It’s that time of year again where crusty, old, curmudgeonly baseball writers who have seen better days (just ask them) get to decide who gets into baseball’s Hall of Fame. Objectivity, which one would think comes naturally to a journalist, is thrown out the window and petty differences – and some might say, jealousies – are what decide who gets in and who doesn’t.
I always thought this kind of subjective balloting was left behind in, say, eighth grade, but no, it is alive and well in the minds of baseball writers across America and it rears its head every year at this time, when the sophisticates that get to decide who gets in and who stays out of the Hall of Fame submit their biased ballots.
I disagree on so many levels with the writers who have no clear-cut parameters for what is “Hall-worthy” and what is not, that one column is not enough. I simply could write about this every week of the year and not exhaust my disdain for the subject.
For instance, how can a guy get almost no support his first few years on the ballot and then a dozen years later get enough votes for induction? I know this and many of my arguments have been made before, but how does someone, whose career has not changed, become a Hall of Famer after 15 years of not being a Hall of Famer? I’m not picking on Jim Rice, who was elected on his 15th and final try last week; I’m picking on the process. Or, more directly, I’m picking on the bitter sportswriters who think it’s their duty to not let players in based on personal feelings — or to just make them wait.
Not all Hall of Fame voters are of this ilk so I probably shouldn’t paint them all with a broad brush, but what I am doing has a lot less ramifications than what they are doing to former major league baseball players. Another of my peeves with the voters is their love of big, round numbers. If Roberto Clemente wouldn’t have gotten his 3,000 hit on the last day of the 1971 season and finished with 2,999 before his tragic death on New Year’s Eve of that year, would that have kept him out of the Hall? Obviously it would not have, but my point is this: if baseball writers are thought of to be higher thinkers than most other sportswriters (they’re not, but they have always wanted us to believe that) then why do they fixate on 300 wins, 3,000 hits and 500 home runs? As if winning 287 games while playing for some lousy teams, like Bert Blyleven did, isn’t better than someone of equal ability who had the fortune of playing on better teams. And what about defense? Isn’t it just as, if not more, important to prevent runs as it is driving them in? And what about singles and double hitters who steal bases, they are not given the same latitude as home run and RBI guys, yet who do these writers think the RBI guys are driving in?
As I said, I could go on forever about the subjective voting tendencies of certain Hall voters but instead let’s look at those that should be in. It’s not a secret society so enough with the fortress keeping those out who didn’t reach some magic number represented by a couple of extra zeros, and let’s start letting people in by the eyeball test. My eyeball test is simple and actually is better judged if the player was an opponent of your favorite team. When said player came up to bat or was on the mound against your hometown team, did he strike fear in your heart like, “Oh, no Reggie (Jackson) is up,” or “Oh, man, Pedro’s pitching (gulp).” (Of course, this reaction should have lasted for at least 10 years because for about six months in the early ‘80s I feared the Indians’ Joe Charboneau.)
The eyeball test can be applied to defense as well. Like when I watched the Detroit Tigers when I was a kid; if there was a ball hit between first and third with a runner on first it was almost automatically a double play because shortstop Alan Trammell and second baseman Lou Whitaker were that good together. They played all through the minors together and debuted in the major leagues on the same day. Of course defense alone will not get you into the Hall of Fame but it should be a larger determining factor. The problem is that there are no numbers to achieve on defense and as we know the voters love them some numbers.
It may sound simple and incomplete but every era is different so milestone numbers with zeros on the end shouldn’t mean a thing. If they pass the eyeball test it’s good enough for me. Let’s take a look at eligible players who should be let in:
Bert Blyleven: I don’t care if he never reached the magic 300 wins; he was a very good pitcher for many years with one of the best curveballs ever. He was not great – that word is overused – but very good, and for a long time. Enough said.
Alan Trammell: True, I grew up watching Trammell but this is not a homer pick as I was more of a Lou Whitaker fan, but the fact remains that Trammell is one of the most overlooked shortstops in the history of baseball. He played in the shadow of Cal Ripken and Ozzie Smith and matched up quite nicely against both. Ripken hit more home runs and played in a bunch of games in a row and Smith could do a back flip but other than that he didn’t come close to Trammell overall. Truthfully, Trammell could have and should have won two MVPs (1984 and 1987) to go along with his ’84 World Series MVP.
Lou Whitaker: Okay, this is a homer pick but only because he was my favorite player (along with Kirk Gibson – got a problem with that Dodger fans? I didn’t think so) not because he wasn’t good enough. When he retired he was second only to Joe Morgan in most offensive categories for second baseman and nobody until Roberto Alomar could play second base as well as “Sweet Lou.”
Tim Raines: Very similar in being overlooked like Trammell, Raines was the National League’s Rickey Henderson in the ‘80s. His admitted (and conquered) cocaine problem in the early ‘80s is probably what keeps him from getting the required support but he definitely passes my eyeball test because when he came up to the plate in the prime of his career it wasn’t, “Oh no, Raines is up,” it was “Oh s%#*, Raines is up!”
Jack Morris: Again, not a homer pick because I was never a huge fan of “The Cat” but he was a classic No. 1 pitcher attitude-wise. So his ERA was a little high, he also threw a no-hitter, could’ve won the Cy Young in ’84 (if not for teammate Willie Hernandez’s incredible season as a closer) and won the most games in a 10-year stretch. If that is not convincing enough, remember he won Game 7 of the ’91 World Series 1-0 in 10 innings. Isn’t that what it’s all about? That alone should get him in or at least be the tie-breaker in favor of his induction.
So that’s it for this year, with Mark McGwire and Andre Dawson just missing out. Would I be upset if either of them got in? No, because I would rather let someone in who is a borderline candidate rather than keep them out. I think voting someone in 50 years after they played is one of greatest injustices in baseball. Let the player enjoy his golden years knowing he is in the Hall of Fame, not twisting in the wind wondering why he wasn’t thought of as a Hall of Fame player.
