Hall Call and Road Unis

 

(Photo: National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum)

A few baseball things happened today.

The more important thing is the announcement of the three new members of the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Adrián Beltré, Joe Mauer, and Todd Helton will join Jim Leyland in Cooperstown in July. Leyland was elected via the Contemporary Baseball Era Committee while the others were selected by the BBWAA.

The moaning, debates, and discussion about this keep the Hall of Fame relevant but we also know that the process is flawed.

Look, the fact of the matter is that regardless of who votes on the members there will always be human errors. We can say that the process is unbiased but the reality is emotion does play into it. Frankly, some writers hold grudges and whatever other logic they come up with.

To that end, had David Ortiz not been so likable he wouldn't have received a pass to Cooperstown considering the suspicion of steroid usage. That again brings up the point that we know that there are several "suspected" steroid users in Cooperstown.

Gary Sheffield didn't get that same courtesy even though he could flat-out mash the ball.

I hate that there's the "character clause" that allows voters a "get out of the jail free card" when it comes to their votes. It also allows for the condemnation of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Rafael Palmeiro, and other suspected steroid users.

I'll stay away from discussing Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson, except to say Joe Jackson has been dead for 72 years. It's time.

My point is the players can't be judged by their on-field play alone. I'd rather what they did on the field be the important thing without the other factors. We already know there are myriad guys who were hardly "Boy Scouts" in the Hall and I know two wrongs don't make a right but let's stop being holier than thou.

As I've often said, my Hall of Fame would be small. I want it to be the elites. I want the true immortals.

Ruth, Gehrig, Mantle, DiMaggio, Mays, Aaron, Williams, Cobb, Johnson (Walter and Randy, plus Ban and Judy), Koufax, Seaver (see! I included a Met), Robinson, and so on. 

To me, it's always been an eye test combined with statistics. But I think analytics combined with those pesky personal preferences have become the go-to voting method for the baseball writers.

I still think there's a way to tell the story and still acknowledge the players, warts and all.

If you were, for instance, to induct he-who-wore-number-14-for-the-Cincinnati-Reds, put it on the plaque that he (Pete Rose) was banned from baseball for gambling in 1989. Don't let him deliver a speech. I think baseball is actually waiting for Pete to, bluntly, pass before ever allowing that.

I know, it's a basic concept and likely flawed but I think there are ways to do this right.

As for who didn't get in tonight, well, Billy Wagner will likely make it next year and is possibly hurt in that he pitched in the same era as a certain Mr. Rivera. Thus everyone is number two after Mo. But Trevor Hoffman is already in the Hall so what's the problem?

Andruw Jones was the definitive defensive center fielder of his time and had over 400 home runs. Put some respect on his name.

Oh, and with Joe Mauer getting in, can we take another look at Jorge Posada? He begins looking better all the time.

For me, there are other sticky names, such as Thurman Munson and Donald Arthur Baseball Mattingly. Mattingly, especially, is being seen in a different light but did his career feature too short of a dominant stretch?

And then there's the painful "will if he's in then my guy should be in" stuff. We've all done it. I know I'm guilty. In most cases, it's irrelevant. 

If Mattingly makes the call, there will be howling (aka whining) from another fan base about a St. Louis Cardinals first baseman who also played somewhere else. Well, he played in Cleveland but he was also, of course, a Met.

And Jerry Seinfeld's one-time friend on TV.

I loved watching the players receive that iconic phone call tonight, telling them they are legends officially. The joy as they hugged their loved ones was palpable.

I'm not even a Hall of Famer in my own son's eyes (I'm not cool) so I watch it all with wonder.

And I love the discussion. Sort of.

Congratulations to a worthy class of inductees.

Welcome to Cooperstown.

*****

Oh, that other piece of baseball news really isn't that important. It's just the Yankees are supposedly making a change to their road uniform.

This, if you don't know, is very rare.

The letters and numbers on the road jersey have had a white outline since 1973. Apparently, that is going away.

I know, I know. Change is difficult. I heard the gripes and I get it. I'm very willing to take the wait-and-see approach. However, if it looks like this then I will likely be in favor.

Regardless, I'll never be happy until they remove the Nike swoosh from the front and that's not happening anytime soon.

It's all about money.

But it was a good day for baseball. It was nice to have some hot stove chatter. 

Pitchers and catchers are only a few weeks away.

Allow Me To Clear This Up

 

I attended the Greenwich High School Sports Hall of Fame a few weeks back.

A wonderful breakfast affair, I was asked to speak at the event, highlighting my relationship with Greenwich sports over my rather lengthy career.

After that, I inducted former Greenwich Cardinal John Sullivan into the Hall of Fame.

Later that night, I posted a picture of an appreciation certificate that the Hall of Fame gave me. Specifically, Hall of Fame chairman Pat Mediate presented me with it.

I posted the picture with a few other photos from the day and didn't think much about it.

Then the likes began. OK, cool.

Then the comments followed, with many congratulating me. I thought that was kind.

And then it hit me. It was time to clarify everything.

The certificate did not make me a Hall of Famer, nor would I want to misrepresent that. The Hall of Fame gave these certificates to people they wanted to thank, including me.

My certificate was in honor of my being a "featured" speaker, I suppose.

The Hall of Famers receive a different honor to mark their inclusion, as well as have their names added to plaques that hang at Cardinal Stadium.

In no way am I a Greenwich High School Sports Hall of Fame inductee.

I'm not a Hall of Famer in any way, shape, or form. I visit Halls of Fame but that's about it.

If anything, I'm hoping my attendance at the ceremony is the beginning of a regular thing and I'd enjoy being involved in understanding the inner workings of the Hall of Fame. 

So, to sum up, I was an attendee. I was a presenter.

I'm not in the Hall of Fame.

I'm grateful for the various comments I received in honor of the certificate and I hope I didn't misrepresent anything.

I treasure the certificate and it's currently sitting in my room. Sean thinks it should be framed.

But I don't want anyone to think I'm in the Hall of Fame. While it's a tremendous honor, it's not one I'm worthy of.

I was simply honored to be in attendance and asked to speak.

Wally Pipp? Nah

 

The new GHS Hall of Famers (Class of 2020, inducted in 2023)

It's Saturday.

It rained.

A likely story.

It began with the wonderful Greenwich High School Sports Hall of Fame breakfast. I had been asked to talk about my career and my connection to Greenwich sports. After that, I introduced John Sullivan to the crowd in Stamford.

I admire people who write their speeches. There have been numerous times when I have done the same.

Today, I went with my gut and just spoke. I hope what I said was enjoyable and interesting.

Inevitably, I know I forgot something but all I can do is my best.

From there, I moved to Cardinal Stadium for the homecoming football game.

