2013 Baseball Hall Of Fame Ballot Thoughts

I love baseball.

Unlike most of my family, who love football and basketball, respectively, I tended to fall more towards the spectrum of baseball.  I enjoy the game, the strategy that is employed, the scouting and evaluation side of it, and just the fact that I can go to a ballpark, watch a game, and have a conversation with a relative of friend while watching the game.  When I first began blogging, it was primarily as a sports blogger, which I maintained for almost three years before finally giving it up a couple of years ago.

However, one thing I did do, and this goes back to my first blog post, is keep track of the baseball hall of fame voting.  It was my first time ever offering an analysis on a subject, and since then, I've kept up the tradition of posting my thoughts on the ballot, as well as trying to guess who might make it.   So, in that vein, here are my thoughts about the ballot, starting with the fuckers that shouldn't be on the ballot.


Todd Walker (INF), Jose Mesa (RHP), and Roberto Hernandez (RHP) - LOLZ!   Average to fringe contributors, but really, why are they even on here?  It just gives people the opportunity to chuckle for a moment before moving onto the next name.

Tim Raines (DH) - No.  Raines really is a guy that should be in the Hall of Fame.  He was a prodigous hitter, and was probably the second best leadoff man behind Ricky Henderson, who is already in the Hall of Fame.  He was an underrated stolen base thief, a skill that often goes unnoticed by those who analyze his game.  However, Raines' early drug use, as well as the fact that he was mostly a Designated Hitter, are what hurt his candidacy among some voters, even though advanced metrics do show that his performance does rank among many players who are already in the Hall.  It's unfortunate, but I doubt that he'll ever get in, barring a massive change amongst the voters.

Jeff Bagwell (1B) and Craig Biggio (2B/OF/C) - Not This Time, and Strong Possibility.  The original Killer B's, and for almost two decades, the faces of the Houston Astros, both players are well regarded as good people, great players, and likely Hall of Famers.  However, both are going to have some roadblocks along the way.  For Bagwell, it's that there are rumors that he might might have tried the juice at some point in his career, as well as the fact that he didn't reach 500 dingers in his career.  In the case of the former, I'm sure that you'll find rumors about everyone, but in the later, it's important to know that Bagwell played in one of the most home run suppressive parks in the Astrodome, where homers went to die.  As for Biggio, while he does have 3000 hits, it's the end of his career, which people saw as him holding on simply to reach that milestone, that hurts him, although I think the juice stigma on some guys will help his cause.  Still, both will likely get in in time, although I hope that they get in together, much as they did throughout their careers.

Lee Smith (RHP) - No.  Smith was the all time saves leader, but this was seen as more of a product of Smith's exceptionally long career than any sort of dominance.  With some truly exceptional closers coming up on the horizon in Trevor Hoffman and Mariano Rivera, it's safe to say Smith is kinda screwed.

Allen Trammel (SS) - No, and this is a shame.  Trammel was an offensive shortstop who had the misfortune of playing right before a revolution in the way shortstops hit and defended arrived in the league with the arrival of Jeter, Alex Rodriguez, Nomar Garciaparra, Miguel Tejada, and others.  As such, the change in the position from one of defense to offense made his numbers look quite pedestrian in comparison, although the position has now turned back to one of defensive value rather than offense.  Such a change of philosophy will come too late from Trammel, who will likely never be enshrined ever.

