It seems more than apparent that 43-year-old Rickey Henderson is going to make the Boston Red Sox team that heads north next weekend. This will be his 14th stop in his major-league career, with station stops in Oakland, the Bronx, Oakland again, Toronto, Oakland again, San Diego, Anaheim, San Diego a second time, Oakland a fourth time, Flushing Meadows (Mets), Seattle, Mets again, and a third go-round with the Padres. Now, here he is, apparently ready to don the uniform of his eighth team over his 24-year career.

A great story, right?

He’s shown grit and determination and proved that he can still play the game. Heartwarming, Cinderella-like, brings a tear to the eye. Nobody will get a bigger ovation on Opening Day in the Fens than Rickey Henderson.

Right?

Rickey has shown himself in spring training to be a team player, willing to sacrifice playing time in order to get his shot. He’s saying all the right things — about not needing to be a starter, about wanting to help the younger players benefit from his wealth of knowledge and experience, about being grateful to the Red Sox for taking a chance on him. This is the Rickey Henderson we’ve come to know and love over the years, after all.

Right?

He’s a future Hall-of-Famer, with 3000 career hits and the major-league record for most runs scored, walks, and stolen bases in a career. He’s a lifetime .280 hitter, and only three times in his illustrious career has he played fewer than 100 games in a season. He’s made the All-Star game 10 times and is considered the greatest lead-off hitter of all time. He’s just what the Sox need.

Right?

Well, this gets a little complicated if you’re the type of person who believes that a leopard doesn’t change its spots, because Henderson, despite the glowing reviews he’s getting in Fort Myers, has always been a me-first player. The fact that he’s played on so many teams demonstrates that either he’s prone to follow the money — wherever that may lead — or he’s a troublemaker who wears out his welcome quickly among teammates and management. Unfortunately, it also could be both.

Rickey was the first $2 million player in the majors, but as soon as the Twins’ Kirby Puckett passed him in salary, his numbers seemed to drop off. Wherever he has landed, controversy and arrogance have usually followed, and his negative effect on clubhouse karma is legendary, this spring notwithstanding. After stealing third base to break Lou Brock’s stolen-base record in 1991, Henderson stood up, pulled up the base from its moorings, raised it over his head, and announced to the world over the PA system that he was the greatest base-stealer of all time.

He has won World Series titles with the A’s in ’89 and the Jays in ’93, but whether he has been embraced by the fans of the team for which he plays (at that particular moment) is up for debate, with Sox fans getting their first opportunity this spring.

The nadir of his public-relations career was with the Mets two years ago, when he was released amid massive booing by the Shea Stadium faithful after marginal performances and public and private confrontations with manager Bobby Valentine. He had also refused to join the team for a trip to Japan (before ultimately relenting) and was reported to be playing cards in the clubhouse with fellow malcontent Bobby Bonilla during three innings of a critical NLCS game versus the Braves in 1999.

I have always grudgingly admired Henderson’s talents, but I’ve never liked his hot-dogging style and "show me the money" mentality. At bat, he always seemed to duck out of the way or do deep knee bends as the pitch approached, thereby making the pitch seem appear high as it crossed the plate. Chicanery like this perhaps explains why he holds the career base-on-balls record.

Now he appears at the doorstep of Red Sox Nation, hat in hand, hoping to extend a career dominated by otherworldly stats, but lugging a clubhouse reputation that would fit in perfectly with the malcontents and frauds that filled the Fenway dressing room last September.

Boston sports fans have been put in this position before, as when hated pugilist Chris Nilan, long despised by the Garden gods during his tenure with the hated Montreal Canadiens, was signed as a free agent by the Bruins in 1990. Local hockey fans ultimately embraced his work ethic and his penchant for being a pest and mixing it up with the opposition (in essence, the same attributes that they hated in him before). More often than not, reviled players on the visiting team can be converted to one of our own simply by putting on the jersey of the home team. Yeah, he’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s our obnoxious bastard.

It also happened with the Patriots’ Bryan Cox, who was considered a boor and a moaner as long as he played for the Bears, Dolphins, and (particularly) Jets. But once he put the flying Elvis on his head last fall, fans perceived that his passion and leadership would bolster the New England defense. His previous reputation was erased, and he quickly became one of the good guys.

Whether Bill Laimbeer or local sports villains of his ilk would ever have been accepted into the Boston fans’ fold is a story for another day, but apparently we will have our chance to let Rickey Henderson show us that he has either matured (hallelujah!) or finally just "got it." I’m willing to cut him a break and give him a chance, but for every Nilan and Cox in this town who did gain fan favor, there has also been a Wil Cordero or Carl Everett whose transgressions were never forgiven.

Play hard, Rickey. Keep your mouth shut, find a way to act humble and grateful (certainly uncharted territory), and we’ll let you know that we like you. We really, really like you.

But those spots have got to change, brother. See you on April Fools’ Day.

Sporting Eye runs Mondays and Fridays at BostonPhoenix.com. Christopher Young can be reached at cyoung[a]phx.com.