As a lifelong Orioles fan, I could never understand why the world revered Cal Ripken. When he finally missed a game, snapping his consecutive games streak at 2,632, the New York Times ran a front page story which credited him for bringing fans back to baseball three summers ago by breaking Lou Gehrig's record of 2,130 games.

But to me, an Orioles fan who spent summers straining to hear faint radio signals from WBAL Baltimore while vacationing on Cape Cod, I never felt the pull of the nation's obsession with Ripken.

Cal is originally from Aberdeen, Md. and is loved in Baltimore for his every-day work ethic, a trait prized by the steel workers who comprised a large portion of what was for a long time the Orioles' mostly blue-collar fan base.

But to say that Ripken's love affair with Baltimore--and with the country that voted him into 16 All Star appearances--is due to the fact that he shares some sort of mythical American commitment to work is only partially true.

The other part of the truth--and the reason that true Orioles fans do not share the nation's euphoria over Ripken--is that he, like most, is often mediocre at what he does, and it is this mediocrity that ironically draws the nation toward him.

To be sure, he has had moments where he shone far more brightly than most ever have. Rookie of the Year in 1982. MVP and World Series Champion in 1983. And when criticism mounted after his numbers began to decline in the eighties, he won another MVP in 1991.

But to me, someone who has spent endless time over the past decade listening to almost every game, suffering through almost every pitch, watching Ripken has been painful.

He may have hit .276 over his career, but it seemed like .176 in clutch situations. Each time he came up late in the game with men on base, I found myself cringing, hoping he would make only one out and not two, that he would give someone else a shot to win the game. There are now no fewer than six players on the Orioles who I'd rather have up in a key spot.

To be fair, the young are always impatient with the old, and Ripken had passed the prime of his career before I seriously began to root for the Orioles in 1988. For the first ten years of his career he averaged 25 home runs and 90 RBIs, remarkable offensive numbers for his generally weak-hitting position.

He also deserves credit for the way he has always approached the fielding of his position, which is truly scientific and has resulted in two well-earned Gold Gloves. George Will's instant baseball classic Men at Work chronicled the way that Ripken meticulously prepares for each hitter, using scouting to anticipate the batter's tendencies to allow him to get to balls otherwise out of his (limited) range.

And perhaps it is exactly this need to prepare that endears him to the American public and bugs the hell out of me.

They see a mortal hero--white, ungraceful in his 6'4" frame--who has successfully overcome his natural shortcomings and attained fame by preparation and persistence.

I see a man who knows he is mortal, who fears failure and tries to overcome his fears through preparation and persistence.

This is not what I want from my heroes.

If Ripken were a basketball player, he would never take the last shot. TV commentators would laud him for how his pick freed the guy who did take the last shot, but he would never take the risk himself. Success or failure would ultimately be placed on someone else's shoulders.

Unfortunately for Ripken, the beauty of baseball is that there is no passing of the ball, meaning that each and every player's weaknesses will be systematically exposed over the course of a season or career. Ripken's weakness is an inability to hit in the clutch, and as an Orioles fan, I can't forgive him because he simply broke my heart too many times with a dribbler to third or a weak foul pop down the first base line.

He deserves credit for the way that he has handled the pressures that came with the streak, for his willingness to fulfill the endless autograph requests that have come his way since he broke the record.

But as a fan, my first loyalty is to the team. Ryan Minor, who played in Ripken's place Sunday night, is one of the top prospects in the league, not to mention in the Orioles organization. He may not play every day. But maybe, just maybe, he could get a clutch hit here and there, and maybe, just maybe, the O's could return to the World Series, a place they haven't been since Cal's streak passed 300. --JAL D. MEHTA