The 5.5 Hole

Let me start with this disclaimer: I am an admitted Albert Pujols apologist.  I love everything about the guy.  His performance on the field, the way he carries himself, his philanthropic contributions.  Everything.  So, as you read this piece about Pujols' contract negotiations you can write it off.  Or, you can love it and appreciate the logic.  I believe you will do the second thing.

I'll start by reminding everyone that we live in a different world than those of athletes.  If we pass judgement because we can't fathom the amount of money athletes make, we don't really have a leg to stand on in the argument.  Yet, that doesn't seem to be the main issue many people have with Pujols and the contract negotiations.  It would seem that most people are put off by Pujols' rejection of $200 million.  But why?

Pujols signed his current contract after the 2003 season.  He would make $13.875 a year million for the next eight years.  Pujols was coming off a .329/.403/.610 season in 2001, a .314/.394/.561 season in 2002, and a .359/.439/.667 season in 2003.  That's a pretty good start to a career, but no one could have known that Pujols would carry these types of number in every year of his career.  $13.875 million a year seemed fair.  But it quickly became clear that Pujols was the greatest player in the game.  Yet, his salary was being outpaced by players like Ryan Howard, Mark Teixiera, and even Miguel Cabrera.  Inferior players were making more than Pujols (inferior but still of All Star quality).  Ryan Howard is making $25 million a year.  Mark Teixeira is making $22.5 million a year.  Miguel Cabrera is making $19 million a year.  Pujols is better than all of them.

But Pujols played out his contract.  He didn't demand a trade to a team willing to pay him more immediately.  He didn't demand a new contract.  He played it out.  Now that it's time for him to renegotiate, he is getting flak for wanting to see what he's worth on the open market.

Last we heard, the Cardinals had reportedly offered something like eight years, $200 million.  That equates to $25 million a year.  Pujols was reportedly looking for ten years, $300 million.  So he rejected $200 million.  If any team is willing to pay him more, why shouldn't he take it? 

Perspective check:
You're working in an office making $40,000 a year.  From everything you've heard, everyone acknowledges you as the best at what you do, including other companies.  There are other employees, employees who are not as good as you, who make more.  Say you find out a few of these employees within your own company and at other companies are making 44% more than you.  That comes to roughly $57,000 and some change.  Now you know other companies want you and are willing to pay you.  Is there anything wrong with demanding say $67,000?  You're better, companies want you.  It would seem the market would place at least that value on you.  Now, let's assume your own company offers you the $57,000 others are making who clearly are inferior in performance.  Would anyone second guess your decision to test the market and see if you can in fact get the $67,000 elsewhere?

I know many of you may have stopped reading, shocked that I am using numbers with no baseball statistical relevance, but for those of you who continued on, you probably realized this is a simplified version of Pujols' situation using similar percentages scaled back to what we in middle-class America can understand.  When you look at it in terms of numbers we are familiar with, it doesn't seem so bad.  When you look at from a percentage standpoint, it doesn't look so bad. Ryan Howard is making 44% more than Pujols per year.  Pujols is better.  He should be paid more than Howard.  Pujols has asked to be paid 16.67% more than Howard.  Pretty reasonable considering his performance over the years.

So, nothing Pujols has asked seems out of line.  If you have issue with it, you simply have issue with contracts in baseball that have set the precedent.  You cannot blame Pujols for what other teams chose to pay players like Howard, Teixeira, and Cabrera. 

Now that I have blown your mind with numbers, go forth and praise Pujols, start a telethon to help him raise the money he should be earning, and bow at his feet.  Or continue to dislike him because he turned down $200 million.  I've said my piece.

While the rest of the world is discussing telephones - for the first time since their invention I might add - and LaRussa's mistakes, I want to talk about Ron Washington's performance as a manager. I'm not going to delve into every shift, steal, bunt, or walk. I'll leave that for all those doing the same with LaRussa right now. I'd rather look at how Washington got to where he is and how his team plays under him.

Washington makes some interesting moves, there's no question about that. Napoli eighth anyone? And a lot of them work out. Again, Napoli eighth anyone? But to credit simple changes to the lineup as the source of the Rangers success would be narrow-minded. The truth lies with the combination of player attitude, skill, coaching attitudes, and managerial decisions.

