The Lost Hall of Fame / Steroid Rant

Last January when the Hall of Fame voters came back with a resounding no, I got cranky and pounded this one out. It has not seen the light of day. While cleaning out my inbox i stumbled upon it, and its just as full of vim and vigor now as it was then. So here it is, a lost classic....so cue the music and pick a side! Here goes, from January 2013.... Santcimonious fools. So now we have a Hall of Fame that already shuns the all-time Hit King now locking the doors for now on the Home Run King, and a man who many would call the best RHP of all time, without having to be drunk to be make such a remark. All to make a stand on steroids. Listen, I am as grumbly as any about the cloud of steroids that has darkened the baseballian shores. But at this point this an “it is what it is” sort of situation. Lets add, mind you, there are no failed tests for us to peruse. There were no suspensions of these men in question. We are going by hearsay, and some sprinkles of evidence. Damning evidence? I suppose in some respects, as far as these things go. But who made the baseball writers judge and jury? Or in the class of the 2013 class, executioner? To add to this puddle mess, I think this is a mere hiccup, a needles delay, akin to freezing the kicker just before he dinks in a chip shot to win the game anyway. Bonds and Clemens will be in the Hall and probably bring Piazza in with them, and I think as early as next year. I saw enough print interviews (usually with the ever-popular ‘anonymous source’) to where this may indeed be the case. When you take the smattering of idiots who will never vote anyone in on the first ballot in yet another meaningless stand and mix that in with voters who were more interested in levying punishment than prestige, the doors were locked for Clemens and Bonds, and Piazza, who may be the most aggrieved of all. I have seen some shrug off his under 60% of the vote as the product of poor defensive skills behind the dish, and a laughable throwing arm. This is hooey mixed with claptrap. The man was shunned due to acne on his back and dealings with shady and nefarious characters who dabbled in performance enhancing products. A few croutons to toss into the soup here. The good old voting process. While I am not of an ilk to blow the whole thing up, amendments must be made to this Constitution. As it stands baseball writers on the beat for 10 consecutive seasons get to submit a ballot. So yeah, the guy who covers the Rays for a sleepy Florida daily casts a vote while veritable baseball God Vin Scully does not get a say, as he is a broadcaster on the Dodgers payroll. I am no Michael Kay fan, he is a master of bluster and bombast, but are you telling me he does not deserve a vote? As he will tell anyone who will listen (a few Creatures and I once had a chat with him outside the Stadium that went on so long we made up a lie so we could get the Hell out of there) he sees as much or more baseball than anyone, and if you want to dig even deeper he was on the newspaper beat himself. But once your consecutive days of reportage end, so does your Hall of Fame rights. So I suppose they should consider adding to the pool if they are not going to kick anyone out, or move them into the smaller end with the kids. The idea of fans having a say is ridiculous and pretend I never said that so the idea goes away NOW. Perhaps MLB alumni can have a say in the matter, aside from the stodgy veterans committee dishing out matters over their Scotch and cigars. Then you have the renegade voters who throw in their bones for the likes of an Aaron Sele. I have done a 180 on this topic. A few years ago I found this sort of thing harmless, almost like taking a peek through the Playboy magazine you wont be buying in the stationary store if you notice the aisle is clear. As I figured a wayward vote for the likes of a Sele or a Claudell Washington would not put them into the Hall by mistake I myself was more apt to chuckle and recognize it for what it was, a nod from a reporter to a merry soul that they enjoyed covering over the years. A way to go, “hey, you were a class act and I wish you well, and in 100 years your ancestors can sit around and talk about your 1 Hall of Fame vote until older members of the family start telling fish tales and you end up with like 3 instead.” But I have changed my mind on this. Enough with the token votes. Enough with the pats on the back for super service. I can not sit here and whine that reporters took it into their own hands to tarnish the ballot by making their faulty stands on steroids, while praising them for wasting votes on people cause they were nice guys or wore their socks in the right way. Oh, and lets get rid of the anonymous ballot. People can do whatever they want in this regard when they do not need to own up to it. In fact, just before I hammered this piece out I was on a news website voting in a poll, and voting the opposite way than I felt cause it was so one-sided I thought it would be funny to be part of the 4% Force for once. So its time for MLB to consider doing something about this process do that it does not become an indictment on an era. Oh, do I feel sad for that wonderland known as Cooperstown. Don’t exactly see people hopping buses and flying in from out of town to see Hank O’Day, Jacob Ruppert (Yankee baseball!) and Deacon White enter the Hallowed Hall this summer, long after their announced times of death. You know how you hear your average retailer does almost 40% of its cash cabal during the holiday season? Well, for the Hall of Fame and their procurement of that piece of pie, lets try 80% and Hall of Fame weekend. That sleepy postcard town becomes a thriving metropolis every late July, complete with Pete Rose at a table on Main Street, hawking wares. He will be playing to an empty crowd this year. In fact I should consider heading up, as there will surely be space on the grass to settle in for the ceremony, and maybe even room for a picnic basket? A ceremony, I may add, that will be overseen by a bunch of grumlby grump old