Jack Morris (RHP) - NO!  NO!  HELL NO!!! Morris is probably one of the more divisive Hall Of Fame candidates out there. Those against him call him an average pitcher, a compiler, someone who was a workhorse, but never dominant. Those for him call him an ace on winning teams, a man that pitched to the score and battled to get the win. The truth might be in between, but trends more to the former, rather than the later. Morris was one of the most durable pitchers in his generation, but looking back at his more advanced stats, Morris only was much better than the league average pitcher in six of his 18 seasons, and was below average for four. Morris was rarely among the league leaders in strikeouts, and his command for much of his career was average at best. And while many will lionize Morris for willing to take the ball and be willing to pitch until he ended up the winning pitcher, that isn't a measure of dominance, but rather remarkable durability. Ultimately, what really is the only factor that gets so many people willing to throw their support behind Morris is Game Seven of the 1991 World Series, which is regarded as one of the best games ever played. It’s only because of that one singular event that so many sports writers are so willing to support Morris. And that’s fine. But ultimately, it’s misguided.  Morris might squeak in this year, as there appears to be quite a bit of animosity toward many of the steroid era players, but I doubt it.  But I've been wrong before.  He'd easily be, based on the stats alone, one of the worst ever inductees to make it into the Hall of Fame (Jim Rice is also up there.)

Edgar Martinez (DH) - No.  Much like Tim Raines, Martinez is also going to be stigmized by the fact that he was a DH for most of his career, and didn't play the position.  It's unfortunate, because Martinez was really good, and would be a borderline candidate if he were a left fielder or first baseman, rather than just strictly a DH.

Rafael Palmeiro (1B/3B) - Not A Chance In Hell.  Palmeiro is one of the only members to be in the 3000 hit club and 500 homer club, and the only one that will never get enshrined.  He was arguably one of my favorite players growing up, and seeing him go to the Orioles after he played for my favorite team, the Texas Rangers, killed me as a kid.  However, Palmeiro's candidacy went down the tubes when he 1) made his infamous statement to Congress and 2) became the first high profile player ever to be caught under the new steroid testing policy.  People haven't forgotten, and judging by how long he's been on the ballot, I don't think anyone ever will.

Dale Murphy (OF) - No.  Murphy had a nice enough peak during which he was one of the better outfielders in baseball, but nothing certainly worthy of Hall of Fame consideration.

Bernie Williams (OF) - No.   Williams was part of the core four Yankees that came up in the farm system during their dynasty period in the mid to late 90's (along with Derek Jeter, Andy Pettitte, and Mariano Rivera), and was the first of the four to retire.  He was a solid player for a time, but wasn't a great one by any means.  His also didn't have much of a decline period, as his production, ability to play center field, and durability jumped out the Empire State Building once he turned 34.  Still, it's a great career, and one that might get him enshrined in Monument Park, but not anywhere else.

Fred McGriff (OF) - No, and it's a shame.  The Crime Dog was a exceptional hitter in his time, hitting for power and showing exceptional patience at the plate.  The biggest reason why McGriff hasn't been inducted, and it's a stupid one, is that he didn't reach the 500 home run plateau, which is kind of the standard for hitters, much like 3000 strikeouts and/or 300 wins is for pitchers.  It's more likely than not that McGriff will fall of the ballot, which is a crying shame.

Barry Bonds (OF) and Roger Clemens (RHP) - Not this time.  The two biggest names of steroid era likely won't get into the Hall right off the bat, as many will refuse to vote for them out of principle.  That's stupid, and the Hall of Fame will be incomplete without the era's greatest hitter and it's greatest pitcher in it.  They'll make it in time, as I do believe public opinion will soften over time, but the hardline stance that some writers have over the use of PED's, as well as the fact that both were/are colossal pricks will hurt their causes in the short term.

Mike Piazza (C) - Yes.  One of the greatest catchers in Baseball History, Piazza hit for power, was a capable defender, and was generally an asset to the teams that he played for.   He might have held on for a bit too long, and his career does have the usual steroid rumblings, as much of the era's best players do, but there is no reason why he shouldn't be in.

Curt Schilling (RHP) - Not this time.  Schilling was one of the more dominant pitchers in the late 90's, early aught's, although it did take him sometime to turn his talents into production.  He was one of the biggest big game pitchers of all time, and the owner of one of the more memorable post-season moments of all time, Schilling will probably make it into the Hall of Fame in time, provided he doesn't get tossed into the can for the shenanigans with his video game company first.

