Everyone knew it was coming.
And, sure enough, on the morning of Sunday, September 24, there it was for all of San Diego to read.
Our local ultraconservative right-wing rag, The San Diego Union-Tribune ran the obligatory “our guy gets no respect from the national media” piece yesterday. The subject was San Diego Padres closer Trevor Hoffman and his assault on the all-time saves record.
The article even manages to get former reliever and record holder Lee Smith (and his 478 pounds saves) from the front of the refrigerator and on the phone to offer up his own Rodney Dangerfield routine.
Let’s be clear: Trevor Hoffman is a future Hall of Famer and one of the greatest closers of all time. Now, let’s be clearer”¦Trevor Hoffman is not the greatest closer of all time and his current status atop Saves Mountain says as much about the inherent flaws of the “save” statistic and the fallacy of the closer’s role.
Off the top of my head, here are three all-time closers who I’d tab for the 27th out, instead of Trevor:
Mariano Rivera: Talk of the greatest closer ever begins and ends here. If his 2.33 career ERA (entering this season) doesn’t convince you, then his 0.81 postseason ERA and 34 playoff saves should settle any remaining argument.
Dennis Eckersley: The man established the one-inning ace role with five years of unparalleled dominance from 1988-1992. Even throughout his decline in the mid-90s, he was still one of the top five closers in the league.
Goose Gossage: Arguably the greatest pitcher not in the Hall of Fame. He was racking up saves of the three inning variety, throwing in the high 90s consistently and doing all of this while pitching in the pressure-cooker that was the late ’70s/early ’80s Yankees.
For all of Hoffman’s accomplishments, he’s actually been one of the most coddled closers in recent memory. He’s essentially been a “one inning only” reliever since the late ’90s and benefited greatly from a ton of those low-pressure, nobody on, 2-run and 3-run saves. To say nothing of the lower pressure of pitching in baseball’s 72-degree, sun-drenched Siberia that is San Diego.
All three of the above examples pitched under the consistent specter of pennant races during much, if not all, of their respective peaks. Hoffman, on the other hand, has been a big fish in a 70-win pond for a long, long time.
Celebrate the moment, San Diego. While “Trevor Time” isn’t all you thought it was, just remember that even a broken clock is right twice a day.
