Albert Pujols has 3,000 hits, the Dodgers have a combined no-hitter, and Yangervis Solarte slid on his face

There are 74 weeks in every baseball season, and some of them are more eventful than others. This past week was one of those weeks. After one of the other 75 weeks, we’ll be begging for something as interesting as a three-homer game, much less two on the same day.

Yet we can’t even find time to talk about two different three-homer games. You would think this means that out of the 76 weeks in every baseball season, this had to be one of the most noteworthy. Except we know it doesn’t have to be. This was just a single week in baseball. There were milestones, accomplishments, and great plays, just like in any of the other 77 weeks.

What we can’t forget, though, is that ...

Look at this danged sports page:

The same night. What a beautiful, dumb, and beautiful sport.

There were some dissenters replying to Rodriguez’s tweet about the order of importance in that front-page layout, but the Times got it absolutely correct. Albert Pujols getting 3,000 hits is more important than a combined no-hitter, and I can’t believe some people even want to have that discussion.

Here are some baseball players who have 3,000 hits: Albert Pujols, Willie Mays, Rickey Henderson, Stan Musial, Ty Cobb, and Rickey Henderson.

Here are some pitchers who combined for a no-hitter once: Kevin Millwood, Charlie Furbush, Stephen Pryor, Lucas Luetge, Brandon League and Tom Wilhelmsen.

While Walker Buehler might be the Stan Musial of pitchers before his career is over, the point stands. To get to 3,000 hits, you need talent and longevity on a scale that’s almost beyond compare. You need to be in the top .01 percent of high school players, then the top .01 percent of college players, then the top .01 percent of minor leaguers, and then the top .01 percent of major leaguers. And you need to avoid a career-ending injury for at least a decade, preferably two.

To be a part of a combined no-hitter, you need to be one of several pitchers who doesn’t allow a hit for a single night.

My goal isn’t to diminish the unlikely fun of a combined no-hitter, but rather to prop up the unfathomable accomplishment of 3,000 hits. Albert Pujols spent a decade being a baseball deity, and while he now runs like Bengie Molina carrying Aaron Judge in a backpack through the Dagobah swamps, that doesn’t mean this isn’t a great time to appreciate how special his career has been. A hitter averaging 200 hits a season would need 15 seasons to reach 3,000 hits. Which is to say that’s an absurd milestone, and anyone who reaches it has to be something of a baseball deity by default.

However, let’s take some time to honor the supreme troll job that is the combined no-hitter. Please, look at the reactions from the Dodgers after completing the feat:

Dave Roberts giggles and looks around. Adam Liberatore sticks his tongue out. There isn’t a mad rush to the mound, but rather a slightly more giddy post-win routine, with big smiles and hearty claps on the back.

If you want to dumb it down, it goes like this:

Regular no-hitter: holycrapholycrapholycrapyeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh

Combined no-hitter: lol hell yeah

It’s a different beast. Still fun. Still memorable. Still entirely worth celebrating. Just different.

Anyway, I think our point was that baseball is good, actually, because it’s a sport that can have a milestone of endurance and silliness on the same day, and it doesn’t have to be one of the 10-most memorable nights of the season.

Also, please don’t forget that the Padres have never thrown a no-hitter in franchise history, and they had to watch a division rival react in a way that translates to, “lol I guess that’s a no-hitter, well alright.”

Oh, man, I just realized that the Padres’ first no-hitter will be a combined no-hitter, and it will feel like Charlie Brown getting the repurposed valentine. They’ll take it and smile.

And we should all smile with them. It will be beautiful.

Two things I like about this GIF:

The third thing I like about this GIF is that it was a bad slide.

As a hitter, Shohei Ohtani was 5-for-15, putting up a .333/.412/.467 line with two doubles, two RBI, two walks, and two strikeouts. As usual, the only problem is that there just wasn’t enough of him. He had 17 plate appearances for the week, which is completely normal, considering he’s ALSO THE STAFF ACE, but it’s very much a Costco sample-size portion for someone hitting so well.

My suspicion is that he’s not really a 1.000-OPS guy, and this feeling will fade, but for now, gimme that guy who can OPS all over the danged place, and gimme as much as you can in every game. Especially when it’s not my team that’s trying to win. Make him challenge Cal Ripken’s record for all I care. It would be tremendous fun the whole time.

Except that’s not really prudent, considering he’s the staff ace, give or take. And as a pitcher, he had one fine spliteriffic start, striking out six and walking two in six innings. It wasn’t entirely dominant, but it helped his team win.

What does that mean for our Shohei-o-meter?

Shohei-o-meter: Half Jeff Samardzija, half Charlie Blackmon

That is a ridiculous ballplayer. Needs a little work to be supremely ridiculous, but for now, let us marvel in the unlikeliness of someone who can help his team in so many ways, even while playing less than the average peer in each of his roles.

Me:

This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it always fascinates me. Ian Kinsler took four balls in one plate appearance and then struck out into a double play. Which is against the rules of baseball and the natural order of the universe.