Kenny Lofton (OF) - No.  Kenny Lofton was sort of like the Shasta version of Ricky Henderson.  Both were speedy outfielders who got on base and functioned as above average leadoff men.  Both had some pop in their otherwise tiny frames, although Henderson had a slight edge on him.  However, Lofton wasn't quite as effective as he began to lose his speed, and towards the end of his career, he was miscast as a starter when it was obvious he needed to be a bench player.  Good player, but not hall worthy.

Sammy Sosa & Mark McGwire (OF) - Not a chance in hell.  Sosa and McGwire will forever be linked by the '98 Home Run Chase, which saw McGwire hit 70, breaking Roger Maris' long standing home run record.  However, they'll also both be linked as the poster children of the steroid era.

Steve Finley (CF) - No.  A very good player, who was a solid lead off man, and a excellent centerfielder for some time.  However, his peak years were good, but not great, and both the beginning and the end of his career weren't exactly pretty.  So, no.

Don Mattingley (1B) - No.  Mattingley's career can essentially be told in two parts.  From 1982-1989, Mattingley was often the lone bright spot of some truly wretched Yankees squads, which George Steinbrenner micromanaged into the ground before his temporary banishment from baseball allowed then general manager Gene Michael to rebuild the franchise in time for their mid to late 90's dominance.  If any grade school kid was asked who his favorite player was in the 80's, more often than not it would be Mattingley.  However, after '89, Mattingley's back would betray him, and the result was that Donnie Baseball would be robbed of much of his power and durability for the remainder of his career, which ended in '95, after his one and only appearance in the post-season.  Mattingley isn't a Hall of Famer, but his lingering on the ballot is as much a testament to his continued popularity as it is a dreaming of what could have been.

Julio Franco (INF) - No.  A solid contributor for a long time, and he certainly had one of the longest careers ever to be enjoyed.  But the only way Franco will be enshrined in the Hall of Fame is as a medical exhibit.

Reggie Sanders (OF) - No.  Sanders was an average player, hit for some power, got on base at times, but never did anything exceptionally well.  He was far from a star, but he had some very good years where he was an asset for some squads, in particular the 2001 Diamondbacks team that won the championship in such  dramatic fashion.

Jeff Cirillo (3B) - LOLZ, No.  Cirillo had a couple of good years, but overall was an average third baseman.  They shouldn't have even listed him, but I suspect he'll get one or two pity votes.

Larry Walker (OF) - No.  Walker is a borderline guy, but his late career injury woes are combined with a discounting of his numbers due to the fact he played much of his career in Colorado.  I figure him to get more consideration in a few years.

Ryan Klesko (INF) - No.  Klesko was a useful enough player in his time, and had some burn as a guy who could hit for some power and fake a number of positions on the field.  However, he was nothing special and played for a bit too long than he should have, although the fact major league teams were willing to throw money at him longer after his usefulness ended shouldn't be held against him.

Woody Williams (RHP) - Awww, Hell No!  Woody Williams had a long career, that's for certain, and was useful for a period of time from 1997 to 2004 as a guy who could eat up innings in the back end of your starting rotation.  But let's be honest: he wasn't a dominant pitcher, and much of his success was the result of pitching not only in the National League, but also behind some great outfield defense and spacious ballparks. The amount of homers he gave up each year alone would were enough to make a case for an All Star spot if they were somehow collected into a single humanoid construct.   So yeah, I'd have to vote a big no on him.

Rondell White (OF/DH) - No.  His brightest years were with the Expos, a team that no longer exists, before he spend much of the aught's watching his career decay into a crawling, pitiful mess, much like the zombie that Rick Grimes first meets in The Walking Dead.

Aaron Sele (RHP) - Ha Ha!  Nope! Sele's continued employment in baseball was due to two factors: A) he could pitch a ton of innings and B) he could pitch marginally well enough to avoid throwing up on himself. The highlight of his career was probably winning a World Series in 2002 with the Angels.  The bad news is that he was hurt, and thus never got to pitch for them.

