Ubaldo Jimenez looked like his old self on Saturday night, holding the Nationals to just five hits and one run in eight innings — and notching a 2-1 win for his Colorado Rockies. Jimenez, who is suffering through a 4-8 season and an unusually high (4.14) ERA, looked like the Ubaldo Jimenez of last year, when his up-in-the-eyes fastball was the talk of the league. The Nationals loss, meanwhile, squandered a solid outing from former Rockies’ hurler Jason Marquis, who toughed out six innings, giving up two runs to the often run-starved Heltons.

Despite Jimenez’s dazzling performance, the Nationals were within 90 feet of tying the game and a long bomb away from winning it. But slumping star Jayson Werth couldn’t keep the ball out of the glove of shortstop Troy Tulowitzki, who turned a double play to end the game. Werth, who is mired in a season-long slump, has been booed by Nationals’ fans this year, but no more so than on Saturday, as he stood beyond first after hitting into his game ending double play.

But for Washington, the problem was not Werth — it was the Rockies’ staring pitcher. “He’s filthy,” Johnson said of Jimenez. “He’s one of the best pitchers in the league. We’ve been swinging the bats pretty good, but he calmed us down quite a bit. I think we outhit them, just couldn’t score.”

The Nationals loss marked their third loss in a row — all of them by one run. That mini-streak had been preceded by three wins, all of them also by one run. “Right now, we’re living and dying by the one-run game,” shortstop Ian Desmond, who was 2-3 with a triple, noted. “These one-run games are just flukes. It’s one of those things, but it will turn around for us.”

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The baseball card geeks are at it again. Every year at about this time (well, actually, a little earlier than just now), baseball card hobbyists weigh in with their views on the latest Topps release. Through the ’80s and ’90s (when the market was absolutely flooded with cards), card collectors gave Topps (and Bowman, Fleer, Upper Deck — and all the rest) mostly “thumbs down” on their card designs. For good reason: card manufacturers were churning out slapdash relics, throwbacks, “legends,” “chrome,” “diamond cuts,” “heritage” and you-name-it “editions.” The card companies accomplished the impossible: they actually drove collectors away from collecting, pricing gum-chewing kids out of the hobby. The cards got expensive, the market offerings confusing.

To give card companies their due, Topps (and the rest of them) realized the problem and started to streamline their products. The result was that, while the market did not completely right itself, a way back has been charted. Then too, the kind of “Dow Jones” mentality that drove card values started to wane — collectors got fed up with over-50s guys with magnifying glasses telling them that their card was not the “10″ they thought it was, but “only a 9.5.” The purists have started to return to collecting, buying cards and opening packs for the pure joy of it.

Still, problems remain. This year, the hobby has been beset by a renewed discussion of the value of “game used” relics — like the Honus Wagner card above. The “relic” cards purport to include actual pieces of a jersey or bat (or whatever), used by a famous player. The problem, of course, is that in order to produce “relic” cards, card manufacturers have to break up actual relics — to get a piece of a Honus Wagner bat (or jersey), you have to cut up the actual bat or jersey. The other issue is that it’s nearly impossible to prove that a relic card includes an actual relic. The Honus Wagner “relic” card is a case in point. The “Mojo Beard” points out that the relic jersey included in the Wagner cards is polyester — which wasn’t around when Honus was playing. Mojo asks the obvious question: “This card comes from a pack that retails for right around $200. Would you pay $200 for a card like this?”

My answer is “no,” and I’m not alone. About twice a year I end up walking up-and-down the aisles of some card show with me droogies, eyeing the products and waiting for the show to end. That’s because the closer to closing a show gets, the faster card prices drop. I’ve done this half-a-dozen times, and it’s paid off — that special 1953 Satchel Paige card that I always wanted would have cost me $450 at 1 pm on a Sunday last year. At 4 pm I got it for $350. I’m not kidding myself: that Satchel Paige card wouldn’t be worth diddly if I wasn’t willing to buy it. The baseball card “industry” shouldn’t kid themselves either: it’s the collectors that give baseball cards their “value” — not the cards themselves. “This card is only an ’8′,” the dealer told me, when I bought the Paige card. “I don’t care,” I said. “For me, it’s a 10.”

