Sosa Deserves MVP Award

In a perfect world, Mark McGwire this year would receive the Nobel Peace Prize. But not the MVP. That’s different. That belongs to Sammy Sosa.

Condolences to Moises Alou, Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell, all of whom have done MVP-caliber work for the classy Houston Astros. Too bad they have been reduced to bit players in the great national drama staged by the baseball gods and starring those happy warriors, McGwire & Sosa.

So when it comes time to choose the N.L.’s MVP, it’s one of those two--though it’d be nice if the 32 voting members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America decided they couldn’t really choose one over the other. There you go. Co-MVPs. Sharing the prize even as they have shared the fun on their long, sweet train ride into history.

Nice. But wrong.

The MVP is Sammy Sosa.

Even McGwire says so. “He’s got more runs, more RBIs, a better average,” he says. “He’s ahead of me for just about everything, except walks.”

Sosa is ahead, too, where it matters most--in the standings. The underachieving St. Louis Cardinals never had a contender’s look, only lately making a run at .500. Sosa’s team was still alive for a wild-card spot going into the last weekend of the season.

That’s critical to any argument for Sosa because the baseball writers’ voting since 1931 has demonstrated the importance of a team’s success. Of the 135 MVPs, 92 have played on teams that finished first in their league or division. Another 25 played on second-place teams.

So 86.6 percent of all MVPs have been judged as they ought to be judged in a team sport: first by how well their teams did, then by their contributions. The right-thinking MVP voter remembers Branch Rickey’s words to Ralph Kiner when the league’s leading home run hitter asked for a raise after the Pittsburgh Pirates finished last in the N.L. Said the Mahatma, “We could have finished last without you.”

Hmmm. Did someone mention Andre Dawson? The N.L.’s 1987 MVP, Dawson is often cited as proof that team success is not necessary. Though he was a dominant offensive presence, leading the league with 49 home runs and 137 RBIs, the Cubs yet finished last in their division.

But the argument will be made here that Dawson is the exception proving the rule. There is also this: The Cubs weren’t really that bad that year. At 76-85, they moved up six victories from the year before and would have finished third in the other division.

In any case, Dawson is far from the oddest MVP choice. Look at the A.L. in 1991. Coming off a season in which he’d hit 51 home runs, Cecil Fielder hit 44 more to share the league lead. His 133 RBIs were 11 ahead of his nearest pursuer. Moving up from last in their division to second in three seasons, the Detroit Tigers did it on Fielder’s considerable shoulders.

But Fielder didn’t win the ’91 MVP Award. Outrageously, if not inexplicably, Cal Ripken Jr. did. His Baltimore Orioles finished sixth (of seven) in their division and 28 games under .500. Yes, Ripken had a career year (.323, 34 home runs, 114 RBIs). Still, the feeling existed then and exists now that the vote was a popularity contest. Just the year before, Ripken’s consecutive games streak had become the second-longest ever. In addition, he had long since matured as a manipulator of the media.

No one will argue against McGwire if he wins the MVP. Any such argument would be hooted down. One fan with a humming calculator, Joe Wegescheide, has e-mailed me an essay filled with statistics proving that McGwire’s 1998 season was the work of a man among boys--or even a giant among legends, for McGwire seems certain to join Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Jimmie Foxx, Ted Williams and Rogers Hornsby as the only hitters to have a second .700 slugging percentage season. Surely, Mr. Wegescheide asserts, such a man’s season earns every possible award, whether or not his team has met expectations.

A powerful argument. And yet if McGwire wins, some people will think Sosa lost for reasons of birth, not worth. One’s a Californian, one’s a Dominican. One’s white, one’s black.

Though neither McGwire nor Sosa has given anyone any reason to believe that race plays a part in the great drama, there is in the late-20th century no avoiding the question. Unfortunately, the legitimacy of the question was confirmed by Major League Baseball’s failure to commemorate the Dominican’s 62nd homer with a celebration equal to the Californian’s. No commissioner in attendance; no marked balls to preserve the record; no grandiose ceremony, no gifts. No nothing.

Commissioner Bud Selig tried to explain. “I’m a little dismayed because I love Sammy,” he said. “But when we were preparing for all this, we told all the clubs we were only going to honor the first guy to break the record.”

Personally, I preferred the way Chicago celebrated Sammy Sosa’s moment. Rather than sit through a scripted ceremony dominated by stuffed shirts who once canceled the World Series, Cubs fans made Sammy Sosa’s day a celebration of the best kind. No script necessary. They spoke from their hearts. Loudly and with love.