As I'd explained, today's broadcast would feature two rookies:

- In the studio, on the board, Sean Adams, in for Sean Kilkelly.

- In the booth, doing color commentary, Dan Murphy, in for Chris Erway.

Sean was put in that position by Bob Small with my approval since it's a broadcast that I'm the lead on. He was trained well by Bob and Sean Kilkelly, and I answered any questions as necessary.

For Dan, I went with a gut feeling. Being a part of a sports broadcasting team requires chemistry and an understanding of how a game is called. Dan was with us back on opening day. He listened in as Chris Erway and I called the Fairfield Prep/Greenwich game, understanding how Chris does his role and plays off of me. 

Based on that and our mock half-inning of baseball in Buffalo, I knew Dan had potential.

From there, it's that chemistry. Will he laugh? Relax? Have fun? Be serious but not too serious? Will we step on each other? Will he break things down or try too hard to add statistics?

I'm not here to tell you today's broadcast was perfect. I'm not here to tell you that either Sean Kilkelly or Chris Erway is in any danger of being replaced.

I'm here to tell you we built our depth chart today and that's very important to me. We once had quite a bit of depth at WGCH and I'm happy that we have some people who can jump in as needed.

Dan added everything that I hoped for and impressed people that his first time on the air was solid. He definitely was thrown into the deep end of the pool by being on Darien/Greenwich but it also turned out to not be a classic game. That alleviates a certain level of pressure but it still means filling some time as the Cardinals built up a 30-7 lead.

They eventually won 30-14 to improve to 5-0.

Sean enjoyed his end of things and was happy to have Dan on the broadcast because he wanted someone there with me. To that end, I'm content to do games alone but it helps if I have someone on-site who knows the game and adds to the flavor. Chris Erway is always that person.

Dan showed he has the chops to do this as well.

There's a reason Chris and I call ourselves "The A-Team." It's because we're comfortable to be the top play-by-play duo for WGCH. I frankly think Chris and I could call anything. Heck, we've already done football, baseball, and election night, so why not?

But today's group was probably no lower than "The B-Plus-Team." I mean, considering the circumstances of homecoming, bad weather, good matchup, so-so game, and having to also stay on the air during halftime?

Yeah. A pretty solid effort.

Next Friday, the TEN Network team of Trumbull will join me on WGCH. We'll be at McDougall Stadium in Trumbull for the All-Birds matchup as the Cardinals meet the Eagles at 7 p.m.

Oh, and I could have made it over to Brunswick as it appears they didn't use a broadcaster. But I was right in that it would have been halftime before I got there. The Bruins won 31-18. I'll be back with them next Saturday for a bus ride to Massachusetts.

Dan and I had dinner in town after the game while Sean ran the board for a UConn hockey game. Dan and I solved world problems (or not) and had breakfast for dinner.

I told him he'll get another chance. He's now a clear backup whenever we need someone.

Welcome aboard.

You can listen to the broadcast here in the archive.

The Good Church of Baseball

 

I was pretty excited the first time I went to the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum.

I dressed myself that morning.

I was five.

Now, I probably had no real concept of what the Hall of Fame was. I was becoming a baseball-mad kid having been to my first game in 1972 (Bobby Murcer homered. That bond was sealed) and another in '73 before the Yankees left The Bronx to play at Shea Stadium for two years.

The last part of that sentence still raises hives. Bobby Murcer's power disappears in cavernous Shea and he was a former Yankee that October. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

With Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford both being inducted to Cooperstown's hallowed gallery that summer, the time was ripe for Dad to take us all to central New York.

So, yeah, I dressed myself. I have no doubt my mother dutifully laid out clothes and lovingly told me to get ready to leave. In grand Adams style, we were on the road early, thus adding to the moment.

Sometime later, I was helped to the restroom when it was discovered that I put my clothes on ...

...

Over my pajamas.

Baseball pajamas, of course.

Oh, my day was further memorable because I wanted a mini baseball bat from the souvenir shop. But, specifically, I wanted a Yankees bat. So that's what was requested.

What was received was a National Baseball Hall of Fame mini bat with a small Yankees pennant. No mini Yankees bat existed in Cooperstown, NY in the summer of 1974.

I was initially crestfallen. Then, I got over it.

I've visited the Hall so many times since then, often proudly as a tour guide for friends and family and most proudly when I first took Sean there in May 2012.

Not sure if he would appreciate it or, worse, get bored, we apprehensively drove there before having an absolutely glorious day in a largely empty Cooperstown. The high season of the small village is from Memorial Day to Labor Day. On this Saturday, it was peaceful and bucolic.

Its baseball theme has grown over the years. Initially, it was established as a myth, and, to that end, it's now basically the honorary home of baseball. There were few baseball shops along Main St. in 1974 but that number grew over time.

In fact, lunch in '74 was at a coffee shop in a Woolworth-style five-and-dime store.

The Hall has expanded since then. I suppose we've all expanded and changed since then. 

But some things haven't changed, such as the arguments. Sure, it was Mays and Mantle or Ruth and Foxx at one time. Perhaps it was Bench and Munson in our 1971 Impala as we slogged along New York Route 28 out of Kingston.

We are we kidding? We were a Munson family, though my mom liked Johnny Bench.

In that regard, time stops. That's not a longing for the past. That's just meaning some things are timeless.

We can growl at the plaque of Harold Baines, a fine man and player who is in the Hall as a result of cronyism, just as easily as I can snarl at any one of a number of questionable choices.

But it's one of my favorite places. Period.

It's flawed. So flawed.

But it's my church.

*****

I wrote all of the above before I got in the car this morning, just in case I didn't have time in the evening. As I write now, I've just completed a 410 mile round trip drive to and from Cooperstown. 

For Sean, it was his second visit, making good on a promise we'd made some time ago. For me, it's somewhere around 13 trips though I'm not sure I've ever truly kept count.

The impetus -- not surprising -- was Vin Scully passing on Tuesday night. As I watched the coverage Wednesday morning, I thought about ordering a Vin t-shirt from Baseballism, which has a line of Scully items. 

Wait, I thought. Why pay for shipping when there's a Baseballism store in Cooperstown?

Best laid plans.  They had none in the store. Literally.

"He strikes out swinging," Vin might have said. Or not.

In truth, I came home with no souvenirs at all. Sean chided me for hats ("you do have a lot" -- he's not wrong). I suppose that's a surprise but, then again, the memories of today will more than suffice.

Of breakfast here in Greenwich and the drive up the Taconic Parkway.

Of the two interviews -- one with Tony Savino on WGCH and one with "Melissa in the Morning" on WICC. 

Of the Taconic and routes 82 and 23 and 145 (and lots of 145) and 7 and 10 and 165 and 166 and some unique side roads.

