It’s probably over.
The undisputed best pitcher in team history is now a thing of the past; a memory resigned to whichever part of our brain we’d like to place him. I will remember the perfect game and the grand slam and the King’s Court, of course, but more than that, I’ll remember the feeling of watching Félix Hernández pitch every fifth day.
Amid some truly awful teams, who were so bad that belaboring that point any more sort of takes its meaning away, Fifi was a true ace. He took the mound with gusto when only 5,000 people could be bothered to attend his starts.