You see it while he's dancing/running in place like a six year old on a sugar high. You see it with each and every player lining the top of the dugout steps. You see it in the heartfelt speeches and the playful slaps. You see it on the monstrous home runs and deadened bunts. The Rangers are a little different.

Ron Washington has helped develop a loose, playful, energetic, and determined team. His combination of reliance on good 'ol fashion American League power and classic National League strategy can really only be compared to Mike Scioscia's Angels. But for his succes, Wash is a man who's also faced his fair share of struggles.

A slip-up. A simple mistake. A one time mistake by Washington's account. That's all it took to threaten his job and his life. Washington knew nothing besides baseball. If a failed drug test, a positive result for cocaine he had used at a party, were to take his job, what would Washington do? Well, it didn't. He admitted the mistake, faced the music, was destroyed in the media, and supported by his team. That's who he is - a man who makes mistakes but does right by people. In turn, they do right by him.

With his job still firmly in his grasp, Wash led the Rangers to the World Series in 2010 and again here in 2011. He has done so not by abiding by sabermetric formulas or statistics. He has done it his way. Through hunches, motivation, and support. He's the biggest cheerleader in the dugout, un-afraid to show emotion like most managers are. He'll tell you what you did wrong with some inspirational words and a pat on the rear end. He manages with passion.

And he is often criticized still. But that doesn't matter. Ron Washington can continue to manage the way he wants. His success speaks for itself.

Why is it so hard for us to dub someone the greatest of all time? Is the characterization really based so much on opinion that a consensus cannot be reached? Perhaps. But I thunk it goes beyond that. People are afraid. They do not want to dust off a crown given to someone long ago, pass it on to the next great thing, only to have that crown yanked away and given to someone new. The debates about the greatest of all time are so historically based, not many are willing to pluck a modern player from the pool and throw them into the discussion. Instead, people will use phrases like "one of the greatest," or "the greatest of his time," or "in the discussion as one of the best."

These debates are not limited to sports. The same restrictions apply when talking about the greatest politicians, greatest writers, greatest actors, and greatest artists. Modern men and women are often compared to the old timers, but rarely vaulted to the top. DeNiro is this generation's Brando, or Mitch Albom is good, but he's no Hemmingway. Albert Pujols is one of the modern masterpieces for which most are afraid to push to the top.

The problem with naming someone the greatest of all time lies in two parts. One, how does one classify the greatest, empirically or all-encompassing. And two, how does one overcome the lore created by those who no longer play (and in many cases, no longer walk this earth)? The first problem can be overcome. The second usually cannot.

Albert Pujols is generally considered the greatest player in the game today, but change that discussion from a current focus to a historical one, and very few will jump at naming Pujols the greatest. I will not shy away from it though. There is no question in my mind that, like Michael Jordan and basketball, Albert Pujols is the greatest to ever play baseball.

His statistics speak for themselves. He is a fearless hitter, both determined and driven. Barring extensive stints on the disabled list, Pujols will break countless records. He is a shoe-in for the Hall of Fame. He makes those who doubt him look foolish.  But what sets him apart from the classics?  Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle.  The list can go on.  But isn't that the point?  If you can talk about each of those players in the same breath, what sets them apart from each other?  Pujols has had in-arguably the greatest eleven years to start a career ever.  And at 31, he has a good six to seven years of dominance ahead of him.  Even beyond that, he could still be a contributor.  No one knows for sure how long Pujols will play, but would anyone doubt he could do it into his forties?

If Pujols performs at even 75% of his career average, and does so for the next six years, he will amass 647 home runs, 1,899 RBI, and 2,961 hits.  But who really thinks he will only go six more years?  Who really thinks he can only perform at 75% of his career numbers?  But the statistics are only part of the equation. 

No one else has played the game like him.  He approaches the game knowing -- not thinking, not hoping -- but knowing he is the best.  Albert Pujols dominates like no one we have ever seen or read about.  Because honestly, isn't that the problem?  We have only read about many of the greats.  Pujols in person must be compared to Ruth on paper or film.  He must be compared to stories of Williams and Mays.  The man must stand up to the legends.  And for his entire career he has.  So, at risk of breaking unwritten rules, at the risk of crossing hidden lines, I can admit that Pujols is the greatest of all time.