A Class Act

It's been announced that tomorrow Greg Maddux will retire after a 20+ year major league career. Since the heart of that career was spent as an Atlanta Brave (my favorite team) during their glory years of the 1990's and early 2000's, Maddux's retirement carries special weight for me. Although he was not homegrown talent, like Tom Glavine, Chipper Jones or David Justice (other mainstays of the dynasty), coming to the team as a high-priced free agent after establishing himself with the Cubs, Maddux quickly became one of my favorite players, and not just because of all the victories and awards he racked up for his accomplishments. Maddux was the epitome of humility and grace at a time when professional sports too often devolved into selfishness, arrogance, and the kind of hubris that made many applaud when various touted athletes eventually met some comeuppance (think Barry Bonds, for one real clear example). Never once, in all the interviews I read or heard after another amazing Maddux performance on the mound, did he take his abilities or success for granted. He was more inclined to credit his teammates, luck or preparation than native skill, and always-- always-- noted that on another day, the other side might have the advantage. After awhile, it was hard to take such comments seriously, but Maddux never came across as anything but sincere.

My favorite Maddux memory is of his performance in game two of the 1996 World Series, when he spun a typical gem that made it appear inevitable that the team would take the series (though they then proceeded to lose four straight). My favorite story about Maddux was that when he had a comfortable lead, he would purposely make mistakes and give the opposition pitches to hit so that, in the future (when the game was closer), they'd be anticipating similar treatment only to have him shift his pitch selection to something completely different. Who knows if its true? It certainly gave some weight to his nickname: "The Professor."

Maddux was such an admirable and likable guy that even after he left the Braves, I always cheered for his success, and it gave me great pleasure that in his last game of last season (now the last,apparently of his fantastic career), he pitched another gem to move past Roger Clemons on the all-time victories list by one. Many would argue that Clemons was the superior pitcher of the two, whose careers mirrored one another in many ways. But Clemons was also one of those boors who seemed to take his success as a birthright, and often seemed motivated by purely mercenary impulses, often treating fans with something close to contempt (was anyone really surprised that he became implicated in the steroid scandal, which in turn led to other revelations about his character?). Maddux, along with his long-time teammate on the Braves John Smoltz (who, at this writing, appears ready to take the hill again in the upcoming season, after battling injuries last year), to me represents all the qualities we like to claim are central to sports' relevance, but often get lost in the "win-at-all-costs" atmosphere of contemporary culture: teamwork, hard-earned success, professionalism, and respect for the game, its traditions, and its fans.