Catching up on Brodeur

After shutting out the Panthers on Jan. 20, Martin Brodeur went more than two months without a whitewash, and then -- BAM! -- two in a row, just as he's setting himself up for the playoffs. He blanked the Hurricanes and Thrashers in consecutive games at the beginning of April. Of course, those came heading into the first week of the baseball season, so my attention was elsewhere. I noted them, but didn't take any time to comment on them.

And so, as I have been marking all along this year, Brodeur has now tied Walter Johnson for the career lead in shutouts, with 110, in a category I'm making up: the most shutouts by a man charged with keeping the other team from scoring in a team sport.

Here's hoping that bodes well as the Devils begin the march to their fourth Stanley Cup tonight...

Jeter rules Jersey

I was kicking around Baseball-Reference's birth sites and, after some sorting, made a minor discovery: If Derek Jeter plays 150 games this season, he'll have played more games in the majors than any other New Jersey-born player.



(Full chart is here.)

Of course, Jeet grew up in Michigan, but it's no secret that he spent summers with his grandparents in the Garden State. He's already got the hits record, and if he plays just another year or two, he could pretty much own every mark on this list -- except for years. Kid Gleason's pretty much got that one locked up, unless Jeter makes it all the way to 42 or 43.

Another blanking for Brodeur

Career shutout No. 108 for Martin Brodeur tonight in a 2-0 win over the Panthers. He leads the NHL with seven this season, the most he's had since he last led the league, with 12 in 2006-07.

Brodeur's played 46 games this season, so he's averaging a shutout every seven games (the math comes out to 6.6). The Devils have 13 games before the break for the Winter Olympics, so it's not likely Brodeur will tie Walter Johnson's career shutout mark of 110 before then, especially since he'll likely sit out a game or two.

Another shutout -- and then some

Martin Brodeur stopped 51 shots as the Devils beat the Rangers, 1-0, tonight. But it wasn't just a 1-0 win, it was a 1-0 shootout win, coming after 65 minutes of scoreless hockey at Madison Square Garden. Not only did Marty stonewall the Blueshirts for three periods and overtime, he denied them on four shots in the shootout. Well, three shots after the first shooter missed the net.

The shutout is Brodeur's 107th, moving him within three of Walter Johnson's baseball record. The Devils head west for their next game, Thursday at Phoenix. The Coyotes have scored a Pacific Division-low 120 goals this season, the same number the Rangers have netted.

Still a fan of the summer of '98

Mark McGwire at Wrigley Field, May 1, 1998

I graduated from college in 1998, so that was a special summer for me, too. I set up my spring semester schedule to only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. My friends and I popped champagne on our apartment balcony after our last finals. We caught a Cardinals-Cubs game at Wrigley Field on a pleasant May afternoon. After the commencement ceremony -- which took place on the same day the Yankees gave away Beanie Babies for a game against the Twins (and David Wells pitched pretty well, I believe) -- I came home to New Jersey and spent six weeks going to a few graduation parties and planning my cross-country trip.

And all that summer, as I drove out to California and back, I followed what has become known as the Great Home Run Chase. Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and the ghost of Roger Maris. I saw McGwire hit home run No. 12 that season, a ninth-inning two-run shot off of Rod Beck in a game the Cubs won, 6-5. When I stayed in Major League cities, I checked the schedules to see if the Cardinals were in town, just missing them in San Diego when I was in L.A. and in Colorado when I got into Denver. And in a small bit of personal symmetry, I was back on campus in South Bend, watching the Labor Day afternoon game on ESPN when McGwire hit his 61st long ball that season. An interview for a job with a local newspaper kept me in town the next night, too, when I watched him hit his 62nd. I might've teared up watching it happen.

It was all so compelling: missing first base in the excitement, high-fives from Cubs infielders as he rounded the bases, a bear hug with his son at home plate, Sammy Sosa's sprint in from right field, his tearful embrace with Maris' widow and sons. As baseball fans, how could we not become enthralled? The 1994-95 strike was still pretty raw, robbing fans of the World Series for the first time since John McGraw didn't feel the Boston Red Sox, of the inferior "American League," were a worthy opponent to his National League pennant-winning Giants in 1904. Cal Ripken may have broken Lou Gehrig's consecutive-games streak in '95, but that came too close to the strike -- and he would've broken it sooner if it weren't for the strike -- to help the healing. We didn't have enough distance.

