The first NFL preseason game of the year is the Hall of Fame game, which follows on the heels of the Hall of Fame inductions, is generally played with all the intensity of two mimes pretending to wrestle, and is considered a big deal only because it means "football is back" - as if football ever actually went away.
Showing posts with label Hall of Fame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hall of Fame. Show all posts
Monday, August 08, 2016
Friday, December 26, 2014
Hall Monitors
The main problem with the voting for the Baseball Hall of Fame is not the fact that the voting membership contains a significant chunk of people who don't write about baseball. It is not the fact that rampant hypocrisy about PED issues has subsumed the debate over Hall-worthiness. It is not the fact that Dan LeBatard gave his ballot to Deadspin last year (and Deadspin readers did a pretty good job with it), or that voters are only allowed to vote for 10 guys a year. It's not even the annual inanities of guys like Pedro Gomez and Dan Shaughnessy, whose self-righteous self-regard for their roles as Keepers Of The Sacred Flame Of Cooperstown (self-appointed) carries with it the unmistakable stench of bullshit.
Thursday, January 09, 2014
9 FACTS ABOUT THE 2014 HALL OF FAME VOTING THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT BELIEVE
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| BBWAA!!!! |
Greg Maddux is, by any definition of the word that does not include the phrase "anyone but Greg Maddux", a Hall of Famer. That he was going to be elected to the HoF in this, his first year of eligibility, was a foregone conclusion. That shifted the conversation to "WILL MADDUX GET IN UNANIMOUSLY?", which was ridiculous, because we all knew he wouldn't. Going in, we all knew that there would be some self-described martyr nailing himself up on the Calvary of Cooperstown who would submit a blank ballot. It happens every goddamn year, and it happens in multiples now that PEDs are in the mix. So all the shock and disbelief and geshrying over the fact that Maddux - like literally every player before him - didn't get a unanimous call is just drama llama-ing.
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Mad Dog Down
Greg Maddux will not be the first baseball player unanimously elected into the Hall of Fame.
It's not that he's not worthy, whatever that means. And for all the high-horse maundering about how if Ty Cobb didn't get voted in unanimously then ain't no one going in unanimously, that's not what's going to do it. Because even the most self-righteous of Hall of Fame voter types loves them some Maddux, with his Mickey Mouse watch and his glasses and his ne'er a whiff o' steroids and his command (which is the sort of thing baseball writers dream about having when they finally realize they'll never through 98 with movement).
It's not that he's not worthy, whatever that means. And for all the high-horse maundering about how if Ty Cobb didn't get voted in unanimously then ain't no one going in unanimously, that's not what's going to do it. Because even the most self-righteous of Hall of Fame voter types loves them some Maddux, with his Mickey Mouse watch and his glasses and his ne'er a whiff o' steroids and his command (which is the sort of thing baseball writers dream about having when they finally realize they'll never through 98 with movement).
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Hall of Fame Voters Are Kind of Dumb
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| Did not vote for Biggio or Bagwell for the Hall of Fame |
So there's nobody living going into the Baseball Hall of Fame this weekend, which is dumb. The voting process for the Hall has so thoroughly embraced the notion of "The perfect is the enemy of the good" that it's gone a step further: The voters' perfect not only is the enemy of the good, it's also dating the good's ex-girlfriend, kidnapping its dog, and leaving flaming bags of poo on the good's doorstep.
And like I said, this is dumb. The Hall of Fame induction weekend is a chance to make baseball look good. It's an opportunity to bring back memories, to invoke the warm nostalgia that is one of the game's birthrights. It's an opportunity to celebrate what is good in baseball, with attendant publicity.
Except, of course, the voters have collectively adopted the "well, actually" attitude of the Simpsons' Comic Book Guy, demanding every candidate be so good and so angelic that even playing at the same time as PED guys is enough to invoke a wave of "Not on my ballot" chest-thumping.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
The Real Hall of Fame Selection Process
The Baseball Hall of Fame is now in the last stages of accepting applications from potential interns. Early word is that none of the candidates will be accepted, so as to avoid cheapening the historical efforts of previous interns*.
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*Rumor has it that Murray Chass commented on one intern's acne. This is yet to be confirmed.
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*Rumor has it that Murray Chass commented on one intern's acne. This is yet to be confirmed.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Your Handy-Dandy Guide To the Guys Who Failed To Get Into the Hall of Fame Yesterday, Part 2
The players we examined yesterday, by and large, got votes.
The players we will examine today, by and large, did not. But, since we don't want them to feel left out, here goes:
Who: Sandy Alomar
Hall of Fame Case: Catcher for the teams of the Cleveland Renaissance. 6-time All Star, Gold Glove and Rookie of the Year winner. Brother Roberto is in the Hall, and the Hall loves brother acts (See: Waner, Lloyd)
Why He Didn’t Get In: Broke down more often than Sally Field at the Oscars. Only a handful of seasons with 400+ ABs. Spent half his career as a backup, and that’s kind of missing the point of the Hall.
Who: Julio Franco
Hall of Fame Case: Machine-like hitter who excelled in his 20s, 30s and 40s, and who probably could still hit .270 with decent pop if he thought about it. Oldest position player to do, well, everything. 5 time Silver Slugger winner. OPS+ equals Craig Biggio’s.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Didn’t hit enough home runs. Hall has a strict “no ageless death-warriors from the dawn of time” policy. Nobody’s convinced he’s not going to show up at spring training somewhere and win a job.
Who: David Wells
Hall of Fame Case: Pitched a perfect game. A better big game pitcher than Jack Morris. Won more games than Catfish Hunter or Sandy Koufax. Ate three deserving Hall of Fame candidates whole while pitching in New York.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Had an ERA over 4. Sweated all over Babe Ruth’s hat.
Who: Steve Finley
Hall of Fame Case: Star-caliber center fielder who popped over 300 home runs while playing in big parks.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played with known juicer Ken Caminiti, had suspicious late-career power surge when he’d lost bat speed and started sitting dead red every pitch. Frequently confused with Chuck Finley, earning him the ire of voters who think the last few seasons of Burn Notice have sucked asphalt through a straw.
Who: Shawn Green
Hall of Fame Case: Slugging right fielder who won a Silver Slugger and a Gold Glove. Nice Jewish boy who could totally have been something useful, like an orthodontist, instead.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was referred to as “Beavis” by his manager in Toronto. His last year as a beast was at age 29. Still has time to become an orthodontist after all.
