In my hometown, there’s a family-owned pizza place that has operated under a few different owners for more than 50 years. It’s the kind of place you can find in a lot of small towns, with Midwestern-style pizza cut in squares. And the pizza’s good. The last time the place changed hands was in the early 2000s. The previous owner sold the recipes along with the structure and signed a non-compete agreement that meant he couldn’t sell the pizza anywhere else for 10 years. The new owner kept making the same pizza, and the pizza was still good. The 10 years passed. As folks are wont to do, as time passed, some said it changed. “There’s something different about the sauce,” curmudgeons would say. “It used to be better,” revisionist historians agreed. But the place kept making pizzas. And the pizzas were still good. Then, the non-compete agreement expired. The previous owner, who now owned a different restaurant, added the pizza to the menu there. People abandoned the pizza place for the restaurant. “Finally, the old pizza is back,” people said, of the exact same pizza that had been used all along. “It’s so much better,” they said, without the hint of irony you'd expect when people are talking about identical pizzas. The pizza never changed. But people’s perceptions of the pizza did. Likewise, Joe Mauer hasn’t changed. But Minnesotans’ perception of him has. He’s the pizza place’s pizza. He’s the same, reliable (and, let’s be honest, plain cheese) pizza he’s always been. His injuries are getting frustrating, but last year, when healthy, he posted an OPS of .880. He had a terrible stretch in May and June, but was starting to hit and landed on the DL with a 12-game hit streak. He’s never going to be the new pizza. But that doesn’t mean he’s not still good.
