ATLANTA — Players lie. Put on the spot, it's just so much easier to say they: A. Don't know, B. Don't care, or C. Don't think about it all that much.
Chipper Jones knows, cares and thinks about all the fine print of his career. Only he'll admit it, out loud.
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He knows that, in a Braves season in which all the meaning had leaked out by Labor Day, they still don't stop measuring the man. So, why not seize on that and use it to your advantage?
"In order to be a true professional, you have to motivate yourself each and every game," he said. "If the team goals have gone by the wayside, then you have to find something personally to motivate you.
"What I tell the younger guys is, if you're hitting .305, try to hit .310. If you're at .290, try to hit .300. There's always something you can do to motivate yourself to go out there and give your best effort every day."
And if you're hitting .365, do you then try to hit .370?
"It may take that," he said with a smirk, measuring himself for what it may take to win his first batting title. That's one deed conspicuously absent from his dossier.
Oh, it's on for this last week of regulation — a real heavyweight battle, Jones vs. St. Louis' Albert Pujols for the National League batting title.
Competing against the player that Jones, along with a lot of other people, considers baseball's best hitter is a nice little diversion from the Braves' troubles. Entering this weekend, Jones had an 11-point lead on the Cardinals first baseman (.365 to .354). It's not like Pujols needs another batting crown — he has one from 2003 to keep his head warm in the winter. Finishing second to Colorado's Matt Holliday by three points last year, Jones still is seeking his.
Come and get him, Albert.
"Well, I am in the lead," Jones said. "I can't control him. I can't control how other teams pitch him, how he hits."
Pujols won his batting title at the age of 23. And here is Jones at 36 trying to get one, belatedly adding another Hall of Fame talking point.
This has been one weird season for Jones. The contradictions are everywhere. Like this one off the field, that puts him in both the deer stand and the newsstand: In June, he released a deer hunting DVD — "Buck Commander" — that Jones describes as "a bunch of good ol' boys havin' too much fun." And in October, he'll be featured in the stylish "Gentlemen's Quarterly." They don't read a whole lot of "GQ" at the hunt camp. Those scented Armani cologne ads tend to spook the deer.
"I walk a fine line there," Jones said, laughing.
Also, in a season of undeniable contraction for his team, Jones actually expanded as a player. Now, hitting nearly 60 points above his career average, he makes a handy parable for everyone who has grown old on the job.
Maybe there is something to all that claptrap about getting better with age. At last, actual statistical proof that knowledge can trump youth.
To watch Jones now dissect a pitcher like a biology class frog is to appreciate the value of experience. The body has grown brittle, but that swing has become downright cagey.
Hitting coach Terry Pendleton, the last Brave to win a batting title (1991), compares Jones' brainy approach to hitting to that of Hall of Fame hit machine Tony Gwynn. That's the ultimate compliment. Gwynn was almost Socratic at the plate.
Catcher Brian McCann said he would remember Jones' 2008 as "one of the most impressive things I've ever seen." On deck behind Jones for much of the latter part of the season, he has enjoyed the best view in the house.
It all adds up to a reason to pay some attention to the Braves' last week on the road. Jones' pursuit of a batting title is the only suspense a fourth-place team can muster.
Of all those who might study Jones this week, the ones who would benefit most are those young players in the same dugout. His stated goal is to play until age 40 and then take inventory of his parts. Entering the option year of his contract, Jones has no guarantee of finishing out with the Braves. Best they take advantage of this resource while they can.
McCann goes to the source often. And just last week, rookie Gregor Blanco got a Jones tutorial after a bad bases-loaded at-bat against Phillies closer Brad Lidge. Those are the elements to his season that can't be quantified.
Players lie, and say they don't think about building a legacy. Jones does think about it, one young teammate, one hit at a time. This season is driving home that point.
As he and Pujols finish their little long-distance duel this week, Jones is chasing more than the moment. There also is the opportunity to author a little history.
When asked if he knows which modern age player holds the record for highest season's average by a switch hitter, there's no hesitation answering: "Yes I do." (His idol, Mickey Mantle, in 1957).
And you know what that number is? "I do." (.365, he's right there).
"I know what is in front of me; I know what needs to be done," Jones said.
"I'm a switch hitter, I don't view myself in any other category. I know in order to be looked at and mentioned in the same breath with some of the greatest switch hitters to ever play the game — Mickey, Eddie Murray, Frankie Frisch — that you've got to have numbers in back of it."
He wants those numbers, and doesn't care if you know it.
Steve Hummer writes for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. E-mail: steve AT ajc.com
