Fingernails VI, Or, Perfection Ain't What It Used to Be

Faithful readers (and what other kind are there?) will recall that, not long ago, we discoursed on the beauty of the perfect game. That rarest of baseball rarities--27-up, 27-down--had only happened 18 times in the history of baseball as of the start of this season. Now, however, in the space of a month, we've had perfect games tossed by Dallas Braden of the Oakland A's, Roy Halladay of the Phillies, and last night, with an asterisk, by Armando Gallaraga of the Detroit Tigers.

Now, Roy Halladay is one of the elite pitchers in baseball. He's well on his way to winning this year's Cy Young Award for the National League, and may very well end up in the Hall of Fame. Dallas Braden and Armando Gallaraga, though? Not that we begrudge them their chance at immortality; indeed, one of the truly beautiful things about the perfect game is its demonstration of the essentially democratic nature of the game. Anyone can throw one at any time: You don't HAVE to be the best of the best. All you need is to be "on" and to have a little bit of luck.

As for that bit of luck, it includes things like having a first-base umpire who can tell the difference between "safe" and "out," hence Gallaraga's asterisk. Last night, with two outs in the ninth, a runner was clearly out at first, but the umpire, James Joyce, said no he said no he said no (literary reference, get it?): He called the runner safe, and Galarraga ended up with a one-hit shutout. Nothing to sneeze at, but hardly historic.

In a way, though, we're relieved. Perfect games SHOULD be rare. There's something unseemly about the thought of three within a month--of course, it now might be ten years before we see another one. Maybe this is what happens now that hitters are scared to use steroids? They can't get the ball out of the infield anymore?

On another baseball note, we would like to take this opportunity to salute Ken Griffey, Jr., upon his retirement. In the 1990s, no one was better than Junior, and we will always have a soft spot for him for the fact that he and Edgar Martinez essentially destroyed the Yankees by themselves in 1997. In the 2000s, he seemed to become almost a forgotten man in the era of steroids and A-Rod, but he still retires with the fifth highest home run total ever. It's bittersweet to consider that, had he stayed healthy and not lost the equivalent of two full seasons (or more?) to injury, he might very well have broken Hank Aaron's record instead of the much-despised Barry Bonds. But see, Griffey never used steroids: For his career, there will be no asterisk.