Don’t Believe the Hype When Discussing 660

Number 660 is being way overblown.

Oh, it’s certainly a big number. It’s a notable number. It’s a laudable number. Only two men have ever hit more than 660 home runs. I won’t quibble if you said that in the context of baseball it’s a remarkable number. But it’s not a record number -- except maybe “Most Home Runs Hit By A Giant Who Also Played In Pittsburgh.” Willie Mays still holds the team record for most homers hit by a Giant. Barry Bonds is actually third, behind Mays and Mel Ott.

It’s understandable why people would make such a fuss over 660. It’s a perfect circle of a story, almost a fable. On one hand you have the happy, linear coincidence that Bonds and Mays are both Giants. And of course the coincidence goes further in that Bonds and Mays are family -- Mays being Bonds’ godfather. What a nice touch it was that Mays literally presented Bonds with a torch to carry after Bonds hit 660.

But 660 is nowhere near Henry Aaron’s record of 755. Bonds still has to hit 95 homers to get there. That’s a lot of homers, 95, even for Bonds, who is nearly 40 years old. Nor is 660 that close to Babe Ruth’s total of 714, which became the home run record long before Bonds was born. Six hundred-sixty was never the home run record -- except for a game or two before Ruth belted 661. The only numbers out there that mean anything in the home run chase are 700, 714 and 755. And, really, 700 and 714 are only symbolic now.

But 660? Let’s ask ourselves which number means more, 660 or, to pick a number out of thin air, 674?

It’s 674. (Or 684. Or 694.) But do you think that if Bonds hits 674 ESPN will interrupt programming to show it, as ESPN did Monday, or that the “Today” program will flash the words “Bonds Record” across the screen, as it did Tuesday morning in its opening tease? Of course not. ESPN really ginned up this 660 deal, like it’s some kind of Everest for Bonds and baseball. (By the way, ESPN pays me, and they won’t like the next sentence.) For all the celebratory ESPN coverage of Bonds’ big homer on Monday night and Tuesday morning I don’t think I ever heard the word “steroids” mentioned. Here’s a guy whose personal trainer has been indicted by the federal government on steroid conspiracy charges, whose own name has been sullied by rumor and innuendo about his possible steroid use, whose slugging records have been questioned because of possible steroid use -- and the day he hits 660, miraculously the rain comes out and washes all the steroid talk away? Wow.

Anyway, the larger point here is the increasing obsession we all have with numbers and statistics, and the distorting effect they have on the way we measure and appreciate sports. Don’t get me wrong, 660 is a massive amount of home runs. There are boatloads of terrific players who haven’t hit 360 home runs. But 660 ties Bonds for third on the all-time home run list. He’s third. And it’s not like you can bet him across the board. Do you know who is third all-time in touchdown passes in the NFL? Or third all-time in points scored in the NBA? See, they’re not paying off on third. Let me know when he’s first.

We concentrate too much on statistics, like what a guy is hitting with runners in scoring position in the late innings in night games on the road against lefties. The numbers guys all think like this: Bob is hitting .333 in that exact position, so let’s send him up to pinch hit. Never mind that the .333 is because he’s 2 for 6 for his career in that position, and the last time he got a hit in that circumstance was 2001. And the guy he’s going to pinch hit for is batting .315 at the moment, and doubled his last time up. The numbers say Bob is the right guy right now. So of course Bob strikes out. Game over. Thank you, drive home safely.

We have made a profession for people who keep ever-increasing layers of sports statistics and deliver them to us like coal for a furnace. And instead of appreciating games we end up shoveling stuff, if you know what I mean. We have honored the ability to look at a beautiful sunset and calibrate only the percentage of pale orange in a 20-colored sky. These are folks who not only don’t see the forest for the trees -- they don’t even see the trees, because they’re too busy counting the pine cones that fell between the hours of 6 and 10 p.m. on a Thursday night after the temperature dropped below 45 degrees.

Personally, I believe in wins. I like teams that win a lot of games, goalies who win a lot of games, pitchers who win a lot of games, coaches who win a lot of games. I especially like teams and players who win playoff games. I think at the end of the game the team that wins is the team you ought to applaud. I’m quite sure you could make a convincing statistical argument why Alex Rodriguez and Nomar Garciaparra are better baseball players than Derek Jeter. I would rather be Jeter. I would rather have those four rings. (Bonds, by the way, has no rings. In the rarified company Bonds now keeps, Mays, Aaron and Ruth all have rings. So I’d rather be Mays, Aaron or Ruth. It’s the same for John Elway and Dan Marino. Who wouldn’t rather be Elway?)

The other night Bobby Sura, a vagabond NBA guard now playing for the Atlanta Hawks, recorded his third straight triple-double. Sura got there by intentionally missing a layup with less than one second to go in a 22-point game, so he could grab his own rebound and get to 10 to go with 22 points and 11 assists. That was cheesy. Sura shouldn’t have done it, and the NBA was correct in voiding the triple-double Tuesday afternoon. Apparently, though, Sura’s previous two triple-doubles were legitimate.

Usually, I think a triple-double is a big deal. Whatever the combination -- points, rebounds, assists or blocked shots -- you’re helping your team all over the court. I suppose if the triple-double was 12 points, 10 rebounds and 10 assists, I’d rather have a guy give me 35 points and 24 boards, like Shaq, Tim Duncan and Kevin Garnett do with some regularity. But a triple-double is a statistic that’s always impressed me. And for a few hours, Bobby Sura had three straight -- out of 81 games. Oscar Robertson once averaged a triple-double for an entire season. The Celtics won the title that year, though, one of their many, many rings. And of course, I’d rather be Bill Russell than Oscar.