Maybe I’m the only one who feels this way. Maybe I’m not enough of a baseball historian, and what follows could certainly brand me as such.
Amongst all of the bickering, name-calling, and endless columns, posts, and Twitter sniping about who belonged in the Hall of Fame from the 2011 ballot – Jack Morris versus Bert Blyleven, Jeff Bagwell versus perception and presumption, Edgar Martinez versus the designated hitter rule – I think some writers, analysts, even fans seeking information have lost something in the process.
The ability to just appreciate the names on the list.
I’m guilty of it myself. I wanted to be “in the know” with the crowd that has successfully made the argument that Blyleven belonged in Cooperstown. I’ve read the arguments for and statistics bearing out Bagwell being a viable candidate for induction, statistically. I’m not saying there isn’t value in the discussion and healthy back-and-forth – but why the attacking “me against you” mentality? It’s one thing to completely whiff on a ballot. But if you think that Morris is more deserving than Blyleven, I disagree, but I’m not going to tell you that you’re an idiot for thinking so.
I digress. The point I’m trying to make is that every year when the ballot is released, there is at least one name on there that makes me think: “Holy cow, Carlos Baerga!” Or, with a more local flair: “Kirk Rueter! Hoyleton’s finest!” Sometimes it’s not that the name sparks a reaction, but rather the time passed: “I can’t believe it’s been five years since Larry Walker retired already.”
I enjoy taking the time around Hall of Fame balloting to just look through the names on the list and remember something about those players. It happens for me every year with Dale Murphy, and he’s been on the ballot since 1999. I think about having watched a guy play at Busch Stadium, or having pulled one of their baseball cards out of a Topps wax pack, or just notables for each player that would result in them getting on the ballot.
Lenny Harris – most pinch hits of all-time
Benito Santiago – the gold standard for catcher defense for many years, made throwing from knees fashionable
Bobby Higginson – well, he was on the ballot, not really sure why
Higginson brings me to another point. For all the guys like Bert Blyleven and Ron Santo and Jim Rice who wait years and years on the bubble, not knowing whether they’ll ever get in – think about the guys who never expected their name to be on the ballot! Rafael Palmeiro is complaining that he should receive more votes, and probably rightly so. For a guy like Higginson, imagine what a thrill it must have been just to be nominated to be on the ballot! (I could be totally off there, but I feel pretty safe assuming.) Kirk Rueter didn’t have a Hall of Fame type of career, but it’s at least some kind of acknowledgement to even make the ballot, right?
For the record, I submitted the “official” Baseball Bloggers Alliance ballot for Pitchers Hit Eighth. Dennis posted his ballot here for all to see, and so will I:
Yes, I voted for McGwire and left Palmeiro off my ballot. Thanks to Jim Caple, I don’t expect to do that again next season.
Perhaps it was Caple’s piece that spurred this rambling post on for me. This portion in particular struck something in me:
Finally, let’s bear in mind something very important here. For all the self-righteous stances I read, this is not a weighty moral decision. We’re simply deciding whether a career performance warrants a plaque on the wall of a museum, alongside the occasional racist, tax cheat, alcoholic, drug addict and abusive owner.
Palmeiro’s career warrants enshrinement along some of the other finest playing careers, regardless of what he did or didn’t do that wasn’t specifically against the rules at the time. McGwire did it too, just because he apologized doesn’t make it any less of an offense (as the voters clearly showed with their ballots yesterday).
That all leads me back to my original premise, that I find joy in getting outside of the arguments over sabermetric analysis, steroids, who’s right and who’s wrong and just appreciating the ballot for what it is – a bunch of names that I remember for one reason or another.
Perhaps it’s the inner child in me that is spilling out here – a wish for a return back to the innocence of my card collecting days when I happily piled up Mark McGwire cards without a second thought as to what revelations may come out twenty years down the pike. As mentioned above, maybe it’s because I’m just not in touch enough with baseball history to always have these names on the tip of my tongue. Or maybe, I’ve reached that Baseball Hall of Fame nirvana where I can separate the arguments and who gets voted in from that child-like desire to pull another 1984 Topps Don Mattingly from a bubble-gum pack.