20 years ago today Cal Ripken Jr. helped to reenergize baseball, by doing what he did best, showing up for work. The Iran Man’s chase of the Iron Horse resonated with fans who had lost faith in the game during the 1994 Players Strike. Ripken was not performing a superhuman feat, he was simply doing his job like the fans who fill the seats at every Major League Baseball stadium during every game of the season. Ripken brought baseball and the fans back together.
The 1994 Players Strike was generally about money. The argument was between the owners and players, millionaire owners fighting against players who were millionaires or who could become millionaires. This in fighting did not sit well with the fans who were seeing the cost of attending a game continue to rise, and who felt the rising prices were slowly pushing them away from the game. The Major League Baseball Players Association wanted a larger piece of the financial pie the game generated, and the owners did not want to share. Not getting lost in the argument, the disagreement and the lack of a new Collective Bargaining Agreement led to the players going out on strike on August 11, 1994. The strike would last 232 days, finally ending on April 2, 1995. The 1994 season ended without the completion of the full 162 game schedule. There were no playoffs, there was no World Series, there was no parade for a World Series champion. The 1994 season never concluded, it only stopped.
Baseball fans were angry. The game had seemingly forgotten its roots; it was no longer a game but a business. While the financial and business issues were resolved, the damage done to the game seemed to have forever changed the game, and not for the better. Baseball had angered the people it depended on for its very existence, the fans. Repairing the damage inflicted from the Strike looked as though it could take years or even a generation to repair, if it was ever going to be able to be repaired. However, baseball was able to repair some of the damage and reengage the fans thanks to what started on May 30, 1982.
On Sunday May 30, 1982 the Baltimore Orioles lost to the Toronto Blue Jays 6-0 at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore before a paid attendance of 21,632. The Orioles collected only one hit that day, a fifth inning single to left by catcher Rick Dempsey. Batting 8th, behind Dempsey was third baseman Cal Ripken Jr. Ripken went 0 for 2 with a walk. This otherwise forgettable game was game 1 of 2,632 consecutive that Ripken would play.
Fast forward more than 2,000 games and the start of the delayed 1995 Major League season. Every day Ripken grew closer to the magical 2,130 consecutive games played record set by Hall of Fame player Lou Gehrig. The Iron Horse was pure baseball. He was a great hitter, a great slugger, and a gracious man. When ALS took away his gift to play the game he did not make a public scene about how bad his luck was, he did not he draw attention to himself. The media speculation swirled about what was wrong with Gehrig, but he never took part in the circus. Instead, he quietly and with dignity stepped aside so as to not hurt the team. When the Yankees held Lou Gehrig Appreciation Day on July 4, 1939 the dignity and grace with which Gehrig carried himself was on full display. Addressing the sold out crowd, Gehrig spoke of the people who he was lucky to know, his family, and how lucky he was. Lou Gehrig was more than a ball player; he was a man, he was class, he was grace.
Class. Dignity. Grace. These were the qualities baseball needed in 1995. These are the qualities Cal Ripken Jr. put on display every day. Baseball observers and fans can appreciate a player who is chasing .400, chasing Dimaggio’s 56 game hit streak, chasing the multitude of records that elevate a player above his contemporaries and places him among the greats. While these pursuits are great, they were not the pursuit that would galvanize people to return to baseball in 1995. Baseball needed someone and something the people watching in the stadium, on television, or listening on the radio could relate to. They could all relate to the consecutive game streak.
Those of use that have not been blessed with the athletic gifts necessary to play sports on the highest level do not have off seasons. Every morning we wake up and go to work. We put in an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay, and then we do it all over again tomorrow. This is the rhythm of life. It is a grind, you show up and work at it. You may not be the best, you may be a compiler. Every day working on your craft, getting a little closer to your potential, even if that potential does not place you among the elites of your chosen field. Cal Ripken Jr. is not the greatest baseball player to take the field. He was an excellent player and a compiler. He had flaws in his game, but he showed up everyday and worked at correcting those flaws. Simply showing up for work resonated with people, they could relate with Ripken and felt he understood what it was like for them to show up to work when they did not feel well or when they had the aches and pains that go along with life. Ripken reminded people why baseball mattered to them personally again. He helped to bridge the gap and overcome the anger and animosity that grew out of the Strike.
