Joe finished! Kudos.  

So this is what I assumed the order would be vs. what it actually is:

See how Joe flipped the script with Stan the Man and the Splendid Splinter? The latter wore No. 9 and Joe made him #6; the former wore No. 6 and Joe made him #9. He must‘ve laughed to himself when he did that. I was actually fine with Joe’s predilection to rank a player by his uniform number: 45 for Pedro, 42 for Jackie, 31 for Maddux, 27 for Trout, 20 for Schmidt and Frank Robinson. Most wound up close to where they should be—with one exception: Tom Seaver at 41. Dude was better.

Most of my guesses were just flips of Joe's actuals: Satchel and Oscar, Ty and Walter, Bonds and Ruth. Can't believe I guessed Bonds second—I was disgusted enough when Joe chose him third. I totally ding Bonds for his absurd post-1998 numbers, his 35-40 years when, instead of declining, he grew to monstrous proportions and became The Incredible Bonds. BONDS SMASH PUNY BASEBALL. Nah. No chance. I give him cred for the earlier stuff but that's it. To me, Bonds is top 50, sure, but not top 10 and certainly not top 5. He's besmirched the record book. I will never forgive him.  

And yeah, I know. Rankings, schmankings. Joe says the rankings are just a device in which to tell the stories—all the stories of fathers and sons, and America—what we were and what we became. Of course. And please read the stories if you get a chance, they‘re great. But rankings still matter. The delivery device still matters. We don’t argue about the stories, we argue about the rankings. That's the conversation. 

But at least we ended where we needed to end; where we all hoped we would end. We made it home with the best of the best. Say hey.