Alex Ovechkin turns 30 years old today.

We imagine the celebration will be a low-key affair: Friends, family, some terrible Euro-techno music and a cake filled with his twin passions in life, vodka and models.

I kid, of course, because there’s nothing low-key about Alex. He was a rock star the moment he put on that god-awful swooping eagle Washington Capitals jersey, and the party hasn’t stopped: 475 goals in 760 games, along with 420 assists; five goal-scoring titles and one Art Ross Trophy; the Calder Trophy, in the year Sidney Crosby was supposed to waltz away with it; three Ted Lindsay Awards and three Hart Trophies.

(This is the part where you go “but he’s never won anything outside of a Southeast Division banner!” and I go “well, that’s more about the teams he’s played on than his performances” and then you make a snide remark about the captaincy and coach killing and defense and we just chase our tails like a dog trying to escape Sochi.)

Statistically, Ovechkin has few peers in what he was able to accomplish in his 20s. As J.P. from Japers’ Rink noted, the only two players that amassed more goals than Ovechkin were a couple of bums named Wayne Gretzky and Mike Bossy (although that goals-per-game average for Mario Lemieux and Brett Hull is rather robust):

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Meanwhile, Muneeb Alam used Hockey Reference’s era-adjusted goals filter to further compare Ovechkin’s output and … well, in the words of the Capitals captain, it’s “sick unbelievable.”

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These numbers are ridiculous. And yet how is Ovechkin discussed after a decade?

He's criticized for failing to lead his team to a championship.

That's what unfortunately defines him at this point in his career. The only way a player is truly and totally appreciated in his heyday is if he’s a champion. It's not fair, it ignores incredible accomplishment, but that's the way our fandom and media have decided to define excellence. Achievement in sports is no narrowly focused on counting the rings and names on the Cup, Ovechkin's historic accomplishments have this undercurrent of hollowness.

He's a kid playing Super Mario Bros. that manages to break every brick, collect every coin and kill every turtle, but never actually makes the leap onto the flag pole to advance.

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