Sandy Alomar Jr. (C) - No.  Sandy was an excellent defensive catcher who mostly was a backup, although he did at times have some periods as the full time starter.  Great guy to have on a team, and is generally on the short list of guys who will become a future manager.  But, no.

Royce Clayton (SS) - No.  A very good defensive shortstop, but not really much of a hitter or anything more than a average regular or stopgap option.  Clayton did play for a good long time, but he's probably know more for his appearance in the film Moneyball than for his playing career.

Jeff Conine (OF/1B) - One of the first real players to be identified with the Florida Marlins, (indeed, his nickname was Mr. Marlin) Conine wasn't anything really special.  He hit for a high average and had some pop, but wasn't anything special.

Mike Stanton (LHP) - Nope.  Stanton was probably best known as serving as a part of the set up corp to Mariano Rivera during the Yankee dynasty, but he enjoyed a good, long career in his time.  Set up men don't make the Hall of Fame, however, but Stanton can take solace in the fact that he has some nice championship jewelry (although 1999 is gaudy as hell), and the fact that he does have a steady gig on MLB Network Radio.

(Not So) Fast Break

Photo by Grant McKeekin, check out his Flickr here.

Basketball runs in my family.

My uncles from my Mother's side of the family were high school standouts for the El Paso High Tigers, with my younger uncle playing semi-pro basketball in Mexico for a time.  My older cousin Chris was a starter for his high school team in Albuquerque, and was quite a good one too.  I remember travelling with my family to his games in Las Cruces when La Cueva would play a local team there, like Mayfield or Onate.  My uncle Emilio was a local legend in El Paso, who often played pick up games against the famous 1966 Texas-El Paso team that won the NCAA championship, and even played for Don Haskins for a couple of years before a devastating knee injury derailed his hopes of turning pro.  His two daughters were starters for their ladies high school team, the Hanks High School Lady Knights, before going off to college.   Another cousin played for his local high school team while his father was stationed in Germany.  My sister played some junior high school ball for her team, and even my brother gave a crack at trying to play hoops.  He wasn't bad, but decided to do track instead.

Myself?   With this amazing history in my family, and the potential for possible adequacy, and perhaps even stardom in my genes, I should have been amazing at this sport that I had an interest in. right?

But no, I sucked hard.

No, that's a bit too harsh.  Despite my interest in the game (I'm a lifelong San Antonio Spurs fan), the skills weren't there.  Up until high school  I stood at five feet, had no rhythm or feel for the game, and barely able to control dribbling the ball.  So, to put it a little kinder, I was absolutely abysmal at basketball.  A vortex of suck, as the cool kids on the basketball blogs put it.

Needless to say, I tended to be on terrible teams when it came to P.E. basketball teams, especially in junior high, where coaches, out of disinterest or laziness, just allowed the kids to form their own teams.  Naturally, the kids that were good, or at least competent, tended to group together, creating two or three super-teams  which naturally walloped the out of the five or six squads made up of scrubs.  So, for the month and a half that basketball was organized for that particular grading period, P.E. became an exercise of suiting up in our uniforms of old t-shirts and shorts that were a couple of washes away from being used to wash a car (my uncle coined the term P.L.C.'s for these clothes, which stood for Para Llavar El Carro) and getting smoked by fifty. Yes, it was every bit as fun as it sounds.

It was in the final few games that my particular band of unathletic misfits (who had the audacity to call themselves the Celtics, which may have jinxed the real life Celtics who went 32-50 that season and missed the playoffs), went against the team that had dubbed themselves the Rockets, who were sitting pretty at the top of our makeshift division, with the playoffs set to begin the next week in a winner gets absolutely nothing, round robin tournament before we switched over to Dodgeball or something along those lines.

