Red is to Blue...

As spring turns to summer, nothing but standardized tests stands between eager students and unfettered free time. Thus, I like to think of May has analogy season, the one time of year when syllogisms, metaphors, and various logical propositions take center stage. So driven by inspiration derived from a discussion about Terrell Owens, today I want to take on the question of sports equivalencies. You know the drill; in football, pundits say that Peyton Manning is the new Dan Marino, or they will make inter-sport comparisons between the likes of Derek Jeter and Joe Montana. I would like to address some of the most intriguing characters outside of baseball, both through history and in contemporary times. Among their baseball reflections, I want to focus on relatively modern players because the extended media focus of ESPN 1-12 and the internet have given us more information about players on and off the field. That analysis makes for easier and more complete comparisons.

Terrell Owens: Owens is one of the most polarizing and interesting characters in all of sports today. He’s remarkably skilled, uninjured and in phenomenal shape, driven to win like few others, never in trouble with the law or the league, and such a disruptive influence that no team can tolerate him. Can you imagine a player with his skill set signing with a team and the team’s entire fan base groaning and worrying about the team falling apart? Owens is so cocky and self-centered that he has chewed up and spit out both quarterbacks with whom he has starred. To be honest, Owens is a one of a kind player whose off field issues do not extend to anything seemingly serious, but still manage to ruin team chemistry like clockwork. Baseball is a different type of sport where teammates interact less on the field and can therefore do their own thing off of it without alienating each other. A handful of players have reputations as malcontents or as just plain annoying, like A.J. Pierzynski and Nick Swisher, but between the two of them, they have only managed to tear apart one team. There are also several basketball players who succeed for a season or two with each team before alienating everyone and packing it in, like Tim Thomas, Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis, Jalen Rose and Sam Cassell (in other words, expect the Knicks to pursue Sam Cassell when his contract runs up). But this type of player is more symptomatic of an inter-reliant team sport like basketball where players get fed up with one another. To me, Frank Thomas seems like the only comparable player in professional sports with enough star power and self-interest to make it into T.O.’s league. If you want metaphorical imagery for comparison, recall the driveway workouts and personal trainers that Owens used in lieu of participating productively in Eagles camp. Additionally, think about Thomas hiring his own hitting coach, rehabbing his injuries on his own time, and constantly sneering at teammates and reporters, all while hitting like Ted Williams. Owens has been higher profile than Thomas ever was, but imagine if one of the top teams of the mid-‘90s, like the Braves, picked up the Big Hurt and he didn’t get along with a more popular star, like Greg Maddux. In that situation, I think we would remember Thomas much like we currently think of Owens: a great athlete, but one whose ego stands in the way of ultimate success.

Ron Artest: Artest is another train-wreck player who is more entertaining and newsworthy for his freak outs than for his play. Personally, I believe that Artest is one of the ten-or-so best players in the NBA and that his defensive ability remains undervalued because it is so difficult to quantify. Still, employing Artest is the same type of gamble as building a team around an injury-prone star. It might work for awhile, but you have to acknowledge the constant and prevalent possibility of a cataclysmic meltdown. Once again, I see one comparable baseball player in recent history who is so skilled and so successful, yet so explosive as to offset his positive abilities. Albert Belle had a similar career, putting up outstanding stats with the occasional violent and unpredictable outbursts diminishing his usefulness. Nobody has a meltdown on record comparable to Artest fighting a fan in a basketball arena, but Belle did beat up Fernando Vina for no apparent reason other than being in the way. He fought with umps and yelled at them, he corked his bats and he berated fans (like calling them “village idiots” in 1997). He even chased down and tackled a kid who egged his house on Haloween. Part of Artest’s intrigue is that his transgressions are so original and surprising that there are two reactions: a reactionary shock followed by a growing anticipation of what is about to come next. Belle is one of the few baseball players who share that quality, and the only one who can approximate Artest’s ablility.

