him in the dugout just to say hello.

Unfortunately, he did not play left field so we weren’t able to enjoy his fielding antics or a visit inside the Wall. So we settled for his at-bats as the designated hitter.

When he sauntered to the on-deck circle in the first inning, Ramirez was booed pretty loudly. When the second inning rolled around and he made his way to the plate as the leadoff hitter, there was a mixed ovation.

There were those who obviously wanted to forgive and forget and remember the great hitter he was and the two world championships in which he played a part. That seemed to be the Ramirez Henry remembered. The other half simply decided to boo. How can you cheer a player who quit on his team, who punched a 65-year-old traveling secretary who had done everything he possibly could for him? How could you cheer someone who marched to his own drummer and often showed such disrespect?

Earlier this week, Boston.com ran a poll asking whether fans would boo Ramirez. More than 9,000 people answered, with 56 percent indicating they would boo. That poll was pretty accurate. If there weren’t an inordinate number of Dodger fans in the house, the ovation might have been even more negative.

“I think it was mixed,’’ assessed Dodgers manager Joe Torre. “I was satisfied with it. I know what he did to me [when he was with the Yankees] and if it wasn’t for Manny, they wouldn’t have two championships.’’

In time we’ll all get over his tricks. After all, it’s only a baseball game. This isn’t a world leader (thank goodness!) to pass judgment on. He’s one of the most unique players ever because of his savant-like hitting methods, which have produced some of the greatest statistics in baseball history, and the complete oblivion he seems to live in.