Three years, it seems, was enough distance to bring us back, to capture our attention with a chase at one of the game's great records. We all watched, and few of us, I think, questioned it. Mike Lupica wrote a book about it. I bought it and read it and still love the cover image.

But even if we did suspect at the time that McGwire might not be all natural, we did so in a less accusatory tone. Yeah, it may have happened, but who can really say? It wasn't like today, when accusations of performance-enhancing are not brushed off so easily and we find ourselves pausing to contemplate whether or not we think the player mentioned compiled his stats solely on his own ability. When McGwire first appeared on the Hall of Fame ballot, Lupica said that he doesn't think McGwire should be elected. Bill Simmons called him on it. We're all still trying to figure this out.

In 80 plate appearances against three admitted or widely suspected performance-enhancing pitchers, McGwire hit four home runs -- two each off of Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte and none against Jason Grimsley. He struck out 14 times vs. Clemens (in 53 at-bats), five vs. Pettitte (in 21) and had none against Grimsley (but with four walks in six at-bats). But now that our suspicions are being proven, will we look at the steroid era any differently? Will it someday come to the point that, yeah, hitters were juicing, but they were facing pitchers who weren't clean, either? Are others going to come forward? Is Sammy Sosa next?

I never thought I'd be saying this, but I may not care anymore who was on steroids. With every new player whose name comes up, I think my outrage subsides a bit. I liked McGwire in the '90s and I can't say I like him any less now. I'm a bit disappointed, both in the fact that he decided to cheat and that he waited so long to come clean. But he still came clean faster than Pete Rose did for his transgressions and some of these other players we've got at the top of our suspected users lists. Knowing what I know now, confirmed, may sadden the 33-year-old me, but the 21-year-old from 1998 still remembers a great summer.

So maybe it's time Bud Selig and the baseball writers just give amnesty to all the steroid and HGH users from the past up until the Mitchell Report came out. If you used then, 'fess up, and all's good. Yeah, the numbers McGwire, Sosa and Barry Bonds put up may not be fair to Roger Maris, Babe Ruth (Sosa broke Ruth's record for home runs in one month) or Hank Aaron, but the 162-game schedule also wasn't fair to Ruth and so many other advances in baseball and technology have also tilted the playing field -- literally, in some cases. From expansion several times over to night games to domed stadiums to maple bats to elbow guards to dietary supplements to training regimens to ballpark design, the game has changed over the decades. Even comparing players of the same era is not fool-proof. Did Ted Williams hit 160 more home runs than Joe DiMaggio because he was more powerful, or did Yankee Stadium's Death Valley in left-center rob DiMaggio of a glut of long balls? Or what if DiMaggio hit left-handed? Sadly, maybe this is another variable to consider. Maybe, as others have written, the Steroid Era has to be treated like antithesis to the Dead Ball Era.

I'm not going to go out and buy a McGwire jersey and I don't see myself making an extra effort to get to batting practice and cheer him as hitting coach when the Cardinals come to New York. But I won't boo him, either. I won't make signs or yell insults. Maybe I've come to accept it, or maybe I'm just scared that the next name will be someone I truly adored, a name that will really upset me and shatter those memories of past summers.

The Marty Train keeps rolling

Martin Brodeur shut out the Dallas Stars tonight, 4-0, for the 106th whitewash of his career. He now stands four behind Walter Johnson's pitching record for the most by a North American team sport athlete.

Though it's not the same (though what is in this made-up "chase"?), if we were to count postseason stats, too, Johnson has 111 shutouts with one blanking in his six World Series games. Brodeur has 23 in 176 postseason games. But of course, Johnson played in an era when one out of eight teams in the American League made the World Series, the only postseason series at the time. And Big Train didn't get there until 1924 and '25, when he was 36 and 37. Brodeur plays in an era in which eight out of 15 teams in each conference can qualify for the postseason, so his chances of postseason play are much greater.

