Journalist and junior-media alike expressed great bewilderment last week upon hearing the annoucement that long-time Chicago White Sox’ batsman Harold Baines had been elected to the 2019 baseball Hall of Fame class of induction.
But to this fan, it was the sizable squawk that proved positively bewildering.
Created in 1936 in central New York State in a town founded in 1786 by William Cooper, father of famed author James Fenimore Cooper, the Cooperstown HOF has had an open-door policy on enshrinement for quite some time now.
When names like Ryne Sandberg, Mike Piazza, Bert Blyleven, Orlando Cepeda, Barry Larkin and John Smoltz get in without nary a squawk, even as Curt Schilling and Fred McGriff get a collective cold shoulder, you have to feel the HOF door has been propped wide open, letting in good but less-than-great ballplayers to keep the fun times rolling (promotions, parades, etc.).
For the past 20 years, the typical inductee has been a guy who had great moments, even a great year, but didn’t inspire thoughts of greatness during their lengthy careers, except amongst kids and sabrmetrically-inclined who always seem to think their heroes can walk on water.
Named on less than 5% of writer ballots in his last year of eligibility (2011), Harold was elected instead by the Veterans Committee based, I believe, on these career batting numbers (rank in brackets): In 22 seasons with five teams, 2866 hits (46), 1628 RBI (34), 1299 runs (128), 384 HR (65), .289 BA (T-408), 6-time All-Star, led AL one-time in one category (SLG%-84) and in 31 post-season games hit .324 with 16 RBI, 5 HR and 14 runs. All good, but great? I guess so.
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But the bemoaners will want to save some gripe for when Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens gain entrance (< 5 years), because THAT is when the Hall will no longer be the Hall of Fame, but rather, the Hall of Shame, or Sham, if you prefer.
Like today’s fat Olympic fields, Halls are diluting on steady-stream of marginal inductees as younger, collectible-crazed voters turn what used to be a days-long walk amongst immortals into a three-day trek through Halls of Good & Plenty.
It’s a little like when Charles Schulz expanded his franchise and grew his Peanuts gallery with Woodstock and Peppermint Patty, or when Fred Flintstone found a new friend from outer space, Gazoo. The funnies just weren’t the same.
Was Harold Baines a user of performance enhancing drugs himself? Who the Sam Hell knows. We, the mass of baseball followers, like to think not. But with all the liars and cheats around today, it’s hard to know who to trust.
With the field of great HOF candidates so small, coupled with the current PED-testing policy that players have filled with holes you could drive a Mack truck through, beggers can’t be choosers. Baines will have to do.
If Harold was clean his entire career, it’s a cloud-of-doubt hanging overhead that seems unfair. But that’s the price he and his retired-MLBPA membership must pay for staying silent and NOT demanding the highest, Olympic form of testing.
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There are two battles raging today over baseball’s Hall of Fame composition: One is the long-standing issue of quality control, i.e., is the candidate truly great, of a stature such that it separates him from his peers, as say, Warren Spahn and Bob Clemente, or, is he a ballot choice that develops a patina of greatness over time, building support for election in a campaign for votes.
The other battle is of a more recent development, PEDs, were the emerging standard among junior media and collectors goes like this: ‘He gets my vote because he was a Hall of Famer before he started juicing.’ Ooooh, brother.
Assuming you have the powers of Carnac the Magnificent and can accurately pick the first year a PED suspect ‘Got needles,’ then by that absurd line of logic, bad boys Pete Rose and Joe Jackson should get induction because both were Hall-worthy before they messed-up with the gamble and game-fixing.
Okay, so the Hall is growing fat on suspect inductees and a niche of players keep playing fans for fools (Ryan Braun, Melky Cabrera, Alex Rodriguez, etc.), but at least we have the baseball record book, right, a safe harbor for greatness buffered from the winds of changing mores and personal extremes? Wrong.
Officially maintained by Elias Sports Bureau, baseball’s record rolls are now tainted, with some of its most cherished marks held by seriously-suspected or proven performance-enhanced pretenders of excellence.
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Soon, those voters who grew on a steady diet of ESPN (Disney) news on Barry and Roger will make-up the majority of the BBWAA. Unfortunately, they’ve shown a collective lack of judgment capability with a boyish, sabrmetric bent as evidenced in their 2018 National League Cy Young awarding to the Mets Jacob deGrom (10-9 / 1.73e / 217i / MVP-5th) over the Nationals’ Max Scherzer. They are that same group which watched in awe as Bonds piled MVPs, Roger garnered CYs and they filled binders of memorabilia.
Bonds and Clemens, once taboo to voters, have been steady risers the past five years in Hall of Fame vote percentage, corresponding directly with the steady decrease in the average voter age. As such, there’s no motive for either to ever come clean on PED use, for their lie is also their supporters lie.
Were they to come clean, overnight those supporters (voters) would turn into their harshest critics for their collectible stock would drop like a rock in water. For now, the fallacy keeps their cards marketable.
Could it be that ridiculous? Sure it could, sport.
Roger and Barry will win election to the Cooperstown Club in the not too distant future. They’ll jump for joy and their rookie cards will soar in value once again.
But in the court of rational, mature, baseball-loving public opinion, resentment will keep growing over their ‘getting away with it’ in tarnishing the game’s sacrosanct record book and Hall of Not-So-Greats.
Bonds and Clemens have a great opportunity to man-up, set the record straight and pay back to a game that which has given them both so much.
But it takes a great man to seize such an opportunity and the Hall of Fame is fast becoming the place where the less-than-greats are being given immortality.
StevenKeys
Can of Corn
Photo credit: baseball, 9.24.06, wc.cca, Tage-Olsin; H.Baines, wc, K.Allison, 2011; B.Bonds, wc, 7.21.07, guano; Can-of-corn
Posted: 12.23 @ 8:00pE, edit 12.25; Copyright © 2018