“Don’t ever embarrass anybody by comparing him to…” might read as the beginning of a familiar quote from Reds manager Sparky Anderson, uttered at the conclusion of the 1976 World Series. Thurman Munson of the losing Yankees hit .529 in the four-game Cincinnati sweep. His catching counterpart, Johnny Bench, hit .533 and won Most Valuable Player honors. Anderson had been asked to compare the two great catchers of their day. Sparky called Munson “outstanding,” but wouldn’t brook a direct comparison between any other catcher and his own all-world backstop. Naturally, the above quote ends with “…Johnny Bench.”
I thought of Anderson’s frank assessment Friday night as the incomparable Jacob deGrom [1] went about his usual business of being routinely brilliant…except more so. The strength of the Nationals’ batting order certainly merited no comparison to that of the Mets’ starter. The Nats came to bat 29 times at Citi Field against deGrom. They collected two hits, didn’t otherwise reach base, struck out fifteen times and never scored. Come to think of it, they were overmatched as well by deGrom the hitter. Jacob went 2-for-4 at the plate; broke a scoreless tie by driving in the only run he’d need; and scored two others, presumably to keep his legs limber.
DeGrom the .545-average hitter — wisely slotted in the eight-hole Friday — is a delicious side dish: a testament to a competitor’s determination to be skilled at all facets of his craft and a counterpoint to all the folderol about the desirability of the DH on a team that lately has more bats than gloves. But that, like Brandon Nimmo’s oh-by-the-way homer and four-RBI night, was served up merely to complement the 6-0 Mets win [2]. The main course consisted of Jacob deGrom the 0.31-ERA pitcher throwing what appeared to be the most effortless 15-strikeout shutout in human history. No doubt he invested effort in his outing. There’s preparation of a physical and mental nature. There’s work in the bullpen. There’s data from the analytics department. There are discussions with catchers and coaches. There is an inherent degree of exertion that comes with releasing from one’s right hand 109 pitches — 84 of them strikes — across nine innings.
Yet he makes it look so damn easy. Late in the game, I kept an eye peeled to see how many pitches he’d thrown. I saw the number “98”. It was the miles per hour of his most recent delivery…which was also the number of pitches he’d delivered to that point.
He was throwing 98 MPH upon his 98th pitch. From a safe televised distance, it looked like a breeze. In whatever seats are permitted to be filled in the vicinity of home plate, the breezes created by National bats must have felt delightful.
Jake’s fifteen strikeouts, compiled in service to somehow his first-ever home shutout, were a career-high. The fifty strikeouts he’s racked up in his four starts thus far this season established a major league record for most strikeouts in the first four starts of any season. That’s one of those records you don’t realize exists except when someone motivates its revision.
Statistics have their own vocabulary to deal with deGrom. The English language should be so lucky. When Jake pitches, the words that fly around include “disgusting”; “stupid”; “insane;” and “sick”. Those are compliments, mind you. They must have been coined in this realm by batters who couldn’t bear to label pitching that utterly defeats them as something “sublime” or “exquisite”.
Give it the least mellifluous adjectives you can think of if you must. No matter how you say it, you’re likely muttering it from the dugout.
To be fair, we all grope for a proper context in which to discuss deGrom. He’s rendered obsolete “one of” as a precursor to “the best”. Are there others in the game currently who match up to Jake? Sparky Anderson’s already Benchmarked our answer. We are convinced Jacob has no peer in the here and now. Our recency bias isn’t so recent, either. Granted, 2020 was short and 2021 has barely begun, but Jacob deGrom has been on an ethereal roll for the length of four seasons, and he fit plenty comfortably within the outdated category of “one of the best” for the four seasons before that.
Among deGrom’s many achievements Friday night was lowering his career earned run average to 2.55, the best for any Mets pitcher who’s logged a minimum of a thousand innings. Let’s repeat that: Jacob deGrom has the best Mets career ERA ever. Better than everybody who’s ever pitched for the Mets.
Which is to say better than Tom Seaver.
Now let’s caveat the bejeesus out of that, because the phrase “better than Tom Seaver” doesn’t dare articulate itself casually in these parts. Jacob deGrom has thrown 1,198.2 innings. Tom Seaver threw, for the Mets, 3,045.2 innings. So that’s more. A lot more. Seaver’s Met ERA was 2.57, or a speck more than where deGrom’s stands at present. Also, it includes Tom’s 1983, which was his age-38 season, six seasons removed from the Franchise’s initial departure from the franchise. Seaver’s ERA in 1983 was an unsightly (for him) 3.55. It’s on his ledger in permanent ink, so, OK, it counts. But the Seaver who’s Seaver to us is the Tom who debuted on April 13, 1967, and barely missed a start through June 12, 1977. That Seaver, spanning 22 to 32 years old, totaled 2,814.2 innings and compiled an ERA of 2.49.
