I’m not so old.

OK, I’m old. But I’m also old enough to see the good when I can see it or hear it.

Like the pop of the mitt of a really good fastball.

It’s different. It’s mesmerizing. It’s something special and the only question is how long will it last.

About 20 years ago, I can remember witnessing…let’s call him Larry Mound, a young talent on the way up. Not a high draft pick, he just appeared one day in Triple-AAA with a great fastball and a flash of off-speed stuff.

He came up to the majors and shined right away, suddenly releasing a 12-to-6 curve that froze batters fearful of the radar gun reading and getting the bat on 100 on the black.

He mixed in a serviceable slider and it all came together the following season.

While prognosticators predicted everything, no one was loud about how great Mounds would be. So when it was clear from spring training that he wasn’t going to be touched, everyone jumped on the bandwagon.

Those that didn’t would be viewed as asinine.

Think Bob Gibson circa 1968 or Greg Maddux winning his fourth-straight Cy Young in 1995.

The difference between those Cooperstown residents and Mound was the following season since he wasn’t the same. Yes, there was the occasional rehash of what made him so successful, but it wouldn’t last.

It didn’t take long before he was just a page in the stat book, a memory for those that saw him pitch and a warning for others. Regardless how great you pitch today, your history is written by what you do tomorrow.