COMMENTARY : Superstars Are Only Those Able to Win Big Game

Here’s why I am rooting for the Kings to win the Stanley Cup. Two words: Wayne Gretzky.

Similarly, here’s why I am rooting for the Chicago Bulls and Phoenix Suns to reach the NBA Finals. Four words: Michael Jordan, Charles Barkley.

I root for superstars.

And it’s a short list.

I am not one of these guys who buys into the hype that everybody who scores 50 goals or hits 30 home runs or gains 1,000 yards is a superstar. I am not a marketing patsy. So don’t talk to me about Karl Malone being a superstar. Karl Malone is a good player whose team has never won squadoosh.

I’ll define superstar for you: In a team sport, it is an athlete who leads his team to a championship game or series--and then wins it. You remember The Band’s lyric: “Take the load off Fannie . . . put the load right on me.”

In an individual sport, like tennis or golf, a superstar wins majors. Lots of them.

So, Jack Nicklaus is a superstar. Tom Kite is not.

And Carl Lewis is a superstar. Mike Powell is not.

Joe Montana is a superstar. Jim Kelly is not.

Reggie Jackson was a superstar. Barry Bonds is not. Not yet.

There are exceptions, and I’ll get to them. But the core of it is that when presented with an opportunity for greatness, a superstar excels--the superstar raises his play above even his customary high level of performance, and leaves you grasping for superlatives.

It’s where you do it. And when you do it.

The relationship between fans and athletes has grown distant. It’s not like it was in David Halberstam’s America. Athletes don’t stop and speak to us anymore. They often try to avoid us; honestly, they don’t even seem to like us. They make so much money there doesn’t seem to be any common ground between us. All we can ask from them is that they earn the money. In a big game, play big.

Take Gretzky. He’s out half the season with back pain. Everybody in hockey says he’s been surpassed by Mario Lemieux. They’re talking about him like he’s got one foot on the ice and one foot in Forest Lawn. So what does he do? With his team down 3-2 in games in the semifinals, he gets the overtime goal to win Game 6, then scores three goals to win Game 7 on the road!

And then, for good measure, opening up the finals in the all-time NHL shrine, The Forum in Montreal, Gretzky gets one goal and three assists as the Kings whipsaw the Canadiens in Game 1. This is all Gretzky.

It’s the same with Jordan. The Bulls go down, 0-2, to a New York whirlwind. Jordan’s getting outplayed by some hothead who was in the CBA a few years ago. Plus, he’s getting ripped for going to Atlantic City the night before Game 2. So what does he do? Even struggling through nightmare shooting in Game 3 (three for 18; Byron Scott playoff stats), Jordan still accounts for 44 points on 16 straight foul shots and 11 assists, and the Bulls kick the Knicks into Lake Michigan. Then, in Game 4, he heats up to 54, and leaves John Starks muttering to himself like some crazy on the Bronx subway.

And Barkley. Phoenix goes down at home 0-2 to the Lakers. Talk about going from the penthouse to the outhouse! What MVP season? They’re all over Barkley like ivy on Princeton. Showboat! Loser!

When do you measure a superstar if not in big, defining games?

This is Barry Bonds’ Achilles’ heel. He’s the best player in baseball, but he hasn’t done squat in the playoffs. Through 20 games and 68 at-bats Bonds is batting .191 with one homer and three slight runs batted in. No World Series appearances; he couldn’t drag the Pirates there in three tries.

Give me Reggie Jackson, with his .357 World Series batting average, and the No. 1 Series slugging percentage of all time, .755. Give me Bob Gibson, 7-2 in the Series, with eight complete games and a 1.89 ERA. They’re superstars.

I shouldn’t be too rigid with the parameters, though, lest I be hoisted on my own petard. I consider Wilt Chamberlain a superstar, even though the incomparable William Felton Russell routinely drummed him in the NBA playoffs. Shaquille O’Neal a superstar? Not yet.

I’m not talking about vogue, the celebrity stardom of Bo Jackson and Cecil Fielder.

In basketball and hockey anyway, superstardom ought to be about winning. One man can carry a team. It’s harder in baseball and football, where one person among nine or 22 cannot make that much of a difference in getting you to a championship--which makes Joe Montana and Lawrence Taylor all the more special.

For example, can I call Roger Clemens a superstar, even though, like Bonds, he is no great shakes in the playoffs and World Series: 1-2 in eight starts, a 3.84 ERA? Can I justify Clemens by citing greatness over time? Nolan Ryan rarely had a good team behind him. Is Ryan’s unique accomplishment diminished because he could only start five playoff games in 26 seasons? Is it Reggie White’s fault Philadelphia never scored enough points to get to the Super Bowl? Is it John Elway’s fault Denver surrendered thousands of points when it did?

True superstars are precious and few. Gretzky, Jordan, and now Barkley, are among them. And we are privileged to see them playing big in big games.