The Ironman's Legacy: Untarnished, Undisputed, and Unbreakable

Meant to post this yesterday, on the actual anniversary, but better late than never, right?


Sixteen years ago, I sat in my living room glued to my television. I was only six years old, and had never been to a baseball game before. Long before I saw the mystique of the Green Monster, knew of the talent of Mo Vaughn and Pedro Martinez, or even prior to the hatred of those in pinstripes, I witnessed the greatest baseball record fall, and, in turn, fell in love with the sport.

There I was, sitting on my living room floor, with my father and brothers (four and two at the time) watching this guy walk around this field I had never seen before, being applauded by thousands upon thousands of screaming people, and a silent sportscaster. For twenty minutes, Baltimore reached out gave it’s prodigal son the ovation he never wanted, but fully deserved. Cal Ripken Jr. had just become the “Ironman”. I didn’t fully understand what it meant then, but I knew it was special.

In the decade and a half since September 7th, 1995 we have seen the revelation of the steroid era, the emergence of the “Core Four”, and the destruction of the Curse of the Bambino. All of that, as amazing a spectacle as they were, fail in comparison to what that late summer’s eve meant to a city, and to a sport.

Cal was an icon, played every game of his career in one uniform, never wanted to leave, and still doesn’t. He never was a lightning rod for the media, and very rarely complained. When I eventually moved to Baltimore in the fall of 1998, my biggest goal was to see him play in person. And I did, more than 20 times. As the streak continued, it was iconic to watch him play and be amazed that someone could go out and do that every day, without skipping a beat.

When Barry Bonds was on the cusp of surpassing Hammerin’ Hank on the All-Time Homeruns list*, I remember sitting in my freshman orientation at Hofstra University boasting about how I wanted to be a sports expert to all the other newcomers. One night a few guys were sitting around the TV watching ESPN when someone mentioned that Bonds was about to break the greatest record in sports. I couldn’t control my laughter.

Let’s get real, the “greatest record in sports” is quite a title to give something that will be in dispute for the remainder of time, number one. Number two, how many games did the members of the 700 club miss in their careers? The 600 club? I’m willing to bet their total number of “off days” would equal that the streak Ripken put together.

Ripken’s streak is remarkable, unfathomable, and almost God-like. He showed up to work, every day, and excelled, for 2, 632 straight days. How many people, not in baseball, do that? That’s 16 MLB seasons, 7 plus years (with weekends), and just over 10 years with Saturday & Sunday off. No sick days, no injuries, no “mental health” days. Just wake up, go to work, and go home after.

Now, this streak is not without dispute, of course everyone will talk about the night the lights went out in Camden. But whether that is true or not, the fact of the matter is the man represented the right way to do things. You didn’t complain, and you didn’t whine. You showed up and you did what was asked of you. In this day and age of multi-million dollar contracts, obligated off-days, and super agents, not a single athlete, in any sport, (not named Peyton Manning) would even attempt that.

What I found more incredible about his streak, was that it helped to keep a city alive when the Yankees and Red Sox were finding ways to knock Baltimore back down. Everybody talks about having athletes as role models. Big strong guys like Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, Griffey, and A-Rod. When I was kid, I wanted to be like Cal. I wanted to wake up and play baseball everyday. I didn’t care if I was sick, hurt, or tired. I just wanted to go play. And that’s what he did.

When the streak ended, at 2, 632 on his own accord, Ripken placed his name among Cy Young, Joe DiMaggio, and maybe Pete Rose, as owning a record that will never be broken. He was amazing, his career was awe-inspiring, and I just wish today’s athletes would look back at the Ironman and try to be like him, instead of guys like Jose Canseco.

More importantly, his streak represented the greatest achievement in sports to man who revolutionized it. He turned the shortstop into a power hitting position. It wasn’t about being fast and having a solid glove. Now, tall guys, with big powerful swings could man the middle infield. Ripken hit homeruns in both the game that tied the streak and the one that broke it; something I think brings his career full circle. He won the World Series in his third year, and then went on to break the greatest record in sports. And he didn’t need a needle to help him get there, just a nice cup of coffee and a lunch pail.