September 6, 1995 marked the 2,131st game the Baltimore Orioles had played since that Sunday afternoon in 1982. Cal Ripken Jr. had come to work sick, injured, healthy, stressed, happy, and sad but most of all he had shown up to work every day and had done his job. On a Wednesday night in Baltimore at Camden Yards, the Iron Man pass the Iron Horse. The Orioles won 4-2 over the California Angels and Ripken went 2 for 4 with a solo home run that night, but it did not matter. What mattered was the joy in the stadium, the joy in seeing a player achieve something that had no short cut, no dollar sign, no superhuman feat. Simply Cal Ripken Jr. showed up to work, again.
The memories from the night are plenty. The standing ovation for Ripken that seemed to last forever. The announcers on television understanding that words were not necessary. The Orioles players pushing a reluctant, and almost embarrassed Ripken out of the dugout to take a victory lap around the field. Everyone, fans, umpires, opposing players, and teammates applauding Ripken’s accomplishment. Cal Ripken Jr. helped to save the game of baseball that September night. He showed baseball fans that the game had not been ruined by the money and the business, it still was a children’s game played by adults. He showed the players and owners that the game does not belong to them, it belongs to the fans.
Baseball and life are a grind. You show up every day working towards a perfection that is impossible to reach. You show up because it is your job to put in an honest days work to receive and honest days pay. Cal Ripken Jr. saved the game of baseball by reminded all of us this 20 years ago.
Few people have their legacy endure and grow years after they no longer can do what made them famous, or are even alive. Ted Williams is such a man; one of the greatest players in baseball history, a pilot in two wars, a fisherman, and a salesman. Williams was more than just number 9 for the Boston Red Sox. In Leigh Montville‘s book Ted Williams: The Biography of an American Hero, he explores the man for good or for bad. Montville chronicles the ups and the downs of Williams’ life in a way that you can see the man, but his faults are not just glossed over. His determination and drive for perfection at the plate, in the air, or while fishing are what made him great. However, the same traits that led Williams to be great also meant he struggled in his personal life to find stability. His multiple marriages and his distant relationship with his children show the rough human side of Williams. Many baseball players, especially in the era in which Williams played had a clean cut public face. His fights with the sports columnist, the Knights of the Keyboard as Williams called them, are legendary, but they also tinted how the fans, especially those in Boston saw and felt about Williams. He did not necessarily have the perfect image like Joe DiMaggio, but Ted Williams was Ted Williams. Regardless of what you think of the man or the ball player, it is difficult to begrudge Williams on some level for being true to himself even when his actions and opinions were in the extreme minority.
The longer we continue to wait for the net player to hit .400, the more books like this are important because they allow us an inside view of what it is like to hit .400. The pressures to perform which the player places on himself are immense. The media scrutiny today would be infinitely larger than what Williams faced. Ted Williams laid the blue print for how to hit .400, and there are only a few players in each decade who can even hope to challenge for .400. The longer we wait for the next .400 hitter the less likely it seems we will see it again, much like someone challenging DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak.
Montville has done an excellent job of humanizing Ted Williams, especially for those of us who only have memories of Williams as an older man. The story of Williams’ life is almost like a radio broadcast as it is easy to listen to and it keeps you wanting just a little more. The book itself is an excellent read and is informative to those who are simply reading a book on an American original and to those who are diehard baseball fans. Striking this balance can be difficult, but Montville does it seamlessly. Ted Williams: The Biography of an American Hero by Leigh Montville is a must read for any baseball fan who wants to understand the man who continues to help definite the game.
