Ripken’s Two Grand: No Mean Streak
By Thomas Boswell
July 31, 1994
BALTIMORE
For many years, probably since he passed 1,000 consecutive games, Cal Ripken Jr. has been dogged and nagged by one nasty question.
Is the streak good?
Or is the streak bad?
Whenever Ripken hits, the streak is one of mankind's great achievements.
Whenever Ripken doesn't hit, the streak is a monument to his selfishness.
For years, Ripken's batting average and his character have been linked.
Now, finally, as Ripken approaches his 2,000th consecutive game on Monday, let's settle this cosmic question finally and utterly.
Going into the weekend series with Toronto, less than a month before his 34th birthday -- and 99 games into the current season -- Ripken is hitting .308. He's on a pace for 20 homers and 113 RBI. He's hitting .360 with men in scoring position. He's leading the league in fielding. He's seldom looked trimmer or friskier at shortstop.
If it matters, Ripken also ended last season when, in theory, he should have been most tired, by batting .302 in his final 79 games.
Isn't it time, after all these years, to reach the obvious conclusion: Ripken's offensive statistics are totally unconnected to the streak.
Sometimes the man hits. Sometimes the man doesn't hit. Just like everybody else in the perplexing game. Ripken's stats don't deviate from his career norms any more than anybody else's. Less, actually, than most.
Sometimes he's up. Sometimes he's down. Sometimes his mechanics get messed up or he feels the pressure of being isolated in the middle of a weak lineup. Sometimes a contract dispute upsets him and destroys his focus. Sometimes minor injuries -- the kind every player endures -- crimp his hitting.
And, sometimes, like this season, Ripken gets in a comfortable groove and hits excellently for months at a time. Sometimes, quality hitters such as Rafael Palmeiro and Harold Baines bat around him and help him feel less pressure. Sometimes, he doesn't get drilled in the elbow by a fastball in April, then worry about his slow start for weeks.
Hot or cold, the streak doesn't have a damn thing to do with it.
Now that we've finally disconnected Ripken's character from Ripken's batting average, can we please agree: THE STREAK IS GOOD.
Absolutely and totally good. No gainsaying will ever again be allowed in this space. It's time for a moratorium on nitpicking. For the rest of the Gehrig Run, let's just watch in peace, without any sense of moral conflict.
For years, we've wasted our time focusing on what was commonplace about Ripken: his slumps and adjustments at the plate. Simultaneously, we did a dazzling job of denigrating what was colossally unique and admirable about him. He has provided his team with a superb shortstop for every game for more than 12 years.
Ripken conditions himself fanatically, year-round. He prepares himself each day to an extent most players can't comprehend. He builds his whole life around delivering his maximum performance for the team and to the public. He plays hurt. He plays tough. He busts himself to be a role model for your kid. In his worst year, he's still the shortstop you want out there EVERY DAY.
So, apologize.
Go on, apologize.
You know who you are.
(Okay, I'll apologize too. I've never written,"Take a day off, Cal."But I've doubted. I've nagged. I've questioned his judgment.)
Last summer, Bobby Bonds and Tim McCarver were bad-mouthing Ripken for not taking a day off to break the streak which, in their wisdom, was eating him alive and hurting his team. Care to retract, fellows?
We've been all over Ripken's case for years, analyzing him as if we were shrinks and he was a neurotic for wanting to be great. And we were wrong.
The Lou Gehrig record of 2,130 consecutive games played is right out there, almost within reach. Ripken may or may not make it. But it's obvious that he can make it. And he has done it without incinerating himself or hurting his team.
Does anybody see any signs of deterioration in Ripken? Has his range decreased? Is his bat slow? Is his base running slipping? No way. For his age, he plays young. If anything, maybe his regimen has simply made him better. Why, he may even break the world record of 2,215 consecutive games by Sachio Kinugasa of the Hiroshima Carp in Japan, who didn't miss a game for more than 17 years.
The streak didn't keep Ripken from being MVP in 1991. The streak hasn't kept him from hitting .305 for his past 700-plus at bats. And if he goes into a slump from now until 2,131, that won't have any connection to the streak, either. It'll just mean the odds are evening out for a career .277 hitter.
If I had been Cal Ripken for the past half-dozen years, I know what I'd probably have said to the fans who booed me, the players who backstabbed me, the owner who tried to low-ball me and the writers who ripped me."You people are idiots. You don't deserve me."But Ripken never said it. Not once.
Along the way, Ripken did go through a couple of marginally embittered periods when he seemed blue and plagued with doubts. But now, his long-term contract is behind him. Oriole Park is a beauty. His new owner is going to put a quality team around him every year. And he's on the threshold of No. 2,000, which, in itself, is so ridiculously amazing for a shortstop that the feat will never be forgotten or diminished. Ripken is already a baseball immortal and he should be.
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