Keep that in mind during deGrom’s next start when SNY hails 2.55 as the new Met record. And keep in mind that for the first 1,198.2 innings of Seaver’s career, covering 1967 through the seventh inning of June 9, 1971 (thanks, Baseball-Reference!), Tom’s ERA stood at 2.46. Jake’s 2.55 ERA over the exact same number of innings is still sublime and exquisite, but it’s not lower than Seaver’s.
Lord knows I’ve come not to bury deGrom and only incidentally to praise Seaver. I’m generally pleased the chatter Jake spurs every fifth-ish day catapults Tom into the upper tier of our contemporary conversation. When No. 48 — or No. 42, as he was Friday for Jackie Robinson Night — is at his best, No. 41 is more than a sleeve patch. When Jacob strikes out nine Rockies in a row, as he did a week ago, Tom’s exploits come alive. Actually, when Jacob came within one of Tom’s record of ten straight K’s, I was as nervous as I used to get when a Met neared the then-elusive first no-hitter in Mets history.
Except I couldn’t tell what I was nervous about: that Jake wouldn’t match and maybe exceed Tom, or that Jake would match and maybe exceed Tom. Tom Seaver’s ten consecutive strikeouts of the San Diego Padres on April 22, 1970, is one of my idol’s signature moments. I’ve lived with it proudly for 51 years. It’s been his, ours, mine. Once in a while, some Doug Fister comes along and challenges it, and I put all the hex I can muster on him, because, due respect to a perfectly good major league pitcher, who the hell is Doug Fister to try to displace Tom Seaver from the record books?
Yet Jacob deGrom isn’t Doug Fister. Jacob deGrom is one of our own. He’s more than that. He’s Jacob deGrom. The instinct to protect a hero’s legacy shouldn’t activate against somebody you revel in rooting for to begin with. And if records are made to be broken, who better to break this one than someone who will keep it in the family? I didn’t want Jacob to not strike out a tenth consecutive Rockie, but when he fell short of Tom’s record, well, let’s just say I was disappointed, but I wasn’t devastated.
Though they’ve arisen organically because Jake is out there being so terrific you can’t help but think of Tom, I don’t particularly ache to make these comparisons between deGrom and Seaver. Or between deGrom and anybody, even if it’s a reflex reaction to do so. It’s how we process baseball after a while.
“A” reminds me of “B”.
“A” is having the kind of game “C” had that time.
“A” is having the best season since “D”.
“A” really stacks up with “E,” and you know “E” was about as good as anybody, right up there with “F,” “G” and “H”.
That, too, is our vocabulary.
Nevertheless, I’ve grown a little uncomfortable with the collective effort to micromanage Jacob deGrom’s greatness since it became our most urgent common cause in 2018; it’s as if simply sitting back and taking in Jake’s brilliance isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe if the Mets scored for Jake regularly like Jake scored for Jake on Friday we wouldn’t get overly hung up on his minutiae. But when wins became mostly inaccessible to him in his race for recognition versus the likes of Scherzer and Nola, we had to emphasize the finer print. It was fine, all right. It was a 1.70 ERA. I think we got used to shepherding Jake’s every start and touting his every inning thereafter. Two guys get on while he’s pitching and we worry the rest of the world will dismiss him as a barely .500 pitcher unworthy of another Cy Young.
Jake is so smooth about the spectacle he’s calmly created. He’s asked if he aspires to more awards, including MVP, per the chants he heard Friday night (in April). Sure, he says. How about the Hall of Fame [3]? Sure, he adds, despite needing two more seasons just to qualify for eventual preliminary consideration. Why be shy about knowing how good you are? It’s not a campaign, just a polite answer. What’s the pitcher with the 0.31 ERA going to say? “Aw, shucks” ain’t an option at this level.
But asking each other between every 98 MPH pitch of every game “how good is Jacob deGrom?” doesn’t really reveal anything we can assert with anything resembling certainty. I very recently rewatched Oh, God!, the 1977 film our people light up to when George Burns in the title role tells John Denver his last miracle was the 1969 Mets. But I jotted down another piece of Godly dialogue that I thought applies to our ongoing attempts to appraise deGrom:
I only know what is. Also I’m very big on what was. On what isn’t yet, I haven’t got a clue.
I do know Jacob deGrom has had a four-game stretch like I’ve very rarely seen and is having a four-year run I wouldn’t too quickly trade for many accomplished by any pitcher considered among the all-time best. I haven’t got a clue about where exactly that places him in the greater scheme of things, especially with so much (knock wood) left to find out. Finding out figures to be the treat.
In the meantime, don’t ever embarrass another pitcher by comparing him to Jacob deGrom.
Or Tom Seaver.