How Many Rings: #3 In A Series

In his 13-year career as a utility infielder, Luis Sojo hit a rancid 29% below league average. Playing mostly in the Bronx, he averaged 198 generally futile at-bats a year while filling in ably in the field at 2B, SS and 3B.

But if Sojo decided to flash his World Series rings, he'd look like Richie Havens. His right hand would sport a ring for each finger.

So, was Sojo a great player? Was he superior to Ty Cobb, who never won a championship?

Put that way, it seems idiotic, yet this line of reasoning is regularly used (in all sports) to aggrandize or demean players whose career performance should otherwise speak for themselves. In baseball even more than in other sports, the rhetorical question "how many rings does he have?' is asinine. Team championships in an individual player's curriculum vitae may very well be the most overblown concept in sports.

No batter can occupy more than one of nine positions in the batting order. A shortstop can't contribute behind the plate, at the infield corners or in the outfield. A starting pitcher sits on the bench four out of every five days. A closer takes a siesta for eight-ninths of the contests he enters, and if he enters half of them over a season, that's a lot. In short, attributing a team's performance to one player is like predicting a hurricane because the air is warm.

For a long time, people credited Derek Jeter with having some special skill that led the Yankees to four World Series wins in five years. I'll tell you what special skill he had -- being on the Yankees! Having the good fortune to play alongside the best players is an excellent formula for winning. Since 2004, the quality of the players on the Yankees has declined and the results have been predictable. Jeter hasn't lost any hidden skill because he didn't have one in the first place.

The flip side of that is Mike Mussina. A great competitor for the Orioles, Moose joined the Yanks in '01, after their fourth title in five years. They never won another in his seven years of stellar pitching for NY. Did he bring negative mojo with him to the Bronx, or did the parade of defensively-challenged, over-the-hill sluggers and noodle-armed pitchers off career years stymie their aspirations?

I hope baseball writers with Hall of Fame votes, whose ranks now include a handful of more analytical Internet correspondents, will keep this in mind when weighing the relative merits of nominees. Whether a player's teams won or lost is of little relevance to his personal merit as a Major Leaguer. Either that or Luis Sojo deserves some consideration.