Of the stores that were open and those that seem to be closed for good sadly.

Of the museum. The exhibits. The legends. The plaques.

Of a moment at the display for the Ford C. Frick Award where Vin is recognized. It was like pausing for a moment of silence before Sean allowed me to babble on about those announcers and why they matter.

Of a great lunch with wings and fries and a frosty beverage on a hot day for Dad. And toasting a great day.

Of the drive back and dodging rain storms along route 28 to I-88 to route 8 to 17 to 6 to 9 and 9A before getting back to the Taconic.

Of being home safely and deciding we should make it a Father's Day tradition moving forward.

Memories. Laughs. And even a loving pat on the back as we began to leave.

"It's OK," Sean said. "We can always come back."

Yes, we can. In truth, it was probably too crowded today anyway. But there were stolen moments, like at Doubleday Field, where I relived getting to broadcast a game on HAN back in 2015. It was, frankly, a bucket list day that I treasure.

"Everyone STOP and help me find the power strips!"
The quote that hangs over Cooperstown seven years later.

But we also drove to the parking lot of the famed Otesaga Hotel and laughed about the story of missing power strips from that same trip. Sean wasn't even there but we have laughed about it every since.

I can't possibly sum it all up but the joy of a day like this is the joy of sports.

Especially baseball. 

That little kid with his baseball pajamas hidden under his clothes on that August day in 1974 walked with his dad through that museum. 

Those same stories can be relayed through generations in the same place 48 years later.

Those stories stretch from 1974 to 1980, when I bought a Pirates hat with "Stargell Stars." I explained all of that to Sean today.

To 1983. To 1987 and 1988 and 1991. 

And more visits into the 21st century until it was Sean's turn to visit Cooperstown for that first time.

Then that last visit -- broadcast included -- in 2015.

Memories. Stories. Laughs. Baseball.

It's priceless.

The power of memory and our grand game.

The power of a father/son bond.

Please note that I wore a Bobby Murcer retro 1973 Yankees jersey, a blue t-shirt, and camouflage cargo shorts today. No pajama bottoms were present.

More On the Hall (or "Moron Talks More About The Hall")

History is messy. That's a fact.

I wrote about who I would have voted for enshrinement in the Baseball Hall of Fame last night.

The reaction was basically like a tree falling in the woods and nobody hearing it.

So, allow me to waste more of your precious time.

The National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum is, just that, a museum. It is supposed to tell the story of the game of baseball.

Under no circumstances am I a fan of Barry Bonds. I've heard far too many incriminating stories -- yes, stories -- about what a miserable individual this guy is. But he could also hit and field and play some ball.

Yes, his father was also traded one-up for an outfielder named Bobby Ray Murcer but I'm not going to hold that against him, despite the fact that six-year-old Robbie is still devastated.

When Bonds came to play the Yankees in an interleague (pfft) matchup, I went with excitement on a Friday night. I also enjoyed every moment of it when Mike Mussina struck him out as part of a 2-1 Yankees win.

The Hall is loaded with a mixed bag of characters but they're all there to tell the story of the game. Don't tell me you have a bat or a sock or some other trinket from a banned (or unofficially banned) player. It's just hypocrisy.

Put Pete Rose in. Yes, we know about the gambling. We get it. But, as I said, history is messy. We yell about educators teaching our kids, well, what about us?

I welcome walking into the Hall of Fame with Sean or anyone else and telling them the stories.

"Pete Rose was a hell of a player but an absolute train wreck of a person," I would say. "He gambled on baseball, which is rule number one. The biggest no-no of all! See? It says it right here on his plaque. He was even banned from giving a speech in exchange for his election. He gambled as a manager and there are still questions about what he did as a player. He's a degenerate. However, you can't argue about what a player he was. Great slap hitter. More hits than anyone. Led The Big Red Machine with Bench and Morgan and Perez and Foster. Great player. Awful person."

There. 

I can do this all day. Shoeless Joe Jackson, come on down! Bonds, Clemens, Sosa? You're next!

As I said in my explanation of Rose, my Hall of Fame would say Rose was thrown out of baseball for gambling. I'd say the same on Shoeless Joe's plaque. Pete would not be allowed to give a speech either. Oh, he'd talk, and he'd never stop, but he's not addressing the assembled crowd on Induction Weekend.

Baseball -- and the Hall of Fame -- need to move forward. Yes, the Hall is a sacred place to me. I speak in reverent and mostly hushed tones when in the gallery, which is cathedral-like to me. But those plaques include as many saints as there are sinners. Those plaques include many wonderful people who really shouldn't be Hall of Famers but, well, they are. They include myths who were fair enough players but made the Hall because of a poem (Tinkers to Evers to Chance).

Now just because the Hall of Fame has made mistakes before doesn't mean they should make them again. Putting the much-maligned Harold Baines in doesn't mean there needs to be someone else to "make up" for that.

And, look, we all know Baines was a questionable decision. It was controversial. But it also happened and it's over. Harold Baines was a really good player and an extremely decent and humble man. Let's let it go and move on. That doesn't mean the drink should be further watered down.

Yes, I'm a "small Hall" guy but I'm also a "fair Hall" guy. I want the best of the best. Otherwise, I want to start a "Golden Diamond" that elevates Ruth, Cobb, Mays, Gehrig, Aaron, and yes, Bonds, to another level.

I think we all agree that Bonds and Clemens used PED's. Most of us -- if we're being fair -- would say the same about Ortiz and a few others (again, Hi Queens). I know a few Yankees (Giambi, Pettitte) used. These are facts. 

When it comes time to address Carlos Beltran (who is up next year) and Jose Altuve and the Astros, put what happened on their plaques.

Tell the story of the game.

That's the job.

Don't just write a Hallmark card.

I love Cooperstown. I've often thought of packing up and moving there to work for the Hall. I think they should have an official broadcasting historian and game broadcaster and I'm more than willing to be that guy. Oh, they sort of have those, but I can handle the gig as well. I'll call all of the games over at Doubleday Field.

One needs to dream occasionally.

But Cooperstown -- or at least baseball's Cooperstown -- is also built on a lie that ol' Abner Doubleday went to his field and mapped out our National Pasttime.

Sigh. Not even remotely true. There's no truth that Doubleday -- who's buried in Arlington and whose grave I've visited -- ever SAW a baseball game. He certainly didn't invent it.

The game came in parts from England and other places and was refined in the USA. It evolved throughout the 19th century.

It didn't start in Cooperstown. It started everywhere.

So if they can fix that mistake but still accept that Cooperstown is the mythical home of baseball, can't we tell the truth about our grand game?

The Hall of Fame has truly stepped up to tell the correct story of the Negro Leagues and the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League. It continues to adapt and, as we say in our common tongue, "do better."

