
What
drew me into the world of the Cardboard Gods as much as anything else
was its clean, well-defined system of statistical landmarks. You knew
where you stood with the numbers on the back of a baseball player's
card. If a guy hit 30 home runs and drove in 100 runs, he was a star
slugger. If another guy turned in a sub-3.00 ERA, he was a top pitcher.
It was as simple as that, no gray areas, no confusion. This is part of
why people become religious, I think. They're looking for clear
guidelines on what's good and what isn't.
For starting pitchers,
it's all about wins. If you win 20 games, you're an ace. Conversely, if
you lose 20 games, you're kind of a rag arm, a luckless mushballer
(though probably not utterly incompetent; after all, your team must
have seen reason to keep running you out to the hill to take all those
beatings).
These seemingly mutually exclusive starting pitcher
landmarks were well-known to me by the time I started inspecting the
baffling statistics on the back of Wilbur Wood's card. In a five-year
span, the aging knuckleballer with the 19th century name won 20 games
four times, but he also lost 20 games twice, 19 games once, and 17
games once. The most confusing year of all was 1973, when Wilbur Wood
achieved both plateaus in the same year, racking up 24 wins while also
suffering 20 losses.
I couldn't figure out right away if Wilbur
Wood was bad or good, but eventually I came to see him as being in both
name and deed some kind of a throwback to the rugged spike-gashing dawn
of major league baseball, when hurlers started both ends of a
doubleheader and then came on in relief despite massive corn liquor
hangovers the next day at dusk to strand the go-ahead and winning runs
in scoring position. Wilbur Wood was beyond Old School. He was Old
Testament. He was the last vestige of a time when men named Rube and
Mordecai and Smokey Joe and Grover strode as giants upon the land,
their won-loss records both gleaming and gory, good and bad entangled.
When
Wilbur Wood hung it up, it left no one to stop the meek 5-inning
starters and 4-pitch bullpen specialists from inheriting the earth.
Pete said...
This was the first full season in modern "major-league" history that baseball did not have a 20-game winner. You would have to go back to the days of McCabe and Mrs. Miller, back in the 19th century, to find a precedent.
There are no more complete games.
There are no more Coney Islands.
There is no more Fulton Fish Market.
Forget about it Jake,
it's "chinatown."
3:46 PM
May your shoebox of cards be forever full.
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