Predictably, things started off badly.  That particular team had at least two of the starters from the Slider 7th Grade A team, with at least a couple of the bench guys from the B team thrown into their mix.  They could play, and had been since they were kids.  My team on the other hand, could be summed up in the following statement:  we weren't big, but we were slow.   So it wasn't a surprise that after twenty minutes of play, my team was down by double digits.  My memory is hazy, but the point differential was probably in the thirties or forties.  It wasn't pretty.

Things only got worse after what consisted of our halftime, which was generally break long enough to go run to the outside water fountain, which was usually the one fountain on the school whose refreshment tasted faintly like the pipes. Still, whatever was in that faintly lead tasting hydration must have ignited some superhuman gene within our opponents, because we were getting destroyed at an even more breakneck pace than before. It was like watching the Seven Seconds or Less Suns, but with you being the guy this time, you're on the receiving end of the beating.

That's when my teammates started leaving. It should have been expected. At some point, no matter how hard you might try, there are certain things that you just aren't able to do, simply because physically, you can't. In this case, after all the losing from the past few weeks, as the schedules were far from balanced, the running up the score on others, and the current annihilation in progress, sometimes people reach their breaking points. And in this case, someone did. I don't remember the kids name, but I just remember the look of disgust on his face that preceded a quiet, cracking voice, still halfway between manhood and childhood croaking "Screw this."  One moment, he was playing matador defense against the other team's point guard, the next moment, he suddenly turned and walked sullenly, dejectedly off the court.  The dam had broken, as once one person leaves, it's hard to keep other people feeling the same way from doing so.  In the span of minutes, I found that I was now very much alone on the basketball court.

This created a quandary, as the other team and I, were at something of an impasse.  The game was still going on, and coaches were watching to make sure that we were participating.  Quitting wasn't something that reflected well on one's P.E. grade, even if it was the difference from getting an A or a B on an otherwise useless class period.  On the other hand, there wasn't a team on the floor anymore, so technically, how could the game still be continue?  Realistically, I could leave the game, walk away, and no one would have blamed me for doing so.

Except I couldn't do that.  Call it stubbornness,  call it pride, or maybe some uncrushable part of my sense of self that I had yet to discover, but I couldn't walk away.  The idea was unacceptable to me.  Time was ticking, and a decision needed to be made.  I had the ball in my hands, and five other people were standing, wondering just what I was going to do next.

I had no one to inbound the ball to me, I just bounced it once and charged in, five on one, myself against the world.

If this were an episode of Saved By The Bell, or at the very least an episode of ABC's After School Special, I suppose this would be the moment where i discovered some sort of  hidden ability, an Allen Iverson-esque ability of basketball in which I could play in isolation, dominate the game, and somehow lead myself to a comeback.  Or that my teammates, inspired by my stubborn determination, would come roaring back to my side, and through some mixture of grit, luck, and determination, we would have emerged victorious.

But no, I got destroyed, 70-something to 4.  And I was extremely lucky to get the four.  The score would have probably been higher if the whistles not eventually sounded the final whistle for all of the games on the playground courts.  I have to admit, I was slightly embarrassed.  I hadn't expected to do well, although I didn't expect a trouncing along those lines.  However, I do remember feeling oddly proud of myself that I had at least played the entire period, and played my hardest, even though it wasn't very well.

The next day, after suiting up, I passed by the dot-matrixed printed standings of our divisions, which usually told us which playground court to go to, along with where we stood in our divisions.  Out of curiosity  I looked at my team's record, and was surprised to see that we had somehow picked up a win.  Well, I wasn't  surprised, my mind was blown.  I asked the couch if he had made a typo, and he said, no, you guys picked up a win yesterday.

I immediately sought out one of the guys from the other team the day before.  I asked him, what happened?

"You won the game."  He said simply.

"How?"  I asked, confused more than ever.  "You kicked my teams ass, and then my ass right after that."

