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Greg Maddux: Still Desirable at 40

by Christopher McIntosh
04/26/2006

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned."

I have a confession to make. I covet Greg Maddux.

Given the whole thing against coveting in the Ten Commandments, plus my persistent Catholic guilt, this should probably bother me a lot more than it does.

To be honest, I'm not even sure I know what covet means, despite years of Catholic teachings and the knowledge that twenty percent of the precious ten prohibits one doing this verb to "thy neighbor's goods" and "thy neighbor's wife."

According to the dictionary covet means, "to feel blameworthy desire for that which is another's; to wish for longingly."

I don't know about the blameworthy part - unless you count the fact that he plays for the wrong team in Chicago or that he's the baseball equivalent of an ex-girlfriend. He played for my Braves for the better part of a decade and while things ended on good terms, they still ended. And let's just say I'm not exactly on great terms with any of my ex's.

But the desire part, that's the part I understand.

Maddux turned 40 years old this week. Most pitchers his age are either playing golf or are reduced to doing their best John Franco imitation - a player we love for nostalgia as much as their ability to get outs. They come trotting in from the bullpen, we cheer, and a couple of outs later they step aside for the closer or the setup man, reduced to bit parts in plays they used to headline.

If you're still dominant at 40, it's usually because you've got dirty, dirty stuff. Think Roger Clemens, Nolan Ryan, or Randy Johnson. These are all big guys with big pitches. Strikeout pitchers. Exceptions to the norm. Freaks. Guys who do things no one their age - short of Julio Franco - should be able to do. Like hit 95 on the radar gun or, as Robin Ventura can attest, possessing the ability to whip the ass of anyone with the audacity to charge the mound.

Greg Maddux is none of these things. He appears soft. His physique is more that of a manager than a pitcher. He's not quite overweight, but put him in a lineup and most people wouldn't pick him out as the professional athlete. That would be their mistake.

Today, at 40, he just might be the best pitcher in the game.

It is indisputable that he is having the best start of anyone in the majors.

He is 4-0 in four starts for the Cubs - a team not known for its offensive production or helping out its pitchers.

His ERA is 0.99. In 27 innings pitched, he's allowed more walks (five) than runs (three).

Of the 353 pitches he's thrown this year, 233 of them have been strikes.

Even more impressive, two of the four starts have come against a Cardinal lineup that may be the best in the NL. Regardless of that claim, there is no disputing that they have the scariest hitter in the league - Albert Pujols. Just ask Brad Lidge. Although it might be hard to get an answer out of him after Pujols' mammoth, game-ending home run in Game 6 of last year's NLCS. It rattled him so bad he wasn't right for the rest of the playoffs and this year's ERA of more than six seems to indicate it still hasn't gone away. You could ask him about Albert, but I'm not sure he could respond in complete sentences.

More to the point, Maddux has confounded expectations at every turn. During the offseason the hot topic around the Cubs was whether this might be the end for Maddux. Last year he failed to win his customary 15 games. Batters were getting to him more than they ever did. To some it looked like he was on the downside of his illustrious career.

But like most times throughout his career, people took a look at the surface and underestimated him. Sure, he failed to win 15 games last year, but the only reason people noticed was because it was the first time in 18 seasons. Plus, he still won 13 games and as much as people around here don't want to hear it, it was for the Cubs - not exactly an offensive juggernaut (Derek Lee's season notwithstanding).

Responding to those who doubted his lyrical talent after his success as a producer, Dr. Dre - formerly of NWA, lest anyone forget - proclaimed:

"You run around talking about guns like I ain't got none. What, you think I sold them all?"

Maddux has 322 wins. His career ERA is in the low threes, which is historically impressive, but given what's come out about steroid usage, the simultaneous shrinking of the strike zone and the ballpark, combined with the fact that he rarely relies on the strikeout, it's an unthinkable achievement. He didn't suddenly forget how to pitch during the offseason.

Put it this way: Pedro was recently celebrated for winning his two hundredth game.

Maddux won four consecutive Cy Young awards - the last of which was more than 10 years ago and the first of which was during the first Bush administration. Most pitchers never win one, let alone four, and he's the only one to do it in a row. You'd think that a pitcher coming off his fourth would be on the downside of his career.

Instead, Maddux just kept winning. And winning. And winning. Somehow he won about as inconspicuously as possible for someone so successful. Outs don't make for good television. Sportscenter, Baseball Tonight, and the local newscast couldn't do much for him. He wasn't physically imposing and he didn't do anything spectacular.

More accurately, he didn't do anything that the casual observer waiting for NBA highlights would notice, but that doesn't mean that those in the know weren't aware. He is routinely referred to as the smartest pitcher in baseball. Rumors abound about him calling his shot - returning to the dugout and telling his teammates that the next time up he was going to get that guy out on a pop up to the third baseman. Two innings later, he promptly walked out and did just that. My friend Bill pointed out that his pitching was so well respected that there hasn't been any other pitcher who "brought enough to the table that even offensively moribund teams were willing to carry a second, hitting-impotent catcher just to handle him rather than a utility infielder, another outfield bat or bench speed." Eddie Perez, I'm looking at you. He would even throw differently between starts. A teammate once caught him pitching from the stretch and looked at him cross-eyed - Maddux was no relief pitcher, so what gives? Maddux looked back at him equally confused and said something to the effect of, I should focus on practicing the most important pitches I throw in a game and those are almost invariably with someone on base.

Simple. Effective. But not something anyone else would think of.

In other words, genius.

If he was a position player, he'd be Willie Mays. Maddux has won 13 consecutive Gold Gloves and 15 of the last 16. If he wins two more, he'll own more career Gold Gloves than anyone.

Two other things bear mentioning. With the possible exception of Tiger Woods, he's probably set a record for the number of times caught visibly cursing on national television. There's a reason he's called Mad-dog and it's not just about the name. He's a competitive, tough SOB - don't let the accountant exterior fool you, he'd cut you to win a ballgame. I also think that they had to invent the term "scattered" just to describe his outings. As in, "Maddux gave up one run today, ‘scattering' nine hits through eight innings." You don't have to think strikeouts are fascist to see the beauty in that. Overpowering a team is simple. Outplaying them by constantly appearing to flirt with disaster is another.

But that's just it, it was only an appearance. And if there's anything to be learned from Maddux, it's that.

Appearances can be deceiving, but genius isn't.

I'm still not sure I know what coveting means, but I do know one thing:

Baseball players are neither "thy neighbor's wife" nor "thy neighbor's goods," no matter what George Steinbrenner thinks.

Looks like I can put off confession for another week.

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