Who: Aaron Sele
Hall of Fame Case: Former overhyped Red Sox prospect who had a nice run around the turn of the century. Once pitched in New York
Why He Didn’t Get In: Because only one idiot voted for him, thank God.
Who: Jeff Cirillo
Hall of Fame Case: High-average infielder for Brewers and Rockies. 2 time All-Star. Once hit .326 two years running.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Could only hit while playing for teams whose uniforms were purple, leaving him a lot of terrible seasons playing for Seattle, San Diego, Arizona and so forth. “Most comparable” player is Joe Randa. ‘nuff said.
Who: Jeff Conine
Hall of Fame Case: Nicknamed “Mister Marlin”. Is the most popular player in the history of the franchise, which, admittedly, ain’t saying much. Was once a national racquetball champion, and no one else in the Hall of Fame can say that. Was All-Star Game MVP one year. OK, I’m stretching.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Being the archetypal Marlin still means you spent most of your career as a Marlin, and it’s not like there’s been a hell of a lot of competition.
Who: Reggie Sanders
Hall of Fame Case: Sweet-hitting, smooth-fielding outfielder predicted to be the next Eric Davis. 300+ HR, 300+ SB. Only guy to have a 20+ HR season for 6 different teams. Set record with 10 RBI in 2005 NLDS.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Injuries put enough drag on his career that he never got the counting stats he needed. Lengthy journeyman phase obscured how good he was. Looks really goofy on his Upper Deck rookie card.
Who: Royce Clayton
Hall of Fame Case: Highly touted Giants prospect who hung around for a long time. 71st all time in strikeouts. If you’re not a pitcher, this is bad.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played until he was 37 and never had a league-average season with the bat.
Who: Roberto Hernandez
Hall of Fame Case: Possibly the archetypal ‘90s reliever - racked up a bunch of saves for one team, then bounced around for a decade afterwards. Had an ERA of 0.00 in the playoffs at age 41. Saved more games than Joe Table, which is why he’s higher on the list.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Spent three years in Tampa rocking the van art-quality Devil Rays uniforms. Was rarely good enough for anyone to want to keep him around for more than a season or two. Not even interesting enough to make fun of.
Who: Ryan Klesko
Hall of Fame Case: Ginormous masher for some pretty good Atlanta Braves teams. Didn’t immediately lose all his power when he went to San Diego. Stole a bunch of bases. Better than you remember.
Why He Didn’t Get In: “Better than you remember” still doesn’t necessarily add up to “pretty good”.
Who: Todd Walker
Hall of Fame Case: Superb college ballplayer at LSU. Occasionally mistaken for Larry Walker by voters who haven’t actually covered baseball since Michael Dukakis had a bright future ahead of him.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Very few people actually confused him with Larry Walker
Who: Rondell White
Hall of Fame Case: Power-and-speed outfielder for the Expos in the Tim Raines mold.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Had some power and some speed, but not a lot of either. “In the mold” is a nice way of saying “not as good as”.
Who: Jose Mesa
Hall of Fame Case: 321 saves and a 2nd-place finish in the Cy Young voting one year. Kept showing up as the closer for contending teams. Had a beard that would kill a man in Reno just to watch him die. Official nickname was “Joe Table”, which was awesome. Unofficial nickname was supposedly “Wild Turkey”, after his beverage of choice, which is also awesome, but in a different way. Had legendary beef with slick-fielding hobbit Omar Vizquel.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Once, while I was watching a Phillies game, the ninth inning rolled around and Mesa marched out of the bullpen. My wife, who was watching the game with me and who knew almost nothing of baseball at the time, looked at the television in horror. “Is that Joe Table? Why are they sending in Joe Table? What did the other pitcher do wrong?”
I think that sums things up nicely.
Who: Woody Williams
Hall of Fame Case: The Toy Story movies were awesome.
Why He Didn’t Get In: That’s not pitching, it’s throwing with attitude. And not very hard.
Who: Mike Stanton
Hall of Fame Case: Saved 27 games in 1993, then stuck around for another decade and a half. Played for the Yankees, Red Sox and Braves, nailing the trifecta of Most Hated Teams with rare panache.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Giancarlo-who-used-to-be-Mike, maybe. Mike, no.
The players we will examine today, by and large, did not. But, since we don't want them to feel left out, here goes:
Who: Sandy Alomar
Hall of Fame Case: Catcher for the teams of the Cleveland Renaissance. 6-time All Star, Gold Glove and Rookie of the Year winner. Brother Roberto is in the Hall, and the Hall loves brother acts (See: Waner, Lloyd)
Why He Didn’t Get In: Broke down more often than Sally Field at the Oscars. Only a handful of seasons with 400+ ABs. Spent half his career as a backup, and that’s kind of missing the point of the Hall.
Hall of Fame Case: Machine-like hitter who excelled in his 20s, 30s and 40s, and who probably could still hit .270 with decent pop if he thought about it. Oldest position player to do, well, everything. 5 time Silver Slugger winner. OPS+ equals Craig Biggio’s.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Didn’t hit enough home runs. Hall has a strict “no ageless death-warriors from the dawn of time” policy. Nobody’s convinced he’s not going to show up at spring training somewhere and win a job.
Hall of Fame Case: Pitched a perfect game. A better big game pitcher than Jack Morris. Won more games than Catfish Hunter or Sandy Koufax. Ate three deserving Hall of Fame candidates whole while pitching in New York.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Had an ERA over 4. Sweated all over Babe Ruth’s hat.
Hall of Fame Case: Star-caliber center fielder who popped over 300 home runs while playing in big parks.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played with known juicer Ken Caminiti, had suspicious late-career power surge when he’d lost bat speed and started sitting dead red every pitch. Frequently confused with Chuck Finley, earning him the ire of voters who think the last few seasons of Burn Notice have sucked asphalt through a straw.
Hall of Fame Case: Slugging right fielder who won a Silver Slugger and a Gold Glove. Nice Jewish boy who could totally have been something useful, like an orthodontist, instead.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was referred to as “Beavis” by his manager in Toronto. His last year as a beast was at age 29. Still has time to become an orthodontist after all.
Hall of Fame Case: Former overhyped Red Sox prospect who had a nice run around the turn of the century. Once pitched in New York
Why He Didn’t Get In: Because only one idiot voted for him, thank God.
Hall of Fame Case: High-average infielder for Brewers and Rockies. 2 time All-Star. Once hit .326 two years running.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Could only hit while playing for teams whose uniforms were purple, leaving him a lot of terrible seasons playing for Seattle, San Diego, Arizona and so forth. “Most comparable” player is Joe Randa. ‘nuff said.
