Individual records in any form of competition only matter in that they are achieved in the pursuit of the goal of winning. We keep individual statistics, but even the most hardcore stathead will explain that the statistics themselves are only meaningful because they serve to measure an individual’s contribution to winning. We rate players by the runs they produce and save, because those runs are the building blocks of wins, and wins matter. That a player might accumulate a significant number of hits, doubles, walks, stolen bases is something to be noted, and even perhaps celebrated, but only if that accumulation comes in the natural course of events. The pursuit of a championship is primary; there should be no pursuit of numbers.

This is what was so wrong about Pete Rose’s chase of Ty Cobb’s all-time record for hits in a career. Rose’s performance had been so bad from 1982 through the middle of 1984 that he no longer was worthy of a roster spot. He could not contribute to the winning of a championship. (His 1983 was disgustingly bad--.245/.316/.286 as a mediocre defensive first baseman--and the Phillies' pennant came in spite of him.) The Reds signed him because the Reds weren’t much about winning championships at that point, and wanted the sideshow. Rose wasn’t quite as bad with the Reds--his .395 OBP helped them finish second in 1985, even paired with a .319 SLG--but it really didn’t matter. The decision to sign a just-released 43-year-old first baseman who hadn't homered since 1982 was indefensible as a baseball decision, and moreso for a team whose system was about to cough up a lineup’s worth of hitters.

Rose would have been considered a Hall of Famer and a great player even if he’d ended his career with 4,062 hits. His pursuit of a number, and the Reds’ enabling of that pursuit, actually detracted from his setting of the mark.

Biggio’s advance to his 3000th hit is exactly the same situation. Biggio shouldn’t be a regular any longer, and since he can’t really play anywhere but second base, he’s got a minimal case for even having a roster spot. If he had started the season with 2,763 hits, or 3,112, he wouldn’t be playing at all. The only reason he’s been allowed to play is because he was close to a three-zero number in a high-visibility category.

This act, this glorifying of a statistic, a number, is supposed to be the thing that we do, that statheads do, that takes away from the beauty and spirit of the game. But I don’t know a single stathead, not one, who would allow a player who so clearly doesn’t deserve to play any longer into the lineup just because of a number. Numbers only matter when they’re part of the pursuit of a championship. Separated from that, they’re a sideshow, and they have little meaning.

What number of hits Craig Biggio finishes his career with has absolutely nothing to do with his value as a player, the greatness he showed at his peak, or his qualifications for the Hall of Fame. Biggio contributed mightily to good teams, and he had a long career during which he displayed a broad range of skills. We can measure those things, we can evaluate and analyze his performance, and our methods for doing so have meaning because the context in which we put them is helping a team win baseball games.

Biggio’s last few hits have no such relevance. They are just hits garnered so that Craig Biggio can get hits. That was clear at the start of the season, but benching him for two of three games in a June series against the division leaders is the cherry on top. Craig Biggio isn’t a baseball player now. He’s a stat-generating robot.[ . . .]

Craig Biggio is no less a man, no less a great baseball player, no less a Hall of Famer for his participation in this charade. The number, though, just doesn’t mean very much. Reaching a statistical milestone is meaningless when the milestone becomes the goal. Anybody can play long enough to make a particular odometer turn over. It’s deserving to do so that makes it a true achievement.

That Stros management and Biggio have allowed the franchise icon's quest for 3,000 hits to be dragged into the mud of Pete Rose's tawdry pursuit of Ty Cobb's record for career hits says it all. So, Drayton McLane, is this what you mean when you ask Stros employees "What have you done today to become a champion?"