Oh yeah, and here, for the record, is Topps’ 2011 card design. This one is a horizontal “David Wright,” with the standard sweeping arc common to all the cards. Not bad.

Here’s one way to grab a headline: write an article speculating that Albert Pujols will become Washington’s first baseman in 2012. That’s what Tyler Kepner did yesterday in the pages of the New York Times, fueling a kind of baseball mini-industry that is one misplaced quote away from becoming a national obsession. “By signing Jayson Werth for seven years and $126 million in December,” Kepner wrote, “the Nationals showed they will spend serious money. Adding Pujols to Werth and Ryan Zimmerman would give them an intimidating middle of the order. And the No. 1 overall draft picks Stephen Strasburg and Bryce Harper would presumably be in their superstar prime before Pujols’s deal runs out.” Of course Kepner’s article was speculation, but he has a point: if Pujols doesn’t sign in St. Louis (baseball’s fourth smallest market), then anything is possible — including the presumably impossible. But is Pujols-to-D.C. likely?

Adam Kilgore thinks so. Or did. Writing a follow-up to the Kepner article on his blog yesterday, Kilgore noted that the “Nationals’ money and their malleable first base situation makes them an intriguing potential suitor. Yes, they signed Adam LaRoche to a two-year contract this offseason. But in the pie-in-the-sky event they can land Pujols, they could easily trade him or just eat LaRoche’s contract and consider it part of the astronomical price to acquire one of the best hitters in baseball history.” Hmmm. Well, maybe. But a much more likely scenario (as Kilgore, in a second-thought moment, noted today) is that Pujols stays in St. Louis. That, or (as Phil Rogers says) the rich get richer and he ends up in New York or Boston.

None of this would be all that exciting except that the Pujols mini-industry is headline news in St. Louis and, of course, in baseball. There are internet sites focused solely on the Pujols contract, a handful of fan clubs vie for the allegiance of his followers, on-line artists play endlessly with his image (note: above) and notebook toting reporters follow him wherever he goes. Pujols has been on six SI covers, is the lead advertising card for Topps and fills the seats in St. Louis. All for good reason: if Pujols were to retire today he’d be a shoo-in for Cooperstown — and he has at least eight years to play. Still, the numbers are sobering. Pujols will command a $300 million contract, half the total value of the St. Louis franchise and nearly as much in one year (at $30 million) as the Pirates spend on their total payroll. Pujols is destined to make, in his lifetime, more money than any other ballplayer in history.

This is where the calculations get tough. Would you rather have Albert Pujols (and his tremendous talent) for one year, or Ian Kinsler ($22 million) for five? Would you rather spend $30 million for one player, or the same amount of money for three — let’s say Kinsler ($6 million in 2011), Hanley Ramirez ($11 million in 2011), and Alex Rios ($12 million in 2011). Pujols gives you a Hall of Famer at first, Kinsler, Ramirez and Rios give you a team that’s strong-up-the-middle and (arguably) an automatic contender. So Kepner’s right: adding Pujols to Werth and Zimmerman would be wonderful! And he’s wrong, because that trio (with Strasburg and Harper), couldn’t possibly last.

No one can read Mark Lerner’s mind, but I would bet that sooner or later, Nats’ fans would end up with an aging Hall of Famer at first — and not much around him. Which is only to say: the Nats would love to have Pujols (who wouldn’t?), but there’s a limit. The implications of a Pujols signing for any team (with the exception of the very richest franchises) is that the tried-and-true rule of building a contender (short term sacrifice, long term gain — and develop pitching) goes out the window.

