Tuesday, August 24, 1999
Home run drama going, going, gone
BY PAUL DAUGHERTY
The Cincinnati Enquirer
The summer of '98, whoa, we'll never see that again. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, chasing the ghost of Roger Maris, enthralling a nation. The drama, the anticipation, the memorabilia geeks.
It was a once in a lifetime thrill. But only if you died in the past year.
Sosa homered twice Friday and twice more Saturday, Nos. 46, 47, 48 and 49, temporarily passing McGwire. McGwire answered Sunday, blasting two, Nos. 49 and 50, to regain the lead. McGwire is on pace to equal his record 70-homer year; Sosa is ahead of where he was last year, when he hit a mere 66.
Because I have deadlines and know what a home run derby looks like, I have not included Monday night's action. By the time you read this, Sammy or Mac will have hit another three or four or, what the hey, five more.
Too much of good thing
I've been told I'm misreading this. Relax, you say. The fans love it. They put 50,139 in Shea Stadium Sunday. It wasn't just to watch Garrett Stephenson. The Cardinals put 40,000 in the seats nightly to see a team that loses half the time.
The Reds are hoping beyond hope that the three home games they have left with the Cubs and the four left with St. Louis will pump their attendance to close to 2 million for the season. Chicks dig the longball. So does everyone else. Shut up and enjoy it, wise guy.
It isn't possible to make home runs boring. But it is possible to dull them down. It is possible, in this hit-happy summer of lumber, to wonder: If everyone hits home runs, how can home runs be special?
In its quest to please fans, baseball has lost its balance. For decades, “power” hitters hit 30 home runs a year, and drove in 100. That was the gold standard and life was good. What's the gold standard now?
As of Sunday, 13 players had 30-plus home runs; 13 had at least 100 runs driven in. That's with six weeks to play.
What's power now? Thirty-five homers? Forty? Who's a power hitter? Someone named Matt Stairs, an Oakland A, has 29 home runs. That used to be a lot of home runs. Who's Matt Stairs?
In 1966, Roberto Clemente had 29 homers and 119 RBI for Pittsburgh. Not by Sept. 1; after 162 games. Clemente was the National League MVP. With numbers like that this year, The Great One would bat seventh for Cleveland.
It's getting out of hand. The home run is a devalued currency. It's not quite the ruble, but it's getting there. It would be different if it were only Sammy and Mac mocking the fences. It's not. They're the best at it, certainly. But they have lots of company.
Ken Griffey Jr. (37 homers now) should finish with 50-plus. Jeff Bagwell (37), Rafael Palmeiro (37) and Carlos Delgado (36) have a chance. These are silly numbers. Thirty homers is a shrug, 40 is a nod. Fifty? Now you're talking. It's so bad, McGwire has taken to justifying his feat by telling us it's harder than it looks. Of course it is. But not as hard as it used to be.
The best thing to come out of another homer chase is that all the people who kept the historic home run balls last year would see the value of their possessions drop like a grapefruit from the top of the Sears Tower. The comic-book guy who paid $3 million for No. 62 must be getting nauseous.
Sequels aren't the same
McGwire can chase himself this year. He might even top himself. But it won't be the same.
“I'm not as excited,” McGwire said Sunday. “Last year, we were chasing history.” Last year was a first kiss. This year is a second date. That's no reflection on Mac or Sosa. The former is as self-effacing as ever. Realizing the sway he holds over kids, he has stopped using andro. Sosa retains his champagne personality, interview after autograph after personal appearance. They are a remarkable pair.
But their magic slips a little every time someone goes yard/plays longball/dials Dr. Deep etc. etc.
More isn't always better. Sometimes, more is just more.
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
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