Nobody's perfect

When I was 10, Len Barker of the Cleveland Indians pitched a perfect game, the first in 13 years. I remember thinking how cool of a feat that was and how Barker must be this great pitcher to pull it off. Little did I know that Barker was a mediocre pitcher at best who just happened to pitch the game of his life.

The first time I saw a no-hitter was later that season during an NBC Game of the Week, about four months after Barker's perfect game. Nolan Ryan of my Astros pitched his record-breaking fifth no-hitter against the hated Dodgers*. I didn't watch pitch for pitch because of my short attention span and because Ryan walked a couple of batters early. So I don't think I realized he had a no-hitter going until about the sixth inning. But I remember what a special thrill it was to see the final out, Dusty Baker's grounder to Art Howe at third base. I have that game on DVD now, thanks to modern technology and re-broadcasts and it was a thrill to re-watch it a few years ago.

*Everybody in the old National League West and fans of those teams hated the Dodgers. All of those teams either had been in a pennant race with them, had a beanball war with them or both. And everybody in the old NL East except the Cubs eventually played the Dodgers in the playoffs before the divisions were realigned in 1994, so they hated them, too. But the Dodgers were easy to hate. They always won. Steve Garvey was so perfect that even a teammate or two didn't like him (see Don Sutton, 1978, New York). Davey Lopes was too arrogant. Reggie Smith was too surly (though he looked like Issac from the Love Boat). Dusty Baker had a chip on his shoulder. Joe Ferguson never cracked a smile in his life (and he kneed Alan Ashby in the ribs in the 1980 NL West playoff game, knocking Ashby out of the subsequent NLCS). And don't get me started on Tommy Lasorda, who eventually received his lease payment and more from the Astros for "rent" they owed on the NL West lead in 1986 that they eventually turned into a division title (little did lard-butt know, but the Astros' lease came with an option to buy).

I've seen two no-hitters in person, both of them in the minor leagues and one of them was a two-pitcher no-hitter. A no-hitter is special in its own right, much less a perfect game. So I feel for Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga, who was robbed of a perfect game with two outs in the ninth inning last night by umpire Jim Joyce's erroneous safe call at first base on what became an infield hit for Cleveland's Jason Donald.

Galarraga really got screwed, though what happened to him isn't unprecedented. In 1972, Milt Pappas of the Cubs missed a perfect game with two outs in the ninth when home-plate umpire Bruce Froemming called a borderline 3-2 pitch ball four. Pappas was enraged and screamed at Froemming, who may have thrown him out under different circumstances.* But Pappas settled down, retired the next hitter and had his no-hitter.

*Pappas showed up Froemming and umpires don't like to be "shown up." What comprises being "shown up?" Basically, an action from a player that a fan in the stadium can readily see. Here are a few examples: Putting your palms on your knees and bending your back after a borderline call that doesn't go your way, smirking after a borderline call that doesn't go your way, flinging your glove at the ball after the catcher throws it back to you following a borderline call that doesn't go your way, bobbing your head as you scream a profanity after a borderline call that doesn't go your way, pointing your finger at an umpire, etc. These are all of the things Roy Oswalt did to home-plate umpire Bill Hohn in 2 1/3 innings Monday . So for the life of me, I can't figure out why everyone blamed Hohn for having a quick trigger and tossing Oswalt. If anything, Hohn showed more than enough tolerance for the actions of Oswalt, who between the petulance shown Monday and his trade "request" is quickly becoming the six-year-old kid who pouts cause dad wouldn't buy him pizza for supper.

Galarraga couldn't fall back on that and people are outraged, moreso than Galarraga, who showed a rare amount of class that's lacking in sports these days and basically said stuff happens and it's done. The predictable, day-after, knee-jerk reactions have accumulated. Folks want instant replay, a call reversal to retroactively award Galarraga a perfect game or both. And my response to all of that is "No, no, and no."

Galarraga got screwed, but this wasn't the worst call in baseball history. Don Denkinger blew a call at first in Game 6 of the 1985 World Series (though the way the Cardinals have blown this out of proportion out of the years, you'd think it happened with two outs in the ninth). Richie Garcia whiffed on fan interference in Game 1 of the 1996 ALCS (the Jeffrey Maier game -- Google it). Red Sox fans still bitch and moan about the no-batter's interference call against the Reds' Ed Armbrister in the 10th inning of Game 3 of the 1975 World Series.

The point is that in sports, like in life, stuff happens. It's called the human element. Occasionally, calls are blown and they provide controversy, which provides talking points years after the fact. And that's not a bad thing. It adds to the lore of athletics. If everyone was perfect, we'd have nothing to discuss. Cubs fans still cry about Steve Bartman, but why isn't there more discussion about Alex Gonzalez subsequently booting a double-play call later in that eighth inning of Game 6 of the 2003 NLCS that opened the floodgates to eight Marlins runs and an eventual Cubs series loss? Players make errors on the field and we don't cry to change those. Why should it be different for umpires?

If anything, Galarraga can't be awarded a perfect game because an umpire made an erroneous call at first. That in itself lends the blemish to an otherwise perfect outing.