We can spend all day talking about Roberto Clemente’s legacy (that he was a humanitarian, the first Hispanic elected to the Hall of Fame, that his life ended providing aid to the people of Nicaragua), but we should not forget his extraordinary baseball numbers. In many ways his career was a paradox. Popular opinion views him as a power hitter, primarily because of his powerful swing, completed after his patented left-leg buckle (his leg hung and hung in the air, cocked like a gun, until slap . . .). In truth, Clemente was known among his fellow players as a slash and drive non-powerhouse, his feet digging circles in the batter’s box as he hit the ball into the gaps. He led the N.L in hits in two separate years and won four batting titles. His power? Well, frankly — he had some, but not a lot. Rather, he decided that he would be better off acclimating himself to the ugly facts of Pittsburgh’s just as ugly and more than spacious Forbes Field (I remember it as a gussied up and ready-to-burn barn), that played more like the Roman Colosseum than a mid-city diamond. You could hit gappers at Forbes, so Clemente did. He hit 29 dingers in 1966, the peak of his career.

So  . . . okay. Clemente couldn’t hit the long ball that well, but at least he was fast. Really fast. Right? Well, actually . . . no.  Clemente’s stolen base totals in a career spanning 18 seasons are below average for his time; in fact, they’re way below average. He never stole more than 12 in any one season. Which is nothing to brag about. But here’s the paradox. While Clemente wasn’t Maury Wills, he was probably the best player of his era in going from home to third, or first to third, or first to home. He was absolutely single-minded in hitting the ball to the gaps and then racing the throw to the bag. There are libraries full of videos of Clemente (take a look at this — arms akimbo and pumping) legging a single into a double, or a double into a triple. He won the 1971 World Series MVP (he hit .414 and smacked a home run in the seventh game) almost solely on the basis of his running, what can almost be described as his sheer desire to end up on third. He drove the Orioles crazy.

It was this, his ability to drive the ball into the gaps (and, of course, his twelve Gold Gloves — oh, and his legendary pinpoint throws to third from right field), that made his reputation. He led the National League in triples once, but came close nearly a dozen other times. He was Clemente “the gapper,” with a special all-out work ethic that allowed him to hit over .300 in twelve of his eighteen years (with a lifetime batting average of .317), stroking over 150 hits per year at the same rate in 2400-plus games. He was among the best, ever: there are 27 members of the 3000 hits club, a grouping that may (arguably) be as important — and as elite — as the 500 home runs club (of which there are, count ‘em, 25 members). As important? There’s good reason to argue that 3000 hits is actually less attainable than 500 home runs — the last major leaguer to reach that lofty mark was Craig Biggio, three years ago. Which is only to point out that, in the era of Mays and Mantle and Aaron (an era of long ball hitters), Roberto Clemente stood out as the quintessential all-out play-until-you-drop slasher. It’s what made him a legend in Pittsburgh. It’s what put him in the Hall of Fame.

Nationals fans got a glimpse of the team’s future double play combination on Friday against the Pittsburgh Pirates, as Danny Espinosa got the starting nod at second base. After spending most of three years in the minors (with stints in Vermont, Potomac, Harrisburg and Syracuse), Espinosa cashed in on his early-September call up by launching his first home run (in the top of the third inning) into the right field seats at PNC Park and turning a seamless double play at a position that he will play well into the future. The Desmond-Espinosa combo is likely to be the opening day up-the-middle defense for the Nats in 2011. Espinosa’s exposure at second base was the only piece of good news for the Nats on Friday night, however, as the Pirates beat up on steady starter Livan Hernandez, touching up the right hander for eight earned runs in just 4.1 innings. Hernandez was philosophical about his outing: “It’s not happening sometimes,” he said. “When it’s not your day, it’s not your day.”