Hall of Fame Case: Nicknamed “Mister Marlin”. Is the most popular player in the history of the franchise, which, admittedly, ain’t saying much. Was once a national racquetball champion, and no one else in the Hall of Fame can say that. Was All-Star Game MVP one year. OK, I’m stretching.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Being the archetypal Marlin still means you spent most of your career as a Marlin, and it’s not like there’s been a hell of a lot of competition.
Hall of Fame Case: Sweet-hitting, smooth-fielding outfielder predicted to be the next Eric Davis. 300+ HR, 300+ SB. Only guy to have a 20+ HR season for 6 different teams. Set record with 10 RBI in 2005 NLDS.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Injuries put enough drag on his career that he never got the counting stats he needed. Lengthy journeyman phase obscured how good he was. Looks really goofy on his Upper Deck rookie card.
Hall of Fame Case: Highly touted Giants prospect who hung around for a long time. 71st all time in strikeouts. If you’re not a pitcher, this is bad.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played until he was 37 and never had a league-average season with the bat.
Hall of Fame Case: Possibly the archetypal ‘90s reliever - racked up a bunch of saves for one team, then bounced around for a decade afterwards. Had an ERA of 0.00 in the playoffs at age 41. Saved more games than Joe Table, which is why he’s higher on the list.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Spent three years in Tampa rocking the van art-quality Devil Rays uniforms. Was rarely good enough for anyone to want to keep him around for more than a season or two. Not even interesting enough to make fun of.
Hall of Fame Case: Ginormous masher for some pretty good Atlanta Braves teams. Didn’t immediately lose all his power when he went to San Diego. Stole a bunch of bases. Better than you remember.
Why He Didn’t Get In: “Better than you remember” still doesn’t necessarily add up to “pretty good”.
Hall of Fame Case: Superb college ballplayer at LSU. Occasionally mistaken for Larry Walker by voters who haven’t actually covered baseball since Michael Dukakis had a bright future ahead of him.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Very few people actually confused him with Larry Walker
Hall of Fame Case: Power-and-speed outfielder for the Expos in the Tim Raines mold.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Had some power and some speed, but not a lot of either. “In the mold” is a nice way of saying “not as good as”.
Hall of Fame Case: 321 saves and a 2nd-place finish in the Cy Young voting one year. Kept showing up as the closer for contending teams. Had a beard that would kill a man in Reno just to watch him die. Official nickname was “Joe Table”, which was awesome. Unofficial nickname was supposedly “Wild Turkey”, after his beverage of choice, which is also awesome, but in a different way. Had legendary beef with slick-fielding hobbit Omar Vizquel.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Once, while I was watching a Phillies game, the ninth inning rolled around and Mesa marched out of the bullpen. My wife, who was watching the game with me and who knew almost nothing of baseball at the time, looked at the television in horror. “Is that Joe Table? Why are they sending in Joe Table? What did the other pitcher do wrong?”
I think that sums things up nicely.
Hall of Fame Case: The Toy Story movies were awesome.
Why He Didn’t Get In: That’s not pitching, it’s throwing with attitude. And not very hard.
Hall of Fame Case: Saved 27 games in 1993, then stuck around for another decade and a half. Played for the Yankees, Red Sox and Braves, nailing the trifecta of Most Hated Teams with rare panache.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Giancarlo-who-used-to-be-Mike, maybe. Mike, no.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Your Handy-Dandy Guide To The Guys Who Didn't Get Elected to the Hall of Fame
As you no doubt know by now, the BBWAA successfully defended the Baseball Hall of Fame from the peril of possibly having to induct someone this year, and turned away the most star-studded class of candidates since the first one without allowing a single one to gain entry. As such, we here at Sportsthodoxy feel it is our duty to explain why each and every one of these bounders, cads and miscreants (or at least the top 20 votegetters) were denied entry. To wit:
Who: Craig Biggio
Hall of Fame Case: 3000 hits, rated one of the best 2Bs of all time by Bill James, excellent slash numbers, longevity and excellence at 3 key defensive positions, first ballplayer to wear full plate mail borrowed from Medieval Times in the batter’s box
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played with known steroid user Ken Caminiti early in his career and known steroid users Andy Pettite and Roger Clemens late in his career, when they could have shot his ass full of Captain America’s Super-Soldier Serum and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Had a really disgusting hat.
Who: Jack Morris
Hall of Fame Case: Most wins of any pitcher during the 1980s, one spectacular playoff start, extended streak of Opening Day starts largely built on incriminating pictures he had of his managers, the visceral loathing for his candidacy felt by baseball statheads which encourages the old-time contingent to talk him up just to put a dull stick in the nerds’ collective eye.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Wasn’t actually that good. A small but significant portion of the HoF voters can do math.
Who: Jeff Bagwell
Hall of Fame Case: 449 home runs, largely compiled while playing in a home park slightly larger than Yosemite. Career OBP over .400. Career OPS+ of 149. Largest forearms of any human being since Ted Kluszewksi.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Suspected of steroid use by sportswriters whose steroid-detecting supervision could possibly be put to better use replacing backscatter devices at airports around the country. Played with known juicer Ken Caminiti and had enormous forearms. Had the ugliest beard in baseball history, sort of a Gimli-by-way-of-Scott-Ian-from-Anthrax thing going.
Who: Mike Piazza
Hall of Fame Case: Greatest offensive catcher of all time, bar none. Best 62nd round draft pick of all time, bar none. Better at defense than people remember, escaped playing for the Marlins after only 18 ABs
Why He Didn’t Get In: Lingering suspicion of PED use, fueled largely by Larry David soundalike Murray Chass’ disturbing fascination with Piazza’s back acne. Enduring hatred of the blonde dye job he sported temporarily that made him look like Bill Pullman in Ruthless People.
Who: Tim Raines
Hall of Fame Case: Second greatest leadoff man of all time. 4 year stretch when he was the best player in baseball. 808 SBs, nearly 1000 RBIs as a leadoff guy, power, speed, defense. You name it.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Stubbornly continues to not be Ricky Henderson.
Who: Lee Smith
Hall of Fame Case: At one point, the all time leader in saves. Very, very large human being.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Nobody knows how to evaluate relievers. Is no longer career leader in saves. Has tested positive for non-dairy whipped topping on numerous occasions.
