Baseball’s Godzilla Vs. Kong

The Article I Was Destined to Write

“Godzilla Vs. Kong” rumbles into theaters on March 31. So I’m religiously obligated to figure out a way to incorporate the famed, sky-scraper-sized irradiated lizard duking it out with The Big Gorilla himself into an article that’s actually about baseball.

Lucky for us, MLB has seen the likes of both. Of course, I speak of Hideki “Godzilla” Matsui, who played for the Yankees in the 2000s, and Dave “King Kong” Kingman, whose career spanned most of the 70s and 80s. Both played outfield and tallied impressive numbers at the plate.

But who’s better? In a hypothetical world where we’re choosing one over the other, who are we supposed to take?

Lucky for you, I’ve got the answer.

So, if you would, allow me to figuratively grab Matsui and Kingman and slam their careers together while making animal noises like a 5-year-old with two action figures.

In The First Corner: Hideki Matsui

Matsui joined the Yankees in 2002 after an impressive 10-year tenure in Japan’s professional circuit (NPB), winning three titles and earning nine all-star nods with the Yomiuri Giants. He established himself as the Bombers’ every-day left fielder and continued his stellar play instead of leveling the entire metropolitan area, causing numerous fatalities, as the actual Godzilla would’ve chosen to do. 

For eight years, he donned the pinstripes, hitting .292 and averaging 20 dingers a season. But he was bound to get overlooked sharing the field with headline-hogs like SS Derek Jeter, 3B Alex “A-Rod” Rodriguez, OF Gary Sheffield, 1B Jason Giambi, 2B Robinson Cano — the list is way too long. The spotlight found him at his Golden Hour, though. In his last campaign with the Yanks in 2009, he’d wreak havoc in the postseason, breathing metaphorical atomic fire all over the field en route to a World Series MVP award. 

That performance turned out to be his swan song, the quality of his ABs diminishing after that. He bounced around for a few years before saying sayonara to the sport in 2013 and lumbering off to his original home at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, where he now peacefully dreams of cityscapes ablaze and screaming people going splat under his feet. 

Wait, no — that’s the other one.

In summary, throughout his 20-year career, Matsui proved himself to be a solid player across the board. No glaring weaknesses, no truly extraordinary tools. Stoicism and durability might’ve been his greatest attributes. Sure, he didn’t boast a thick, armored hide capable of withstanding nuclear blasts like The King of the Monsters. Still, Matsui was a tough SOB — clearly collected enough to excel in the volatile, high-stakes environment that is New York baseball. At one point, he appeared in 1,768 consecutive games if we’re carrying over from games played in Japan. It’s about 1,000 less than SS Cal Ripken’s record (which, whoa to that record, right?), but still impressive enough to rank high amongst some of the all-time greats.

In The, Well, Other Corner: Dave Kingman

Unlike his Giant Ape counterpart, Kingman didn’t grow up battling tooth and nail for survival in the dense, primordial jungles of Skull Island. But he was that mythical sort of athlete from the get-go. An imposing combination of skill and size, the 6-foot-6 Kingman dominated the football field and the basketball court before deciding on baseball. Pitching was his strong suit, winning 11 games his freshman year at the University of Southern California. That was until college coaches Babe Ruth-ed him, turning him into a full-time hitter. I can’t argue with the results, though. His next season, he’d be an All-American, get drafted first overall in 1970, then debut with the San Franciso Giants in ’71.

Kingman journey-manned around the league for most of the 70s, famously appearing on four different rosters in ’77 before coming into his prime with the Cubs in ’78. Sadly, there aren’t any reported instances of him kidnapping blondes, then scaling the tallest building in sight and subsequently battling with fighter planes. Instead, this Kong opted to beat his chest toward opposing pitchers, peaking in ’79 with a 48-dinger, 115 RBI campaign. He’d continue to put up solid power numbers in the 80s, when healthy, before logging his last season with the Oakland Athletics in ’86.

Please make no mistake, Kingman’s greatest attribute was his power. Just as it is debatable whether or not he was strong enough to rip the lower jaw off of a tyrannosaurus rex, like monkey-Kong’s capable of, we also don’t know whether or not some of Kingman’s home runs have landed to this day — 550 feet is supposedly his longest. He had the sort of natural power that makes you wish he’d have played a few more years, just so he could go on his A’s teammate — and actual, real-life giant monster — OF Jose Canseco’s workout regimen. Could he have hit a baseball into the neighboring galaxy under the Canseco program? A person can wonder. 

But, as awe-inspiring as some of his dingers could be, Kingman was a one-trick pony. He couldn’t hit for average (.236), didn’t walk much (.302 OBP) and struck out a lot — he led baseball in that category thrice, and finished second an additional three times. He couldn’t stay on the field either. Various injuries dogged him throughout his career and were probably the reason he never reached that illustrious 500 homer mark.

So, Who Are We Taking?

Well, I’m a major league Godzilla stan, so I would’ve devised some BS reason to take Matsui over Kingman if the evidence wasn’t sound already. But Matsui’s the safe choice here, even though his back isn’t adorned with a mountain range of jagged dorsal plates capable of cutting through a navy battleship like a hot knife through butter. Kingman’s got the whoa factor, but it’s not enough. 

It turns out it wasn’t the airplanes, nor was it the beauty; it was Kingman’s inability to improve upon any of the holes in his game over his 15-year career that “killed the beast” in this match-up.