Those Are The Details, Now For The Headlines: We had plenty of responses from readers on our posting on Albert Pujols and Lou Gehrig, including complaints that we are “N.L.-centric” and that we purposely left out “the one guy who puts Albert to shame.” The reader went on a screed, saying that “Alex Rodriguez has better numbers, plays for a better team, has more awards and plays a more difficult position” than Pujols. “Pujols is a very, very good player,” the reader said. “But he’s no Alex Rodriguez.” So we checked the numbers. Rodriguez has 604 home runs in 17 seasons (Pujols has 401 in ten), has a career BA of .303 (Pujols is at .332), has a career OBP of .387 (Pujols is at .425) and has won three MVPs — the same number as Pujols. Albert doesn’t play for the Empire, but he’s played in two World Series, while Rodriguez has played in one. Pujols lags behind Albert in games played (of course), but all that this means is that Pujols (who’s played in 1530) has about 700 games (Rodriguez has played in 2278) to catch the pride of the Gothams in career home runs — and at this rate (of about 33 per year) he will. By our reckoning (and at the current rate), when Pujols has played in 2200 games, he will have hit just over 610 homers. The reader is right: Alex Rodriguez is a great player. In fact, he’s the second best player in baseball today.

Once upon a time there was a pitcher who was nearly as celebrated as Stephen Strasburg — a phenom, a whiz, an over-the-top fastballer whose mid-90s down-in-the-zone pitches defeated even the best hitters. But Dean Chance will not go down in baseball history as Hall of Famer or even as one of baseball’s near greats, but rather as a one-time memorable figure whose talent and savvy brought him from the small Ohio hamlet of Wooster to the hallowed streets of Hollywood. Those were the days: when Hollywood legends packed the stands of the Dodger Stadium (which the expansion Angels shared with the N.L. legends), to oggle the young and brash stalwarts of “the singing cowboy’s” newest entrants into the Yankee-dominated American League. The most celebrated Angel of all was Robert Boris “Bo” Belinsky, the lefty throwing pool hustling playboy-athlete whose 1962 no-hit, no-run feat against Baltimore’s Orioles launched him into the headlines — and into the arms of (among others) Mamie Van Dorn, Connie Stevens and Ann-Margret.

In spite of their attraction to L.A. celebrity-wood, the 1961 expansion Angels were predictably poor. But the 1962 Angels were a fairytale, matching the Yankees in win for win as Hollywood oohed and ahhed and celebrated — prematurely. The Angels went through a late-season swoon and finished third. But with the storied, oh-so-handsome and charismatic Belinsky (a former “street rat” from New York by way of Trenton), on the mound, everyone thought the future was bright. The Angels would conquer both the Yankees and the American League  — and Bo Belinsky (handsome and blessed with a flash-bang smile), would lead the way. It was not to be: after his meteoric rise, Belinsky’s fame undid him, drowning a  promising career in years of dissipation — until (in later life), he became a reformed alcoholic and born again Christian living in Las Vegas (of all places). And as Belinsky fell, so too did the Angels, reverting to their losing ways and finishing 9th in 1963. Thus, Bo Belinsky.

Not Dean Chance. Like Belinsky, Chance was young and handsome. And, like Belinsky, Chance could pitch — could pitch so well, in fact, that he left hitters shaking their heads and walking back to the dugout. But that’s where the similarity ended. Unlike Belinsky, who dreamed of stardom and Hollywood and beautiful women, Chance dreamed of baseball. And unlike Belinsky, street smart and tough, Chance was a small town boy who grew up on a farm. Then too, Chance was dedicated to the game and, while he “ran” with Belinsky (and became his lifelong friend), he was never awed by flashing cameras, beautiful women — or the glitter of Hollywood. While the young Belinsky spent his New York childhood dodging the cops and tossing nickels on street corners, the 6-3 Chance spent his Ohio childhood listening to the Indians on the radio . . . and dreamed of becoming a ballplayer. And when the Indians weren’t playing (when the  midwest winds wickered across Ohio’s cornfields), Chance spent his time dreaming about being a boxer. “When I was growing up I always wanted to be a ballplayer,” Chance recently told a baseball reporter. “But I always loved boxing, too. I grew up listening to and watching Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano. Boy, were they exciting.”

