Ripken: a hero for the ages

Cal Ripken is my hero. Cal Ripken has always been my hero, and most likely will always be my hero. And Cal Ripken, who redefined the position of shortstop in the 1980s and saved the game at perhaps its darkest hour in 1995, has helped baseball achieve its greatest glory in recent memory, in my lifetime and maybe ever.

Cal became my favorite player for the most convenient of reasons; namely, he was the best player on the hometown team. That he has stayed my hero is most extraordinary in this particular time in America's and baseball's history.

This is a time of disillusionment, of cynicism, and, fittingly, I am both disillusioned and cynical. But through it all, through my adolescence and baseball's labor strife, I have remained a baseball fan. For this I can thank Cal. Though I have never met the man, he has always been there for me.

I still have every one of Cal Ripken's trading cards, from his rookie year until 1992; obtaining each year's new issue was always one of spring's most joyous rites. And at age 13, just as I was "growing out" of baseball cards, something happened which secured Cal's place in my heart.

During March of 1993, I fell ill with meningitis and encephalitis, putting me in the hospital for a prolonged stay. My aunt knew what a big Cal Ripken fan I was, and wrote him to tell of my illness. She received back a form letter and postcard, but persisted, in ever more impassioned tones. Upon exiting the hospital on, coincidentally enough, Opening Day (it was against the Rangers), my family and friends presented me with a ball autographed not only by Cal but by his father and brother, Billy. Naturally, I was ecstatic. But it only got better, as the next day I received a large package, containing a personalized letter along with a signed, framed glossy of Cal.

There is, of course, no medical basis whatsoever to support the theory that these things contributed to my phenomenally quick recovery; still, there is no compelling reason to say they did not. It would be a huge stretch to say that Cal saved my life, but I was comforted by the notion that a person whom I had never met, even if it was his secretary, cared about my well being.

During the past 16 years, Cal has been elevated from a hometown-boy-done-good to a hometown legend, and the hometown has always been an integral part of who he is. For many years, he has been involved with diverse charities, and, throughout his bid to break Lou Gehrig's consecutive-game record and continuing to this day, Cal has signed autographs for virtually anyone who wanted one at the stadium on a given night. He even signed autographs in the bullpen of Camden Yards during his first day off in nearly two decades.

In an age when high-priced free agents of ambiguous moral character change teams every few years, Cal is a shining anachronism in almost every way. Though not fast by any stretch of the imagination, he runs out every grounder and pop-up, and, until his recent transition to third base, has remained one of the best, most consistent shortstops in baseball. Not only has he played every major-league game of his career for the Orioles, he began in their minor-league system after growing up and playing ball in nearby Aberdeen, Maryland, always dreaming of being an Oriole. In short, he is truly a one-team player, one of the rarest sights in baseball, indeed, in all of professional sports.

But even more than that, he truly loves baseball - as an occupation, a game and an institution. That is what prompted him, in one of his finest seasons, 1991, not only to compete in the All-Star Game home run contest and win it, but also to smash encore homer after encore homer into the depths of the Toronto Skydome. It drove him to stay on the field into the wee hours of the night, after all his teammates were home asleep, in order to sign those autographs, every last one.

This limitless joy for the game has made Cal nearly bald and very gray at the age of 38; he gives it his all, and goes out to do it again every night. And finally, his respect, reverence for the game even, is what drove him to finally sit down. It was time, and that was all. What better way to brighten up what has become an otherwise gloomy season for the Orioles than by letting one of the organization's best prospects, Ryan Minor, start in Ripken's first game out in the past 2,632. Remember that number, too; in a game where no record seems unassailable these days, this is one that will never fall. Just after Roger Maris' home run record fell this year in such astounding fashion, Ripken's final record was established, adding one more very classy touch to this year in baseball, the year when baseball has truly been reborn.

Ripken said in his post-game press conference that, "It shouldn't be a sad moment. If you look at me, I look at it as a happy moment, a celebration." Ripken was exactly right, with his words following his actions in the same seamless way he has conducted himself on and off the field for his entire career.

Though debates will always rage as to whether Cal Ripken was the best defensive shortstop, or the best power-hitting shortstop, there can be little doubt about the significance of The Streak. It says everything about him as a player and a person, establishing him as one of the game's all-time greats. Remember that number, kids: 2,632. It's a keeper.