BASEBALL'S HALL REQUIRES FAME This column originally appeared on Wicked Local
The names of the 2018 Baseball Hall of Fame inductees will be released this week and the selection process remains one of the most hotly debated issues in contemporary sports.
Much has been made about the well publicized letter of complaint submitted by former Cincinnati Reds second basemen and current Baseball Hall of Famer Joe Morgan regarding the apparent sentiments of former major leaguers currently in the Hall of Fame and the ever-growing potential that they might be forced to share the stage with suspected PED users.
Statistical milestones in baseball were once well earned. I remember Carl Yastrzemski taking what seemed like months attempting to reach hit number 3,000, and when he finally grounded that ball into right field off of Jim Beattie and the dreaded Yankees, it meant something. And 400 home runs? Who among us hasn’t hit 400 home runs? OK, I haven’t, but Mark Teixeira and Alfonso Soriano both have and so has Adam Dunn, which now makes that feat a hell of a lot more meaningless than it used to be.
Here’s the real problem. Why is it that a pitcher like the highly respected John Smoltz had a clear path to the Hall of Fame and Jack Morris was relegated to being politely selected by the Veterans Committee several years too late, in my opinion? Morris was perhaps the most dominating starting pitcher of the 1980s, had more wins than Smoltz, pitched at least 120 more complete games than Smoltz, won more World Series than Smoltz (not to mention the epic battle that Morris won against, you guessed it, John Smoltz in 1991), and had more intestinal fortitude than Smoltz and probably everyone else in Major League Baseball during the years that he was pitching.
And don’t give me that closer baloney with regard to Smoltz, either. Dennis Eckersley, in comparison, is a Hall of Fame legend regardless of what David Price happens to think. Eckersley didn’t just step into a new pitching role in an effort to jumpstart his career in the mid-1980s. He categorically redefined the closer role coming back from the career-threatening perils of alcohol addiction and reinvented himself as an unhittable closer changing the trajectory of his career back to the path it was taking initially – to the Hall of Fame. An MVP, Cy Young Award winner, and World Champion, Eckersley’s story is far more worthy of being passed down through the ages as opposed to Smoltz merely coming back from an arm injury and selflessly volunteering to pitch out of Bobby Cox’s bullpen for a largely underachieving Braves team.
Members of the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame must have a certain aura to them. The Hall of Fame must elicit stories of bloody socks and 10 inning post-season pitching performances. The Hall of Fame must bring back special memories of balls careening off of foul poles in October, players who hit .444 down the stretch, and even designated hitters like David Ortiz who came through in the clutch again and again and again.
I remember watching the first game that Roger Clemens pitched in the big leagues after being called up by the Red Sox in 1984. I was in a department store watching the telecast from old Municipal Stadium in Cleveland on probably 25 television sets all showing the game like they used to in the (yikes) old days. You could tell that you were watching greatness when the young Clemens pitched. He had the stuff, he had the make-up, and he had the bravado - even as a youngster. Pedro Martinez is a Hall of Famer just like Sandy Koufax is a Hall of Famer. Ken Griffey Jr. is a Hall of Famer just as Willie Mays is a Hall of Famer. Gary Sheffield is not a Hall of Famer, nor do I think Omar Vizquel or Fred McGriff should be Hall of Famers.
All steroid talk aside, if I had the chance to cast a ballot this year I would contribute the names of Roger Clemens and Curt Schilling (not to mention some strong opinions regarding names no longer on the ballot like Jack Morris and former Yankee second baseman and famed manager Billy Martin). I can picture myself relaying the historical contributions of these legends many years down the road just as my dad still goes on endlessly about Ted Williams.
I just can’t see myself passing on similar stories detailing the careers of Mike Mussina, Trevor Hoffman, or the immortal Aubrey Huff along with a collection of others who are currently on the ballot.
I would not yet vote for Barry Bonds, although my opinion is beginning to change. My most vivid memory of Bonds is still a televised, on-field screaming match with highly respected manager Jim Leyland back when both were with Pittsburgh; before Bonds went on to break a series of presumably bogus records late in his career.
And while we are on that subject I would never vote for Mark McGwire for the following reason: He was the modern, more enhanced version of Dave Kingman. McGwire miraculously found the equivalent of baseball’s fountain of youth suddenly able to catch up to high fastballs after years hovering around the Mendoza line. Please consult Hall of Famer Jim Rice. When you lose your ability to stay on top of the fastball it does not come back, and you certainly don’t come back to break the record of Roger Maris – TWICE. That is, unless you are cheating.
