Talent is an amazing thing. It is out in the open for us to admire. From the most seasoned scout to a nine year old, a 4.3 40 or a fastball that touches 98 can be seen from outer space. Doctor J operated on our eyes every time he played basketball. Ryan Howard can hit a baseball 500 feet. That, folks, simply cannot be taught.

Roy Halladay has talent, in spades. He won 21 games this season. Cy Young is about to pay him another visit, on a trophy, that is. Perfection was his in May. If a club must have at least two members, he and Don Larsen are the only members of baseball's most exclusive fraternity.

There are plenty of athletes with talent. That talent, refined with work, coaching, and time, usually equates to success. Yet talent, by itself, does not equal greatness. To the mix one must add heart, opportunity, and the undefinable intangibles. What are intangibles? We know when we see them, that is what they are. There are few with great talent, there are fewer who are truly great. Eric Lindros was derailed by injuries and a perceived lack of effort, at times. Josh Hamilton was derailed, for a time, by drugs. Ryan Leaf was derailed by, well, you get the point. Talent is drafted, greatness is achieved.

Last night in San Francisco, Roy Halladay pitched the game of his life, at least for the time being. His team was facing elimination. On the road. Against a two-time defending Cy Young winner, who by the way was 2-0 this postseason. Before he was injured, he did not appear have his best stuff, nor his best command, maybe 2010's workload is finally starting to sap his strength. He was on normal rest for the first time in three weeks.

And then he tweaked his right groin, his pushoff leg. Ouch.

I remember Michael Jordan most for two moments; his buzzer beater over Craig Ehlo to beat the Cavs in the playoffs, and the game in which he torched Utah straight out of a sick bed in the NBA finals. Why? He overcame adversity. I knew he had talent (duh), but these moments proved that his talent could flourish under the most extreme of circumstances. Magic Johnson did many great things in his career, but game 6 of the 1980 finals was his finest moment, and it was in his rookie season. If you are a Sixer fan, you know what I mean (oy). If not, Sergey Brin and Larry Page can help you out. They invented Google.

In game 5, we saw Roy Halladay's talent. Heart without talent equals a men's league. We saw his competitiveness (see stare, at Pat Burrell). Doc had waited forever to pitch in a postseason. It is why the no-hitter was his defining moment to date, at least for me. He was at his most dominant, and one 3-2 pitch away from another perfecto. He had answered our questions about his postseason mojo almost before we had the chance to ask. Next?

Well, next was yesterday. He had no time to think, or take treatment. Adrenalin and guts saved the day. Against all odds, and with the first postseason of his life at risk, we saw, definitively, who Roy Halladay is, at least on a baseball field. How severe is the injury, can he pitch again, maybe even in relief in game 7? Of these questions, we have no answers, yet. But let me take a wild guess. Severe enough that most others would have either come out or imploded, yes, and maybe, if he is truly needed. Everyone has limits, but Doc's are yet to be defined by Webster.

So Jolly will try. It is called greatness, and it is without limits. That is the fun of sports, and that is Doc Halladay. If the Phillies take it all, it gets even better. If not, we have seen all we need to know. Roy Halladay was perfect in May, and nearly perfect in early October. Can something be better than perfect? I think the answer is yes.

Written By: Paul Jolovitz, Sportsradio 610 WIP