As a lot of us see it, there are two apples of discord that annually stir the Baseball Hall of Fame debate:
The stats-compilers, players whose Hall credentials were enhanced mainly by longevity (Craig Biggio, Bert Blyleven, et al).
And the steroids guys, suspected and otherwise.
There will always be players whose career numbers thrust them into the gray area of Cooperstown worthiness. I love those debates. I respect the passion of, for example, the Jack Morris advocates, like the Toronto TV guys who campaigned for him in the Arlington Stadium press elevator one night.
The steroids question, however, represents a rift within the electorate. I have writer friends – intelligent, experienced and otherwise rational – who would never, never, never, never vote for Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens or anyone else that they were “certain” to have used performance-enhancing substances.
I won’t beat that tired horse here. No sport, except maybe track and field, flogs its moral flanks like baseball.
When a baseball player receives a PED-related suspension, a chorus of writers and fans shouts, “Punish him! Ban him! Ignore every digit of his statistics!”
But when a player from the steroids-bloated NFL gets caught and suspended, the typical fan’s reaction is, “When’s he going to be back?”
I’ve been consistent with my stance on this. I have voted for Bonds and Clemens every year, as I voted for highly deserving Rafael Palmeiro when he was on the ballot.
My question to the Bonds and Clemens detractors has always been, “How do you know?” Not about them, but about all the other players of this era that some voters assume never used PEDs. How do you know?
Their most frequent answer: Well, I just know.
It’s as if Jose Canseco’s book stands as the bible of baseball’s steroids users.
A weak standard, if you ask me.
As more and more of my old-school BBWAA colleagues depart the voting electorate, I suspect the ardor of the steroids issue will fade. The ‘90s and ‘00s will be viewed as baseball’s Juiced Era, not unlike its Dead Ball Era – and judged accordingly.
I hope so, at least.
My Hall of Fame ballot this year, therefore, contained eight names:
Barry Bonds
Roger Clemens
Mariano Rivera
Edgar Martinez
Mike Mussina
Roy Halladay
Manny Ramirez
Curt Schilling
Take away any four or five seasons when Bonds and Clemens did or didn’t use steroids, and you still have Hall of Fame-worthy credentials. Yet, both are viewed by some as pariahs, even as confirmed, admitted and disgraced steroids user Alex Rodriguez is welcomed on TV as an ESPN baseball analyst and periodic guest on Shark Tank. (Bad choice, Mark Cuban).
But I digress. I voted for Bonds, Clemens and, yes, Manny Ramirez, another so-called steroids guy.
Have you looked at Manny’s numbers? Nine top-10 finishes in the MVP voting. Twelve All-Star appearances. A .312 lifetime average over 19 seasons with 555 home runs.
Contrast that with a player who may well get more votes than Ramirez this time, Larry Walker.
A fine player, Walker spent six seasons in Montreal, but the bulk of his career was in Colorado. And there’s the rub. In Montreal, Walker was a .281 hitter; in hitter-loving Colorado, he batted .334.
Walker’s career splits showed a .348 batting average and .637 slugging in home games – and .278, .495 on the road.
A nice player, but not a Hall of Famer. If you’re going to weigh a player’s WAR, BABIP and whatever modern stat you choose, it’s unfair to disregard the most elementary statistic of all — the ballpark where the player played.
BBWAA members can vote for as many as 10. I regularly find myself asking whether a player belongs in the Hall of Fame, or whether he measures up more appropriately to the Hall of Very Good.
I really, really wanted to vote for Michael Young, for example, in this, his first year on the ballot. Maybe one year I will. The ballot changes from year to year, and Young’s name may stand out in subsequent years.
I hope so. But for this year, his career ledger doesn’t measure up to the eight I voted for.
Mariano Rivera – a no-brainer. It’s not fair that, technically, closer Lee Smith received his Hall of Fame call before the great Yankees reliever did.
Roy Halladay – Cy Young Awards in both leagues, seven Cy Young finishes in the top five. Halladay was a dominant pitcher throughout his 16 seasons.
Mike Mussina – Not as great as Halladay, but a dominating, annual Cy Young candidate.
Edgar Martinez – To me, the recent ill-reasoned committee vote to include Harold Baines makes it imperative that fellow designated hitter Edgar is elected this year. I think the voting will reflect that.
Curt Schilling – If you’re going to dock hitters from the steroids era, you have to give bonus points to Schilling, who was a dominant pitcher during that era.
Postseason performances should count, and few in major league history have been better than Schilling – 19 starts, an 11-2 record and MVP of the 2001 World Series. He led both the Diamondbacks and Red Sox to World Series titles. And don’t forget the bloody sock thing.
That’s my ballot.
I treasure the privilege of casting it. I try to use it to vote for players, not against them.
Feel free to disagree. The arguments come with the ballot.
