There are easy descriptions regarding the 37- year old veteran, and then there are debatable things the pundits ponder over decades upon decades, before coming to some mixed-form of conclusion.

The older Alex Rodriguez gets, the more polarizing he seems to become. By Keith Allison [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The man is a megastar and a sex symbol. To go along with his record setting contracts and polarizing personality, A-Rod and all that is his beefy 6’3″ frame has mastered the on-switch of women. From beauties like Cameron Diaz to Madonna and Kate Hudson, A-Rod has been gifted with the right kind of swing if you ask most men.

But he sure as hell can’t hit in the postseason. To think America is up in arms this year is outrageous. A-Rod, minus 2009 and a few MVP awards and 25 million dollar per-year contracts, is an average at best, postseason player. His mental fortitude is in question, as is his legacy as a whole. Not only is the man utterly underwhelming — .263, 13 homeruns, 41 RBI, 75 strikeouts, in 75 career postseason games — in the spotlight of playoff baseball, but arguably, is the greatest regular season trash hitter of all time.

What do I mean by trash-hitter? He can CLEARLY hit 3rd, 4th and 5th starters in a rotation. But after this postseason’s debacle and his career as a whole, he REALLY CAN’T hit 1st, 2nd and arguably the 3rd starters. Considering this, should we include A-Rod in the talk of all-time greats?

If he can’t hit the C.C Sabathia’s, Jered Weaver’s, Felix Hernandez’s and Justin Verlander’s, then he can’t be included in talks with the men who can — Albert Pujols, Miguel Cabrera and the man formerly known as “Mannywood”  — though I’m sure fans of A-Rod would scoff at this, considering his career 647 home runs and nearly 2,000 rbi’s over a famed 19-year career.

But those are regular season numbers. Compare his regular season from his postseason averages.

Regular Season                                Postseason (75-Career Games)

Avg: .300                                               Avg: .263

Avg HR Per 75 Games: 19.6               HR: 13

Avg RBI Per 75 – Games: 59.09         RBI: 41

Avg Strikeouts Per 75-Games: 61.57  Strikeouts: 75

Clearly A-Rod isn’t the same man he is in the regular season. But I’m not certain it’s lack of ability, more than it is a lack of focus. As nuts as it seems to think a three-time MVP lacks focus, it’s not all that unbelievable.

Juggling some of the most beautifully demanding women in the world with the pop phenomenon that is he is — while having the world at his fingertips with a kingdom of unbridled wealth — A-Rod is certain to have at some level lost his original passion — baseball — and replaced it with glory.

Glory, the singular element with the power to breed beauty and victory, is the same with the ability to turn gold to rust and ruin.

History repeats this. For every heroic story there are ten bad ones that follow. From Doc Gooden’s drug abuse to the over zealous rise and fall of Napolean’s France, glory concedes men often, to the arc of failure. It is the element that ceased poet ‘Emily Dickinson long enough to write this lyrical warning:

Glory is that bright tragic thing,

That for an instant

Means Dominion,

Warns some poor name

That never felt the sun,

Gently replacing

In oblivion.

Oblivion is something I’m certain Alex Rodriguez fears. Irrelevance. At 37, his years are waning, and having been the rock star of his generation, he now has to concede his crown to those more deserving in the eyes of his constituents.

I would wager money on younger star players, like Matt Kemp or Ryan Braun, ending their careers higher on the all-time greats list then A-Rod. Yet, that’s not to say A-Rod will ever go unnoticed. His oblivion will manifest itself in the erosion of his character and confidence, and that alone, will sink his name further down the all-time list.  

I don’t believe any of us question whether or not A-Rod has done enough to be a hall of famer, and whether or not he is considered one of the greatest SS/3B of all-time. He’s that good. Within all the backlash and critism, the man ranks 5th all-time on the home run list, and no matter how hard the fans are, he is still one of the most consistently potent and feared powerhitters of all-time.  

But what-ifs linger more for A-Rod, than they do for teammate Derek Jeter, foe Albert Pujols and in another two or three years, reigning Triple Crown winner, Miguel Cabrera. All three have been consistent in both the regular season and the post season, and have been the best players on their teams while doing so. 

A-Rod will always be that guy who couldn’t give it up. Who cheated. Who signed oversized contracts and feasted on his failures with disinterest in it all.

He’ll be the guy who couldn’t hit an 88 to 89-mile per hour fastball in his last solid run at postseason glory. The man who with the entire world at his fingertips and a legacy falling apart at the seams, had the audacity to let a player like Raul Ibanez outshine him.

