A few days ago, that journalistic society known as the Baseball Writers Association of America cast their ballots for the 2013 class of Baseball's Hall of Fame. As you may well know by now, not a single candidate secured the necessary 75% approval to gain entry to that illustrious institution.
This year's ballot includes some notable (and notorious) names, players who if not for the ill-fated decision to experiment with performance-enhancing drugs (PEDs), or players who fell under suspicion of doing so, would have likely taken their place in that hallowed Hall. Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens highlight this list, of course. Sammy Sosa, unlikely to make the Hall on his first ballot even if clean, barely registered 12%. I used to think Sosa was a sure thing, especially after that magical 1998 battle with Mark McGwire. But after seeing pictures of shrunken Sammy after testing went into full force, I'm convinced that his success was largely artificial. I still remember his years with the Cubs fondly, aside from his acrimonious exit. As a fan, I was never fond of Bonds or Clemens, but it could easily be argued that they were great without PEDs, yet chose to tarnish their reputations and the record books with their discretions.
Next year should be better, of course, with Greg Maddux, Auburn and White Sox great Frank Thomas, and Tom Glavine likely to make it on their first ballot (it might take Thomas two, but he won't have a long wait).
The great debate, of course, is what to do with the PED class of players. The purist position is that cheaters should never get in. The other side of the argument points out the varied and subjective standards being applied to different players across different eras, by voters who write articles for a living. No one can measure a direct, predictable causal relationship between PEDs and stats, yet there appears nevertheless to be some level of correlation. What is clear, for now at least, that those who used, or are strongly suspected of using, are marked with a scarlet letter and are likely to be blackballed indefinitely. The result is that a generation of players (a generation measuring a decade or two in this case), players that energized the sport to so many of us, will forever be left out in the cold. Yes, there are many baseball heroes who do not grace the Hall. But to be kept out because they weren't quite good enough, versus being kept out because of a deliberate attempt to gain an unfair advantage, makes the story more complicated. And it makes me wonder, what is really best for baseball?
My instinct is to take the purist position, in which only those players who excelled in the game (by evidence of stats), played by the rules (no cheating), and otherwise earned a significant consensus of acclaim deserve to be in the Hall.
Yet I cannot help but wonder if this approach is really good for the game, and the Hall. There is something almost McCarthyite about the way some in sports media are acting about this. Is this really about "protecting" the Hall from the scourge of PED users, or it is about applying some moral or character standard to those who would aspire to enshrined greatness?
The Hall ostensibly celebrates the game, and the men who played it well. But baseball is a game that attracts the gentleman and the cad alike, both competitors seeking to master a game like no other. Yes, I think the Hall is rarified air, and should be reserved for only the best of the best. But adding a sort of morality clause to the game's list of unwritten rules to use as a bar for Hall induction takes away an important facet of the game and its history. The game is played by men, men with faults. Their crimes aren't as much against baseball, as against its fans. You can't hurt "baseball." You may tarnish the league and its reputation in the eyes of its fans, but those who love the game will love the game nonetheless. Work stoppages and players strikes do far more damage to "the game" than a few players who colored outside the lines of fairness in an effort to inflate their stats and contracts. (And for the likes of Pete Rose? You cannot tell me that on the basis of his playing career, he's not a Hall of Famer. He is, and he should be. True, if he ever gets in, it will be likely be posthumously. But I digress.) Maybe the Hall should just celebrate the game, and not try to gloss over its warts by selectively omitting a certain, selective group of its sinners. And yet, voters should nevertheless make sure a career - even a tainted one, is worthy of inclusion. How hard it must be to be subjectively objective!
So, what do you do with the PED class? Asterisks? Exclusion? Scarlet Letter? I don't know. Greats are greats, be they cad or gentleman. Maybe the game, and the Hall, should have room for both. Somehow.
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