Chance was a “puncher.” He styled his mound tactics in the same way that ’60s boxers styled their straight-ahead heavyweight tilts — he bored in on hitters, ratcheting up his fastball into the mid-90s, before dropping it (unpredictably) onto the outside corner. In high school Chance was not only unhittable, he became the most talked about young hurler in Ohio baseball history. His high school records remain unequaled: he threw 17 no hitters at Wooster high school — the closest contender is another Ohioan, Tom Engle, who threw six straight back in 1989. In 1962, as Belinsky was making headlines (though he was only 10-11) and dating the stars, Chance began his own career with the Angels, forging a workmanlike 14-10 campaign. In 1963, both of them struggled: Belinsky was 2-9 and Chance was 13-18. But, just as Belinsky was fading, Chance was becoming a premier pitcher. In 1964, as the Angels struggled to finish just two games over .500, Chance compiled a breathtaking 20-9 record and became (at 23) the youngest player to that point to win a Cy Young award. His 1964 campaign remains among the most memorable in A.L. history, in large part because Chance pitched better against the Yankees than he did against any other team: “It’s Chance, not CBS, who owns the Yankees. Lock, stock and barrel,” Angel’s center fielder Albie Pierson said during the season. “When Dean pitched, the Yankees became a bunch of guys in pantyhose . . . they had no chance.”

Belinsky couldn’t keep up. As Chance was making baseball history, Belinsky was struggling with his control (he would go 9-8 in 1964), and with his personal life. Flitting from date-to-date, and being photographed with the glitterati, Belinsky’s lifestyle (his constant fist fights, most notoriously, with an L.A. Times beat reporter) and his interminable scrapes with the Beverly Hills constabulary — was wearing thin with Angel’s owner Gene Autry. After the end of the ’64 campaign, Autry decided he’d had enough and traded Belinsky to the Philadelphia Phillies. But Belinsky’s fame preceded him, as Phillies fans viewed the new duo of Bunning and Belinsky as Philadelphia’s salvation; the two even appeared together on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Back in L.A., farmboy Chance continued to labor; and while the Wooster native would never equal the near perfection of his Cy Young year, his ten-year career remains a talisman of consistency — he won 20 games for the Twins in 1967, an astonishing 18 of them were complete. His career nosedived after 1968 (when he was 16-16), and, in 1971, he retired to Wooster, where he became a boxing promoter and manager and formed a respected sanctioning organization — the International Boxing Association.

Now, at age 68, Chance will talk baseball (and boxing) with anyone who will sit and listen. “The greatest defensive player I ever faced was Brooks Robinson,” Chance told one reporter several years ago. “The greatest relief pitcher was Dick Radatz of the Red Sox. The toughest hitters I ever faced were Tony Oliva of the Twins and Carl Yastrzemski of the Red Sox. They always hit me the other way. If I had a runner on third and no outs, those were the last guys I’d want to see at the plate.” Chance says his biggest thrill as a major leaguer was winning the 1964 Cy Young award. That may well be. But for fans of baseball, the most memorable event in the life of the Ohio farmboy-made-good, came on this date in 1967, when Chance threw the best game of his career — a no hitter against the Cleveland Indians. That in itself might not be historic, except that Chance’s no-hitter was the second he threw that month. The first had come on August 15 — when he no-hit the Red Sox.

(above: Dean Chance as a rookie; below: Bo Belinsky in the Angel’s clubhouse.)

The Washington Nationals took the second in a three game set against the Pirates on Wednesday, though the 7-5 victory was much less cleanly played than the previous night’s 5-2 drubbing. Still, a victory is a victory, and the sloppily played triumph will enter the win column — and lift the Nats to within two games of .500 with one game left to play against the Stargells. The victory was also a vindication (of sorts), for Nats manager Jim Riggleman, who has praised rookie right fielder Roger Bernadina. Bernadina was 3-4 on the night and his speed on the base paths seemed to energize the Nats Nine. “He’s a very talented guy,” Riggleman told the Post back in May. “If you run him out there enough, he’s going to do some damage, because he’s just that good of a player.”