Well, "do better" on the plaques that hang in that hallowed gallery.

That's your job.

Tell the story.

The Hall of Fame Ballot

 

Hall of Famer Sean Adams in Cooperstown, 2012.

Tomorrow's the day we find out if anyone has made the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Personally, I love it. I love the process and the debate. I love the conversation.

So, because nobody asked, I'm going to do my own ballot that nobody wants.

You're welcome, planet Earth.

There are 30 names on the ballot and you can choose up to ten. You're going to like this or not like this. Keep in mind I'm a "small Hall" guy, meaning I'm not Oprah Winfrey.

"YOU GET A PLAQUE! YOU GET A PLAQUE! YOU GET A PLAQUE!"

Let's do this. I'm going to rattle my choices off in no particular order.

1) Barry Bonds. Yup. Look, we're not inducting the best people. Bad people are already in the Hall of Fame, though it's time to stop the myth about Ty Cobb. He wasn't that bad. At all. The numbers are remarkable for Bonds but very stained. The court of public opinion is fairly firm that he used PED's and isn't the home run king. However, the record book says he is. As with Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa, and others, we applauded for the most part*.

*OK, I didn't because I was skeptical and disgusted the whole time. In fact, I remember many people really sickened when he passed Hank Aaron for career home runs. Still, overall, we were complicit as a society. Bud Selig applauded and he was as guilty as anyone. He's also in the Hall of Fame. Shameful.

Still, while not the GOAT people try to make him out to be (Babe Ruth says hi), we have PED users in the Hall of Fame already (I'm glancing towards LaGuardia for some reason). Whatever the case, Bonds would get my vote. His enlarged head should get its own plaque

2) Roger Clemens. You basically can't have one without the other. Look, I can remember getting tickets to Yankees/Red Sox in the Bronx and being legitimately excited to watch Clemens pitch. To an extent, isn't that what it's all about? From there, the numbers are pretty great. Like Bonds, there's guilt even if there isn't enough proof. But I marveled at Clemens. I was there the night he struck out his 4,000th batter and won his 300th game. No bias intended. I'm just saying he was great. He is a Hall of Famer in my eyes.

3) Alex Rodriguez. The numbers are as flawed as Bonds. Completely stained. He admitted guilt. He did his penance. He's also, largely, rehabbed his image. Oh sure people still detest him but he's a fascinated character study. He's also among the greatest ever to play shortstop AND third base. He's also a jackass who used PED's. Still, 3,115 hits and 696 home runs? Certain benchmarks once almost guaranteed you for the Hall of Fame. A-Rod won't get in this year, nor should he necessarily, but I want him on the ballot to continue the conversation. But, man, did he piss me off and I say that as a father of an A-Rod fan years ago.

4) David Ortiz. Oh this is soul-crushing. I'm not big on DH's unless they're next level. And while I think. he's a good guy and glib and charming I also think he's a huge phony who has been a media darling. Thus, given we're all fairly certain (I get it -- conjecture abounds) that he failed an "anonymous test," if I vote for A-Rod, I will vote for Big Papi. He hit 541 home runs and was at the forefront of giving Boston its greatest baseball glory (my God but those words hurt to type). He was monstrous in the postseason. He hits the target for me, regardless of being a DH and a PED user in my eyes.

5) Curt Schilling. This is where you know I'm trying to be fair. As people go he's not exactly a great guy. But he's got one of those key numbers -- over 3,000 strikeouts -- and I'm striving for consistency. I still struggle with certain things but the postseason puts him over the top. Plus it might be fun to see the writers -- who he asked to not vote for him -- vote him in. I don't like him but that's not how this works. To be honest, I could pull him in favor of another name but no. It's the Hall of Fame and I believe in being fair.

6) Sammy Sosa. He has become a pariah in baseball circles but that still doesn't take away 609 home runs. Quick, who has hit over 60 home runs in a season? Now, who hit over 60 three times? Right, Sammy Sosa. You likely cheered him. You likely loved his personality and the tapping of the heart and the kissing of the fingers. As with Bonds, Clemens (and, to me, McGwire, who will also get his day) you were likely complicit and it's OK. 

7) Gary Sheffield. Again, there are certain numbers that work for me. Granted I used to be able to name every member of the 500 home run club and the Steroids Era killed that. But I loved watching Sheff hit. I didn't necessarily love watching him field and that's definitely a downside here. However, 509 home runs. That's enough.

8) Scott Rolen. The offensive numbers don't blow me away but third base is incredibly underrepresented. It's a position where defense is also a star (think Brooks Robinson and I'd have a more realistic conversation about Graig Nettles if we could). But Rolen did hit over 300 home runs and 2000 hits. However, I struggle with "Hall of Very Good." Still, I believe a vote for him keeps him on the ballot to keep reexamining. I think time and defensive metrics will serve Rolen well.

9) Billy Wagner. Here's the thing, Wagner (foolishly) used "Enter Sandman" in the town where the Sandman pitched night after night (though he'd have an Astros hat on his plaque unless you're smoking something strange). Mariano Rivera IS the Sandman. I think there are certain positions -- DH and relievers -- where you have to be past exceptional to make the Hall of Fame. Mariano is. Obviously. Billy Wags was a great closer. He had 422 saves and a 2.31 ERA. In no way -- on no planet -- am I picking Wagner over Mo but the comparison isn't necessary. In a world of Mo, Rollie Fingers, Goose Gossage, Lee Smith, Bruce Sutter, Trevor Hoffman, Dennis Eckersley, and Hoyt Wilhelm, Billy Wagner is a worthy enshrinee.

I'm sold on most of the first nine that I've selected, but I'm arguing with myself over Andruw Jones, Jeff Kent, Manny Ramirez, Todd Helton, and a certain Mr. Andrew Eugene Pettitte. I even want to acknowledge Mark Teixeira but I just can't. If I take Andy Pettitte, I'll hear about bias. The guy did win 256 games and was a wonderful postseason performer. In terms of WAR, Pettitte is 10th on the ballot, while Ortiz and Sosa, for instance, are much lower. Additionally, I'm not voting for Omar Vizquel so long as the character issue exists and he has character stuff that would need to be cleaned up. He's not a sure thing to me, so no. I gave this a lot of thought and...

10) Manny Ramirez. I know, he's a wackadoodle but, so what? So was Dizzy Dean, and we find him lovable if we're being fair. Manny B. Manny has 555 home runs and if I'm putting the other steroids users in then I'm going to be consistent. He was as much a part of the Red Sox run as Ortiz but, again, there's an agenda with Big Papi. Manny was never that great with the media.