"You didn't give up."  He said simply, looking at me like I was a complete idiot.  "Everyone left, but you stayed and you still played.  So we went to coach after the game and forfeited.  You earned that win."  And then he walked off, leaving me staring as he walked out into the school grounds as my band of misfits slowly dragged their sneaks to today's latest trouncing (we lost hard, breaking our one game win streak.)

Despite the rather unbelievable circumstances of this story, it is a true one, and I've told it as closely to the truth as a can, for it did happen almost 19 years ago.  And it has taught me quite a bit as I've reflected over time.  That being persistent and confident in one's self can help lead you to where you need to go.  That people will respect the effort that you place in a cause, even if it at times may be a hopeless one.  And that at times, even though something may seem hopeless or dire, perhaps it is better to

Maybe I do have something to add to my family's basketball history after all.  A story about a guy that took on the world, got beaten up in the process, and yet still came out with a victory, in his own way.  This is not going to be a story that will be held in esteem, nor will be told in the nostalgic, sepia tones that the tales of my uncles' hoop dreams are told then and now.  It's a story that will likely die with me, and will likely be forgotten.  But the important thing is that it happened.  And for that brief moment, as I stood in the hallway of the middle school, with the rest of my gym classmates filing past me, I might have, for that brief moment, felt like they did, when their stories were the moment, when they were young, and they were writing their stories on the hardwood.

Kerry Wood, And The Career We Were Robbed Of

Kerry Wood announced his retirement today, and after his final appearance during today’s game against the White Sox, he’ll ride off into the sunset, more than likely in a position with the Cubs’ front office or television booth.  Wood will be retiring at the age of 34, in reasonably good health, and with a career that he should be proud of.  He has a career ERA of 3.67, an 86-75 record, 1581 career strikeouts, and is on the short list of having pitched one of the greatest games by a starting pitcher in history.

Still, when you look at how Wood began his career, and how his career progressed, you can’t help but wonder that it should have progressed a lot differently.

When Wood burst onto the scene in 1998, he did so with a thunderbolt.  He pitched 166 innings, struck out 233, won 13 games, and on May 6, struck out 20 Houston Astros, joining Roger Clemens as the only pitchers to ever strike out 20 in a game.  His performance was even more dominant that that of Clemens in that he only allowed a single hit and didn’t allow a single walk.  It should have been the start of an exceptional career, one that would see Wood inherit the mantle of Nolan Ryan as that of the most dominant flamethrower in Baseball.  

Except for one problem.  Wood pitched a lot of innings since dating back to his career at Grand Prarie High School.  Wood was one of the last generations of pitchers that were willfully abused and forced to pitch far too many innings as a developing youth.  He was before the age of pitch counts and innings limits, before parents and agents sought to protect their sons and clients from overcompetitive high school and college coaches.

So it’s probably no surprise that Wood, shortly after making the majors, would get injured, due to the rather archaic standpoint of handling pitchers by his managers at the major league level.  Wood would be overworked and succumb to injury by his first manager, Jim Riggleman, during the 1999 season, after having worked 176 innings in both the regular season, minors, and playoffs in his rookie of the year winning campaign.  And Wood would continue to be injured in various parts of 2000 before showing signs of life in 2001, and possible improvement under Don Baylor.  Indeed, after 2002, having since been joined on the Cubs’ staff by Mark Prior, another bonafide young sensation, the Cubs figured to own the NL Central for the next decade.

And then 2003 and Dusty Baker happened.  Baker was another manager of the old school, who felt that a pitcher should be able to pitch whenever his name was called, and to hell with the consequences.  All this talk of pitch counts, and innings limits didn’t hold much water for Baker.  Never mind that baseball history is littered with pitchers that threw for close to 300 innings in a season, and then never pitched again.  Never mind that the San Francisco Giants, Baker’s previous employer, had several former promising pitchers that would see their careers nosedive under Baker’s watch.  No, it’s safe to say that Baker was either ignorant of the effect of too much work on a pitcher, or didn’t care.  

