Had Chamberlain scored ninety-nine points – missed just one more
free throw – he'd still hold the NBA's single game scoring record.
It still would have been an unbelievable performance. And it still would
be an unreachable number for the game's stars of the future.
But it wouldn't be one hundred.
One hundred is a milestone - a measuring stick for achievement in sports
and in life.
We hail the person lucky enough
to celebrate a 100th birthday – even if that person looks like Yoda,
wears a diaper and sips dinner through a straw.
It's the goal of every
television show to produce 100 episodes. One hundred is a benchmark that
validates its popularity and ensures its syndication value. (That's why
we have to suffer through years of "Facts of Life" and "Three's
Company" reruns).
One hundred puts a lot of things
into perspective. Walk into a hot room and someone is bound to say "it
must be a hundred degrees in here". Growing up, how many times did
you hear your mom start a sentence with "if I told you once, I've
told you a hundred times…"?
A running back is deemed to
have had a successful game if he rushes for one hundred yards. And a hitter
with 100 RBI had a very good year.
Pittsburgh Steelers running
back Franco Harris ended his career with exactly one hundred touchdowns.
While ninety-nine certainly would not have kept him out of the Hall of
Fame, it still wouldn't be one hundred.
One hundred - the magic number.
There's a hundred years in a century, a hundred pennies in a dollar and
there's 100 bottles of beer on the wall.
But I really can't see what
makes that particular number so special. One hundred on a high school
math test is a great score – but ninety-five is still an 'A'.
If you've got a temperature
of 100 degrees, you've got a fever – sure to be followed by body
aches and a scratchy throat. And you never want to be traveling at 100
miles per hour when you pass a policeman with a radar gun.
If one hundred's so great,
how come there are only fifty ways to leave your lover? And how come the
player driving in forty runs a season is still making four million dollars?
Seventy-three is good enough
for the Major League home run record. And Denny McLain's thirty-one wins
in 1968 is the most by any pitcher since 1916.
There are 101 Dalmatians and
athletes are always boasting about giving 110% effort. Pick the winning
horse in all nine races at the track and you're "batting a thousand".
Three hundred is a perfect
bowling score and fifty-nine is the lowest round ever recorded in a pro
golf tournament. In fact, one hundred is taboo to both bowlers and golfers.
Forty-one years ago Wilt Chamberlain
did the impossible when he scored one hundred points in a single game.
But he missed twenty-seven shots from the floor and four free throws.
So was it an unbelievable performance or was the big guy just being a
ball hog?
One hundred –
some milestone. There aren't too many major leaguers with a one hundred
batting average. And I wouldn't want one hundred people in line in front
of me waiting for a limited supply of Super Bowl tickets.
Heck, even my satellite dish
picks up 240 stations – now that's a benchmark with which I can
relate (ok, I can also relate to the 100 bottles of beer on the wall).
I've been thinking about this
week's feature for quite some time. I wanted to do something special.
Something with a lot of interesting facts. Something humorous and memorable.
I wanted to knock your socks
off with a dazzling display of insight, reference and wit.
After all, this is
a big week for Hogan's Alley. This is our 100th feature.
Big deal.
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