Biggio Nears a Remarkable, Albeit Painful, Record
Lately, I've found myself watching Houston Astros games whenever I have the chance. This certainly isn't because the Astros are a good or exciting team; it's because Craig Biggio is about to make history. Forget about Barry Bonds. ESPN ought to be breaking into its normal coverage with live updates whenever Biggio comes to the plate.
The history in question is the career record for being hit by pitches, which has been held by Hughie Jennings since 1903. One hundred and four years is an awfully long time, and it's an even longer time on the scale by which baseball records are judged. When Bonds breaks Hank Aaron's career home runs record, for instance, he'll be breaking a record set 31 years ago. Aaron broke a record that had stood 39 years. Pete Rose broke the hits record 57 years after Ty Cobb set it. Steve Carlton broke the career strikeouts record 56 years after Walter Johnson set it.
What's even more impressive is that nearly every player who breaks a long-standing record does so because the game has changed. It's far easier to hit home runs in today's game than it was in Aaron's time, and it was easier in Aaron's time than it was in Babe Ruth's time. Similarly, it was probably less difficult for Cal Ripken to maintain his consecutive games streak than it was for Lou Gehrig to maintain his, because of modern medical and travel technology. Biggio, by contrast, will set this record not because of conditions, but despite them.
Hughie Jennings began his career in 1891, playing for the Louisville Colonels. Foul balls didn't count as strikes, there was no rubber on the mound, and the pitcher's mound wouldn't be moved to its present distance from the plate for another two years. Jennings played 11 games in the majors over five years after 1902; thus he spent his entire career playing in what we now recognize as a pre-modern game.
In those days, no one hit home runs — the career leader in 1981 was Harry Stovey, proud clouter of 117 longballs — and the game was entirely built around contact. Players swung log-like cylindrical bats at dirty, soggy balls which pitchers were encouraged and allowed to load up with whatever gunk they could find. Naturally enough considering these conditions, getting hit by a pitch was a central offensive skill. Over Jennings's career, the average hitter in his leagues was hit once every 86 at-bats.
Today, the hit by pitch is a far more rare. During Biggio's long career, the average hitter in his leagues has been hit once every 112 at-bats. That means that a player today is about 30% less likely to be hit by the ball than a player of Jennings's day — and yet, despite this, here is Biggio, sitting at 285, just three plunkings away from the glorious erasure of Jennings from the annals of time (Biggio broke Don Baylor's modern record of 267 two summers ago).
By now, many of you are no doubt ready to fire off an e-mail my way claiming that I'm not accounting for the fact that Biggio is allowed to wear armor of various sorts to the plate. No doubt a fiberglass batting helmet and various sorts of elbow pads make it a bit less risky to throw yourself in front of a pitch these days, but I don't find the argument that this makes Biggio's feat less impressive to be at all convincing. First, the game is different today. Pitchers throw much, much harder than they did 100 years ago, and they aren't throwing balls with the consistency of an overripe melon. Second, armor prevents injury, not pain. If you don't believe me, I invite you to put on a helmet and pads and stand in at a fast-pitch batting cage. Getting hit by the ball just plain hurts, no matter what protective gear you have on.
It isn't just the length of time that this record has stood that makes Biggio's pending achievement so impressive, though, but the fact that it stands as such a perfectly characteristic achievement. Biggio has been a hellaciously great ballplayer through his career, but the scope of his greatness has always been obscured in various ways. He's played his whole career in Houston, which is no great market, and he played most of it in the Astrodome, which watered down his raw numbers. His main strength has been his broad base of skills — incredible durability, good defense at an unglamorous position, and, on offense, being good or better at every phase of the game. He was never a strong home run hitter, but he is sixth all time in doubles; he never won a batting title, but he did once go an entire season without grounding into a double play. For such a player to break such a long-loved yet obscure record fits perfectly with his style and everything he's done throughout an illustrious career.
By the time most players get to the age where they're chasing milestone achievements or looking to break records, they're done, and Biggio is no exception — this will surely be his last year, and he's been a shell of what he once was for a long time now. That doesn't matter at all, and I'll keep watching those Astros games, waiting for the magic moment when Biggio listens to chin music for the 288th time. The commissioner won't be in attendance, banners will not be unfurled along the outfield walls, and the game will not be stopped so that Biggio can take a triumphant victory lap around the field. It will be a wonderful moment.