It should have been safe to conclude from the moment that Baker was hired that Wood was absolutely screwed.  Wood would throw 238 innings that year, more than he had ever thrown in his career, and more than he probably should have.  Perhaps if the Cubs had actually gone on to the World Series that year, maybe the sacrifice of Wood’s arm would have been worth it.  Alas, the Cubs would see their chances die in Game 6 of the NLCS, during with another victim of Baker’s mismanagement, Prior, who was exhausted by his own abuse of his arm, would see the game, and the Cubs’ chances at a title, go out the window.  Wood would gamely try to continue as a starter for another two seasons, during which the effects of the 2003 season would ultimately force him to the bullpen, as he simply did not have the stamina, or the ability, to start.

I suppose, in retrospect, back when Wood first arrived, you got the overwhelming sensation that you were going to be a witness to something special.  Wood seemed as if he was going to be the next pitcher with whom we were going to refer to as having left a legacy, much as we do Cy Young, Nolan Ryan, Roger Clemens, Warren Spahn, Sandy Koufax, Greg Maddux and others before him.  You got the feeling that he was going to leave the game much better than when he entered it.

And in a rather sad and ironic sense, Wood did leave a legacy.  It was by and large the utter destruction of both he and Prior that management and coaching in baseball began to look at the effects of utterly working pitchers’ arms to death.  While there are certain cases in which pitchers are overworked and have suffered injury before it (such as Dusty Baker and Trey Hillman’s destruction of Aaron Harang and Gil Meche’s careers respectively), the sport has moved beyond that of ignorance and tradition and more on preserving and developing an asset properly.  Pitching has been described as the most unnatural motion in nature, and it’s true that there is a high level of attrition in pitching prospects.  That does not mean that there needs to be an added element of negligence involved as well.  You are making an investment; why not do your best to preserve it. 

In 2007, Wood would reinvent himself as a reliever, and had a few solid years as a setup man and a closer before all of that wear and tear would finally lead to today, in which Wood would strike out White Sox outfielder Dayan Viciedo, and would then be removed as he was congratulated by his team mates and would be met by his son as he reached the dugout.  Wood, eerily similar to Ryan’s final bow, would emerge from the dugout, doff his hat to the fans, before riding off into the sunset.

A fine ending, and one that any player would love to go out.  Not many players are able to choose how they leave the game.  For most, it's the game that pushes them out, and leaves us with a memory that is neither pleasant, or endearing.  So, in retrospect, that Wood received such an outpouring of love from his teammates and the home crowd, at the time of his choosing, is a blessing of itself.

I just can’t help but feel that things should have gone differently.

Ten Unbreakable Records In Sports

With yesterday being the anniversery of Wilt Chamberlain's 100 point game, and the question of whether or not the record will be broken (I think it will, as Kobe almost did it a few years ago), I thought I'd post ten records I don't think will ever be broken.

Cy Young’s Win, Loss and Complete Game Total

• Wins:  511
• Losses:  316
• Complete Games:  749

No player will ever be a bigger winner, loser, and horse than Cy Young.  Let’s begin with the complete games.  Young threw 749 complete games, the most among any pitcher.  There is no way in hell this would be broken.  In Young’s day, not only were offenses a lot worse, and the mounds a lot higher, but the rise of bullpen specialization in baseball means that this is never going to happen again.  Managers nowadays are trained to give the ball to their closer for the final inning, no matter how well a player is pitching.  Not only that, but in Young’s day, pitchers were generally allowed to pitch through their mistakes, allowing them to take credit for their effort, or own up to their mistakes.  This in turn, impacts the win total for pitchers.  Nowadays, the starter is usually pulled by the manager at the first sign of trouble.  With fans and industry people wondering if even 300 wins by a starting pitcher is even possible anymore, there is no way that a pitcher can even get within shouting distance of Cy Young’s record.