What fascinates me is that nobody notices or cares. The umpire doesn’t notice, even though that’s one of his only jobs. The hitter doesn’t notice, even though a walk would be a good outcome for him. The pitcher doesn’t look in, as if to say, wait, what just happened? The catcher doesn’t pause and wonder the same. Mike Scioscia doesn’t yell something out of the dugout. There isn’t even a fan — the kind of fan who sticks around for an 8-0 game — yelling, “THAT’S FOUR BALLS, BLUE,” making the umpire rework the count in his head.

It’s just everyone checking out simultaneously. If this isn’t the purest definition of just how easily baseball can turn into pure white noise, I don’t know what is. Everyone checked out and allowed the low-frequency hum of 8-0 baseball overtake them. That’s fine. It’s comforting, even.

I’m still not sure how it happens, though. But what I do know is that Kinsler shares most of the blame. He’s not great at count-keeping.

There should be more players like him, really.

And also you’re a huge Yankees fan and wearing a full uniform for some reason and are about to get mugged and you deserve it.

A-

Clean as heck, classic. The lack of distraction is a huge plus. You have a simple color and a simple logo to announce which team this is.

B+

It grades this low only because I really like the Tigers’ current uniforms. This is great and old-timey, but it doesn’t make me scream, “Yes, yes, yes, keep these for every game.”

A+

Yes, yes, yes, keep these for every game. And Daniel Mengden’s mustache absolutely helps sell the whole look. His upper lip is 1910. His uniform is 1970. The game is 2020, give or take. There are layers to all of this, and I love it.

F-

Holy hell, Diamondbacks. I was in the prime of my life when these uniforms were active, drinking and staying up all night with friends, not having to wake up before noon the next day. This doesn’t make me nostalgic at all.

We need to retcon this whole thing. These uniforms are Spider-Man 3, and if you’ll give me a box of Crayola and 14 minutes, I will give you Spider-Man: Homecoming. Or maybe a horrible picture of Spider-Man. Either way, it’s an improvement.

What is that Burger King-ass crown on his sleeve?

It was one of the worst stories of the baseball season, and I need to you to understand the difference between a “doink” and something much worse. It’s a fine line, but if we can’t parse it, then we can’t have fun with the doinks. Thank you.

I timed it: one minute and 29 seconds. You get to see a lot of things with this GIF: the natural domain of each outfielder position, the quick sprint to 3,000 from a hitter who didn’t show up in the majors until he was 27, and the ruthless efficiency of one of the game’s greatest hitters.

Minnie Miñoso appeared in a professional game in five different decades, and he was denied for a sixth. I was always fascinated by the desire to watch an all-time great in his 40s, 50s, and 60s. How much fun could it be, even if the previous decades were amazing?

Now I get it. Give me Ichiro in 2043, and let’s all enjoy it together. He’ll be back next year for at least a pinch-hitting appearance, and we’ll just go from there.

Oh, dear.

Is that a picture of a specific baseball play, or is that time-lapse photography? While I still think the Mets are going to be fine and competitive this year, I also want a picture of this on my wall.

Worthy of Rockwell. Mat it, frame it, and deliver it to my door, please.

The Mets will probably be fine. But for one moment in time, this happened, and it was LOL Mets in a still image.

They’ll probably be fine. Now let me take a big sip of coffee from my “The Mets’ young pitchers will stay good and healthy forever” mug and check the news about Matt Harvey.

His stance is all weird and he needs to fix it.

McGwire

12 AB this week
106 AB for the season

1 HR this week
13 for the season

.333/.500/.667 this week
.311/.493/.755 for the season

Sosa

23 AB this week
142 AB for the season

0 HR this week
7 for the season,

.217/.333/.261 this week
.331/.406/.528 for the season

Ah, yes, here we go. Mark McGwire is merely a fellow on his way to an extraordinary season, and Sammy Sosa was just a hitter off to a hot start who would come back down to earth. On this date in 1998, baseball wasn’t yet saved. It was a normal sport with normal things happening, just with more former fans pissed off at it.

When I started this weekly look, I figured that it was going to get bananas a lot sooner. McGwire has 13 homers by this point, which is really impressive, but it’s also the same as Mookie Betts, who probably won’t finish with 70 home runs this year.

Waiting for the bananas, in other words. Waiting for the bananas.

I started my baseball-writing career fascinated by GIFs. Always looping, always available for study, always with a new nuance. That fascination is still there.

A couple of years ago, though, this transitioned into an unending appreciation for the still photography of baseball. I know that GIFs can tell a story, but I’m not sure if they can replace the complete story told by that picture. Brad Zimmer went to catch a baseball, and it didn’t work out. Simple.

And yet, so complicated. There was a beginning to this picture that hasn’t been revealed to us yet. There was an ending. In the middle, though, there was a baseball player trying to baseball, and physics got in the way. It led to this one-in-a-million shot, and we’re better baseball fans for it.

Also, the stupid Chief Wahoo logo looks like an upside-down middle finger in this picture, and that’s probably a sign.

This isn’t a great spoonerism, I’m warning you.

But it’s still fun to say “Prankie Fack” over and over again. Try it! Prankie Fack. I’m pretty sure this whole segment is just to get you to say the spoonerism out loud as some sort of internet therapy. You can probably write off the cost of your internet service because you said “Prankie Fack” out loud.

Mostly, though, i just wanted an excuse to embed this tweet:

If it makes you feel better, kid, I can’t stop saying it, either.

Prankie.

Faaaack.