From Party Boy to Budding Bodhisattva

Let's not exaggerate. Former baseball star and current Mets broadcaster Keith Hernandez has not turned from the brink of nirvana to return to the world and, Buddha-like, apply his compassionate heart as a balm for humanity.

As far as we know.

But a lot of life-experience-ground gets covered when you go from GQ magazine cover boy in 1986 to man-with-bed-head and a cat on his shoulder while shambling out to retrieve the morning newspaper from the driveway. It's not the epoch-changing journey of Siddhartha — fair play  — but an utter transformation nonetheless.

That said, when Hernandez swung by WNYC on Monday to hawk his latest book on The Brian Lehrer Show, he was less enlightened being and more what you'd expect: a practiced celebrity who posed for photos and absorbed stories. Fellow WNYC reporter Fred Mogul told him one about his grandfather, a minor league player in the 1920s who came to believe that Hernandez was the best-fielding first baseman he'd ever seen.

"Fielding?" Hernandez mischievously replied, as in, what about my hitting? Wouldn't you like to compliment that, too?

Let's talk about his hitting. Hernandez won the National League batting title over the legendary Pete Rose in 1979, and his 17-year career stats are truly elite, if not quite Hall of Fame caliber. Yet when he talks about his playing days, he's less likely to dwell on those achievements than on what it cost to realize them, like the knot in his stomach before a game as he worries for the thousandth time if he'll get a hit, or maybe two, tonight. Because he really needs to get some hits tonight.

"I always performed out of fear of failure — and that's a tough way to play," he told us in an interview after his turn on the air. "It was as if my back was to the wall and I was constantly surrounded by very dangerous people that were not friendly to me."

This is not the way a star athlete typically talks about his career.

"When I got out of the game, my life became much more relaxed, even in the booth," he said. "I don't have to get a base hit in the ninth inning. I'm just sitting up there talking."

As a Mets announcer, Hernandez will tell stories at his own expense, grouse about bad plays like an exasperated uncle, talk about needing to get home to feed his cat Hadji.

Tweeting out that video of himself and Hadji has further complicated his image. It reveals a man who has shed a load of vanity, a quasi-neurotic yet semi-contented guy with far less need to project the glamour that once defined him. Of course that makes him all the more endearing. The 2-minute video has been viewed and retweeted and commented on a trillion million times, roughly speaking, give or take.

"I am a human being," he said at the end of our brief interview by way of a summary statement. "I have anxiety. I have doubts. And I'm not afraid to put it out there."

That doesn't quite count as wisdom but it definitely qualifies as honest. And that's why, long after the throngs who cheered him have moved on to other idols, he's an even more compelling story now.