Who: Curt Schilling
Hall of Fame Case: One of the best big-game pitchers of all time. Multiple 300+ strikeout seasons. The bloody sock.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Counting numbers aren’t that big, largely because he spent the first few years of his career with his head so far up his ass he couldn’t see the plate. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he dunked his lower jaw in concrete. Simultaneously borked his game company employees and the state of Rhode Island. Has a reputation as a L00t Ninja in World of Warcraft.
Who: Roger Clemens
Hall of Fame Case: 7 Cy Young Awards. An AL MVP as a pitcher. 3rd all time in ERA. 9th all time in wins. Come on, you know who this guy is.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Let a guy who’d be played by Steve Buscemi in the movie of his life jam PEDs into his and his wife’s butts. Threw a bat at Mike Piazza, not because he was roid raged out, but because he thought it looked like the ball. Gimmick-named his kids. Was a bigger diva than Brett Favre over the back half of his career. Had a head that looked like it fell off a mountain in New Hampshire.
Who: Barry Bonds
Hall of Fame Case: All time career HR champ. All time single season HR champ. Had a Hall of Fame career in Pittsburgh, then went to San Francisco and played the NL like he was Bo Jackson and it was Tecmo Bowl.
Why He Didn’t Get In: After years of HGH treatments, became the first chibi drawing to play Major League Baseball. Came across as such a titanic douchenozzle that he made Jeff Kent seem sympathetic. Target for crusty sportswriters eager to defend Hank Aaron’s honor while they conveniently forget they slagged Aaron to defend Babe Ruth’s honor. Did I mention his gigantic melon?
Who: Edgar Martinez
Hall of Fame Case: Best pure DH of all time. Insane rate stats, including a career OPS+ of 147.
Why He Didn’t Get In: You read the letters “DH” up there, right? Didn’t get started in the majors until age 27 because Mariners management was enamored of the Minnie Minoso career path. Was not permitted to play defense for fear that his knee ligaments would explode out of his body and kill spectators sitting by the third base dugout.
Who: Alan Trammell
Hall of Fame Case: One of the best shortstops of all time.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Got jobbed out of an MVP by George Bell in 1987. Wasn’t Barry Larkin or Cal Ripken, Jr. In voters minds’, joined at the hip to Lou Whitaker, who got bounced off the ballot faster than MLB makes new promotional caps.
Who: Larry Walker
Hall of Fame Case: Monstrously productive RF with speed, power and a cannon arm. OPS+ of 141. 5 time All-Star, 1-time MVP, 3 time Batting Average champ. Liked to give baseballs to small children.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Short career, frequently injured. Once ran into known steroid user Ken Caminiti in a bar and they exchanged manscaping tips. Played in Colorado back when the Rockies home field was Moon Base Alpha, and had home-road splits like Napoleon invading Russia. Was fond of giving baseballs to small children when there weren’t 3 outs yet.
Who: Fred McGriff
Hall of Fame Case: 493 home runs while staying indisputably clean. Frighteningly consistent, impeccable reputation for being a good teammate. Did those Tom Emanski instructional videos, the baseball equivalent of a Carvel “Fudgie the Whale” ad.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Didn’t rack up the counting numbers of the guys who were theoretically juicing and thus is theoretically not worthy. Yes, the logic makes my head hurt, too.
Who: Dale Murphy
Hall of Fame Case: Multiple MVPs while playing center field. 7 time All Star, 5 time Gold Glover, Clemente Award winner. So clean he squeaked while he took batting practice. One of the 3 best players in the NL from 1980-1987. Could apparently eat everything in a restaurant except the rotating display cases and never gain a pound.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Forgot how to hit the way the Mel Brooks character in The Muppet Movie forgot how to say anything except “Ribbit”, once 1988 rolled around. Counting numbers aren’t up to the theoretically inflated standards of the steroid guys. Last few seasons were so bad, he was once traded for Jim Vatcher. Shared a rookie card with Bo Diaz.
Who: Mark McGwire
Hall of Fame Case: Hit a lot of very long home runs. Broke Roger Maris’ single season HR record. Helped, with Sammy Sosa, rescue baseball from the post-strike doldrums by hitting a lot of very long home runs. Most prolific HR hitter in history, based on ABs/HR. Did I mention the home runs.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was outed as a PED user by Jose Canseco, who was presumably jealous that McGwire was hanging out with the cool kids in St. Louis while Jose was bouncing fly balls off his head in the Atlantic League. Batting averages at the end of his career were miserable; after 1990 had very little idea what to do with the leather thing on the end of his hand when he wasn’t batting. I did mention the steroids, yes?
Who: Don Mattingly
Hall of Fame Case: Was really good for a couple of years. Played for the Yankees. That’s about all I’ve got.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was only good for a couple of years. After a back injury, lost his power faster than the Tunisian government. Neither counting nor rate stats add up. Titanic porn ‘stache frightens some voters.
Who: Sammy Sosa
Hall of Fame Case: Only man with 3 60+ HR seasons. Over 600 HR. With Mark McGwire, helped rescue baseball from the post-strike doldrums by hitting a lot of very long home runs. Best reaction to having his corked bat explode since Graig Nettles. Refused to pee on command for noted journalistic wombat Rick Reilly, making him a hero to millions.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Steroids. Was perceived as a mediocre player who only got good because of the drugs, which completely ignores his early career, but, what the hell. Viewed as a clubhouse cancer late in his career, and sharp drop-off in productivity retroactively tainted his earlier work. Came in a close second to Bonds in the gigantic melon sweepstakes. Pioneered the concept of Manny being Manny before Manny did.
Who: Rafael Palmiero
Hall of Fame Case: 500 HR, 3000 hits
Why He Didn’t Get In: Got nailed for steroids after testifying to Congress that he didn’t use steroids, never mind tantalizing hints dropped by John Perotta that he was actually set up. Won the most ridiculous Gold Glove ever for a year when he hardly ever played the field. Did Viagra ads instead of Tom Emanski videos.
Who: Bernie Williams
Hall of Fame Case: Was a very good centerfielder on a Yankee team that won a lot of games. Was a Yankee. Played his home games in the Bronx. Etc.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Cratered in his age 34 season and refused to fade away gracefully. Counting stats aren’t quite there. Plays jazz guitar, and everyone hates jazz guitar.
Who: Kenny Lofton
Hall of Fame Case: 6 time All Star, 4 time Gold Glove winner. Was the mainstay of my fantasy baseball team for several years.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was a basketball player in college, so didn’t really get started in the bigs until he was 25. Was never perceived as the best player on his team. May have been confused with Willie “Mays” Hayes from the movie Major League during his years in Cleveland.