He’ll be the man who blasphemed the tool that made him who is by using it as a vehicle to score digits from an unknown girl in the stands while his team drops a needed game one in the ALCS.

He’s just that interestingly old. And America and I are clearly over it.

…”paleeze,” she says, that being the Ms. Casual Fan, “take your knowledge and shove it.”

I will, but if I take it and shove it, I will be taking Albert Pujols, Adrian Gonzalez, Miguel Cabrera, Josh Hamilton, and Joey Votto with me. You ms. Casual fan can take Ryan Howard. Oh, and while you are at it, tak Jay Buhner and Troy Glaus with you.

Major League Baseball’s “power” era has looked more like a calf in a tutu swinging a billy club at a gnat, than the rugged, gritty, off-smelling, sweaty American ball player of our beloved past. Have you ever seen Kathy Ireland pose in a tight fitting bikini with a beer belly and one slumping boob?

It has been way more disgusting than a droopy Kathy Ireland. Like gracing a spread eagle Rodney Dangerfield in a playgirl centerfold.  Can I get me some sexy baseball back?

Or do I have to assume my role as the game’s Dr. Dre, dropping rhymes on the death of the Joe-Joe-D days? Hip Hop and Baseball are two peas in a pod ripped apart in the belly of an edamame. Sushi anyone?

Not a chance. If it has been made with a pink slab of “MLB star of the last fifteen years,” then the piece righteously stinks. It has been cut from the loins of  men who consistently hit below .260, and strikeout 150 times. “Yeah, well they hit home runs.” Well America hit- some- bombs in Nagasaki; so what is your point? I can hit my head against a wall… and?

This is why nothing makes sense from the populist perspective. We the spectators, are those who choose the ones worthy enough to receive our praise.  Not Ricki Lake.

Bring back the classy LBC Snoop.

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Last season’s year of the “no hitter,” set the bar high for baseball’s future. Players were held accountable for their extra-curricular activities and injuries took their toll. This caused reliance upon PED’s to be close to null, which is great, considering for the last twenty years any beefy troll with biceps and an average swing could be glorified for golfing forty balls out of the park. Without muscle crank being tossed around like a Nerf football in the gym locker room, survival of the fittest did what it intended to do. It weeded out the trash.

I personally was sick of this neo-golf garbage. It was baseball I wanted to see, just baseball damn it. Not a vague form it.

Which sent me into a tail spin.  I began to feel like a crack addict in need of my fix for more of a grass roots sport. So I slanted my attention toward soccer and professional tennis. I felt like I had joined a private club loving those two sports. And I’m not gonna lie, those were some of my greatest years to memory. Watching matches between Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal battling it out like Roman soldiers on the clay court was nothing short of brilliance.

But it was on you. If you are a fan of this country’s historical relics, you will begin craving the game of baseball. I missed a sport that allows an average, out-of-shape man like John Kruk to accomplish something. I badly desired baseball’s organic melding of reflex speed, muscular explosion, and small motor skills, creating a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Over its 125 year histiory, baseball has been the layered brush strokes of Picasso. Like a complex wine with flowering aromas and a lashing finish, baseball has relished in its cult-athlete — a player who would gladly draw phallic members on Thomas Kinkade’s cookie-cutter, Pollyanna bull shit.

An MLB player was never mister nice guy.

In the 1950’s, any person with the balls to heckle Ted Williams was showered by his browned, tobacco sludge. It was a way for TD to get back at his hecklers. And the man was meticulous. He studied pitchers, and swung the bat for hours everyday. A throwback professional who loved the game, practiced everything from the monotonous initial step to swing, to hip placement, and each step beyond.

The man didn’t hit .344 over a 19 year career without putting the work in. And that kind of passion created an intense fansmanship from the league. The man set in place baseball’s eternal politico, one glorifying the purist.

When  seeing monsters hitting it out thirty to forty times a year, Americans also accepted that they had to take every thing on the market to do so. Watching man-children striking out once a day, and collect hefty sums of dollars back fired. The problem with the “power era” philosophy is that it caused ticket prices to rise, and in the end, left the riled fan with the short end of the deal.

With every 450-foot bomb, the ghost of Ted Williams turned over in his glorious grave.

…thank God he did not have to shed his wrath…

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We have been saved by a handful of non-conformists. They are what I call baseballs fab five: Albert Pujols, Joey Votto, Josh Hamilton, Miguel Cabrera, and Adrian Gonzalez. All, without question, are the most dominant players in today’s game, combining for 5 MVP awards, 5 gold glove awards, and 22 all-star games.

Their modern day recipe for creating an MLB superstar is power, defensive ability, average, and larger than life persona.

