By Thomas Boswell
Washington Post Columnist
Wednesday, April 21, 1999; Page D1

Ten years ago this spring, Mike Schmidt shocked baseball by retiring without warning. One day, he was on a pace for 100 RBI and earning $1 million a year. The next day, he said he could no longer play like himself anymore. So he quit.

"I could ask the Phils to keep me on to add to my statistics, but my love of the game won't let me do that," said Schmidt, then 39, who was only hitting his weight and had more errors than homers.

That was a rare act of dignified common sense. It made us sad for ourselves, but proud for Schmidt. Before this year is over, will we see Cal Ripken, who will be 39 in August, do something similar?

Before anyone else, Ripken knew when to end his consecutive games streak at 2,632 last September. How wise that looks now. What a bitter spring this would have been – with his father's death – if he had still been tangled in The Streak. Sometimes, simply doing the right thing also works out to be the smart choice.

This year, will Ripken once again know the right thing to do before anybody else? Should Rip, now on the disabled list for the first time and with as many errors as hits (five) this season, retire soon? There's no tougher question to ponder this season.

Last season, Ripken hit .271 (just five points less than his career average), led American League third basemen in fielding percentage and hit a two-run double in the All-Star Game. Nice. He capped his streak before anybody could doubt he deserved to play.

On the other hand, his 112 runs produced in 161 games was one of the worst totals for any player at a power position. His assists-per-inning ratio (.191) – an accurate measure of range that used to rank Ripken near the top as a shortstop – was near the bottom.

A case could be made that he was still pretty good. A better case could be made that he was slipping far down in power and range. In just two years, he had gone from a 102-RBI, Gold Glove-level shortstop to a sure-handed, singles-hitting third baseman with few RBI per at-bat.

What would the next phase be?

With more rest, would his power reappear? That happened to Hank Aaron at the same age. Would Ripken actually continue to improve at third base as definitely as he did last season?

My own guess about Ripken's late career has always been that, after the streak was broken, he would relish his days off, rework his batting style to emphasize all-fields hitting and run off a few seasons in the .280 range, plus polished defense at third. In other words, he would surprise us again.

After all, his late father could outwork almost every Oriole right into his fifties. Genes were on his side. Players such as Pete Rose and Paul Molitor sacrificed extra-base hits for higher batting averages as they aged and hit .325 and .341, respectively, at age 40. Dave Winfield had 108 RBI at 41. Eddie Murray hit .323 at 39. Tony Gwynn, 40 next month, is still rippin' the cover off it. Why not Ripken? Who works harder? Who makes smarter adjustments?

And, most important, who has proved critics wrong more often?

In the past, Ripken has risen spectacularly when he supposedly was slipping. In 1990, he hit .250. The next year, MVP. With manager Davey Johnson goading him subtly, Ripken's fine work helped the Orioles reach the ALCS in '96 and '97. In those two postseasons, he hit .302.

That's what I thought. However, from both Cal Ripken Sr. and Jr., I learned long ago that the Baseball Encyclopedia teaches you more about the shape of a player's career than any idle theorizing. Thumb the book. "The numbers don't lie," was the chant of both.

But just when you turn to it for consolation, a kind word on Cal's behalf, it hits you with the one thing you don't want to know. The facts.

The encyclopedia has a firm perspective, based on Hall of Fame-level players of the last 40 years such as George Brett, Robin Yount, Rod Carew, Wade Boggs, Lou Brock, Al Kaline and Brooks Robinson, who faced similar declines at similar ages.

Players such as Molitor, Rose, Winfield and Murray don't really parallel Cal. They never deteriorated offensively in their thirties as Ripken has in recent years. Instead, you want to make comparisons to great players who hit a wall – of age or injury – in their late thirties as they were approaching major milestones, such as 3,000 hits.

The players mentioned above all resemble Ripken statistically. Unfortunately, their careers suggest Ripken is probably at the end of the line right now. As a group, they didn't embarrass themselves – too much. But, once they started to slip, they never remotely resembled their old selves. If Cal retires soon, it's doubtful he'll regret it. He'll miss little that's good and perhaps a lot that's ugly. Cal's boyhood hero, Brooks Robinson, hit .201, .211 and .149 at the end.

The 3,000-hit barrier – Ripken needs 117 to reach the milestone -- almost seems like a curse. Kaline hit .255 and .262 with little power as he staggered to 3,007. Brock fell as low as .221 with zero homers in '78 before summoning a .304 season to end at 3,023. Carew, bereft of power, hit 33 and 48 points below his career average his last two seasons. Brett and Yount made it to the 3,000 line, but as shadows of themselves.

At the moment, my Baseball Encyclopedia is in danger of being shredded and dumped in the trash. This is not what I wanted to learn. In my youth, baseball mythology held that great players, after their first humiliating season past age 35, were usually able to rally themselves for at least one final shock-the-world season.

Ted Williams hit .254 at 41. The next season, his slugging percentage was .645, including a home run in the last at-bat of his career. (Last year Sammy Sosa slugged .647.) At 38, 39 and 40, Stan Musial hit under .300; then, at 42, he hit .330 and threatened to win an eighth batting title. Willie Mays's power faded in the late '60s, then at 39, he had one more Say Hey – a 28-homer, .291 season.

Apparently, those were the good old days. We seem to be in the bad new days now. Please, find me one Hall of Fame player since 1970 who has faded as fast as Ripken has in the last 18 months who shouldn't have retired sooner rather than later. What a bummer.

No, wait! Here he is: Carlton Fisk. Hit .221 at age 38. Power suddenly way down. Presumed defunct. White Sox tried to force him to retire. Fisk came back and had five more first-rate seasons.

Thanks, Pudge. We needed that.