Who: Craig Biggio
Hall of Fame Case: 3000 hits, rated one of the best 2Bs of all time by Bill James, excellent slash numbers, longevity and excellence at 3 key defensive positions, first ballplayer to wear full plate mail borrowed from Medieval Times in the batter’s box
Why He Didn’t Get In: Played with known steroid user Ken Caminiti early in his career and known steroid users Andy Pettite and Roger Clemens late in his career, when they could have shot his ass full of Captain America’s Super-Soldier Serum and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Had a really disgusting hat.
Hall of Fame Case: Most wins of any pitcher during the 1980s, one spectacular playoff start, extended streak of Opening Day starts largely built on incriminating pictures he had of his managers, the visceral loathing for his candidacy felt by baseball statheads which encourages the old-time contingent to talk him up just to put a dull stick in the nerds’ collective eye.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Wasn’t actually that good. A small but significant portion of the HoF voters can do math.
Hall of Fame Case: 449 home runs, largely compiled while playing in a home park slightly larger than Yosemite. Career OBP over .400. Career OPS+ of 149. Largest forearms of any human being since Ted Kluszewksi.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Suspected of steroid use by sportswriters whose steroid-detecting supervision could possibly be put to better use replacing backscatter devices at airports around the country. Played with known juicer Ken Caminiti and had enormous forearms. Had the ugliest beard in baseball history, sort of a Gimli-by-way-of-Scott-Ian-from-Anthrax thing going.
Hall of Fame Case: Greatest offensive catcher of all time, bar none. Best 62nd round draft pick of all time, bar none. Better at defense than people remember, escaped playing for the Marlins after only 18 ABs
Why He Didn’t Get In: Lingering suspicion of PED use, fueled largely by Larry David soundalike Murray Chass’ disturbing fascination with Piazza’s back acne. Enduring hatred of the blonde dye job he sported temporarily that made him look like Bill Pullman in Ruthless People.
Hall of Fame Case: Second greatest leadoff man of all time. 4 year stretch when he was the best player in baseball. 808 SBs, nearly 1000 RBIs as a leadoff guy, power, speed, defense. You name it.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Stubbornly continues to not be Ricky Henderson.
Hall of Fame Case: At one point, the all time leader in saves. Very, very large human being.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Nobody knows how to evaluate relievers. Is no longer career leader in saves. Has tested positive for non-dairy whipped topping on numerous occasions.
Hall of Fame Case: One of the best big-game pitchers of all time. Multiple 300+ strikeout seasons. The bloody sock.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Counting numbers aren’t that big, largely because he spent the first few years of his career with his head so far up his ass he couldn’t see the plate. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he dunked his lower jaw in concrete. Simultaneously borked his game company employees and the state of Rhode Island. Has a reputation as a L00t Ninja in World of Warcraft.
Hall of Fame Case: 7 Cy Young Awards. An AL MVP as a pitcher. 3rd all time in ERA. 9th all time in wins. Come on, you know who this guy is.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Let a guy who’d be played by Steve Buscemi in the movie of his life jam PEDs into his and his wife’s butts. Threw a bat at Mike Piazza, not because he was roid raged out, but because he thought it looked like the ball. Gimmick-named his kids. Was a bigger diva than Brett Favre over the back half of his career. Had a head that looked like it fell off a mountain in New Hampshire.
Hall of Fame Case: All time career HR champ. All time single season HR champ. Had a Hall of Fame career in Pittsburgh, then went to San Francisco and played the NL like he was Bo Jackson and it was Tecmo Bowl.
Why He Didn’t Get In: After years of HGH treatments, became the first chibi drawing to play Major League Baseball. Came across as such a titanic douchenozzle that he made Jeff Kent seem sympathetic. Target for crusty sportswriters eager to defend Hank Aaron’s honor while they conveniently forget they slagged Aaron to defend Babe Ruth’s honor. Did I mention his gigantic melon?
Hall of Fame Case: Best pure DH of all time. Insane rate stats, including a career OPS+ of 147.
Why He Didn’t Get In: You read the letters “DH” up there, right? Didn’t get started in the majors until age 27 because Mariners management was enamored of the Minnie Minoso career path. Was not permitted to play defense for fear that his knee ligaments would explode out of his body and kill spectators sitting by the third base dugout.
Hall of Fame Case: One of the best shortstops of all time.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Got jobbed out of an MVP by George Bell in 1987. Wasn’t Barry Larkin or Cal Ripken, Jr. In voters minds’, joined at the hip to Lou Whitaker, who got bounced off the ballot faster than MLB makes new promotional caps.
Hall of Fame Case: Monstrously productive RF with speed, power and a cannon arm. OPS+ of 141. 5 time All-Star, 1-time MVP, 3 time Batting Average champ. Liked to give baseballs to small children.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Short career, frequently injured. Once ran into known steroid user Ken Caminiti in a bar and they exchanged manscaping tips. Played in Colorado back when the Rockies home field was Moon Base Alpha, and had home-road splits like Napoleon invading Russia. Was fond of giving baseballs to small children when there weren’t 3 outs yet.
Hall of Fame Case: 493 home runs while staying indisputably clean. Frighteningly consistent, impeccable reputation for being a good teammate. Did those Tom Emanski instructional videos, the baseball equivalent of a Carvel “Fudgie the Whale” ad.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Didn’t rack up the counting numbers of the guys who were theoretically juicing and thus is theoretically not worthy. Yes, the logic makes my head hurt, too.
Hall of Fame Case: Multiple MVPs while playing center field. 7 time All Star, 5 time Gold Glover, Clemente Award winner. So clean he squeaked while he took batting practice. One of the 3 best players in the NL from 1980-1987. Could apparently eat everything in a restaurant except the rotating display cases and never gain a pound.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Forgot how to hit the way the Mel Brooks character in The Muppet Movie forgot how to say anything except “Ribbit”, once 1988 rolled around. Counting numbers aren’t up to the theoretically inflated standards of the steroid guys. Last few seasons were so bad, he was once traded for Jim Vatcher. Shared a rookie card with Bo Diaz.