But going back to regular-season games, Johnson pitched shutouts in 110 of his 802 games, or 13.7 percent. Brodeur's 106 have come in 1,038 games, a still-respectable 10.2 percent. Though as with many baseball arguments comparing players from Big Train's Deadball Era and today's supplement- and ballpark-enhanced Power Era, Johnson was a pitcher in a time that favored them over the hitters. Brodeur, conversely, is a goalie in an era that favors scoring. Terry Sawchuck, whose record Brodeur broke, compiled his 103 shutouts in 971 games, giving him a slightly better mark, 10.6 percent, than Brodeur's.

Martin Brodeur and a baseball record (Huh?)

I'm not the biggest hockey fan, but I do enjoy the sport -- mostly live or during the playoffs, because really, why play 81 games when the postseason is about half that (give or take)? But I have had my moments of devotion to the sport, beginning in 1995, when the New Jersey Devils won the first major sports championship in the state's history. That was a lot of fun to watch, except for the part when they had to have the "parade" around the parking lot of the Meadowlands. Now, at least with the new -- and very nice, I must say -- arena, they can have the parade in an actual city. The city's Newark, but still. They can parade from the NJ Performing Arts Center, past the Bears' minor league baseball stadium and over to the Pru for the rally. That'll be nice enough.

In fact, the Devils' three Stanley Cups have come in interestingly regular intervals, at least in terms of my life. The first, in '95, came when I was in college. The second, in 2000, was during my first job, at the Asbury Park Press. I remember sitting on the floor of the newsroom in front of the big TV in the sports department. It was a Saturday night, we'd already put the section to bed and the game was in overtime in Dallas. Basically, we were waiting around for the game to end to put out a late edition -- either saying they were going to Game 7, or that the Devils had won the Cup. When Jason Arnott scored in OT, my arms shot up as I yelled "CUP!" and we got back to work.

And their last title, in 2003, came while I was working for a magazine. I watched at home, then went to Modell's down the street the next morning to buy a championship T-shirt to wear to work the next day.

So the Devils won once while I was in college (a four-year stretch), once while I worked at the newspaper (I was there for four years) and once while I worked at the magazine (I was there 3 1/2 years). March will mark four years at my current job, and though the Stanley Cup Finals aren't until May/June, they'd pretty much hit the mark if they can pull it off. Four Cups in 15 years -- or an average of one not quite every four years -- would be quite impressive.

Anyway, there's a reason I'm writing about hockey on my otherwise erstwhile baseball blog -- Martin Brodeur's NHL-record-setting 104th shutout last night. Marty's excellence and longevity has made him into one of the greatest goalies -- or THE greatest goalie -- in hockey history. I know there's an argument that he's had it easier than others because of the Devils' style of play, that their trapping zone defense puts less pressure on the goalie, but I'm not enough of a student of the game to be able to argue that point one way or the other. And I realize that goalie equipment and training today is much more advanced than it used to be, but that also rules changes in recent years have been to goalies' detriment. Again, that's about the extent of my knowledge of the situation. But that's nothing different than what we have in baseball when we try to compare eras or determine the greatest hitter (Ruth, Williams, Bonds, Pujols?), pitcher (Big Train, Koufax, Seaver, Ryan, Maddux, Clemens?) or team ('06 Cubs, '27 Yankees, '75 Reds, '98 Yankees?).

But now, Brodeur -- and here I'm getting to the baseball tie-in (finally) -- has a chance for the all-time North American sports shutout record. Walter Johnson threw 110 in his Hall of Fame career, and Brodeur is now just six away from that mark. I suppose if we really wanted to pin down the continent's career shutout mark in all sports where individual players are credited with the statistic, we should dig up the record for professional soccer circuits like the North American Soccer League and others like it to see if any of those goalkeepers had more than 110 clean sheets (the Major League Soccer record, as of this writing, is 84). Though the nature of the game makes shutouts much more frequent in soccer than in baseball or hockey, I'm willing to amend this post should someone point me to those stats, but I haven't been able to find them just yet.

