Julio Cruz with the Sox - triumph followed by sadness

Some memories, like rare wine, improve with age.

One vintage that gets better all the time is the memory of the night of Sept. 17, 1983. Each time I revisit the YouTube clips of the Sox' 1983 American League West clincher against Seattle, the joy keeps flowing back.

As I had perhaps 30 times that summer before I started off to college, I drove to Comiskey Park and bought a lower-deck seat from someone who had extras.

This time, though, I would witness history, the first Chicago baseball championship of any kind in my lifetime.

The climactic moment came as Julio "Juice" Cruz scampered home with the winning run on a Harold Baines sacrifice fly in the bottom of the ninth.

The crowd went bananas, streaming onto the field. I remained anchored to my seat and savored the moment, drinking in both the pandemonium on the field and the dugout celebration on the Diamond Vision screen.

After learning of Cruz' death last week, I clicked on the video of the decisive ninth frame. I was reminded again of why the Sox swapped second basemen with the Mariners on June 15, sending Tony Bernazard, a key player on the 1982 team, to Seattle for Cruz.

That ninth inning belonged to Cruz, who created the kind of pandemonium on the basepaths Sox fans would later see in 2005 from Scott Podsednik.

Once former Seattle teammate Bill Caudill walked Cruz on four pitches, the game was basically over.

Cruz stole second after Caudill made futile attempts to keep him close. After Rudy Law walked and with Carlton Fisk at the plate, Cruz then took menacing steps toward third base, forcing Caudill at one point to turn toward second and start to make a pickoff throw.

When Fisk appeared to strike out swinging, Cruz bolted for third, diving into the bag with another apparent steal. But the umpire ruled Fisk had walked, having checked his swing in time, setting the stage for Baines' bases loaded capper.

Speed was the name of the game for Cruz, as it had been when he was a Mariner, tying Willie Wilson's AL record for consecutive steals with 32 in 1980 and 1981.

In 1983, he stole 57 bases, 24 with the Sox.

"He gave us a spark," former Sox broadcaster Hawk Harrelson said over the phone a few days ago. "He stole some big bases for us. And he was a good teammate. The guys really took to him."

Harrelson took to him as well and convinced Cruz to sign with the Sox in 1984 rather than accept a tempting offer from the Angels. He made five phone calls to Cruz, before Sox owners Jerry Reinsdorf and Eddie Einhorn flew to Seattle to seal the deal.

Reinsdorf told reporters, "If the Hawk hadn't got Julio to meet with us, I don't believe we could have signed him."

The signing package was huge for the time, a six-year contract estimated at the time at $4.8 million.

Reinsdorf said, "Julio will never have to work again after he's through playing."

He was through playing much sooner than Reinsdorf probably expected.

Plagued by injuries, his playing time shrank and his numbers plummeted.

The player who stole 59 bases in 1978 would only steal 29 total from 1984 to 1986.

Occasionally, the old magic would resurface, as in one game against the Yankees.

With a runner on first, Dave Winfield hit a smash up the middle. Cruz dove for the ball, gloved it and flipped it with his glove hand to shortstop Ozzie Guillen who, already running to second, stepped on the bag and relayed to first baseman Greg Walker for a double play.

Ed Sherman, who covered the Sox for the Chicago Tribune, remembered Cruz' frustration in 1986, saying, "There was a baseball sadness about him. He couldn't do what he wanted to do any more and the energy kind of was sapped from him. He was kind of a background player, to be honest with you, on that team."

Sherman, who spoke by phone, remembered, "He actually had a good spring training. And then he got hurt right before opening day."

In March 1987, Cruz, only 32, was given his release by Sox GM Larry Himes, Cruz' first manager, with Idaho Falls in 1974. With second base already clogged with infielders Donnie Hill, Fred Manrique and Jerry Royster, there was no more room for the Juice.

The Sox were still tied to Cruz by an expensive contract. As Sherman reported in 1987, the Sox would pay Cruz $300,000 for each of the next three years, then $5.64 million in deferred payments for 15 years, beginning in 1994.

It was a sad end for someone who, during one glorious season, created indelible memories for Sox fans.

I think I'll watch that ninth inning again.