The end of greatness is often so horrid as to invoke pathos. Ken Griffey Jr., hitting .184, drove away from the Mariners one night without a word to anyone. Mike Schmidt, hitting .203, suddenly quit on a road trip, and mentioned the one thing he would miss about Major League Baseball: room service french fries. Babe Ruth, hitting .181, feuding with the Boston Braves owner and hobbling on an achy knee, said he knew it was time to go when he played a single into a triple in left field at Baker Bowl in Philadelphia.
Albert Pujols, the greatest hitter of his generation and the best first baseman since Lou Gehrig, was designated for assignment by the Los Angeles Angels on Thursday with a .