So congratulations on your hockey record, Marty. Only seven more to go to set a new mark for the continent.

Talkin' Barroid

I was impressed with the sampling of various columns I read following Bonds' milestone. Most acknowledged the record while putting it into the context of the rumors and suspicions.

MLB.com's Mike Bauman:

Barry Bonds' record may be a tribute to something else. Therein rests the problem. The vast weight of evidence, some of it admittedly circumstantial, suggests his usage of performance-enhancing substances. This is, of course, unfortunate. He was going to the Hall of Fame when he weighed 190 pounds, before his body underwent a transformation in what amounted to early middle age.

Michael Witte speculates that Bonds' elbow armor has helped him a great deal:

For years, sportswriters remarked that his massive "protective" gear – unequaled in all of baseball -- permits Bonds to lean over the plate without fear of being hit by a pitch. Thus situated, Bonds can handle the outside pitch (where most pitchers live) unusually well. This is unfair advantage enough, but no longer controversial. However, it is only one of at least seven (largely unexplored) advantages conferred by the apparatus.

ESPN.com's Gene Wojciechowski:

There was a time, regardless of how you felt about Bonds, when you couldn't ignore the width and breadth of his talent. Those were during his days with the Pittsburgh Pirates and early in his Giants career. Now you can't ignore the width and breadth of his cap size.

ESPN.com's Tim Kurkjian:

It is true that if Bonds were clean, but still a disagreeable or disrespectful guy, a lot of people still would have preferred that he hadn't broken Aaron's record. Rickey Henderson wasn't exactly embraced when he broke Lou Brock's record for career stolen bases, then held the third base bag above his head and exclaimed, "Today, I am the greatest."

Various ESPN analysts:

You can trust your eyes in baseball. An error is an error. A missed bunt attempt is just that. What you see is, well, what you see. A pitcher who is throwing 88 mph at the end of one season and is magically hitting 98 on the gun the next spring? That's just not humanly possible, at least not without some form of help. Same goes for home run hitters, and Bonds tops this list.

ESPN's Buster Olney:

After the game, Bonds was asked whether his home run record is tainted, and he answered bluntly. "This record is not tainted at all," he said. "At all. Period." That is what he believes. Either way, the word "steroids" is going to appear in the first two paragraphs of Bonds' obituary -- fairly or not, whether you like it or not.

SI.com's Jon Heyman, who has said he will vote for Bonds on his Hall of Fame ballot in five or six years:

Perhaps one day baseball or the feds will catch up to Bonds. But if they do, it won't be in time to save Aaron's record, or baseball from an all-time record that deserves an asterisk but will never get one.

SI.com's John Donovan:

And now, we are left to reflect on the man, the moment and the significance of it all. Bonds has millions of fans, as his selection to this year's All-Star game indicates. His supporters are vocal and relentless. But there are millions of fans today, too, that are completely, radically disgusted at baseball and at the idea of Bonds, of all people, holding this important record. They call him a cheat. They call him a disgrace. They call this whole thing a sham.

CBS Sportsline's Scott Miller, who punctuates each mention of Bonds:

What once was the most cherished record in all of sports lost its luster at 8:51 PT on Tuesday night, Aug. 7, when Bonds* blasted the home run that had never been hit in 100-plus years of major league history, career No. 756, on a full-count, fifth-inning fastball from Washington pitcher Mike Bacsik.

Sportsline's Gregg Doyel bashes all of baseball, so he's not that nice a guy, but you could tell that from his doofy headshot:

Bonds is an accused steroid user and convicted jerk whose record will be acknowledged warily by some and not at all by others, none of which seems right. He joined on Tuesday night a long list of perceived bad guys -- scumbags and racists, cheaters and gamblers -- atop baseball's most cherished individual lists. Bonds doesn't stick out. He fits in.

Fox Sports' Ken Rosenthal:

In the rush to revisionist history, some will try to sweeten this lemon of a moment. But with the notable exception of weepy Giants owner Peter Magowan, most were left feeling predictably ambivalent, cheering with the mute button on.

