Bread and Circuses

Who is this Cal Ripken Jr. the sports media talked about this weekend? A regular American hero. The living embodiment of what can be achieved through hard work. An example to the youth of America. A counterweight to the evil Barry Bonds.

That Cal Ripken is partly truth, partly fiction, and wholly an invention of sportswriters and broadcasters. The contrast between Ripken and Bonds was too good to pass on so they picked it up and passed it around like a joint at a Grateful Dead concert. ‘Here, take a hit of Ripken. You’ll forget there ever was a Barry Bonds’.

It doesn’t work like that. Barry Bonds has children that love him, a wife who is standing by him, teammates who respect and even like him, and has occasionally been seen smiling around fans. And he’s also a churlish egomaniac who called Bob Costas a midget (which surely is an affront to little people everywhere), and most likely an over amped exercise freak who has been practicing better batting through chemistry.

If Bonds is good and bad in some mix of parts, why are we supposed to believe Ripken (also a member of the human race) is entirely sunshine and good feelings? The truth is Oriole fans, at least the ones who followed the team closely in the Ripken era, know him as a complicated man with alot more Barry Bonds in him than the media would ever let on.

Start with the positives. Ripken played baseball hard and played it smart. He was among the best fielders at two different positions (shortstop and third base), and a steady 19 HR and 95 RBI run producer. Twenty one seasons, 3184 hits, 431 HR, and 1305 RBI. Twice an MVP, once a world champion. A winner and a baseball mind you would gladly turn over a team to as manager.

You’ll notice I didn’t say anything about Ripken breaking Gehrig’s consecutive game streak. To the media, it’s evidence of the noble working man’s ethic that propelled Ripken to greatness. But at the time, it was a source of controversy among O’s fans.

In an age of jet travel players need time off, especially players late in their career. Ripken wouldn’t take a day, and some argue he hurt both the team and his stats as a result. In 1992 he slumped to 14 HR and a .251 average. After a slight power rebound in 93 (a second straight .250 season), he snapped back with a .315 average in 94′ but only 13 HR.

Earlier this year Ripken told the author of a book on Gehrig “Yes, I respected him. But I was never obsessed with him or his streak.” He claimed that taking a day off would have “dishonored the game”. It seems, at best, disingenuous and at worst egotistical. Say this clearly and without fear of contradiction. Cal Ripken was no Lou Gehrig on the baseball field. Not even close.

Although Ripken is now considered as much an Baltimore icon as the Robinson’s, Brooks and Franks, and often goes on at great length about the Oriole traditions this didn’t stop him from threatening to leave town during his contract negotiations.

In the clubhouse, Cal was respected but by all accounts never particularly liked. He didn’t go out of his way to interact with his teammates and pressed for perks, such as separate lodging in a different hotel from the rest of the team. Reporters who dared even mildly question his pursuit of Gehrig’s record were frozen out afterwards.

In retirement Ripken has bought two minor league teams, speaks often with feeling about his children, and promotes youth baseball. He is reflective about his career, his values, and place in the game. He is, for good and bad, the same Cal Ripken of twenty-one Baltimore summers.

Bloggers make value judgements, but we’re not alone. Writers and broadcasters do as well. And often we all get it wrong when it comes to athletes. Like a sports version of an inspect collector we want to classify each new athlete as good or bad, from the family “good guy” or the phylum “horsus posterious”.

This week Cal Ripken became a Hall of Famer, and for a weekend was cast as a white knight in untarnished armor doing battle against an impending victory for the forces of steroids. That it isn’t the whole truth doesn’t take away from the Oriole star’s legend. Ripken, the writers say, isn’t Bonds. But Bonds isn’t Ripken either. And that’s not entirely a bad thing.

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