Arguably the best hitter of the last 30 years has left us far too soon. Tony Gwynn passed away at 54 from cancer. For 20 seasons, Tony Gwynn put on a clinic for what it meant to be a professional hitter. He always had the ear-to-ear smile that many, including myself, fell in love with from the first time you saw him play. Gwynn hit .289 in 1982, after he was called up from AAA in July. This was the only season in which he would bat below .300 in his 20 year career. A career .338 hitter, Gwynn won the National League Batting Title eight times. He flirted with .400 in 1994, when he finished the strike shortened season with a .394 average. Gwynn collected 200 or more hits five times. It would have been seven if not for the 1994 players strike. He has 165 hits through 110 games in 1994 and finished the shortened 1995 season with 197 hits in 135 games. There could have been more if not for injuries which reduced his playing time during his 30’s.
What Gwynn lacked in power he made up with always being on base. He hit 135 career home runs, topping out at 17 in 1997. He walked 790 times against 434 strike outs in his career. His career 1.82 walks per strike out is unimaginable today. In 1987, Gwynn struck out a career high 82 times; both Upton brothers, BJ and Justin, of the Atlanta Braves have already surpassed this make this season. This “high number of strike outs” for Gwynn was an aberration, he would not strike out more than 59 times in any other season in his career. Despite his “high” strike out total, the 1987 season was not a down year for Gwynn, he still hit .370. during his career, Gwynn won seven Silver Slugger Awards, five Gold Gloves, elected to 15 All Star games, was the recipient of the 1995 Branch Rickey Award (in recognition for his exceptional community service), the 1998 Lou Gehrig Memorial Award (awarded to the player who best exhibits the character of Lou Gehrig both on and off the field), the 1999 Roberto Clemente Award (player who best exemplifies the game of baseball, sportsmanship, community involvement, and the individual’s contribution to his team), and was elected by the BBWAA to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, with the seventh highest vote total ever (97.61%) in his first year of eligibility.
Michael Young, who holds the record for most hits for the Texas Rangers, reacted to the sudden and sad news of Tony Gwynn’s death simply, “Ted Williams gets to talk hitting again.” This sums up the relationship between Williams and Gwynn perfectly. Listening to both men discuss their approach to and the science of hitting are both legendary and a fascinating listen. Both possessed the skills which went well beyond simply see the ball, hit the ball. They were students of the game who worked hard at their craft. The 1999 All Star Game at Fenway Park was a showcase for Ted Williams, and through the entire memorable evening Tony Gwynn was his trusty sidekick. When the rest of the All Stars crowded around the golf cart Williams rode around Fenway in, the camera seemed to always have both Williams and Gwynn in the frame together. The ceremonial first pitch left these two Hall of Fame hitters and friends in front of the pitcher’s mound together and alone. When Ted Williams asked “where’s he at?” referring to the catcher, Gwynn pointed and showed his friend and mentor the way while flashing his famous boyish smile.
Forever a San Diego man, Tony Gwynn returned to his alma mater San Diego State in 2002 as a volunteer coach and in 2003 as the Head Baseball Coach for the Aztecs. Gwynn remained the Head Coach of the Aztecs until his death. Even when his playing career was over, Gwynn was not through with baseball. Under Gwynn the Aztecs won one regular season Mountain West title, two Mountain West Tournament Championships, and made three appearances in the NCAA Tournament. The transition from playing to coaching is often difficult for the greats, but Gwynn seemed to thrive on the challenge and was building a successful program. Unfortunately we will never see what he could have built with more seasons as a Head Coach either at San Diego State or even with the Padres.
Tony Gwynn lived a full baseball life. He was and always will be Mr. Padre and Captain Video. Despite the hours of hard work looking to get every last once of talent out of his body, Gwynn never stopped smiling. That smile we all fell in love with, the smile that exuded the boyish pleasure Gwynn got from playing the game. That smile is gone too soon due to cancer. Cancer which Gwynn himself admits was caused by decades of using chewing tobacco, usually more than a can a day. All the smiles and laughter that made Tony Gwynn also had a protruding lip stuffed with dip.
Gone too soon. Thank you Tony Gwynn for reminding us all that you can be a contact hitter, trying to go through the 5.5 hole, one of the true legends in the history of the game all without the power to hit 500 foot home runs which became so common place during his career. Tony Gwynn was a great hitter, a great all around baseball player, but he was an even better person. Mr. Padre will be missed in San Diego and anywhere people play baseball.