The steroids era reaches its climax

The fans of San Francisco can have their little moment. Good for them, being all cheery and adulatory when Barry Bonds sent his tainted home run into the AT&T Park bleachers. At least someone was happy.

I know there's supposed to be a presumption of innocence until proven guilty, but considering the facts as we know them and the glaring omission of any kind of evidence from Bonds to prove that he never took steroids -- simply rehashing, "I've never failed a drug test," only works for the last few years, not the "record" 73 season -- we certainly cannot simply dismiss any rumors or accusations regarding Bonds' mysterious marked improvement as he got older. Remember: Bonds admitted he took steroids, but he claimed he didn't know what they were. That's like believing George Bush started the war in Iraq without knowing there was oil there. Why would Bonds, who is supposedly so diligent with his training and workout schedule and so careful and controlling with his body and his health, take something he wasn't completely familiar with? That just doesn't make sense to me. And let's not forget that baseball still has no test for HGH, though it does ban the drug.

But all those suspicions aside, the fact that Bonds "broke" the record in front of his home fans is good for baseball. The record was going to be broken, so it certainly helps the sport's image to have it accomplished in front of the friendly home crowd, instead of in Atlanta, Dodger Stadium or New York, where the opposition would've surely been heard. I'm not happy it had to happen, but I'd resigned myself to it at the end of last season, when he put together a strong final two months and showed he was clearly healthy -- enough -- to get there. At least it happened in the middle of the night, when I was asleep, my phone off and the text message from MLB.com undelivered. I only found out this morning, when I turned on my computer.

I saw the photographs and watched the video clip, and it's a shame that Bonds has to be so brash and arrogant about it. Hank Aaron was humble, no doubt in part because of the threats and backlash he received, and while Bonds is clearly not anywhere near Aaron's stature in terms of class, reverence and humility, it would have been nice to see him hit the ball and watch it soar into the seats while he jogged around the bases. Instead, he stood at the plate, raised his arms, and upon touching home plate, gave an exaggerated two-fingered point to the sky. A salute to dad, no doubt, but a simple gesture still would've gotten the point across.

Baseball got what it deserved, too. "Commissioner" Bud Selig refused to be in attendance, sending two representatives instead and releasing a brief statement following the game. For a sport that ignored whatever evidence and warning signs it had while steroid use expanded out of control through the 90s, it deserves to have its most cherished record held under such suspicion. The commissioner and the owners could've taken action sooner, the players association could have policed itself sooner, so now whatever light they're perceived in is the result of their own inaction. They can clear themselves over time, but for now, that's the way it is.

With this home run comes relief. No more Bonds Watch, no more Pedro Gomez reports on the Giants' left fielder sitting out day games after night games. No more Giants games as circus, no more daily press conferences to avoid -- or at least they'll be less prevalent and easier to avoid. Each home run now is rather insignificant, another notch on a tainted record and merely one more added to the eventual benchmark that will be surpassed by Alex Rodriguez, then Albert Pujols and then Ryan Howard, Prince Fielder or some fresh-faced minor leaguer we've yet to realize is the heir to the home run king's crown.

Now we get to spend three weeks wondering if the Giants will try to get something for Bonds, to slide him through waivers and deal him to a contending team before the Sept. 1 postseason roster deadline. Surely no team will claim him to block the deal and risk assuming so much money for a controversial and aged slugger, so it's possible. It's just not likely. I don't see it happening, but it's fun to speculate nonetheless.

The ball Bonds hit landed in a crowded section of bleachers at AT&T Park, where it ended up in the hands of a Mets fan literally passing through town. That puts a smile on my face and some symmetry to the moment, considering the Giants' roots in New York City. I'm not quite sure why a Mets fan on his way to Australia who apparently went to the game on a whim during his layover was bringing his Jose Reyes jersey to the Southern Hemisphere in winter, but I guess that's part of his regular wardrobe. At least he has as much right to the ball as Bonds does hitting it.

But it's only just for now.