Hall of Fame Case: Hit a lot of very long home runs. Broke Roger Maris’ single season HR record. Helped, with Sammy Sosa, rescue baseball from the post-strike doldrums by hitting a lot of very long home runs. Most prolific HR hitter in history, based on ABs/HR. Did I mention the home runs.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was outed as a PED user by Jose Canseco, who was presumably jealous that McGwire was hanging out with the cool kids in St. Louis while Jose was bouncing fly balls off his head in the Atlantic League. Batting averages at the end of his career were miserable; after 1990 had very little idea what to do with the leather thing on the end of his hand when he wasn’t batting. I did mention the steroids, yes?
Hall of Fame Case: Was really good for a couple of years. Played for the Yankees. That’s about all I’ve got.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was only good for a couple of years. After a back injury, lost his power faster than the Tunisian government. Neither counting nor rate stats add up. Titanic porn ‘stache frightens some voters.
Hall of Fame Case: Only man with 3 60+ HR seasons. Over 600 HR. With Mark McGwire, helped rescue baseball from the post-strike doldrums by hitting a lot of very long home runs. Best reaction to having his corked bat explode since Graig Nettles. Refused to pee on command for noted journalistic wombat Rick Reilly, making him a hero to millions.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Steroids. Was perceived as a mediocre player who only got good because of the drugs, which completely ignores his early career, but, what the hell. Viewed as a clubhouse cancer late in his career, and sharp drop-off in productivity retroactively tainted his earlier work. Came in a close second to Bonds in the gigantic melon sweepstakes. Pioneered the concept of Manny being Manny before Manny did.
Hall of Fame Case: 500 HR, 3000 hits
Why He Didn’t Get In: Got nailed for steroids after testifying to Congress that he didn’t use steroids, never mind tantalizing hints dropped by John Perotta that he was actually set up. Won the most ridiculous Gold Glove ever for a year when he hardly ever played the field. Did Viagra ads instead of Tom Emanski videos.
Hall of Fame Case: Was a very good centerfielder on a Yankee team that won a lot of games. Was a Yankee. Played his home games in the Bronx. Etc.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Cratered in his age 34 season and refused to fade away gracefully. Counting stats aren’t quite there. Plays jazz guitar, and everyone hates jazz guitar.
Hall of Fame Case: 6 time All Star, 4 time Gold Glove winner. Was the mainstay of my fantasy baseball team for several years.
Why He Didn’t Get In: Was a basketball player in college, so didn’t really get started in the bigs until he was 25. Was never perceived as the best player on his team. May have been confused with Willie “Mays” Hayes from the movie Major League during his years in Cleveland.
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
A Modest Proposal, Baseball HoF Edition
Currently, a player needs to have been retired for five (5) years to be eligible for induction into the Hall of Fame.
Many, many voters, having somehow not had sufficient time during those five (5) years between the last pitch and the ballot to determine whether a player was great or not, have publicly stated that they "need another year" to determine someone's worthiness, or want to "wait a year" to figure out their vote or "don't think anyone should ever go in on the first ballot".
Therefore, I propose that eligibility be shifted back to six (6) years after retirement. That will give those writers who are unable to make up their minds about someone's career in five (5) years that extra one (1) year they so clearly need. And, since no one will ever be going in after a mere five (5) years of retirement, no future inductees will stand a chance of outdoing the Hall of Fame voting feats of the various greats already enshrined there, thus rendering happy those voters who could not stand to see modern players get in five (5) years with possibly more votes than players of old.
Also, as numerous players (c.f. Morris, Jack) appear to have gotten significantly greater at playing baseball since they retired and stopped playing baseball, pushing the vote back one (1) year will allow them to acquire even more greatness than if they were being voted on after a mere five (5) years. With that in mind, one might even consider pushing the first ballot back to ten (10) years, or, in a more extreme version of the proposal, until the player has gone on to their final reward, thus ensuring that in their posthumous state, they have achieved maximum greatness and can no longer accrue greater levels of being great, being a winner, pitching to the score, or being feared (with the standard caveat that should the zombie apocalypse occur, the last value is subject to change).
This we, the staff of Sportstodoxy, humbly submit for your consideration.
Many, many voters, having somehow not had sufficient time during those five (5) years between the last pitch and the ballot to determine whether a player was great or not, have publicly stated that they "need another year" to determine someone's worthiness, or want to "wait a year" to figure out their vote or "don't think anyone should ever go in on the first ballot".
Therefore, I propose that eligibility be shifted back to six (6) years after retirement. That will give those writers who are unable to make up their minds about someone's career in five (5) years that extra one (1) year they so clearly need. And, since no one will ever be going in after a mere five (5) years of retirement, no future inductees will stand a chance of outdoing the Hall of Fame voting feats of the various greats already enshrined there, thus rendering happy those voters who could not stand to see modern players get in five (5) years with possibly more votes than players of old.
Also, as numerous players (c.f. Morris, Jack) appear to have gotten significantly greater at playing baseball since they retired and stopped playing baseball, pushing the vote back one (1) year will allow them to acquire even more greatness than if they were being voted on after a mere five (5) years. With that in mind, one might even consider pushing the first ballot back to ten (10) years, or, in a more extreme version of the proposal, until the player has gone on to their final reward, thus ensuring that in their posthumous state, they have achieved maximum greatness and can no longer accrue greater levels of being great, being a winner, pitching to the score, or being feared (with the standard caveat that should the zombie apocalypse occur, the last value is subject to change).
This we, the staff of Sportstodoxy, humbly submit for your consideration.
Friday, January 04, 2013
Things I Think About Baseball Hall of Fame Voting
If you are a sportswriter and you are suffering a deep existential moral crisis over whether to vote for Mike Piazza because Murray Chass claims he had zits on his back, you need to take a deep breath, step back, and turn on the news - the real news - for about fifteen minutes. After you watch reports of the fighting in Syria, the drug war enveloping Mexico, the increasingly gloomy news about what exactly elevated CO2 levels are doing to our planet, and the fact that somebody thinks that Allen West is a worthwhile spokesman for any point of view other than "batshit insane", then ponder the agonies you have put yourself through over Piazza's back zits.
If, at that point, you still feel you must stretch yourself on Procrustes' column inches to declare the horrors of voting for the Hall of Fame, give it up. Voting for the Hall is a privilege and an honor, and most important of all, it's supposed to be a positive thing. It's a chance to honor players you thought were great and celebrate their achievements. Enjoy that. Have fun with it. Revel in your good memories of Jeff Bagwell or Eric Davis or whoever. But for pity's sake, don't turn every ballot into a road show production of Antigone.
Because that takes the fun out of the Hall of Fame, and it makes you look like a self-important ass. And neither of those is what the fans want to see.
