The Best Column Ever*

*Written by this particular author in defense of the much-maligned asterisk

By Leigh Montville

I would like to make a case for the asterisk (*). The asterisk (*) has drawn mostly negative press during this home run business of 1998. It has been ridiculed as being archaic, unnecessary and, well, demeaning. It has been swamped in the many exclamation points (!!!!!!!) attached to the record-setting exploits of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. It has been dismissed, period (.).

I say we should take another look. Nothing against the exclamation points (!!!!!!!)—they certainly were well deserved—but the asterisk (*) should also be part of the final picture.

I think Mark deserves an asterisk (*).

I think Sammy deserves an asterisk (*).

I think anyone who sets any record deserves an asterisk (*).

That symbol, as anyone who has eyes and ears knows by now, was attached to Roger Maris's record of 61 home runs in 1961. The commissioner of baseball, Ford Frick, had been a friend of Babe Ruth's. The idea that Maris set his record in the new 162-game season while the Babe had hit his 60 home runs during the traditional 154-game season in 1927 offended Frick. He added the asterisk (*)—roughly signifying "Yeah, but ..."—to Maris's mark to show that it was accomplished in a greater number of games.

For 30 years the asterisk (*) was associated with Maris's name and home run mark. Finally, in 1991, it was removed by Fay Vincent, then commissioner, who was himself removed by the owners one year later. Frick was dead by 1991. Maris was dead. The asterisk (*) was gone. It was a move that showed baseball at its bookkeeping best.

Frankly, I would have kept the asterisk (*). What had changed in 30 years? That's the question (?). Maris still had the benefit of those eight extra games (*). He also had the benefit—like McGwire, like Sosa—of playing in an expansion year, hitting against watered-down pitching (*). Not to mention that Maris had Mickey Mantle hitting behind him every day and night, so pitchers were afraid to walk him (*). That might have been the biggest asterisk (*) of all.

Then again, the Babe was on perhaps the greatest baseball team of all time (*). He had Lou Gehrig behind him (*). He never played night games (*), and he never had planes to catch (*) or a billion reporters scrutinizing his every move (*), andthere were no African-American and few Latin players in major league baseball (*) during his time. The Babe also deserved a few asterisks (*******).

The truth is that no record is set or broken under laboratory conditions. Each is a product of a particular time and a particular set of circumstances. The asterisk (*) question (?) was raised with regard to McGwire because he took andro-whatever to help build his strong body 12 ways (*), but maybe he deserves an asterisk (*) because he's 6'5" and 250 pounds (*). Or maybe he deserves an asterisk (*) because he played on a bad baseball team. Or maybe the simple fact that his son was allowed to be the team batboy is worth an asterisk (*) or two (**).

Sosa, on the other hand, played on a good team (*) and had that wind blowing out onto Waveland Avenue (*) and any number of other special circumstances. What did he have for dinner (*)? How did he get to the ballpark (*)? What did he wear on his feet (*)? Was it—the way the commercials always claim—the shoes (*)? What (*)?

Every record deserves an asterisk (*). Every human endeavor deserves an asterisk (*). The undefeated Miami Dolphins of 1972 deserve an asterisk (*), and Wilt's 100 points deserves an asterisk (*), and all the track and field records and certainly anything that ever happens in tennis or golf—what with all those changes in equipment—deserves asterisks (*******). Presidents certainly deserve asterisks for what they do (*******), and movie stars deserve asterisks (*******), and anyone who cooks a lousy dinner after a long day at work deserves an asterisk (*).

Everyone is different. Everything we do, no matter how great or how small, is different. If not, we might as well all be in a comma (,). Make that coma.

Issue date: October 7, 1998