Tough calls but I can live with these especially since I'm not really doing a ballot. Keep in mind, my ten are as much about making sure these names stay on the ballot for further evaluation as it is to endorse them for the Hall of Fame. I could have been swayed to pull, say, Schilling off for Helton.

I think the BBWAA has a huge task and I'm fine with how (most) of them do it. Tomorrow night, we'll find out how well they did their job for 2021. Keep in mind, Clemens, Bonds, Schilling, and Sosa all fall off the ballot if they don't get in tomorrow. Then they move to the veterans' committee for further evaluation. That will complicate things even more because there will be a logjam but that's a problem for another time.

We get our answers tomorrow.

The Wind Cries

 

"It was a dark and stormy night..."

No, really, it's dark, and the wind has just started whipping around. 

There's an image or a metaphor in there but I'm not smart enough to think of it right now.

In fact, I'm not smart enough to write at all tonight. I feel tapped out. It's probably just as well that I didn't do "Doubleheader" today because I would have likely snapped about the Hall of Fame (some good and some bad). Again, my Hall of Fame is more exclusive. I did love Buck O'Neil getting in.

Others give me hope for Don Mattingly and Thurman Munson. You just need the right baseball political push because that's part of what goes on in these committees.

On the other hand, there are too many schnooks on the interwebs to fight with about such things, so I'll pass.

I recorded a podcast later on which was fine because I had the basis of the interview written out and I ad-libbed from there.

No heavy lifting and it minimized the ways that I could get in trouble.

You know, as I always do.

So, yeah, I'm not feeling it tonight. It just feels like a good time to close up shop early and watch football until we lose power though I'm hoping that won't happen.

Sunday Night in the Town of Carmel

 

I live in Mahopac, a hamlet of Carmel.

CAR-mull.

I'd end the post right there but I'm here for more tonight.

Apparently, those calling the state championship football game involving Carmel, NY couldn't pronounce it.

Such things happen, of course, and I'm hardly immune.

But it's CAR-mull.

Moving on.

Speaking of calling football, today was probably my final call until next August or September. Fairfield Prep beat Shelton to punch their ticket into the state championship game against Darein. To be blunt (or obnoxious) I feel like it wouldn't be the worst decision ever to put Chris Erway and me on the call next Saturday because...

1) We're not bad at what we do.

2) We're familiar with both schools, fan bases, towns, and teams.

3) We're fairly well-respected among both Darien and Fairfield Prep.

4) We know how to say "Carmel" (sorry, it was there)

Alas, I'll likely be doing other things next Saturday. Brunswick will be upon me soon with hockey and basketball, and I really need to remember wrestling as well, especially since Chris is great at broadcasting that.

Look, anyone who reads this blog knows how hung up I get on quality broadcasting (or lack thereof) especially when it comes to championships.

And that's basically all I have to say about that as I continue to try to curb my wicked ways which unilaterally get me in trouble.

While I'm continuing on the sports front (sorry, JoAnn) I saw the results of the Hall of Fame veterans committee voting and congratulate the new inductees. I'll lose no sleep over it but, in my opinion, we're heading towards "Oprah" territory where everyone can get a Hall of fame plaque.

The new electees are Jim Kaat, Minnie Minoso, Gil Hodges, Tony Oliva, Bud Fowler, and Buck O’Neil. To never have to hear Mets and Dodgers fans whining about Gil Hodges again works just fine for me.

And yet? Take a look at the life and career of one John Donaldson and explain to me why he didn't earn election today.

How Dick Allen didn't make it is beyond me. I was hoping for Allie Reynolds also but wasn't holding my breath.

Also, while I'm at it, I'm going to catch a little grief here but what else is new? I love Roger Maris. Adore Roger Maris. I tear up every time I watch him hit his 61st either in old films or in the movie "61*."

Roger Maris had his number retired by the Yankees in 1984. He has a plaque in Monument Park. Many see him as the "true" single-season home run king.

Roger didn't get voted into the Hall today and, frankly, I'm OK with that. My Hall of Fame is a tough place to get into. I totally recognize Roger's contributions to baseball. I know what a good man he was. I know he died far too young. I know he caught grief from fans for approaching Babe Ruth's record in 1961 and then for not living up to the 61 homers after that.

I truly admire the man.

But my Hall of Fame is truly elite. 

My Hall of Fame tells the story of the game. I put Pete Rose and Bary Bonds and Roger Clemens and A-Rod in my Hall of Fame and I tell the truth on their plaques. I don't let Pete make a speech upon his induction. I also get Shoeless Joe Jackson in my Hall of Fame.

I tell the truth because the truth is messy and there are messy players in there already. If you don't think steroids users are already in the Hall of Fame, well, Santa will be visiting in a few weeks.

Oh, incidentally, can we finally stop spreading lies about Ty Cobb? He wasn't as bad as he was made out to be. But I digress.

Lastly, Ben Roethlisberger might retire after this season which is the least surprising thing I've heard. Big Ben can leave with his head high, having won two Super Bowls and being the second greatest quarterback in Steelers history. 

Let the haters hate. People are still innocent until proven guilty. Kobe Bryant is a fine example of that.

As we say goodnight from the Town of Carmel, play this for your own personal seventh-inning stretch. It's the great new Hall of Famer Buck O'Neil singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" from the "Baseball" documentary in 1994.

Let it bring a smile to your face.

Play-by-Play Minutiae

 

Waite Hoyt (right) as a pitcher with the Yankees and some guy on the left

The biggest thing I want to see in the Play-by-Play group that Shawn Sailer, Mike Hirn, and I are moderators for is conversation.

I don't care about what game you have to promote. Honestly, why would you promote it in the group? Do you want feedback? There's a subset of the group that gets all tangled when anyone is criticized.

So I don't get the self-promotion. Literally, no one (except for the original poster) cares.

What I do like seeing are things like the nominees for the Ford Frick Award (OK, that was posted by me and gained very little traction). I like seeing discussions of equipment and streaming platforms and preferred broadcast styles and job openings.

I like topics. Things that actually pertain to the production of a game broadcast.

It's supposed to be a forum.

To that end, I occasionally see things of interest but the comments are...well, not often my style, I guess. More than once I've just wanted to say, "You guys are funny," and leave it at that.

One question of interest recently was about criticism at the high school level. The person asking the question was quickly drawn and quartered for even suggesting that criticism should ever occur.

What my peers fail to recognize while sitting on their high horses is any context of the question. Yes, I say, there can be criticism, but how it's delivered matters.

My job -- first and foremost -- is to report. It's telling you what I see.

If I see a team go for it on fourth and 15 from their own 10-yard line in the first quarter, am I just supposed to say nothing?

Or do I phrase it like this: "An interesting decision for sure. Let's see what happens"?

After said play fails, it's easy to add, "That was questionable, for sure. I'm curious what (insert coach here) saw that made him try that."

