he term "legend" in sports is tossed around far too much by our generation. We have only been around for a small part of sports history, and we tend to forget that a lot happened long before we were watching.
We don't know what it's like to see Wilt Chamberlain score 100 points in a game or to see Babe Ruth hit 60 home runs in a season. We all remember Michael Jordan in "Space Jam" (1996), but how many of us remember him in the "Flu Game" (1997), where he posted 38 points and hit a game-winning three pointer despite suffering from severe flu-like symptoms?
Devoid of ever watching true greatness, we tend to define legends by low standards. LeBron James is a "legend" even though he has never managed to earn a title, while Brett Favre's longevity transcends his actual accomplishments.
Even those who may be deserving of such a status have disappointed us in other ways. Tiger Woods let his personal life and golf game collapse into shambles because he couldn't keep it in his pants. Barry Bonds, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire's legacies lasted about as long as a congressional hearing.
But true legends do still exist today, and as Mariano Rivera recorded his 602nd save on Monday, he simply confirmed officially the title that he earned long ago.
Rivera's story at times seems right out of Hollywood: a pitcher that at best looked like a borderline major leaguer, a single pitch that he developed by chance and threw exclusively his entire career, and a chance to be at the heart of one of the greatest sports dynasties of all time.
But his legendary status comes from much more than that. He has dominated his field for nearly 15 years, influencing pitching through the league. The cutter has become a vital part of many of the league's top pitchers' arsenals and has recovered some careers from the depths.
He is a ninth-inning stalwart at Yankee Stadium, and his presence is as synonymous with the end of baseball games in the Bronx as "New York, New York."
Post-season play is where legends are made, and few have been better than Rivera. His 42 postseason saves, 0.71 ERA and five World Series rings more than speak for themselves. Even at his worst moments — the 1999, 2001 and 2004 playoffs — he never looked any less indomitable.
Yet above all, he personifies a legend off the mound. He pitched through the steroid era with the same lanky frame that has served him well his entire career. He is more than humble, and looking at his face after his record-breaking save you would have thought someone had killed his cat. As long as the Yankees win, he couldn't care less what his stat line is. Mo is the final player in the Majors allowed to wear Jackie Robinson's No. 42, and if Robinson was still around today, I don't think he could have been happier with the man that will finally retire his number from the sport.
Unsurprisingly, he also knows how to deal with adversity. When his cutter started to lose some of its effectiveness against righties, he developed a two-seamer that cut in on their hands. When lefties began to open their stances knowing the cutter was coming inside, he learned how to backdoor them with a cutter that painted the outside corner. It was with this innovation that he struck out Chris Parmelee for No. 602.
Perhaps that was a fitting punctuation to his record breaking performance. Because, even at 41 — even while he is still on top of his game — Rivera continues to get better.
Maybe, just maybe, that is what defines a true legend.
