Do The Numbers Even Matter Anymore?
With Randy Johnson joining an elite fraternity last night by collecting 300th win, it's time we ask ourselves if individual statistics in baseball are still relevant. I'm not looking to take anything away from The Unit - having the pitching prowess and longevity to win 300 games is no small task and as far as I can remember, Johnson's name has never been mentioned in connection with steroids. But with guys like A-Rod, Manny, and Clemens admitting to juicing, most baseball fans look suspiciously at anyone who dominates the sport. That may be the biggest tragedy to come out of this whole "juiced era" we're living in - the cheaters have actually taken the legitimacy out of the accomplishments of guys who did it naturally. ...
With last night's W, Randy Johnson joined the ranks of Cy Young and Nolan Ryan in the 300 wins club.
There was a time when baseball's records, the game's "individual achievements" (to steal a term from Mr. Capone) were the most revered and cherished records in all of sports - some because of the sheer might it took to accomplish (61 homers in a season, 4,256 career hits) some for the perseverance required to achieve them (2,632 games in a row) and some because they'll never be broken (56 game hitting streak). Men like Maris, Rose, Joe D and The Iron Man were heroes because they did things no one else could do - and in some cases things no one else will ever do again. And they did it naturally.
As Arliss told us "We cheer them. We live through them. Athletes are our last warriors," and that's what made us love them - living vicariously through our favorite team or player as they did the impossible (I mean 56 games? Really? Really?). As kids, we memorized these stats, followed players on a daily basis as they chased batting titles, single season records and the tripple crown. Now we watch a game and we think "I could do that with some HGH and Mexican bull testosterone".
We could forgive the ladies' underwear, the drinking, the chewing, the carousing - because when our heroes showed up to the park - none of that mattered. They played a pure game in a pure way. Then came cocaine, speed, and finally HGH and steroids - and suddenly it was all less impressive. We found ourselves saying "Not only did Mantle and Maris not have designer drugs, but Maris smoked two packs a day and Mantle played about 140 games a year so hung over he could barely see straight". A sports fan can forgive his heroes for anything - except cheating. So as we look to the entire league, to the heroes we grew up cheering, to McGuire and Sosa and as a nation scream "Say it ain't so Joe!" - let's take a beat here and remember that while we as fans feel victimized, the real victims may be the clean players - the Jeters, the Griffeys, the Ripkens, and the Johnsons of the world - guys who broke records and put up amazing numbers the same way their predecessors did - through hard work and natural ability - but they did it in an era where the numbers no longer matter.
After the summer of '98 was turned into a circus and Bonds was turned into public enemy number one, after everything we held dear as sports fans was dragged through the mud by Selig, Mitchell, Congress and BALCO, we stopped caring about individual numbers and simply viewed baseball as a form of entertainment - no longer as the game of gods. Steroids turned baseball into professional wrestling.
I hope that in twenty years I'll look back and say that I remember where I was when Randy Johnson - one of the greatest pitchers of my youth - won his 300th. But it's only been 24 hours and for some reason, I'm struggling to care. The fact of the matter is thanks to steroids - and the "juiced era" they produced - the numbers just don't matter any more.
Congratulations Randy. And here's hoping - no here's believing you did it naturally. You are truly one of the great ones.
-WildBill