Pedro’s Brush With Dignity

Can we endure the great Pedro Martinez putting snot on the ball? Will a young Philadelphia righthander have to ask Pedro “what’s that shit on your chest”, only to hear “Crisco and Vagisil“?

Reports are emerging that future Hall of Famer Martinez- who has yet to pitch in the big leagues in 2009- is close to a deal with the World Champion Phillies.

Pedro limped to a 5-6 record and a 5.61 ERA in 20 starts in 2008. He suffered hamstring and groin injuries, and cortisone shots, that pushed back starts. He surrendered a staggering 19 home runs and allowed 127 hits in just 109 innings pitched. Lefties, who he once held in check with his devastating changeup, batted over .300 with an .874 OPS. Now nearing 38 years old, the fade is in the man, not the changeup.

In 1999 and 2000, Pedro’s arsenal of power and control was virtually unmatched: he posted 2 of the top 5 seasons for K/BB ratio in modern baseball history- 8.48 and 8.88, respectively. But in 2008, he sunk to a career low of 1.98, less than half his career average of 4.15. His 291 ERA+ in 2000 is the modern baseball record, and his 243 ERA+ in 1999 trails only Greg Maddux’ 1994 and ’95 seasons (271 and 262; both strike-shortened), and Bob Gibson’s 258 in 1968, in seasons since the Taft administration. Pedro’s career ERA+ of 154 is the highest ever for any starting pitcher, providing a single metric that screams ‘greatest of all time.’ Of modern pitchers, only Roger Clemens and Johan Santana (143) come close. But Pedro’s 2008 ERA+ was an embarrassingly paltry 75.

I’m sure Pedro is not a great guy by many measures, and some may be glad that he’s finally getting his comeuppance. Or, thinking he sure is swell, maybe someone feels pity. But it’s not Pedro the man that I care about, one way or the other. I typically try to view ballplayers as baseball automatons, and not as people, lest I have difficulty rooting for a Sox player who’s in favor of global warming or against discount bus fares for war widows.

This isn’t personal. This is art. And it’s Pedro’s art I’m worried about.

Painters are reputed to know when just one more brush stroke would ruin the work. Ballplayers tend not to be so lucky, and add thick layers of mediocrity or ineptitude to previously unblemished careers. By being so good, Pedro has painted himself into a corner; it is only because his pitching was so brilliant that his steep decline- an event so utterly ordinary and predictable- becomes so painful.

I am surely not alone in thinking that Pedro’s career would look better if he were to retire, and that this is actually a good reason for him to do so. His was a magnificent achievement, and I do not want the records tarnished. He is one loss away from triple digits. His pitching is a national landmark, and should be protected from degradation.

Putting aesthetics over the obvious fact that the man still wants to pitch is why, among many other reasons, I am not Pedro’s agent.

But art is public, and an artist has to let go. Stan and Kyle were right to try and stop George Lucas from changing Star Wars. Pedro’s records don’t belong to him, they belong to us, the fans who watched them. Who’s he to ruin them? Pedro Martinez, perhaps? Well, not anymore.

For it is clear that the story arc of Pedro’s career is over, and that character that Pedro played no longer exists. We the audience delighted in the spectacle, with Pedro cast as The Greatest Pitcher of All-Time. And for the audience, when the curtain comes down in October, and we’ve been sufficiently entertained and edified, that’s the end. Now we can die in peace. The baseball automatons are put back into storage, and your second grade teacher lives in the school. That’s how it should be, anyway.

But biological life- and professional life- typically extend beyond narrative life, and there’s always next year, even if you win the World Series. Aesthetics, unfortunately, is not the governing principle.

Pedro will continue to pitch because Pedro’s the one who has to live the epilogue; I can always find new pitchers to watch (though never as great.) From his point of view, he’s not artwork on a stand, the object of rubbed chins and furrowed brows, he’s not a character in the great story of pitching, he’s a man, a man who might get bored or sad if he has to stop playing baseball. Maybe he doesn’t relish poker with Ramon for the rest of his life.

Fine, I’ll grant him this basic human dignity of choosing what to do with his life. But that doesn’t mean I won’t cringe whenever he slathers paint over his masterpiece.