That's a simple but effective way of reporting and even adding an edge of criticism of it.

But that's talking about a coach. When it comes to a player things have to be a lot more delicate.

If there's a turnover, it's simple: "You have to protect the ball there," or "A costly turnover."

In that spot, you haven't hammered the player by name.

Simply reporting the facts can be criticism (or praise) enough.

But my colleagues are falling all over each other to impress themselves with their answers.

Remember how I often say to stop trying to be the smartest person in the room?

I know there's a desire for rainbows and unicorns all the time. Yes, everyone does indeed get a medal. I also very much understand that these aren't professionals. Still, I know my audience and the teams that I cover respect my approach. I basically use the approach no matter where I'm working.

I report and I'm honest. The end.

Not everything in the group has to be a teaching moment from the pulpit. As I often say to Shawn and Mike privately, I don't have the bandwidth to go into that snake pit with them so I just read the comments.

From there, I mostly laugh.

For me, most coaches and athletes (and even families) know that I have their backs and I'm there to report the story accurately. If there's ever a line it quickly gets discussed but I can tell you that there have been very few of those conversations ever.

I could literally count those conversations on one hand and it's never a harsh one.

Still, I'm glad to see these kinds of topics are coming up in the group.

As for my Hall of Fame/Frick Award post, the replies dealt with those who aren't already honored with the award. My question, immediately, becomes "Who would you take out?" We'd all love to see our guy get honored, but the award is given once a year and there are many worthy names.

Let's face it: nobody is being removed. So time marches on and not everyone can receive the award. This years' nominees are all deceased and worked over 50 years ago. Many people wouldn't know the names anyway (Pat Flanagan, Jack Graney, Waite Hoyt, France Laux, Rosey Rowswell, Hal Totten, Ty Tyson, and Bert Wilson). They're all worthy, to be honest. I've mentioned Rowswell before as he was the original sort of "circus clown" of play-by-play.

Graney was the first player to successfully transition to the booth. 

Hoyt is already in the Hall as a pitcher with Babe Ruth and the Yankees. His stories about Ruth during ran delays in the Cincinnati radio booth make him in a legend in Ohio.

Most, if not all of these nominees, have middle-American ties, with Tyson a legend in Detroit, Laux in St Louis, and Wilson and Flanagan in Chicago.

Anyway, that's enough from me for tonight.

I'm babbling, so I'll shut down and watch baseball.

Oh Yeah I Did

 

Derek Jeter, Donald Fehr, Larry Walker, Ted Simmons

As I watched the Hall of Fame induction ceremony approaching, I also watched the tide of Derek Jeter hatred increase from I Don't Know Sports Ave.

So I decided to completely have fun with it and be what everyone thinks anyway.

Oh, sure, I would have tweeted something of Jeter's day and maybe one of the nice tribute videos that ran. But for every, "Duh, he's an OvErRaTeD sHoRtStOp" take that I read, I pressed harder on the accelerator.

Somehow having the sixth-most hits, blah blah blah makes one suck, not be worthy of the Hall of Fame, not be worthy of a first-ballot induction, not be worthy of missing out on being unanimous by one vote...etc.

"Thank you to the baseball writers," Jeter said. "All but one of you."

I loved it and actually laughed out loud in the Dutchess Stadium booth.

"Duh but if Babe Ruth/Ken Griffey Jr/Willie Mays/Hank Aaron weren't unanimous..."

Ah, so cute. But here's the thing, some voters in 1936 thought that Ruth was too freshly retired to be a Hall of Famer (he only retired after 28 games in 1935). As for the others, Hall voters have often been stubborn about not putting a player in unanimously, so Griffey, Mays, Aaron, Mantle, etc suffered as a result. It's only in the last few years we've begun to see a change, and still, only Mariano Rivera has the unanimous vote.

He was the one person everyone could agree on and there will be others.

Oh but yesterday went exactly as expected, from the "vomit" emoji from the usual trolls to Chri Kaelin's swinging and missing claps at me being "a FaNbOy" to fans who jumped on board.

The more I read about it being "Marvin Miller's Day," the more I blasted away.

I grabbed the popcorn and watched it all with a certain level of glee.

Oh, Michael Jordan is there? Retweet.

Bernie Williams is playing "The Star-Spangled Banner" with Richie Cannata, who played with Billy Joel on the more seminal albums of the 70s? Retweet.

A picture of the plaque? Retweet.

I loved it. I laughed at every. Single. Dumb. Take.

I knew it was how the day would play out.

"If he didn't play in New York..."

"So overrated..."

"Did he hand out gift baskets..."

And, trust me, I saw the troll attempts. We've long-highlighted those who will never see anything positive when it comes to the Yankees. Much like I've said when it comes to...somebody...the Yankees could cure cancer and still be viewed as a villain.

So? I decided to mock all of it.

Sure, I admire Jeter a great deal. How can one not admire a great work ethic, clutch performer, and a person who said all the right things (without saying anything)? I saw Jeter in person, in the Yankees' locker room in 2003. I watched and listened as we gathered around his locker. The way he carried himself was past impressive.

I've never seen anyone better at it.

We all know there's enormous jealousy when it comes to Jeter. We also know there's a lack of a clue as to what made him special unless you watched him.

Talk to real baseball people. They get it.

And I get it.

I watched him almost daily. 

But people hate the "I" word. "Intangible."

Jeter had it.

There were four represented on the stage for the Class of 2020: Jeets, Larry Walker, Ted Simmons, and Marvin Miller. The speeches were excellent, though I missed Donald Fehr speaking on behalf of Miller.

People complained about the ceremony being on a Wednesday in September.

Ah. COVID. But I didn't have the energy to argue.

In fact, that was basically my approach to the whole thing. So I just posted and watched and laughed.

The haters can hate.

And hate, hate, hate, hate.

Jeter laughs.

I laugh.

And I'll go to Cooperstown to visit his plaque, along with all of the others. 

All of them.

Seven Gone

 

(Photo: Getty Images)

Phil Niekro died overnight.

Niekro -- "Knucksie" -- was known for exactly that: a knuckleball.

He threw a ton of them, except for his 300th win in 1985 (with the Yankees against the Blue Jays), when he supposedly didn't rely on it as much.

He won 32 games with the Yankees in 1985 and 1986 before heading to Cleveland in 1987. He started 1988 with the Indians before heading to Toronto and finally back to the Braves, where it all began. 

He was initially with the Milwaukee Braves for cups of coffee in 1964-1965. He finally began to find himself as the Braves relocated to Atlanta after the '65 season. He went on to win 268 games for the Braves.

This has been an awful year for the deaths of Hall of Famers.