***
What's largely missing from the ongoing Hall debates is joy - joy in the fact that the verb attached to baseball is "play", that what we're hopefully celebrating in Cooperstown is a body of work of play that we as fans, regardless of whether we view RBIs as esoteric numerical magic or think Nate Silver is OK as a starter statistician, cherish. Are there guys in the Hall whose body of work, I think, doesn't merit them being in there? Absolutely. Jim Rice? Loved getting the guy's baseball cards when I was a kid, but Dale Murphy was better and he ain't in there. But then again, undeserving guys have been getting in for ages - there's one too many Waners in there - and the world hasn't ended, and baseball hasn't exploded like the Death Star, and the game has gone on. Jim Rice getting elected to the Hall of Fame has absolutely zero effect on my enjoyment of watching David Price. All it means is that there's one more plaque I won't linger over too long if I ever make it to Cooperstown.
***
The debate over steroids - who used them, who didn't, who might have used them - is, I think, laughably misplaced. Yes, steroids and HGH and other stuff got used. And it got used by everyone. Stars, LOOGYs, guys fighting to hang onto the 25th spot on a roster and guys signing seven-year contracts. Yes, guys putting up fat numbers might have used, but so did the guys they were playing against, from the cleanup hitters to the mop-up men. Read the Mitchell Report names. Nobody ever "feared"Adam Riggs coming to the plate. If you're going to penalize these guys for being enhanced, then give them credit for pitching and hitting and fielding against guys who were similarly enhanced. Don't save the moralizing for the guys who were bad interviews, recognize the context and move on.
***
My entirely made up HOF ballot looks like this:
Bagwell
Raines
Bonds
Clemens
Piazza
Trammell
McGwire
Sosa
Biggio
Trammell
Ask me tomorrow and I'd maybe swap out Sosa for Walker. Or Palmiero. Or McGriff. Or, in a moment of weakness, Dale Murphy. But I'd rather celebrate just about anyone on the ballot and the pleasure I got watching them than mean-spiritedly abuse the percentages, turn in a blank ballot, and keep everyone out rather than risk someone I didn't like getting in.
If, at that point, you still feel you must stretch yourself on Procrustes' column inches to declare the horrors of voting for the Hall of Fame, give it up. Voting for the Hall is a privilege and an honor, and most important of all, it's supposed to be a positive thing. It's a chance to honor players you thought were great and celebrate their achievements. Enjoy that. Have fun with it. Revel in your good memories of Jeff Bagwell or Eric Davis or whoever. But for pity's sake, don't turn every ballot into a road show production of Antigone.
Because that takes the fun out of the Hall of Fame, and it makes you look like a self-important ass. And neither of those is what the fans want to see.
***
What's largely missing from the ongoing Hall debates is joy - joy in the fact that the verb attached to baseball is "play", that what we're hopefully celebrating in Cooperstown is a body of work of play that we as fans, regardless of whether we view RBIs as esoteric numerical magic or think Nate Silver is OK as a starter statistician, cherish. Are there guys in the Hall whose body of work, I think, doesn't merit them being in there? Absolutely. Jim Rice? Loved getting the guy's baseball cards when I was a kid, but Dale Murphy was better and he ain't in there. But then again, undeserving guys have been getting in for ages - there's one too many Waners in there - and the world hasn't ended, and baseball hasn't exploded like the Death Star, and the game has gone on. Jim Rice getting elected to the Hall of Fame has absolutely zero effect on my enjoyment of watching David Price. All it means is that there's one more plaque I won't linger over too long if I ever make it to Cooperstown.
***
The debate over steroids - who used them, who didn't, who might have used them - is, I think, laughably misplaced. Yes, steroids and HGH and other stuff got used. And it got used by everyone. Stars, LOOGYs, guys fighting to hang onto the 25th spot on a roster and guys signing seven-year contracts. Yes, guys putting up fat numbers might have used, but so did the guys they were playing against, from the cleanup hitters to the mop-up men. Read the Mitchell Report names. Nobody ever "feared"Adam Riggs coming to the plate. If you're going to penalize these guys for being enhanced, then give them credit for pitching and hitting and fielding against guys who were similarly enhanced. Don't save the moralizing for the guys who were bad interviews, recognize the context and move on.
***
My entirely made up HOF ballot looks like this:
Bagwell
Raines
Bonds
Clemens
Piazza
Trammell
McGwire
Sosa
Biggio
Trammell
Ask me tomorrow and I'd maybe swap out Sosa for Walker. Or Palmiero. Or McGriff. Or, in a moment of weakness, Dale Murphy. But I'd rather celebrate just about anyone on the ballot and the pleasure I got watching them than mean-spiritedly abuse the percentages, turn in a blank ballot, and keep everyone out rather than risk someone I didn't like getting in.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Clemens Found To Have Been Friends With Unbelievable Asshole
So here's what I think happened:
Rusty Hardin (Wesleyan '65) took a look at the case. He realized that his client was an unlikable bully who couldn't keep his yap shut, operating in a climate that was disinclined to be sympathetic to those accused of using steroids. He saw that the prosecution had handled its prosecution of Barry Bonds with all the delicacy of Paula Deen taking a frozen ham to the side of her head. He saw that the government's case, regardless of whether or not his client had in fact jammed his ass full of enough monkey hormones to make him climb the Empire State Building clutching Naomi Watts in one meaty paw, rested on the testimony of a dyed-in-the-wool scumbag. And he did a little math - they do teach math at Wesleyan, when no one is looking - and did a rough estimate of how long this case could run, and how many billable hours he could get out of it.
Then, in my imagination, Rusty Hardin did his best maniacal laugh, twirled his imaginary mustachios, and tied an innocent woman to a set of disused railroad tracks. Because that's what Republic Serial Villains, like Rusty Hardin, do.
To be fair, nobody really expected Clemens to be found guilty, not when the government's entire case rested on Brian McNamee, and the public remained convinced Clemens was on trial for using steroids. (He wasn't. He was on trial for perjury, which is kind of serious, and the sort of thing you'd hope they'd actually prosecute, otherwise that whole "trial by jury" thing goes out the window. But I digress.) But Clemens had already had his name dragged through the mud, the public was sick of it, and it became fashionable to bitch about what a waste of time and money the whole thing was.
The real test, of course, will come when it's Clemens' turn on the Hall of Fame ballot. Remember, he wasn't found not guilty of using steroids. He was found not guilty of committing perjury. And the gatekeepers of the Hall of Fame tend to frown upon steroid users and suspected steroid users, even ones who never failed a test or were mentioned in the Mitchell Report or got put on trial for perjury.
