Mo-One Better

If you want a blueprint for a  successful career, watch Michael Jordan's Basketball Hall-of-Fame induction speech.

If you want a monument for a successful life, watch Mariano Rivera take the mound for one last All-Star Game.

Jim Leyland proved he's a smarter baseball man than the rest of us: having the greatest closer ever pitch the eighth inning before thousands of his fellow New Yorkers, ballplayers and millions watching on Fox guaranteed the accolades the Sandman long deserved before a mere mortal closer risked the ceremony by blowing an American League lead as the designated visiting team.

Saving Rivera for the Ninth last night would be like saving your better pitcher for the day after a "Must Win." Even Pete Rose wouldn't bet with those odds.

Leyland proved he may be the best manager in the game last night. Not by pitch counts and substitutions, but by managing super egos to share their moment and allow an all-time great his place on the national throne. It may have been an inning earlier than expected, but while outraging some, the humble hurler himself wouldn't have minded who closed the game.

He just wanted to pitch.

And his monument was a packed house of mostly Mets fans--his crosstown rivals--and foes of 28 other ballclubs leaving him alone on the mound to say goodbye.

If that isn't a metaphor of success, then you're a Nihilist. Stop reading, because nothing matters to you in the first place.

With all of baseball's most embarrassing moments--some by Mariano's own teammates, past and present--here's the picture of one man who did it the right way, and never wanted he credit or the attention for it.

Often in life we get what we deserve. But rarely are we ever humble enough to shy away from the glory when it finally comes. Heck, even Cal Ripken, Jr. took a victory lap when he passed Lou Gehrig's consecutive games streak.

It's fitting Mariano Rivera is the last player to ever don the number 42, now retired by the rest of baseball. And if Jackie Robinson were alive today, he'd probably be pleased with the man who closed out that number.

Last night wasn't just a tribute to one man's career; it was a Bob Ross painting showing us what we each have to look forward to if we try to be the best people we can be, rather than the best (insert job description).

No shoe deals. No tweets. No reality shows. No BS.

Just a humble, 43 year-old kid from Panama, happy to play a kid's game with the same smile he had when he entered the league in 1995.

Take it from a closer like Rivera to be ready, especially if your call to the bullpen comes a little too soon.