Associated Press

There was a time when Albert Pujols was sensational. Absolutely, utterly special. And when hit No. 3,000 splashed down Friday night in Seattle's Safeco Field, a fifth-inning clean single, it spoke more to that time than to this time.

Since he disappeared into the ether of Anaheim, all you get are the echoes. Pujols has all but ceded the national stage. During his six-plus seasons in the shadow of Disneyland, Pujols' Angels have appeared in exactly one postseason series, and they were swept by the Kansas City Royals (2014). He has been named to exactly one All-Star team.

After owning the National League leaderboards over his first 11 seasons—home runs, batting average, runs scored, hits, RBI, on-base percentage, slugging percentage, doubles, total bases, intentional walks, you name it, he led it—Pujols has paced the American League in exactly one category since his arrival in 2012: double plays grounded into.

He did this twice, in 2014 and again in 2017.

If we aren't careful, that last part can overshadow the first part.

So let's be especially careful as we recognize that what Pujols has done in crunching his 3,000th hit to go along with his 620 home runs is reach a level that only three other men who ever played the game have attained: Hank Aaron, Willie Mays and Alex Rodriguez.

Take a moment to digest that.

"Both are incredibly difficult to achieve," Angels manager Mike Scioscia responded when asked which is most difficult to accomplish, 3,000 hits or 600 home runs.

One takes tremendous hitting skill.

One requires incredible power.

"To combine the two," Scioscia said. "It's monumental."

Elaine Thompson/Associated Press

Yet cynics rule in today's world. Attention spans are stuck on fast-forward. Albert Pujols hasn't been Albert Pujols in some time. That's no news flash. The analytics crowd bashes him as the "worst player in baseball." Others continue foraging for DNA in an attempt to prove he's older than his professed 38 (a story, by the way, that qualified for AARP far sooner than Pujols himself will).

OK, OK, we get it. For an old warhorse, his WAR is coming up lame.

But context changes. The Pujols of today is obviously different than when he was 23, or 29. What, exactly, is the purpose of bashing an all-time great in the twilight of his career? Nobody stays the same over 18 years, and Lord knows Pujols hasn't. No reasonable person expected him to, and that the Angels ludicrously handed a 10-year, $254 million deal to a man entering his age-32 season in 2012 is their problem, not his. As much as anything, the Halos were purchasing star power for their cable television network ratings and Pujols' cache of upcoming milestones. Yes, sometimes even Angels make a deal with the devil.

His has been a career that has played out in two acts, and unlike the most riveting theater, Pujols' best was Act I. And it's not even close. He was a shooting star in Jupiter, Florida, in the spring of 2001 at age 21. He came to camp having played just one minor league season, and most of that was in Single-A. That fall, he finished fourth in the National League Most Valuable Player voting.

He won three MVP awards in St. Louis (2005, 2008 and 2009), finished second four other times and helped lead the Cardinals to two World Series titles (2006 and 2011). He was the Mayor of All-Starville when the Midsummer Classic was played in St. Louis in 2009, appearing all over town as the Face of MLB and as a beloved native son.

In Game 3 of the 2011 World Series alone, he produced one of the greatest shows we've ever seen, launching three home runs, driving in six runs and finishing with five hits. Each of those numbers tied a World Series record. He also set a World Series record with 14 total bases.

Charlie Riedel/Associated Press

The lineage in St. Louis from Stan "The Man" Musial to Albert "El Hombre" Pujols was deeply established, to the degree that Pujols blanched at the "El Hombre" references and asked folks to knock it off. He wanted nothing to do with anything that could be construed as disrespecting Musial—who remains well ahead of Pujols in the all-time hit parade at 3,630 hits in fourth. Pujols despised any reference to "El Hombre."

So eventually, baseball being baseball and nicknames being required, folks gravitated toward calling him "The Machine." Which still sort of works, in that the one thing he's done in Anaheim is continue to punch out 100-RBI summers with aplomb—he's done it in four of his six full seasons there.

But that's really the last hint of his former greatness, and watching him chase 3,000 hits in Anaheim has been like watching a once-legendary showman settle for the campiness of a Las Vegas residency.

On the last night of the Angels' homestand this week, with Pujols' second-inning double having moved his hit odometer to 2,999, he was due to bat third in the bottom of the fourth. During the half-inning break after Baltimore hit, the Angel Stadium scoreboards and public address announcer rallied the crowd of 35,879 to...don their giveaway ponchos so that an Angel Stadium record could be established for "the largest gathering of people wearing ponchos."

Hoo-ha, nothing sets up an impending historical moment like that.

There were close to 10,000 empty seats as Pujols did his best to please the home crowd, but in Anaheim, when it's midnight or 1 a.m. back east, the drama and magnitude of the achievement is nowhere close to what it would have been in St. Louis. Nor was it in Seattle, or anywhere else Pujols travels with the Angels. And it's too bad.

Upon joining the Los Angeles Angels of We're Not St. Louis in spring 2012, Pujols spoke directly of his split with his old city, and in those days, it seemed closer to a harsh divorce than a simple business decision.

"I had a great time in the city of St. Louis," Pujols said that day in Tempe, Arizona. "You don't just flip that page and say, 'Move on.' I had some great moments, was able to accomplish winning two World Series, and that's something that I want to bring to Anaheim and to this ballclub—have, hopefully, better years than I had in St. Louis and, hopefully, more championships."

The jury is in despite the three years and $87 million still remaining on his deal after this summer, and it's not even close. His years in St. Louis were pure greatness. His seasons in Southern California more often than not have been pure freeway gridlock, the kind around which no La La Land musical has broken out.

Matt Brown/Getty Images

So what's left is Scioscia staunchly defending him at every turn possible when the analytics armies move in, speaking about Pujols mostly in philosophical terms. The slugger understands the importance of each game, of each singular inning, the manager raves, and consequently that understanding is alive throughout the team's clubhouse in no small part because Mike Trout and the other Angels take their cues from him.

There is value in that, though not exactly the kind of value that brings ticker tape parades and postseason awards. At least, not so far.

So even as he joins Aaron, Mays and A-Rod in one of the most exclusive clubs in baseball history, Pujols has moved from the spotlight to just another tambourine-shaking background player on the stage. Trout arguably is baseball's best player, and Shohei Ohtani unquestionably is the game's best story right now. Both eclipse Pujols today in terms of Q-rating and impact.

But that doesn't mean it's not worth taking a moment to deflect the ever-present cynics, acknowledge this feat and appreciate the absolute greatness of a career well-earned. And that Pujols' big knock came during the week in which Ichiro Suzuki announced his transition from the playing field to the front office in Seattle, really, is altogether fitting.

Because in 2001, Ichiro was the AL Rookie of the Year and Pujols was the NL Rookie of the Year. And nearly two glittering decades later, one constant remains.

Even with the greatest of willpower, no one can hold off a sunset forever.

Scott Miller covers Major League Baseball as a national columnist for Bleacher Report. Follow Scott on Twitter and talk baseball.