Indeed, the MLB Network was in the middle of running highlights of the 1968 World Series (Tigers/Cardinals) when the news of Knucksie's death broke. For what it's worth, Niekro went 14-12 with a 2.59 ERA in '68. Following that show, they started a program called "Icons Lost" about -- yes -- the death of six Hall of Famers.

They soon broke in to officially add Niekro's name to this sad roll of honor.

So now the number of Hall of Famers to die in 2020 is seven.

- Phil Niekro
- Tom Seaver
- Lou Brock
- Joe Morgan
- Al Kaline
- Bob Gibson
- Whitey Ford

What's more glaring for guys like me is that we're getting into my contemporaries. I'm old enough to vaguely remember Kaline and Gibson and very much remember Niekro, Seaver, Brock, and Morgan.

I didn't see Whitey Ford pitch.

For the most part, these aren't the guys of a prior lifetime. There's always that hint of mortality when this happens.

I remember Niekro's 300th. The same with Seaver. I remember Joe Morgan with the Big Red Machine. I watched Lou Brock with the Cardinals.

Plus the pieces of Gibson and Kaline and many an Old Timer's Day with Whitey.

Great legends, all of them.

I see many posts on who does and who doesn't belong in the Hall of Fame. I generally feel like they're composed by people who don't really get it or are simply hung up on numbers. These seven shouldn't even be a question. Niekro pitched on a lot of bad teams while the others had certain levels of magic with the groups they played with.

Hall of Famers. No question

We can't take the plaque away. Debate them all you want but it's not coming down. You -- sitting behind your keyboard -- have no say. 

So let's just honor these seven individuals who pleased millions of fans for so many years.

Let's remember them. There's not a bad person in that bunch.

Rest in peace, legends.

Back to the Hall

Some don't need to buy a ticket

The Hall of Fame chat of the other night got my brain churning.

Plus I continue to see incredibly shortsighted commentary, such as the one talking about Phil Rizzuto.

Look, I get it on The Scooter, but the poster on social media kept saying the same thing: "1500 hits, 38 home runs." OK, you also realize the shortstop position was not one of power until Ernie Banks and, later, Cal and A-Rod made it fashionable, right?

You also know Rizzuto lost three years to World Way II?

But Scooter was as much the heart and soul of the Yankees of the 40s and 50s. Mantle and Berra and DiMaggio were the superstars. But Rizzuto was no slouch. To ignore the (now lost) art of bunting along with his 1950 American League MVP is to show that you lack fundamental knowledge on the topic.

There's an often wrong notion of "if/then" in sports. It's flawed for sure but there are exceptions.

It goes like this: "IF Keith Hernandez is a Hall of Famer, THEN Don Mattingly has to be." That one works, for instance. I've often wondered about Mattingly versus Kirby Puckett (their numbers are identical) but one played center field and the other played first base. One has postseason success and won two rings and the other got one playoff series.

Well, Pee Wee Reese got into the Hall of Fame in 1984. Pee Wee and Phil Rizzuto were the shortstop royalty of New York. Now, I realize Reese earns social bonus points for his embracing of Jackie Robinson -- literally and figuratively. Character does matter in the Hall of Fame, but that alone does not a Hall of Famer make. Still, Pee Wee's case was not a "no-brainer."

Reese's stats are better than Rizzuto's, sure, but both had their support to get them in via the veteran's committee. In Rizzuto's case, there was no less than Ted Williams, who vociferously made the point that Rizzuto was a huge reason why the Yankees were better than the Red Sox in those years.

Case. Closed. Rizzuto is a Hall of Famer, like it or not.

But given our man on social media wants the whole shooting gallery reopened with the inclusion of Negro League stats being merged into the Major Leagues (and still confusing people), let me remind you (again) that this was already done back in 2006. I know, I wrote that two posts ago.

But, if you have a subscription to The Athletic*, Joe Posnanski is doing all the week for you. He has created a series on those outside the Hall of Fame. Now, granted, this is purely for discussion purposes. Joe is a brilliant writer. Truly. He has his flaws (as do I). He has opinions that I very much disagree with. But that also makes a lot of his work appointment reading.

*Paul Silverfarb gave me a free subscription for a year and I have to say that, so long as I can afford it, I will be a paying customer. The writing -- the reporting -- is what Sports Illustrated and Sport and The Sporting News and Inside Sports and Baseball Digest and Yankees Magazine and Steelers Digest used to be for me.

He broke down over 100 players over a series of posts and is currently going through the top 25. Mattingly is in there, though I think he's a little hard on "Donnie Baseball" but Joe is also decidedly pro-analytics to the point of overusing them. I look at WAR as a nice thing to glance at but I still tend to be an "eye test" guy. Thus, Mike Trout: Hall of Famer. I don't need numbers but they're nice filler.

Larry Walker? Good player. Very good. Didn't really pass the eye test with me, but the voters put him in.

Like it or not, we found a breaking point with the Hall of Fame when Harold Baines got the nod, and I know there's a notion that we've gone over the falls in the barrel, so just let everyone in! No, I still think there should be standards.

Despite the obvious flaws of the system.

We'll still have to deal with other issues. There's the no-shot but still talked about topic of Shoeless Joe Jackson and Pete Rose (both pass the eye test but both fail the gambling thing). I've long said you can put them in, note their flaws on their plaque and, if Pete is still alive, don't let him give a speech. I suspect there will be a conversation about hanging his plaque as soon as he's dead, quite honestly.

Then we have the steroid users. I'll make this clear: some are already in, and you're not being honest if you don't believe that. The names are obvious. So let's stop being hypocrites, shall we? 

Most applauded Bonds and Clemens and A-Rod and McGwire and Sosa and Palmiero and on and on and on. Most knew what was going on. I knew it in '98 as McGwire was going after Roger Maris (we'll come back to him).

We all knew Bonds wasn't clean as he went after 755 home runs. It's no coincidence the Giants let him walk after he broke the record. Get the moment of glory, sell the merchandise, and get it over with. Ring those registers! Then? Nobody wanted him.

Obvious.

My point is, overall, we're all complicit. So let's stop "protecting the game."

Back to Maris. Roger had good years, including two MVP awards. He was renowned for being a terrific defensive player, baserunner, and hitter. I'm not going to build a case for him otherwise, but there are those players who have the cultural moments (again, Pee Wee Reese). Factor the impact and Roger's 61 in '61 makes him a HOFer just because of what he endured that year. Now, again, I'm not creating a plaque. However, don't tell me that Joe Tinker, Johnny Evers, and Frank Chance are in the Hall for true baseball excellence.

They're in the Hall because of a poem:

These are the saddest of possible words:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."
Trio of bear cubs, and fleeter than birds,
Tinker and Evers and Chance.
Ruthlessly pricking our gonfalon bubble,
Making a Giant hit into a double –
Words that are heavy with nothing but trouble:
"Tinker to Evers to Chance."