players on the dias, feeling self-satisfied I suppose, as their fervent cries from on high to keep the cheaters out of the Hall have been heeded. You got guys like Goose Gossage, who would take to a lightpost if it would simply creak in the wind as a response, with his grandiose speeches about the honor and the glory in the Hall. While I agree he is a worthy member (although not nearly as worthy as he thinks he is) I will point out to Mr Gossage that he did not exactly have a carpet rolled out for his induction himself. If there was a Hall of Fame for shooting off the mouth he would have a wing in there bigger than Cooperstown’s current shrine to the Babe. But all of a sudden this guy is the Henry Clay of Cooperstown, who knows how the bread should be buttered and who should and who should not be allowed into the club. With all the vitriol he has directed at Bonds in particular, it will be very interesting to this armchair pundit when Bonds inevitably gets his call to the Hall, and has to share a stage with the Goose. If Goose even has the fastballs to show up. He missed enough ceremonies for his honored buddies while he was eligible cause he was sitting home moping about his lack of votes, so I guess he can skip some more. But I digress. Some chucklehead called in to one of the local yak pack and pretty much excused any type of person for any sort of crime on mankind in regards to entry, saying Hall of Fame stands for Hall of FAMOUS and discounted all the glory part of the thing altogether. I would not take it this far. I am willing to listen to those who are hurling around the infamous “asterisk” to stack on a plaque, or put by the door to the Hall. Hell, precede every Hall of Fame program from now onward with a litany on the “steroid era” and admit to the aspersions cast. Name names if you wish! But again, the crux in that matter begins with no failed tests, and ends with who makes any of us Popes on the Hill? Do I think Bonds took steroids? I suppose. Who else blew up his head to Mount Rushmore size, the same guys that blow up Snoopy before the Thanksgiving parade? But again, wether you go by the “innoncent until proven guilty” side of it, or the “everyone was doing it” mantra, or even the “who the Hell cares what they did” side, it matters little to those folks. I don’t need to make a speech about the virulent racists in the Hall. The known thugs, people who were reputed to partake in chicanery ranging from the card table to the bar stool to the bordello and everywhere in between. And lets touch on cheating for a just a minute, shall we? On the grander scale we have one Mr. Whitey Ford, who explained with glee in his own book how he would “cut the ball” later in his career for an added edge. Well, is even one time too many? Or lets put this on the table with the Bonds scenario. Many will admit Bonds was on the Hall of Fame path before steroids “so obviously” came into play. Well, what, he could not add the edge but Whitey Ford could? Or is that cheating during the game does not matter, while steroids do? Says who? Goose Gossage? The Brewers beat reporter? Usually when this sort of conversation kicks up the pundits holler, “It’s the drugs! That was the real trouble!” Well, I guess greenies do not count, huh? Everyone knows greenies were a clubhouse staple when the games were in black-and-white and the “Old Perfessor” was roaming the field, tipping his cap so a bird could fly out to the applause of the crowd. Mickey Mantle was said to roll them out and down like Tic-Tacs. Players that were hung over and creeping through the clubhouse like a skeleton dragging chains would then hit the field and steal second and third, and bounce the next one of the upper deck façade. Yes, greenies did not add 20 feet to the trajectory of a clout, but did they enable someone who was in absolutely no condition to perform to go out there and, well, perform? Where is the line drawn? Don’t even get me started on Gaylord Perry. Of course I do not have all the answers. I just want in on the conversation and I like to complain about stuff. Personally this year I would have voted Bonds, Clemens, Piazza, and Jack Morris. All for different reasons. The Bleacher Creature fan in me will tell you right now that I always detested Bonds, could not stand Piazza (and his taste in metal music is too ‘hair-metal’ for me as well) and I see all the arguments against Morris going in, and I get those. At the same time I will remind you he was the pitcher of the 80s, but that is a discussion for another day. But considering these names and other worthy ones ranging from Raines to Trammell and then seeing Craig Biggio got the most votes….well, that’s just wrong. At the very least a memo needs to go out telling the writers to get off the high-horse. Yes, they are important to the process. I applaud their efforts, and they can go accept their laurel and hearty handshake on the way to bed or bar tonight. But enough with their statements and protests, wielding the ballots like a sword. If we are going to see Bonds, Clemens and Piazza have to put up with this hokum for the next 14 years, take them off the ballot now and don’t waste their time, or ours. Bottom line is this – 50 years from now people will still be talking about Bonds and Clemens. With awe, not necessarily with disdain! These are legendary figures in the game. You are delusional if you think steroid use made these men. And if it did maybe its time for baseball – and us – to get over it. I myself am for the most stringent of steroid policies they want to dredge up. When it was announced all MINOR LEAGUERS would be going through regular testing I popped a cork. I want users tested, caught, suspended, and booted if need be! I am not giving steroids a pass. But this ship has sailed. So now we have a Hall of cobwebs, and a blank sports page from from the New York Times, and a bunch of reporters patting themselves and others on the backs on a job well done, while grumps like me rail about it. Lose-lose situation. Free these men! Open the Hall! And tell Goose Gossage to shut up for once!