Barry and the Babe

We're nearly there. One more long ball, and for just the second time in 86 years, Babe Ruth will move on the list of the all-time home run rankings. He took over the top spot in 1921 and didn't relinquish it until 1974; since then, he's been at No. 2. Two weeks from today marks the 71st anniversary of the Babe's final home run, one of three he hit in a marvelous afternoon at Pittsburgh's Forbes Field.

If Barry Bonds is going to do it -- and it certainly seems inevitable at this point -- maybe he can wait two weeks and do it on the anniversary of Ruth's own 714th blast. Giants manager Felipe Alou said that Bonds will play every game of this homestand, which runs through Sunday, to give him a chance to hit one or two home runs at home. The Giants then head to Houston for three games, without a day off, which means Bonds will likely sit. They then have three games at Oakland -- where Bonds can DH all three games, if necessary -- before returning home for six games spanning Memorial Day weekend that include the May 25 anniversary of Ruth's last three home runs.

This whole controversy over Bonds is a shame, as many have written already (and I've loved all of Tom Verducci's stuff on the subject, particularly his appropriately terse responses to some inane mailbag questions this week), because we should be enjoying this, celebrating it, bringing up Babe and looking at this in the context of one slugger vs. another, with 70 years between them. The debate should be about which one was the greater hitter -- and perhaps the greatest hitter -- of all-time, not which one did more with his own ability vs. which one had more artificial help.

I find it hard to believe anyone can look at Bonds' career -- his statistics, his baseball cards, his choice of friends and trainers -- and not think that the evidence is overwhelming. Everyone still wants him caught red-handed with the smoking gun: a positive drug test. That's being a little naive. Bonds, of course, admitted to using steroids when he testified before the grand jury; he just claimed he thought what he was being given were natural products rather than artifically produced enhancers.

Much as Ruth never got what he wanted at the end of his career -- a chance to manage -- Bonds won't get what he wants, which is to be considered the greatest player ever, someone who is cheered at each stop around the National League when he makes his farewell tour. Mark McGwire left the game a beloved slugger, but if he were still playing today, he'd be under the same suspicion and the same scrutiny. Bonds will get a warm send-off in San Francisco in his final at-bat, but if he wants that to be his last on-field memory as a player, he'll have to make sure his final game comes at AT&T Park.

Just how much more can he take? Clearly, the scrutiny and pressure is affecting him. He hides from the media, never moving faster than after a game, when he showers and dresses and leaves the clubhouse before the media arrives. He reluctantly answers questions after games in which he hits a home run; then he refuses to sign the ball that became his 713th career homer when a fan from Philadelphia asks, as Verducci reported. The fact that this 25-year-old soldier might soon be deployed to Iraq might prompt some players to take the guy to dinner after the game, or fly him out to San Francisco for a game. The most Barry can do is pose for a photo with the guy.

What happens when Bonds gets 714 and 715 in the next week or so? This is a guy who looks horrible on the field, like the boss trying to squeeze in a few innings in the company softball game, just to appear young and virile to his employees. He aches with every step and leaves games early, when even a five-run lead is big enough to take him out after he bats in the seventh inning. He'll play more on this homestand -- including this afternoon, after a night game yesterday -- as Alou tries to give him the cocoon of the hometown fans for the backdrop of his historic homer, but what will that mean for the trip to Houston and Oakland? It's been protocol for Bonds to sit out a day game after a night game, but on Monday he sat out a night game after a night game, presumably because his knee did not respond well to an overnight cross-country flight home after Sunday night's game in Philadelphia.

When does it all become too much for him? I actually wondered this week if he might hang it up just days after he hits No. 715, if he's finally had enough. His agent came out this week and said he expects Bonds to play somewhere in 2007, but how realistic is that? If he finishes this season with 725 home runs, mimicking the number on his uniform, might he call it a career at that nice, round number? That would mean a total of 17 home runs this season, just barely half of the 30 he would need in 2007 to tie Aaron. He hasn't had a multiple-home run game since Aug. 29, 2004, a span of 72 games in which he's played.

