Something very unique and human made the knuckleballer a special man to root for.
In 19 big league seasons, of which 17 were in Boston, Tim Wakefield never knuckled under to the temptation to give anything but his best.Time will tell if the 2012 Red Sox are a better team without Tim Wakefield, or worse.
We do know this. Without him, this multi-million dollar corporation whose business is baseball will be more antiseptic, a little less human and a little less fun to root for.
Wakefield's retirement on Friday was a day everyone knew was coming. Many people think it should have come last month or a year ago at this time.
He still thinks he can pitch in the big leagues. He is probably right, but at what price?
Last year, Wakefield won one game after July 24. It allowed him to reach 200, but the flat ending left a mostly empty feeling.
Pitching elsewhere would deny Wakefield a chance to pass all-time Red Sox victory leaders Roger Clemens and Cy Young.
Wakefield was once a teammate of Clemens. The sport's jokesters will tell you he was also a teammate of Young's.
In the end, Wakefield was gently forced out of Boston. He was offered a minor league contract with a chance to make the team, but in reality, the Red Sox were planning to move on without him.
His pursuit of the victory record did matter to him, but in the larger picture, Wakefield was never measured by the sport's two prevailing yardsticks - money or stats.
That is what I will miss about him most.
In an increasingly computerized baseball world, where sabermetrics reduce every twitch to a math equation, Wakefield's contribution defied practical numerical measurement.
He was too different and too human to fit the mold. His style could drive you nuts, but every time you wanted to turn away, he'd go on a run you did not want to miss.
Every Wakefield start was a mini-drama. Would he have it? Would he not?
Wakefield's career was a rollercoaster ride, but the final results were admirable. They made all those nervewracking moments well worth the trip.
As more Red Sox stars became defined by their contract sizes, it was also refreshing to debate the merits of a player on performance, not investment return.
What made Wakefield most unique was how his battles, played out in the rarefied air of big league baseball, seemed so much like our own.
His thing was about being accepted and respected - not as a knuckleball throwing oddity, but as a major league athlete with his own unique way of contributing.
He sought what most people seek in the workplace - success, a feeling of contribution and a fair shake.
He didn't totally receive it until he was 37 years old. Terry Francona arrived and let Wakefield know how much he appreciated him.
He did not take Ole Wake for granted. That meant a lot to Wakefield.
It would mean a lot to a lot of people.
We sometimes forget that Wakefield has been a remarkable athlete, a former infielder whose body kept him in the majors until middle age.
We fretted about his pitching, far more than he felt was appropriate or necessary. But we never booed him.
We still see the videos of Wakefield trudging off the mound in 2003, devastated by Aaron Boone's home run. But we also know he came back to pitch Game 1 of the 2004 World Series and was soon part of a champion.
If Wakefield can get off the floor, we could silently ask ourselves, why can't we?
Wakefield later said the Boone home run was traumatizing because he feared he would never be forgiven. Perhaps having learned from the cruelty of the Bill Buckner treatment, the fans instead bonded with him more than ever.
Every start, and sometimes every inning, felt like a venture into the unknown. Yet he won 200 games and helped the Red Sox win two World Series titles.
He was one man, fighting the good fight and winning more often than not. We suffered with him when he lost, but we savored his victories, in an unusually personal way.
My time line for measuring the aging process is simple. If you can remember Carlton Fisk's 1975 home run, you're old or getting there.
Tim Wakefield was 9 when Fisk's ball hit the foul pole, so he qualifies. Even if he feels he's been pushed into retirement too soon, it's time.
This does not erase the bittersweet feeling as Wakefield leaves the stage. He was such an unusual, one-of-a-kind player that it's hard to call him the face of the Red Sox.
It is truer that he was a large part of its soul. The club will find pitchers to fill his innings, but they won't be able to replace that.