"It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." ---Jimmy Dugan, A League of Their Own.

I had a lucky meeting with former Reds great George Foster last week. And by lucky I mean that he turned just before he ran over me with a golf cart. I was attending a charity golf tournament in Cincinnati when George Foster careened up laughing and joking with everyone in attendance.

As a guy who either watched or listened to at least part of almost every game the Big Red Machine played in the mid-70s, I was thrilled to find myself suddenly standing less than ten feet away from the National League's MVP in 1977 (especially since he wasn't even on the list of expected celebrities attending--he lives in the area and enjoys meeting and greeting fans and good causes). Few things have ever been as awe-inspiring as the sight of the rail-thin Foster launching a laser beam into the red seats of the upper deck at Riverfront Stadium with his black bat and he still looks remarkably fit for a 70-year old; I wouldn't be surprised if he could still do it. Foster's 1977 season was great by any measure: he hit 52 home runs, 149 RBIs and batted .320. But it was even more impressive when viewed with the standards of the era in which it came and the numbers of his contemporaries.

Had I had time to prepare, I'm sure I could have come up with a journalistic gem such as:

Me: Do you remember when you were with the Reds and you hit 52 home runs in 1977?

George: Yes

Me: That was awesome.

Unfortunately, I was caught unprepared and I turned into a 10-year old (not that that's a bad thing). I told him he was one of my favorites as a kid and politely asked if we could take a picture. Perhaps he had heard about my ineptness with selfies; he laughed and said, "Let's take a good one," and grabbed my phone, handed it to someone walking by and posed.



At the time, the Reds Eugenio Suarez had 49 home runs with several games left to play, seriously threatening Foster's team record for home runs set in 1977. I have nothing against Suarez, I think he has given the Reds two great seasons after signing a big contract, which is always nice, but George was a hero from my childhood, so no one can compare. "I hope your record is still standing next week," I told him.

Foster got a somewhat pained expression. He is a nice guy and I'm sure he tries to say the right things and doesn't want to be bitter, but he seemed very sincere when he said, "You know, when I hit 50, it was a bigger deal. No one had done it for 12 years. Now they're doing it all the time. It's not the same."

Of course George is right and you have to feel a little bit of sympathy for these former players who labored so hard, achieved something extraordinary and now are watching seemingly everyone fly right by. When George played, hitting 50 home runs was a huge deal, now it's something that is done every other year by a rookie. Fact: from the beginning of recorded time on Earth until 1977, a grand total of 9 men had hit 50 or more home runs in a Major League season (a feat performed 16 times in total, with Babe Ruth--who else?--doing it a record four times). The names on the 50-homer list read like a roll-call of the giants of the Jurassic age: Ruth, Foxx, Greenburg, Mays, Mantle. There was never a doubt that each of these guys was truly worthy of ascending the Mount Olympus of our adulation and admiration. No mere mortal was present on the entire list. And in the period of 25 years, from Willie in 1965 to 1990, George Foster was the only man to do it.

But from 1990 until now--in 29 years--the 50 home run mark has been achieved 29 times (that works out to nearly once a year for those of you without a calculator handy) by 20 different players and, what's worse, I regard at least three of those guys as definitely mortal.

When George Foster settled into the batter's box on opening day in 1977, the magic number had not been reached for a dozen years. The preceding season of 1976 saw only 2235 home runs hit in the majors, a very quaint total compared to the 6776 hit this year. The major league leader in home runs in 1976 had been Mike Schmidt with 38, a number often approached at the All-Star break now. Only three others topped 30: Dave Kingman, Graig Nettles and Rick Monday. That's it. Apparently teams scored runs in those days by running the bases and stuff like that.

The year of 1977 saw a serious uptick in homers; it was a classic hitter's year, as are all expansion years (the Mariners and Blue Jays joined the ranks that year). Home runs jumped more than a thousand--to 3644. But while a lot of hitters joined the party, not everyone put up previously absurd numbers. After Foster's 52, Jeff Burroughs of the Braves was the only guy with 40; he hit 41. While 17 other guys hit more than 30, a significant increase, it was still a rare thing. Most teams could only afford one or two big thumpers--it was big news that season when Garvey (33), Reggie Smith (32), Baker (30) and Cey (30) gave the N. L. Champion Dodgers four guys with 30.

Now compare to this season. As stated above, major leaguers hammered pitchers for 6776 taters this year. Pete Alonzo got 53 in his first look at Major League pitching and nine other guys had more than 40. And a whopping 48 had between 30 and 39, giving 58 players with 30 or more.

Does all this mean that it is easy to hit a major league home run now? Absolutely not. To quote Ron Washington in Moneyball, "It's incredibly hard." Anyone who thinks differently should grab some wood and stand 60 feet away from a guy throwing 95 miles an hour (while also unpredictably mixing in some of that ungodly breaking stuff that Crash Davis warned us about) and take their hacks.

I don't pretend to be smart enough to say if the increase is due to a rabbit ball, short fences, weight training, emphasis on launch angle over contact or any other reason. Or if it is good or bad for the game and its fans. I'll let guys like Justin Verlander and the Commish argue that. What we can say for certain, though, is that more males who currently ply their trade in the United States (and Canada) are capable of hitting home runs in bunches. Also the talent gap between the very best and the middle of the pack of major leaguers has become much more narrow.

And one other thing is true: it's not George Foster's 50 home runs any more.