The Nationals were also sparked by a perfect bullpen, as Tyler Walker, Drew Storen, Tyler Clippard and Matt Capps combined to sink the Pirates through 4.1 innings of two hit, no-run ball. Tyler Walker’s outing was key, as the former journeyman Metropolitan, Giant and Phillie has struggled of late. “It was a bullpen shutout. That’s what we were looking for,” Walker said after the win. “We came in and picked up Johnny [Lannan]. He didn’t have his best stuff tonight. You come in and you want to pick him up. You want to help out your teammates. Tonight, I was able to get that job done. I had been struggling in that situation lately — [with] inherited runners. I was really trying to bear down and get us off the field, so we could get back to hitting.” Walker’s outing brought his ERA to back under four, while Storen (1.74) and Clippard (1.57) continued to impress.

Those Little Town Blues: Our friends over at The Real Dirty Mets Blog are getting fat and sassy, in the belief that the Mets are showing that they are some kind of team. (Haven’t they learned? C’mon guys — you’ll only be disappointed . . .) Most recently, “Mr. North Jersey” did some kind of throw down (is that what it’s called now?) in CFG after the Strasburg outing — to the effect that “don’t expect my Mets to go easy on you; we will be out for blood.” Well, let me tell you — we’re terrified. No really. We are. I mean, Strasburg, Lannan, Hernandez et.al are pretty good, but there’s not a one of them as good as Oliver Perez . . .  Our constant desire to become an entry in The New Dickson Baseball Dictionary has led us far afield in the past. It didn’t seem that any Nats qualified as throwing, fielding or hitting in any particularly unique manner for us to even nominate a word or phrase. But now, with Stephen “they call me Mr.” Strasburg having plied his D.C. wares, we think we’ve come up with something. The heater that Strasburg threw against Andy LaRoche on Tuesday (his last K) seems to qualify. It was both unique and spectacularly Strasburg — ian. The Strasburg pitch was up-in-the-zone at 97-plus and absolutely unhittable. We’ll call it “a Porky Pig fastball” — and see if that catches on . . . No? . . .

“I mean, I don’t get it,” one of CFG’s droogs said last night. “The Ahoys? That’s what you call the Pirates?” Okay, we admit, it’s corny, but we’ll take reader nominations for nicknames and we’ll use them too. If they’re any good. We call the Mets “the Apples,” having dropped “the chokes” as being, well … offensive. But, while we call them “the apples” we don’t particularly like that nickname — or even “the Metropolitans.” It seems . . . ah . . . antiquated. So. Have you got something better? Well, send it in. And we’ll use it. But we’ll stick by “the Trolleys” (for the Dodgers) and McCoveys for the Giants and we’ll also stick with the Belinskys for the Angels (after legendary Halo pitcher Bo Belinsky) and, come to think of it, the uniquely descriptive “White Elephants” (c’mon, you know, for the Athletics) is an absolute keeper. But, admittedly, we’re having trouble coming up with a nickname for the Rockies. “The Heltons” is just too easy. And we’re having trouble labeling the Brewers. The “Brew Crew?” C’mon. I mean, who the hell cares? So nominations are open . . .

Guess who’s cashing in? Why, that would be the Topps baseball card company (well, they’re in business, so a little cash is probably not inappropriate), which has issued a limited edition set of cards of Stephen Strasburg, showing him pitching in Tuesday night’s debut. The limited edition has a very short print run, to ensure card value, and shows his first pitch. Right. That “other” card company — Bowman — will not be outdone. It has announced that it is producing a limited number of Bryce Harper cards. The Topps limited edition Strasburg card is pricey (and popular), although Topps has announced it will add a card to its 2010 660-card set (#661) for collectors who purchase a boxed set . . .