An Essay on Greatness:
Doc asks why I called the Giants to win the World Series, when they were clearly second tier behind the Dodgers, Nats, Tigers and Angels in terms of on paper formidableness.
Here's my answer:
I used to wrestle in high school, and was highly successful at it. My repertoire included about three good judo throws, a few illegal strangulation and joint manipulation techniques, tightrope balance and a dedicated mean streak. During my senior year, I was the fourth seed in the state tournament. I dispatched the first feeb with an exclamation point, and left my quarterfinals opponent with a shoulder injury. Mojo was a little monster.
My semi finals oponent, the first seed, was a different kind of kid. He was a senior as well. We'll call him Russell Wilson. He got straight A's and had a senator appoint him to Westpoint. He had a perfect wrestling record on the season and was really nice too. He had a plus single leg tackle and did everything well, but wasn't great at anything. Stylistically, he matched up well for me, as his large West Point noggin was too big to slip through my high flying judo throws.
During the first period, the score was even. During the second period, I scored two big judo throws on him, both o soto gari, and held him on his back for about fifteen seconds, and scored what should have been called a pin.
In between the second and third period, Russell was down by two points, and I had the choice of positions to choose. He was alarmed, and was deliberately taking huge breaths to get his wind back. Instead of choosing down, and getting a point escape and a minute or so burned off the two minute clock, as my coach screamed at me, I chose the standing position, as I wanted to score another big throw and get that pin.
In the third period, Russell dug deep, scored two single leg tackles on me, evaded the last big throw, and won the match by a point. The person who made the finals on the other side of the bracket was someone I had dispatched easily earlier in the year. Russell scored a first period pin against that guy, a gold medal, a giant bracket, and a lifetime of bragging rights. A heartbroken little Mojo took fifth.
After all these years, I still can't completey wash off the stink of losing a stupid high school wrestling match. If the dumb ref would have called my pin against Russell, if I would have chose down, if my defense were a little better. Woulda shoulda coulda.
So, I'm a little bit more sensitive than most on the difference between goodness and greatness, or formidable and indomitable. When I think about indomitable, I think about Tim Hartung. Hartung wrestled for the Minnesota Golden Gophers from 1996 to 1999. At some point after his sophomore season, he decided that he wasn't going to lose to anyone anymore, and he didn't. His two year win streak is the longest in school history. Hartung featured superb defense, and a low ankle pick. His great nemesis was Lee Fullhart of the University of Iowa. Fullhart was the 1997 NCAA champion. The two were equally matched, in terms of ability, strenght, balance and the like, but Hartung owned him to the tune of plus one point each time they wrestled. Here's a representative match. See Hartung dig deep and get that takedown at the 8:30 mark. Hartung won 6 or so matches against Fullhart by the thinnest of margins. This culminated at the 1999 NCAA finals, with Fullhart leading by a point at a minute to go in the third period, and Hartung needing to score or go home. Here's what happened.
Hartung was indomitable and undefeatable. Fullhart was formidable, and looked good on paper. As the broadcaster says, Hartung will find a way.
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Baseball is an inherently different game than wrestling because there is much more randomness in baseball than there is in wrestling. The best wrestlers can stay undefeated, while the baseball equivalent is a .700 winning percentage. Still there is room for an indomitable spirit, and a champion imposing his will on the outcome of the game. The Giants have that. Here's Hunter Pence explaining the matter after the Giants had just clinched the Wild card berth. "We have the (Bleeeeep) champion blood. We're going to burn these other (bleeeep) cities down, every one of them".
After watching the NL Wild Card game, I became convinced that Pence's rant was real, and that the Giants were practicing what Pence preached by curb stomping the Pirates like Hartung crushing a stadium full of Iowans.
Now, you might not believe in champion blood versus contender blood, but the Giants do, and I guarantee you that the Dodgers believe in the difference. They think that fate is against them, that the refs were against them, that BABIP is against them. The Dodgers believe in woulda coulda shoulda. The Giants believe the opposite, and at some point, both teams fullfill their own prophesies.
My two cents.