Prince Albert: Best Hitter You’ll Ever See?

Baseball is a funny sport. Unlike the NBA, it has no clue how to market its superstars, or tell its best stories. If 1990s stars Ken Griffey, Jr. A-Rod, and Cal Ripken, Jr. had the NBA's publicity machine behind them, teenagers would still be wearing their jerseys in the street.

A decade before, league promotion gurus slept on the feel-good stories of Wade Boggs, Tony Gwynn, and Dale Murphy. Not one was a household name in the U.S., a figure that transcended the sport. Not even supposed teddy bear and two-time World Series winner Kirby Puckett. Worse, nothing has changed.

Now MLB has its own LeBron James in Albert Pujols, but they're not telling anyone.

In Japan, Hideki Matsui and Ichiro Suzuki are rock stars. In Panama, Mariano Rivera could mount a convincing campaign for national public office. But baseball's best story, St. Louis Cardinals first baseman Albert Pujols, labors in relative anonymity. When baseball was really the national pastime, American mothers knew from Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays. News of Pujols' accomplishments, positive persona, and unlikely path to superstardom gets buried under an avalanche of "How Will We React When You-Know-Who Passes Hank Aaron?" headlines. Forget Barry Bonds — celebrate Albert.

When a player has performed to the tune of a .329 average, 37 homers, 130 RBI, and 47 doubles as a rookie, .314, 34 homers, and 127 RBI (add 40 doubles) as a sophomore, .359 with 43 jacks and 124 RBI with 51 two-baggers his third year, .331, 46, and 123 his fourth (again, an eye-popping 51 doubles), and last year, put up a .330 clip with 41 homers and 117 runners plated, it is well worth a pause.

We're not talking about the son of a famous outfielder or manager — in 1999, Pujols was a 13th-round draft selection from Maple Woods (Mo.) Community College. The Cards' first offer to him was only $10,000. A-Rod makes that every time he puts on his glove.

Albert Pujols plays for a successful, celebrated team. He speaks good English. He's clean cut and personable, and a model of hard work (more than a bat, he's toiled at third base, left field, and first for the Redbirds, and only the expertise of the Cubs' Derek Lee kept him from earning a Gold Glove last season). His is a story for the Dominican community, the little-recruited high school and college athletes, American immigrants, discussions of all-time hitters, and discipline at home plate.

And what discipline. In recent years, trembling pitchers have awarded Barry Bonds free passes to first base. Pujols will never approach Bonds in intentional walks, what with lineup protection such as Scott Rolen and Jim Edmonds. Yet who wants to pitch to a man whose average season is .332 with 41 HRs, 127 RBI, and 47 doubles? Well, one must pitch to Phat Albert, as he will not swing at balls. Oh, the lessons he could teach Alfonso "It Looked Good at the Time" Soriano.

A lot of the "quietness" of the Pujols career may be attributed to the cloud that hangs over many of his fellow batters — the rumor that some may have achieved their best performances under the influence of anabolic steroids and human growth hormone. The 60-homer season appears to be a thing of the recent past. Congressional hearing have been held, and bedsheet banners are brought to games to mock a certain Giants' slugger. The cacophony of editorial and sports talk bluster about drug abuse has drowned out a man who may be the closest thing we'll see to Ted Williams.

Major League Baseball is doing well at the gate, still riding the high tide raised by the Mark McGwire/Sammy Sosa race, the improbable Red Sox and White Sox triumphs, and a slew of relatively new ballparks. Fan interest, however, pales in comparison to that of NASCAR, the NFL, and NBA. There isn't the compelling attraction to casual and non-fans. Well, there is, but only in the form of a big secret in St. Louis that wears the number "5."