THE GREAT WALLER

Cal Ripken Jr. prepares to strikeout.

In August 2007, I apparently made a huge mistake when I had the audacity to question the fanfare surrounding Cal Ripken Jr.’s induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

(That’s right, “the fanfare surrounding,” not even the induction itself, which I clearly stated that I had no qualms with.)

In a column for the Bennington Banner, I suggested that Cal’s “every-man” personality caused sportswriters and fans alike to misremember his often lackluster on-field production. The column ran shortly after the Iron Man was inducted into the HOF with the third highest voting percentage in history (98.53 percent) behind Tom Seaver (98.84 percent) and Nolan Ryan (98.79 percent). And shortly after that, hate mail flooded my inbox:

“How dare you disrespect one of the greatest guys to ever play … ”

“With all of these thugs in sports, role models like Cal are important … ”

“There’s a reason you write for the Bennington Banner and not the Baltimore Sun … “

These three (well, maybe except for the last), and many others, missed my point. In no way was I saying that Cal’s often average play should detract from his personal reputation or ability to be a role model. I just think that, in turn, his charisma shouldn’t be used as a tool to enhance what he did on the field. The two should be entirely separate.

One of my main beefs with the Baseball HOF today is that tends to reward consistent mediocrity paired with longevity (i.e. the career statistical benchmarks informally established by the voters appears to be the main criteria for getting in) (think Craig Biggio) more so than it celebrates players, albeit with relatively brief careers, that had a “wow” factor (think David Ortiz), and to me Cal epitomizes this growing problem.

Here’s the proof:

Cal Ripken Jr. deserves to be in Cooperstown. His career numbers are astounding; he’s a 19-time All-Star, a two-time American League MVP and an eight-time Silver Slugger; he has career totals of 3,148 hits, 431 home runs and 2,632 consecutive games. However, breaking Cal down year-by-year, one finds that consistent mediocrity – not dominance – was praised over the weekend.”

19-time All-Star In “All-Star” seasons, Cal batted .252, .264, .257, .250, .251, .257, .262, .256 and .239. Cal’s a fan favorite, and he deserves to be. He’s a class act, and he did a lot for the game of baseball. But All-Star balloting is no different than a middle school class election, they’re both popularity contest. That’s why he made the All-Star team year-after-year. Still doesn’t make him a dominate player.

3,148 hits Cal’s career batting average is .276, his career on-base percentage, .340. Tony Gwynn’s career BA? .338. Gwynn batted over .300 every year except his rookie season. Cal had 43 more career hits than Gwynn, but in 2,263 more at-bats. Put a monkey in front of a typewriter and he’ll eventually type the complete works of Bill Shakespeare. Doesn’t make him a great writer.

431 home runs No arguments here. An impressive number. But if you’re considering Cal a slugger, think again. Cal had 100 RBI four times in his career. A career where he was a middle-of-the-lineup type guy.

Eight-time Silver Slugger The Silver Slugger Award goes to the player that hits the most home runs in his league at his position. Ripken basically showed up to an eating contest and found runway models ready to compete. I like my chances in a home run derby against Alvaro Espinoza, Manuel Lee and Luis Rivera.

“But he revolutionized the shortstop position?” Yes, Cal was a pioneer in this regard. Shortstops didn’t  hit for power before his time, but if the Wright brothers don’t fly at Kitty Hawk, I’m pretty sure I’m not taking a boat to Europe in 2007.

2,632 consecutive games In an NBA game in 2003, with six seconds left to play and the Cleveland Cavaliers up 25, Ricky Davis missed a shot on his own basket to record his 10th rebound. The rebound would’ve given him a triple-double, but the league discounted it. In an NFL game in 2002, with just over two minutes to play and the Packers up by nine, Michael Strahan recorded his 22.5 sack to set the single-season sack record on a gift naked bootleg from his friend Brett Favre.

[UPDATE: If you're reading this in the future, I'm actually referring to the same Michael Strahan from the hit show Brothers. Believe it or not, he played football before becoming a wildly successful actor.]

Both Davis and Strahan grew harsh criticism because their achievements didn’t happen within the context of the game. Name another .250 hitter who’s played all 162 games. Name another aging veteran who’s played all 162 games. Ripken’s quest for the record potentially cost the Orioles wins by not allowing them to always field their best team. As former Jets coach Herm Edwards said, “You play to win the game.” Not to set records.

I do respect Cal for sticking with the O’s, and I do respect him for being a clean player in a dirty game (although he didn’t stay at the team hotel during his career, a point Bonds and A-Rod routinely take heat for). But with guys playing longer these days – for whatever reason – career numbers, although impressive, can’t judge greatness, only longevity.

Nothing could have been a more fitting end to Cal’s career than his home run off Chan Ho Park in the 2001 All-Star Game, a game he didn’t deserve to play in, at Safeco Field. To the average fan, a heroic feat. To me, a batting-practice pitch that took some skill but not greatness to hit out of the park.