Houston, You Have a Legend

Were it not for Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell, I might not know what the Houston Astros are. And at the end of this season, there might be a generation of baseball fans to suffer that very feat.

Biggio announced today that after this season, he will retire. Biggio has played 20 seasons, all with the Astros, and earlier this season collected his 3,000 th career hit.

He currently sits on 3,014, six shy of Rafael Palmeiro for 23 rd all time.

But for me, Biggio’s (and Bagwell’s) impact isn’t about the numbers or the career accomplishments. For me, it’s how they took a small-market franchise and made it relevant outside of the Houston area. Sure, one could argue Nolan Ryan did the same, but as young as I am, I only remember him as a Texas Ranger.

I’m a diehard Baltimore Orioles fan – have been since I was old enough to know what baseball was. I remember staying up late with my grandmother as a kid, watching Cal and Billy Ripken turn double plays. I should’ve been in bed, but instead I’d watch Eddie Murray and Mickey Tettleton belt home runs out of Memorial Stadium. I was wide-eyed as Mike Mussina, Jimmy Key and Scott Erickson tore up the American League en route to back-to-back ALCS appearances.

So for me, most of my baseball heroes are Orioles. But there are the rare few from other teams, players so good, so transcendent that a die-hard black-and-orange guy like me has to stop and go, “Wow, that’s just … wow.”

Ken Griffey, Jr. Kirby Puckett. Tony Gwynn. Frank Thomas.

Jeff Bagwell. Craig Biggio.

I’m not an Astros fan (if I had to pick a National League team, it would be the Nationals followed by the Braves), but I’ve long been a Biggio fan. His versatility – going from catcher to second base to center field then back to second base. When Enron Field/Minute Maid Park opened, everyone crowed about the hill in center, but Biggio navigated it like no one else. He could play wherever the manager asked him to, I’m convinced of this, and boy could he hit.

3,014 and counting.

But Biggio’s work ethic, more than anything, is what I admire. I remember fondly when Cal broke Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games played streak. 2,632 is a mark that will forever stand, because guys just don’t go out there and play every single day anymore. They come out in late innings of blowouts, they take off day games after night games. They rest for sore ankles, tired arms.

But not Biggio. The only way he missed a game was if he was truly, genuinely hurt, and every time he was on the field he gave it everything he had. Hit No. 3,000 was a perfect example; yeah, he was gunned down trying to stretch a single into a double, but the hustle and give-100-percent cliché we lament in sports was there, like it had been the first 19 years of this man’s career.

If I had a vote for the Hall of Fame, I’d put Biggio in. First ballot, without a second thought. He was just that good, but more importantly, he represented everything that was good about baseball. And in an era where we’re so fixated on what’s wrong with baseball, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to put in a guy who epitomized the best of the game.

Let everyone argue and bicker over Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa and Barry Bonds. I’ll take guys like Ripken and Craig Biggio.