Amazin' how people still call Mariano Rivera the classiest guy to ever class up a classy classics department, even as he emerges from retirement to throw a former teammate (and alleged friend) under the bus --- for no reason other than to sell a few books, I guess. The unknowable Robinson Cano�s �heart is still� in New York, but this divorce with the Yankees has gotten really weird NEW YORK DAILY NEWS Wednesday, May 7, 2014, 8:54 AM Andy Martino Between enduring weirdly vicious spurts of booing during his return to Yankee Stadium last week, Robinson Cano had the chance to reconnect with some old friends in the organization, people to whom he reveals more of himself than he ever does to the public. �His heart is still here,� says one person who had the chance to catch up with Cano in New York. We never get to see these thoughts and feelings from the opaque superstar, who is now rendered even less knowable by 10pm Eastern start times and his decision to join a franchise that barely seems to exist. But his departure from the Yankees has become strange, a referendum on the heart and guts of a man. Cano arrived in the big leagues with limited English skills, so it is not fair to just call him quiet, and leave it at that -- but even after working to learn the language, he shared little. In the absence of information, we speculate, argue, boo, defend -- everything but actually understand this man who is now gone. The latest flare-up in this divorce between player and city began with an unlikely instigator, Mariano Rivera. In his new memoir, The Closer (written with the great Wayne Coffey and excerpted Tuesday in the Daily News), Rivera said: �This guy has so much talent I don�t know where to start... There is no doubt that he is a Hall-of-Fame caliber (player). It�s just a question of whether he finds the drive you need to get there. I don�t think Robby burns to be the best... You don�t see that red-hot passion in him that you see in most elite players.� Well. You appreciate Rivera�s candor, far preferable to canned compliments. If he believed this, he was right to say it, rather than add another layer of B.S. to a sports world full of it. But you also feel for Cano, who has to be wondering why, after playing 160 or so games every year under a relatively team-friendly contract, he continues to find himself in moments like this. You�ll recall that another Daily News scoundrel, John Harper, wrote the column of the spring this year, giving Yankees hitting coach Kevin Long the opportunity to critique Cano�s vexing decision to run to first base at reduced speeds. �If somebody told me I was a dog,�� Long told Harper, �I�d have to fix that. When you choose not to, you leave yourself open to taking heat, and that�s your fault. For whatever reason, Robbie chose not to.�� I was at Mariners camp in Peoria, Ariz. when this blew up, and asked Cano the first question about it. He was sitting at a table in a news conference room at the team�s complex, probably wishing for an easy, softball, �Welcome to your new team,� sort of Q and A, and instead dealing with the troubling animal comparison. �Robbie, Kevin Long --� At the first three words of the question, Cano stiffened, sitting taller in his chair. More amateur psychologizing, which is all we can do in reading this man: He looked pissed. But then he interrupted with a calm, mature and final response. �I don�t even pay attention to that,� Cano said. �I just want to talk about Seattle. I�m here now. Whatever they said, I�m not going to pay attention to that.� Nor did he seize an opportunity to defend himself last week, when faced with the dumbest fan behavior in recent New York memory. The myopia of a Yankee partisan criticizing anyone for jumping to the highest bidder was thoroughly chronicled after it happened, so we won�t digress here. But none of the heat came from Cano, who instead proved adept at deflecting controversy, and preventing the story from advancing. And yesterday, with Rivera�s comments bouncing all over talk radio and TV, Cano again refused to engage. His measured, classy response to reporters before the Mariners� game in Oakland was: �Everybody has a different opinion. That�s his opinion and I have to respect his opinion. I�m not going to go too far into this. That�s the only thing that I can say. My focus right now is this team. I�m here, we�re winning. I was over there already and now I�m here and now I�m focused on the team. I�m going to be excited for my teammates.� We know little about Robinson Cano, and that will not change. But we now know that when under duress, he prefers to keep his interior life private, or at least among friends. We know that he is able to muster composure and -- well, it�s not grace exactly, because there is awkwardness, but it is at least restraint. We know he is savvy enough to diffuse, rather than inflame. And that�s about it. Cano is a filthy rich Seattleite now, a few years from beginning a quiet physical decline, with the country�s attention elsewhere. The story is almost over, and we hardly learned anything. Read more: http://www.nydailynews.com/blogs/baseballinsider/unknowable-robinson-cano-heart-new-york-divorce-yankees-weird-news-ny-mets-young-pitchers-yankees-win-blog-entry-1.1782657#ixzz312GO24pw First of all: "...his decision to join a franchise that barely seems to exist." How pathetic. If New Yorkers are scarcely able to imagine life in other US cities, doesn't that make them the provincial ones? Second of all: "Well. You appreciate Rivera�s candor, far preferable to canned compliments. If he believed this, he was right to say it, rather than add another layer of B.S. to a sports world full of it." No, it would have been candor if he said it while the two were teammates and there was an actual risk. With Cano in another uniform and Rivera sipping cocktails at 3:30, it's, well, "small" is the best word for it I can come up with. Real small. Third of all: Cano isn't being enigmatic when he doesn't take the bait and dive into your back page war of words, he's taking the high road. At least, that's what you'd have written if Rivera if that's what he did.