There's a hell of a lot more evidence to suggest Clemens did PEDs than there is against Jeff Bagwell. If Clemens gets in - if Clemens gets close - while Bagwell and McGwire and Sosa are locked out, then all hell will break loose.
Then again, maybe it won't. Maybe the weary acceptance of Clemens' greatness will open the door for those other guys.
And if it doesn't, I'm sure Rusty Hardin would be happy to advocate on their behalf.
Rusty Hardin (Wesleyan '65) took a look at the case. He realized that his client was an unlikable bully who couldn't keep his yap shut, operating in a climate that was disinclined to be sympathetic to those accused of using steroids. He saw that the prosecution had handled its prosecution of Barry Bonds with all the delicacy of Paula Deen taking a frozen ham to the side of her head. He saw that the government's case, regardless of whether or not his client had in fact jammed his ass full of enough monkey hormones to make him climb the Empire State Building clutching Naomi Watts in one meaty paw, rested on the testimony of a dyed-in-the-wool scumbag. And he did a little math - they do teach math at Wesleyan, when no one is looking - and did a rough estimate of how long this case could run, and how many billable hours he could get out of it.
Then, in my imagination, Rusty Hardin did his best maniacal laugh, twirled his imaginary mustachios, and tied an innocent woman to a set of disused railroad tracks. Because that's what Republic Serial Villains, like Rusty Hardin, do.
To be fair, nobody really expected Clemens to be found guilty, not when the government's entire case rested on Brian McNamee, and the public remained convinced Clemens was on trial for using steroids. (He wasn't. He was on trial for perjury, which is kind of serious, and the sort of thing you'd hope they'd actually prosecute, otherwise that whole "trial by jury" thing goes out the window. But I digress.) But Clemens had already had his name dragged through the mud, the public was sick of it, and it became fashionable to bitch about what a waste of time and money the whole thing was.
The real test, of course, will come when it's Clemens' turn on the Hall of Fame ballot. Remember, he wasn't found not guilty of using steroids. He was found not guilty of committing perjury. And the gatekeepers of the Hall of Fame tend to frown upon steroid users and suspected steroid users, even ones who never failed a test or were mentioned in the Mitchell Report or got put on trial for perjury.
There's a hell of a lot more evidence to suggest Clemens did PEDs than there is against Jeff Bagwell. If Clemens gets in - if Clemens gets close - while Bagwell and McGwire and Sosa are locked out, then all hell will break loose.
Then again, maybe it won't. Maybe the weary acceptance of Clemens' greatness will open the door for those other guys.
And if it doesn't, I'm sure Rusty Hardin would be happy to advocate on their behalf.
Monday, February 06, 2012
NFL Hall of Fame
Real quick -- there were people on local sports radio this afternoon suggesting that this Super Bowl loss might somehow reduce the chances of Brady and Belichick reaching the Hall of Fame.
This is utter nonsense.
Look, I hate the Pats. But even I know that nothing short of an O.J. Simpson-esque rampage is going to keep either of those two guys out of the Hall of Fame.
Move on.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Something I won't miss about Hall of Fame voting season
One of the standard arguments pulled out by old-school voter types when they're justifying their Hall of Fame votes is "I saw this guy play and you didn't, and I know what a Hall of Famer looks like." This is often phrased as "I saw this guy play while you were being pantsed in gym class by the cool kids, so suck it, nerds", but hey, polite discourse and professionalism is what these guys are all about, right?
Anyway, as long as we're talking Hall of Fame, as opposed to Hall of Strictly Analytical Selection - to which, incidentally, I am strenuously opposed - there's a place for "You had to be there" in the discussion. Maybe not an exclusive place. Maybe not a decisive place, but a place. Because, hey, there's that whole magical narrative thing going on, and there's something to be said for indelible moments and rising to the occasion, and so on and so forth - if it's stated in a way that isn't sneeringly condescending.
But there are two problems, above and beyond the obvious, with this approach. One is that while you may have seen a guy, a lot of the rest of us saw him too, and we may not agree on what we saw. You see Jack Morris and see a bulldog, an ace, a winner. I saw Jack Morris as a leaner Rick Reuschel, a guy who was always good but rarely great, and who got lit up far more often than an ace should.
The other, of course, is that different players look like Hall of Famers to different observers. To the young me, who watched every Phillies game he could, Greg Luzinski was way more "feared" than Jim Rice ever could be. Garry Maddox was the greatest centerfielder who ever lived - two thirds of the Earth was covered by water, and the rest by Gary Maddox. Ask me who I think is a Hall of Famer based on long-ago observations, and you'll get responses that would make Jay Jaffe's hair curl.
Which is why, ultimately, the "I saw him and you didn't" defense is hooey. You saw him, sure. Maybe I did, too. Maybe I saw different things than you did. But don't you dare tell me that only your hazy memories of youthful heroes are a noble and unbiased standard, to which all the giants of a younger day can be held.
Anyway, as long as we're talking Hall of Fame, as opposed to Hall of Strictly Analytical Selection - to which, incidentally, I am strenuously opposed - there's a place for "You had to be there" in the discussion. Maybe not an exclusive place. Maybe not a decisive place, but a place. Because, hey, there's that whole magical narrative thing going on, and there's something to be said for indelible moments and rising to the occasion, and so on and so forth - if it's stated in a way that isn't sneeringly condescending.
But there are two problems, above and beyond the obvious, with this approach. One is that while you may have seen a guy, a lot of the rest of us saw him too, and we may not agree on what we saw. You see Jack Morris and see a bulldog, an ace, a winner. I saw Jack Morris as a leaner Rick Reuschel, a guy who was always good but rarely great, and who got lit up far more often than an ace should.
The other, of course, is that different players look like Hall of Famers to different observers. To the young me, who watched every Phillies game he could, Greg Luzinski was way more "feared" than Jim Rice ever could be. Garry Maddox was the greatest centerfielder who ever lived - two thirds of the Earth was covered by water, and the rest by Gary Maddox. Ask me who I think is a Hall of Famer based on long-ago observations, and you'll get responses that would make Jay Jaffe's hair curl.
Which is why, ultimately, the "I saw him and you didn't" defense is hooey. You saw him, sure. Maybe I did, too. Maybe I saw different things than you did. But don't you dare tell me that only your hazy memories of youthful heroes are a noble and unbiased standard, to which all the giants of a younger day can be held.
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