If this is Bonds' final year, that gives us five more years to ponder and debate, ruminate and reconsider, because then all of this will come up again as he's placed on the Hall of Fame ballot. We'll get the first inkling of an indication as to how that might play out in January, when the Hall of Fame announces the Class of 2007 -- for which Mark McGwire is eligible for the first time.

Bonds has had a Hall of Fame career. The only question is how good was he on his own?

Pete Rose's anniversary

In my various meanderings through the internet, I've been known to sign up for a newsletter or two. I've got several e-mail accounts, and I learned years ago never to use my primary address for any orders, subscriptions or other sites requiring an e-mail address for membership or entry, much in the same way that I've never entered the digits to my debit card anywhere online.

So in one of those newsletters, a daily one that features a "This Date In History" section, an erroneous listing for today included:

July 27
1940 Bugs Bunny makes his official debut in the Warner Bros. animated cartoon "A Wild Hare."
1942 Peggy Lee records her first hit record Why Don't You Do Right.
1984 Pete Rose passes Ty Cobb's record with his 4,192nd hit.

It's that last one I found interesting. I didn't seem to remember hearing much about it lately, so I was surprised that it would creep up so quickly. There was no sign of it on MLB.com, but then I got to thinking about how ol' Pete is banned from baseball and the Reds wouldn't be allowed to have him present for any 20th anniversary celebrations they might hold, so maybe Bud and baseball were just ignoring this feat.

Though I was only 8 in July 1984, I've taught myself so much about the history of baseball. The year 1984 didn't seem right to me. Sure enough, a few clicks later, I found the right date: Sept. 11, 1985. So we've still got nearly 14 months until the 20th anniversary of Pete's 4,192nd hit, but I've already started writing this essay in my head, so why wait until then. I'll just link back to it when the time comes.

Pete Rose's banishment from baseball is sad. It's sad he brought it upon himself, that's for sure, and sad that he fell victim to a disease that affects thousands of anonymous Americans, let alone the famous ones. However, he's had his opportunities to improve his standing in the eyes of Baseball -- the suits on Park Avenue and downtown Milwaukee -- and he's blown many of those. With another Hall of Fame weekend behind us, we're reminded of Pete Rose's ticking clock of eligibility. He retired as a player in 1986 and would have become eligible for the Hall in 1991. Players only have 15 years on the ballot, then they're turned over to the Veterans Committee, which now includes more players -- and Hall of Famers -- than it once did. So ol' Pete has less than two years to try to get on the writers' ballot and get the votes of those scribes and broadcasters who grew up watching him, who covered him, who will look more at his play on the field and less at his disrespect for the game off it.

Taking away his gambling indiscretions for a moment -- as hard as that is to do -- it will be a shame if, on Sept. 11, 2005, the Reds celebrate the 20th anniversary of the new Hit King without Pete Rose making an appearance at Great American Ballpark. He probably will, though. If Bud could relent enough to allow him on the field in Atlanta 1999 for the introduction of the All-Century Team, he'll probably jump at another chance to embrace baseball's history and another milestone moment and allow him onto the field in Cincinnati next September. It would be a shame if they didn't. It was certainly a great moment in Reds history, and I wouldn't want to see the anniversary pass as quietly as it seemed to today.

Scrolling through the lists of baseball's all-time leaders, the players at the top of each column are either in Cooperstown or have their ticket issued -- though guys like Barry Bonds and Rickey Henderson still have their arrival dates left blank. But when those living legends meet again each July in Cooperstown, there's no photo ops with the Strikeout King and the Hit King, no pairings of the man with the most home runs and the man with the most hits.

The part of me that loves baseball's history wants Pete Rose to be there. As I near my 30s and the players inducted into the Hall of Fame each July become more and more familiar -- guys like Dennis Eckersley and Paul Molitor, who played recently enough to overlap my first experiments with fantasy baseball -- I can't imagine the likes of Chili Davis, Fred McGriff or Rafael Palmeiro embossed in brass on a plaque.

But Pete Rose I can see there. I don't know if he should be, though. He was a rat for gambling on baseball, but he had a chance to come clean about it and he chose to lie, and to hide. He exiled himself and now he's trying to apologize his way back into the party.

It's probably too late.