1. Power: Pujols is the best of the five. For most of his ten-year career in St. Louis, Pujols has hit balls out with a larger than life authority, lacking a star hitting in front or behind him. He has averaged 41 home runs per year, and has never hit less than 32. If we were to judge players by their first ten years in the league, Pujols is arguably the greatest hitter to ever play this game.

Gonzalez is another worth mentioning out the “fab five,” because of his lack of support in San Diego. In his first five full seasons the slugger has said goodbye to 32 so-called offerings a year. If you take into consideration that no other Padre over the last five years has hit more than 21 homeruns, you will begin to understand what makes Gonzalez so great. HE DOES IT ON HIS OWN. He is the consummate slugger, causing pitchers to shake in their cleats.

Other totals by elite long-ball threats from last season include: Cabrera with 38, Hamilton with 32 in just 133 games, and Votto with 37 while Brandon Phillips was the only other actual threat in the Reds lineup.

2) Defensive Ability: All five are stalwarts defensively, but Pujols and Gonzalez set the bar. Gonzalez, a back to back gold glove award winner from 2008 to 2009, was not only sought out by the Red Sox this off-season because of his left-handed power, but because of his ability to fill a much-needed defensive hole for the Sox with his glove at first base. In 2010, Gonzalez was 2nd in the NL in putouts, and 3rd in assists.

Pujols is also a two time gold glove winner with the Cardinals. In 2010, the star led the league in assist and put-outs at first base. For much of Pujols’ career, his defensive abilities have been overlooked because of his offensive dominance.

3) Batting Average: All five are fantastic. Last season, the worst of the five was Gonzalez, who hit an unashamed .298 while driving in 101 runs. Pujols did as Pujols does; give pitchers headaches. Over his ten-year career,  Pujols has hit .331, never striking out more than 92 times. Last season Cabrera quietly hit .328 with his partner in crime, Magglio Ordonez only a mere shadow of himself. This set him apart in the American League, finishing 2nd in MVP voting. Cabrera for his career has hit .313 and driven in an average of 120 runs in his seven year career. Hamilton won his 1st MVP award in the American League last season hitting .359 with 100 runs driven in, in again, a shortened season due to injury. Votto’s season was perhaps most impressive considering he had no help in the Reds lineup. The reigning NL MVP hit .324 and drove in 113 runs.

4) Larger than Life persona: It is impossible to give this area some form of quantitative analysis. What I can tell you, however, is that Pujols is the greatest player of his generation. He is the leagues biggest face on and off the field. He has the power to sway MLB opinion and the perspective on the sport by the fans. Whether it is true or not, Pujols has been glorified as a “clean” superstar, who has done it all through hard work and true dedication to his craft. His throwback image is used quite often by the league promoting its “drug free,” policy.

Josh Hamilton’s dominance is down right scary. In 133 games, Hamilton hit .359 last season with 32 home runs and 100 runs batted in. I believe Hamilton is the new face of the American League, as a guy who not only dominates with his bat, but has proven his worth and sustainability by kicking his drug habit.  He has essentially become a hero to many beyond the straight-edge.

Joey Votto is the sure favorite to win his 2nd NL MVP award this season. If the Reds make the playoffs with pretty much the same team as last season, and Votto has a season like last season, he will continue to build a legacy as a guy who accomplishes things as the face of an organization. You cannot get any larger than that.

Adrian Gonzalez is set to have the most dominate season of his career. Lefty’s fair better in Fenway hitting away from the green monster. Gonzalez is the central piece in a stacked lineup with Kevin Youkilis, Dustin Pedroia, Carl Crawford, Jacoby Ellsbury, and David Ortiz. He will get more pitches to hit and could jack more than forty this season.

Many will disagree, but Miguel Cabrera embodies this larger than life persona as well. A star has the ability to shine without the fans’ approval of them. And Cabrera shines. His DUI has been the biggest story of this off-season, acting as a driving point for the media circus. Cabrera has ignored it, kicked his habit again, and is focused for another dominate year. With Ordonez back in the lineup and looking to again prove himself after an off-year, Cabrera  should have the best season of his famed career, and win the AL MVP award.

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For those of you who abandoned the MLB after the 1994 strike, I urge you to come back. I understand your complaints. For too long the league had been glorifying overrated PED-hungry athletes. But the five described above are giving purists like me some hope. No, the league will never return to those beautiful days when a fan felt like “one” with is favorite star – but we can evolve and re-direct the trajectory of this historical game.

I have hope for the first time in years. Hope in the diamond’s version of the “fab-five.”