The Iron Men Streaks Of Brett Favre and Cal Ripkin Jr.

• Favre:  297
• Ripkin:  2632

We’ll start first with Favre, who officially retired last year in 2010 in a year marked by injury, ineffectiveness and pecker photos.  Football is a grueling sport, and with there only being 16 games each year, it’s astounding that Favre was able to remain active and playing for as long as he did.  It’s safe to say in a league where it’s acronym is amusingly and truthfully said to stand for the phrase Not For Long, that nobody is going to reach Favre for a long, long time.
Ripken’s streak of 2632 games is perhaps even more impressive.  While baseball is not as physically taxing as a football game, keep in mind that football at the very least has close to a week off in between games.  Baseball has virtually no off time, so if you have even a moderate injury, you are essentially screwed, as you have to miss time.  Plus, with the amount of money in contract that is paid out to baseball players, very rarely will a team allow a player the risk of aggravating said injury into something severe.

Boston Celtics 1959 to 1966 Championship Run

• Championships Won:  11

Like the Yankees in the 50’s and 60’s, the Celtics were equally nasty in the 60’s, winning 8 straight championships.  No one will ever achieve this again.  In any sport.  Simply put, the games have changed.  For starters, there are more playoff rounds now in all sports than there were in the earlier part of the last century.  It’s much harder for a team to run the gauntlet, especially in multiple seven game series.  Second, free agency has changed the landscape of sports.  Players have much more freedom to leave, and plus with the amount of money paid out to players in terms of contracts, it’s not feasible for teams to keep entire squads together year after year.  Plus, the competition is just better now.  Front offices are smarter, player evaluation is better, and bigger, richer teams aren’t able to take advantage of smaller teams as badly as they used to.  To go back to the baseball example, the Yankees virtually used the Kansas City Athletics as a farm team in the 1950’s and early 1960’s.  That can’t happen anymore.

Nolan Ryan’s Career Strikeout Total

• Total:  5714

Nolan Ryan is possibly one of the most enduring starting pitchers in the history of the sport.  While he is often lambasted for having a career win-loss record around .500, Ryan spent much of his career pitching for some horrid Angel and Astro teams.  Ryan’s career path was much more based on comfort of his surroundings, rather than championships (though he did win one in 1969, with the Miracle Mets).  It’s highly possible that if he did choose to chase championships, Ryan would probably have a lot more wins.  Ryan’s career strikeout record of 5714 is far and away the most ever by a pitcher, and still light years away from the second person on the list, Randy Johanson, who clocks in at 4875.

Nolan Ryan’s Seven No Hitter

There are several hall of fame pitchers that have gone their entire careers without recording a No-Hitter.  Ryan did it seven times in his 27 career, with the Angels, Astros and Rangers.  That is astounding, especially when you consider that the next highest pitcher on the list is the immortal Sandy Koufax with four.  There are teams that don’t even have seven no hitters in their entire existence!  Safe to say, this record appears safe, though it’s possible that Justin Verlander, the current favorite to pitch a no-hitter any time he’s on the mound, could surpass Koufax.

Emmitt Smith’s 18,355 Career Rushing Yards

Smith’s all time record of 18,355 rushing yards is another one that’s going to stay unbeaten, at least for a while.  Again, like Young’s records, this is also due to changes in the game.  Smith played from an era when every team typically went with a one back system.  Running backs were typically coveted, and were locked up for long periods of time.  Nowadays, running backs are among the most disposable positions in pro sports, with teams employing multiple backs, and notorious for axing a back once he outlives his usefulness.

Bill Russell's 11 Championship Rings

Like the earlier Celtics mention, this will never happen again, for the same reasons mentioned earlier.  First of all, you would need to have an excellent franchise player stay with said successful organization.  Second, said team will have to have a unprecedented run of success and one of the savviest front offices in their sport.  Of any franchise since then, only the Jordan and Pippen Bulls could match this distinction, and they’re not even within shouting distance