Twins’ base runner Kirby Puckett: “Cal, man, you look awful.”
Orioles’ shortstop Cal Ripken Jr.: “I’m draggin’.”
Puckett: “Hang in. Only five more years and you get a day off. Not that hell take it, this week in Baltimore’s Camden Yards, sometime in the fifth inning when Game 2,131 becomes official, Cal Ripken Jr. will break baseball’s unbreakable record for endurance. As the giant number on the old warehouse behind right field changes, as the crowd rises and the music swells, as the great chase comes to the end, the gray-haired guy at shortstop will finally go wild. He’ll bite his lip and tip his cap. Barely. “Well, what am I supposed to do?” Ripken says.
Well, we wouldn’t expect an icon to stand on his head. At a time when the game is in serious rehab, Ripken stands out as the ideal role model–an anti-Mantle who, rather than abuse his family and body over the span of a distinguished career, has held them aloft as the twin citadels of his success. Ripken’s achievement would surpass one of baseball’s most cherished numbers–the 2,130 straight games played between 1925 and 1939 by the immortal Iron Horse, first baseman Lou Gehrig of the New York Yankees. For Ripken, 35. The Streak has become as troublesome an opponent as Roger Clemens or Ken Griffey Jr.–just two of the nearly 4,000 players who’ve been on the disabled list in the last 13 years while Rip-ken has stayed off. “I started the season with the approach I’d roll with it,” Ripken told NEWSWEEK. “But it’s been positively taxing. It affects my every move. I realize there is such a thing as positive stress. But this thing overwhelms me every day.”
And how he’s losing it! Why, on the Orioles’ recent West Coast road trip, Ripken got a death threat in Seattle, which so terrorized him that he traipsed off to Disneyland with his family two days later. Last week in Baltimore, with an Oakland player on third base in the ninth, Ripken recklessly dove in the dirt, barely failing to stop a game-winning single. Instantly, he slapped his glove–Ripken’s version of venting.
Ripken prefers a more tender, lowercase streak: the dozen years he played for the Orioles alongside either his father, Cal Sr., as coach and manager, and his brother, Bill, as second baseman. Cal Jr. is a throw-back–a quiet, serene hero so gracious that he actually respects the integrity of his sport. He also signs autographs for hours for no charge, and drives and drinks what he endorses (Chevy Suburban, milk).
Because of his muted national profile and the Orioles’ relentless underachieving, Rip-ken’s wondrous versatility went unnoticed until Gehrig’s record neared. Over his career, the man leads the major leagues in extra-base hits, is second in RBIs and third in home runs. He’s already tagged more homers than any shortstop. In the field–where at 6-4, 220 pounds he’s the biggest to play his position–Ripken has the best one-season (1990) fielding percentage ever.
Obviously, Ripken finds himself tethered to fellow laborer Gehrig with more than longevity. Though in life the ill-fated Iron Horse played second fiddle to Babe Ruth and in death is best known for a namesake disease–ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis), which killed him at 87– Gehrig was the greatest first baseman of all time. His streak is so sacrosanct that dilettantes like Larry King have suggested Ripken tie the record, then sit down in tribute to the old Yankee. “I never made a goal of any streak,” says Ripken. “It’s been a byproduct of my love of the game. Stopping now would be a compromise of what I believe is right.”
In the sometimes belligerent baseball universe, Ripken is revered by his peers. “It’s like Halley’s Comet,” says pitcher Todd Jones. Three weeks ago the Kansas City Royals were hoping Hurricane Felix would swamp Camden Yards and mess up the schedule so they’d be the opponent in Game 2,131. “The shame of no inter-league play,” says Andy Van Slyke, “is that I never saw Ripken play enough.”
Recently Boston’s Clemens said pitchers were hesitant to throw inside to Ripken– his weakness–for fear of injuring him. “Right,” snickers Ripken. “And nobody’s sliding hard into second, either The other night we’re in a tie game with Boston late and Mo Vaughn’s leading off first base. I just laughed. Mo was so anxious to come down and nail me, he was practically snorting. You play the game the way it’s supposed to be played.”
Which is to say you’re “nonchalant” about such matters as The Streak. Ripken didn’t know First Teen Chelsea Clinton and her dad would be coming to his record-breaker Ripken didn’t know his wife, Kelly, had arranged for his kids, Rachel, 5, and-Ryan, 2, to throw out the first balls.
Somebody shake this guy. He’s got ImmortaLity coming up. Maybe he’ll even tip his cap.
Ripken[*] Gehrig Average .278 .340 Hits 2,302 2,700 Home runs 319 492 RBIs 1,224 1,981
