Life used to be much simpler. We didn’t have to debate, “Who’s the greatest?” Muhammad Ali boldly told us: “I am the greatest!” Who were we to question that?
Alas, like all athletes, Ali’s prime years faded and no longer could he make such an outlandish declaration. So the debate is renewed, “Who is the greatest?” Not only in boxing, but in every sport: pro football, college football, baseball, basketball (college and pro), motor racing. Maybe bowling, snow skiing, or even curling?
Certainly such discussions can be entertaining. They give us something to talk about – as if we didn’t have enough already. But how can you realistically compare athletes from different eras? Whenever I see films of a roly-poly Babe Ruth rounding the bases after a homerun in the 1920s or ‘30s, I think, “No way he could have been as good as Albert Pujols, Alex Rodriguez or Joe Mauer.” But who knows?
In those days they traversed the countryside in trains. Sports venues then were hardly a shadow of what modern athletes enjoy. Nutrition and medical science certainly weren’t close to what they are now; the same with conditioning and strength training. Would a “buff” Babe be a superstar today?
This reality would apply to comparisons between Johnny Unitas, John Elway and Peyton Manning; or Oscar Robertson and Elgin Baylor with Kobe Bryant and Lebron James. How can you accurately evaluate how Jerry Lucas, who starred for Ohio State in the early 1960s, and Evan Turner, leaving one year early for the NBA after winning virtually every NCAA individual honor, would fare head to head?
So who really is the greatest? It’s a chicken-and-the-egg argument – no definitive answer or resolution. Only ardent, often dogmatic opinions; some well-reasoned, some not.
If each could say, “I did the best I could,” that’s all that truly matters. If they were the greatest of their time, isn’t that enough?
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