There'll always be an asterisk.
If Mark McGwire breaks the season home run record, the naysayers can whisper—if they can pronounce the word—"androstenedione." The caveat for Sammy Sosa might be creatine or Wrigley Field. Roger Maris's detractors pointed to the 162-game season and expansion.
Fact is, the holder of this record has almost always attracted at least one disclaimer, ever since Levi Meyerle of the Philadelphia Athletics, Lipman Pike of the Troy (N.Y.) Unions and Fred Treacey of the Chicago White Stockings set the first recorded season mark with four home runs each in 1871. Their shortcoming: They played in the National Association, which isn't considered a true major league even by its own offspring—the National League. For the same reason Pike, who broke the record with six homers in '72, was doomed to anonymity.
Even though Charley Jones of the Boston Red Caps was in the National League when he hit nine homers in 1879, he didn't have long to enjoy his mark. Jones was expelled from baseball in 1880 on a charge of "insubordination" (read: salary dispute) and didn't play major league baseball again until he was signed by the Cincinnati Red Stockings of the American Association in '83.
The home run mark reached double figures in 1883, when Harry Stovey hit 14 for the Philadelphia Athletics of the American Association, an outfit dismissed by the haughty National League as "the beer and whiskey league." American Association stats are recognized by The Baseball Encyclopedia, but its history seems not to count; neither Stovey nor any other star who spent most of his career in that league is in the Hall of Fame.
In any event Stovey would be quickly forgotten in the wake of the mayhem shortly to erupt at Chicago's Lake Front Park. The dimensions of the White Stockings' stadium were so cozily intimate that in 1883 a ball hit over the rightfield fence was considered a double. But in 1884 that rule was changed. Though the rightfield corner remained only 196 feet from the plate and the rightfield "power alley" extended just 252 feet, a fence-clearing hit became a homer. Third baseman Ned Williamson erupted with 27 homers—25 at Lake Front and the other two in the league's second-smallest stadium, Olympic Park in Buffalo. Three of Williamson's teammates also broke Stovey's record, and a fourth fell one short. As a team the White Stockings hit 142 homers; the rest of the National League, 181. The team mark would stand until 1927; Lake Front Park wouldn't even make it to 1885.
Williamson's record remained on the books but was sneered at until Babe Ruth amassed his 29 in 1919—a feat criticized at the time as evidence of a "rabbit ball." Before Ruth arrived, the man who came closest to breaking Williamson's mark was Buck Freeman. Freeman, who foreshadowed Ruth as a lefthanded pitcher converted to an outfielder, blasted 25 homers in his first full season for the 1899 Washington Nationals of the National League. Perhaps because a nonrecord performance wasn't deemed worthy of being debunked, Freeman's effort appears to have been beyond asterisks. Still, that year he hit more than twice as many homers as any other major leaguer and outslugged four entire teams. As the Washington Evening Star noted, "Fans in Washington love to watch opposing outfielders. Those fielders stand immobile most of the time, but, when Buck Freeman comes to bat, turn and run about 20 feet toward the fences."
Of caveats concerning the Babe's subsequent record-breaking seasons, Josh Gibson's 84 homers in 170 games for the 1936 Pittsburgh Craw-fords of the Negro leagues and Maris's achievement 37 years ago, little need be said. The lesson of Williamson, Ruth, Maris and even McGwire and Sosa, is that the beauty of the baseball statistic isn't its inviolable certitude but rather that it is merely a launchpad for debates without end.