Peyton Manning: To shift away from the cancerous players to the nauseatingly All-American, corn-fed, aww-shucks golden boy, meet Peyton Manning! Comparing someone to Peyton requires us to understand which qualities are essential to Manning as a player. Indeed, his statistical accomplishments are incredible, but he has never won anything, which is arguably more closely linked to his identity than the stats. He is overexposed to the point where you expect to see him in any NFL commercial, charity event or TV program. If I told you that two NFL players were present at the Kentucky Derby Diabetes benefit dinner, you would know they were Peyton and Eli without me having to tell you. By the way, there is some subtle irony in the fact that the sport most symbolic of slovenly Southern largesse sponsors research for the most visible disease into which one can eat oneself. But I digress. Who is most like Manning? All stats and no results? I’ll say it is a tossup between Ichiro and Todd Helton. In Manning’s case, it is important to note that he puts up great stats, but unlike A-Rod or Lebron, those stats do not necessarily make the team better or get them closer to wins. In Ichiro’s case, he puts up very visible stats that are also very overrated, slapping singles all over the field while some of his peers get on base just as often while hitting for more power, all with much lower profiles. Certainly, Ichiro is talented and valuable, but his value conforms so well to the scouty conception of value that dominates baseball journalism and commentary that his image is force-fed to unwitting observers until we believe that he actually deserves MVP consideration. How can I compare a Japanese player to someone so closely tied to the All-American boy identity? By understanding that the nationality is not as important as how we interpret it, and Ichiro is a throwback to the good ole days of baseball when the managers smoked cigars and sweat smelled like apple pie. Helton, on the other hand, actually preceded Manning as the Tennessee QB, a fact that I forgot until after I saw the similarity between the two of them. Helton’s defining characteristic is the disparity between his stats and his true ability as dictated by the system (or stadium) in which he plays. Manning is also beneficiary of a system that is more suited for concrete than a football field, putting up insane stats because he has spent most of his career with a defense that requires 30+ points per game to remain competitive. Sound familiar? I’m going to withhold judgment between Helton and Ichiro until I find out who calls more audibles in the field and who watches more tape, because those aspects are as “Peyton” as anything else.

Michael Jordan: I know I said I was focusing on contemporary players for this article, but as easily as I could use Barry Bonds as the answer to the question, citing his aggressive play, his unparalleled stats, and his transcendence of the sport. Nonetheless, I’m going with Babe Ruth, and not because he has one more home run than Bonds as I write this column. It is important that Jordan was and is a beloved character while Bonds is quickly approaching super-villain status. The most crucial element of this comparison, though, is the role that each player served as ambassador for his sport. Ruth and Jordan came about at the start of vibrant eras and elevated their sports to unprecedented popularity: Ruth emerging as the first great slugger of the live-ball era and Jordan seamlessly transitioning out of the Magic-Bird rivalry and elevating the level of the game while simultaneously sparking highlight era with his dunks and the help of ESPN. I don’t think the comparison to Bonds is very good at all, except that each player had a great career within the last 20 years, so I will not push the issue any further.

Muhammad Ali: Trick question, no athlete in any sport compares to Ali. Here’s what it would take to make a comparable player: combine the social relevance of Jackie Robinson, the overexposure of Barry Bonds, the charisma of a vintage Sosa-McGwire combination, the sheer athleticism of Ken Griffey Jr., the longevity of Roger Clemens, the dedication of Juan Pierre, the mysticism of Pedro Martinez, the what-could-have-been of Ted Williams (where Williams missed prime years for going to war, Ali missed his for protesting war), the results of Sandy Koufax, and the all around ability of Willie Mays. It may seem like I exaggerate his ability, but consider the attention that he brought to the sport and to himself on top of the sport. Consider his level of success in a golden era of boxing where the best athletes actually considered fighting for a career. Most importantly, consider the status of Ali as the primary focus in an individual sport. Team sports dominate the horizon now, so much so that I am confident in saying that no athlete will ever approximate Ali’s ability and cultural significance. I know it sounds smarmy, but The Greatest is no understatement.