The Baseball Hall of Fame must elicit stories of greatness and include only those who have truly earned the honor.
Otherwise, I fully expect to see Stan Papi in Cooperstown next summer.
The names of the 2018 Baseball Hall of Fame inductees will be released this week and the selection process remains one of the most hotly debated issues in contemporary sports.
Much has been made about the well publicized letter of complaint submitted by former Cincinnati Reds second basemen and current Baseball Hall of Famer Joe Morgan regarding the apparent sentiments of former major leaguers currently in the Hall of Fame and the ever-growing potential that they might be forced to share the stage with suspected PED users.
Statistical milestones in baseball were once well earned. I remember Carl Yastrzemski taking what seemed like months attempting to reach hit number 3,000, and when he finally grounded that ball into right field off of Jim Beattie and the dreaded Yankees, it meant something. And 400 home runs? Who among us hasn’t hit 400 home runs? OK, I haven’t, but Mark Teixeira and Alfonso Soriano both have and so has Adam Dunn, which now makes that feat a hell of a lot more meaningless than it used to be.
Here’s the real problem. Why is it that a pitcher like the highly respected John Smoltz had a clear path to the Hall of Fame and Jack Morris was relegated to being politely selected by the Veterans Committee several years too late, in my opinion? Morris was perhaps the most dominating starting pitcher of the 1980s, had more wins than Smoltz, pitched at least 120 more complete games than Smoltz, won more World Series than Smoltz (not to mention the epic battle that Morris won against, you guessed it, John Smoltz in 1991), and had more intestinal fortitude than Smoltz and probably everyone else in Major League Baseball during the years that he was pitching.
And don’t give me that closer baloney with regard to Smoltz, either. Dennis Eckersley, in comparison, is a Hall of Fame legend regardless of what David Price happens to think. Eckersley didn’t just step into a new pitching role in an effort to jumpstart his career in the mid-1980s. He categorically redefined the closer role coming back from the career-threatening perils of alcohol addiction and reinvented himself as an unhittable closer changing the trajectory of his career back to the path it was taking initially – to the Hall of Fame. An MVP, Cy Young Award winner, and World Champion, Eckersley’s story is far more worthy of being passed down through the ages as opposed to Smoltz merely coming back from an arm injury and selflessly volunteering to pitch out of Bobby Cox’s bullpen for a largely underachieving Braves team.
Members of the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame must have a certain aura to them. The Hall of Fame must elicit stories of bloody socks and 10 inning post-season pitching performances. The Hall of Fame must bring back special memories of balls careening off of foul poles in October, players who hit .444 down the stretch, and even designated hitters like David Ortiz who came through in the clutch again and again and again.
I remember watching the first game that Roger Clemens pitched in the big leagues after being called up by the Red Sox in 1984. I was in a department store watching the telecast from old Municipal Stadium in Cleveland on probably 25 television sets all showing the game like they used to in the (yikes) old days. You could tell that you were watching greatness when the young Clemens pitched. He had the stuff, he had the make-up, and he had the bravado - even as a youngster. Pedro Martinez is a Hall of Famer just like Sandy Koufax is a Hall of Famer. Ken Griffey Jr. is a Hall of Famer just as Willie Mays is a Hall of Famer. Gary Sheffield is not a Hall of Famer, nor do I think Omar Vizquel or Fred McGriff should be Hall of Famers.
All steroid talk aside, if I had the chance to cast a ballot this year I would contribute the names of Roger Clemens and Curt Schilling (not to mention some strong opinions regarding names no longer on the ballot like Jack Morris and former Yankee second baseman and famed manager Billy Martin). I can picture myself relaying the historical contributions of these legends many years down the road just as my dad still goes on endlessly about Ted Williams.
I would not yet vote for Barry Bonds, although my opinion is beginning to change. My most vivid memory of Bonds is still a televised, on-field screaming match with highly respected manager Jim Leyland back when both were with Pittsburgh; before Bonds went on to break a series of presumably bogus records late in his career.
And while we are on that subject I would never vote for Mark McGwire for the following reason: He was the modern, more enhanced version of Dave Kingman. McGwire miraculously found the equivalent of baseball’s fountain of youth suddenly able to catch up to high fastballs after years hovering around the Mendoza line. Please consult Hall of Famer Jim Rice. When you lose your ability to stay on top of the fastball it does not come back, and you certainly don’t come back to break the record of Roger Maris – TWICE. That is, unless you are cheating.
The Baseball Hall of Fame must elicit stories of greatness and include only those who have truly earned the honor.
Otherwise, I fully expect to see Stan Papi in Cooperstown next summer.