Ozzie Smith is in, partially, due to his personality and backflips. Puckett is in because he smiled a lot and people loved him. You know these are all true. There are variables to this stuff; writers aren't robots.

Personality goes a long way.

We know Mariano Rivera shouldn't have been the first unanimous Hall of Famer due to those writers' flaws. Babe Ruth should have been, but he had only retired a year before the first voting cycle in 1936 and some used that against him.

What makes me bat-bleep crazy is the number of people who don't do the research and just blather on. In 2020, Google is your friend. That's why Ruth wasn't unanimous. Other unique issues created the scenario where Joe DiMaggio didn't get in on his first try.

And, no, being a Yankee doesn't get you in. Ask Ron Guidry, Roger Maris, Thurman Munson, Don Mattingly (need more proof?). Posnanski, in fact, pointed out how being with the Yankees or in a major market doesn't help as much as you think. I've been saying that for years. Go look at personal awards and get back to me. Justin Morneau? Bartolo Colon? Pat Hentgen? Anyone?

There's a whole history to this stuff. Read more than the headlines, people!

Anyway, I've babbled on here. Posnanski's work is brilliant (and, partially, wrong, but those are opinions for you!).

And I really need another trip to Cooperstown.

From a Common Sense Perspective

So there's been much talk about Derek Jeter missing on a unanimous vote by one.

That's not really what this post is about, but we'll use Jeter as the baseline.

That one voter has been revered and reviled in the past 24 hours.

Do I think the person did it for notoriety? No, not really. Generally speaking, that person probably had no idea they were the only one to not vote for Jeter.

Do I think there should be a witch hunt over it? No, but I would be curious to get an explanation. It won't assuage those outraged (ranging from Yankees Universe to Patrick Mahomes and others) but it would be interesting nevertheless.

But here's what I want to make clear: Telling me Jeter (or anyone) can't or shouldn't be unanimous because Aaron, Mays, Ruth, etc wasn't.

It. Is. A False Equivalency.

Here's the deal.

The writers receive a ballot. They are instructed to pick up to ten players. They can send back a blank ballot. They can not send a ballot at all (though that doesn't impact the percentage of votes).

Then the writers look at each player and they answer one -- ONE -- simple question.

Really. It's quite simple.

Are you ready for it?

Can you handle it?

Are you sure?

OK...

Is that player a Hall of Famer?

That's. It.

No more. No less.

Judge the individual player. Is Derek Jeter a Hall of Famer? Yes or no. Is Larry Walker a Hall of Famer? Roger Clemens? Barry Bonds?

Base your answer on whatever metrics you choose. I generally go initially with gut feeling and eye test before I dig into numbers when discussing players. Naturally I don't have a vote because I don't belong to the Baseball Writers' Association of America.

And so, let's have a look at a ballot, shall we?

This is Randy Miller's ballot from NJ.com. Read the directions. Pretty straight forward, no? Are the players on that ballot Hall of Famers? If yes, in the estimation of the voter, check the box. Pick up to ten.

Nowhere there does it say to compare Bobby Abreu, for instance, to Reggie Jackson.

Nor does it say that you can't vote for Derek Jeter because 11 people didn't vote for Babe Ruth.

In 1936.

Can you begin to see how silly that logic is? It's not a apt comparison.

Eleven people didn't vote for Ruth. Same goes for Honus Wagner. Four didn't vote for Ty Cobb. But, again, this was in 1936. The reason I've heard behind Ruth, for instance, was that some writers thought it was too soon for his inclusion. Ruth had only retired in 1935, which of course was before the creation of the five-year waiting period.

Look, I can't explain why nine writers didn't vote for Hank Aaron in 1982 or 23 passed on Willie Mays in 1979. Three didn't vote for Junior Griffey in 2016.

There were notions that there couldn't be a unanimous Hall of Famer but that finally went out the window with Mariano Rivera in 2019.

There's still the notion of a first ballot Hall of Famer, which is a supposed to be a badge of honor. It means little thought was necessary on that player, but can also be imperfect (see: Puckett, Kirby)

There, honestly, could have been anything ranging from racism to the player in question slighted the writer somewhere along the line. Given opinions are involved, the process is hardly perfect.

Twenty writers didn't vote for Ted Williams in 1966. Why? Ted had a prickly relationship with writers. They're supposed to overlook that, but opinions and biases still happen.

There is the character clause which many writers have hidden behind for one dumb reason or another.

But how a ballot was voted on in any previous year (or player) has no bearing on how this year played out.

THIS is the ballot for 2020.

Next year, voters will judge only the players on the 2021 ballot.

So to tell me Derek Jeter or Ken Griffey Jr or Sandy Koufax or Johnny Bench or Tom Seaver can't be unanimous because Babe Ruth or Willie Mays or Christy Mathewson or Ted Williams or Stan Musial weren't? Don't you see where it's sort of illogical?

Or is it just a sheer matter of basic jealousy?

Or is it you're a hater of the player/team?

This post isn't about whether or not Jeter is unanimous. I lost no sleep over that fact.  As a reminder, he's in the Hall of Fame today, so the point is irrelevant.

In reality, it's not really about Jeter at all. We could be talking about any player.

It's meant to attack the bogus logic I've seen flying around since around 6:15 last night.

The hot takes and hatred have just been wonderful. Thanks for all of it.

YEAH, JEETS!

Along with "27 Rings," "Yeah, Jeets!" might be our most obnoxious quote. Yankees fans -- like any successful sports franchise -- certainly have that tendency.

Like a party trick, it makes haters flip out. Fun for the whole family!

And, oh my, are they flipping out tonight as Derek Jeter enters Cooper2town.

Sorry. I couldn't resist.

You see, here's the thing. The one thing -- the ONLY thing -- that the Derek Jeter haters (read: Mets fans, Red Sox fans, and, well, haters in general) can hold on to is that he wasn't unanimously elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

He missed out by one vote. Let the games begin!

Well, OK, yes, there's the thing of now breaking him down. You know: "He's not a Hall of Famer." Then there are the comparisons and the "overrated" comments and, my personal favorite, the "crappy defense" argument.

But, make no mistake: he's going to Cooperstown. He's the featured attraction this summer. Get ready for a "YUGE" crowd this summer, with a lot of pinstripes to be seen.

(And by the way, big congrats to Lary Walker. Who doesn't like Larry Walker, eh?)

Truth: Derek Sanderson Jeter was never my favorite Yankees player. It was always Paul O'Neill or someone else.

But, he was there. Mr. Clutch. Mr. November. Mr. Whatever-the-hell-he-wanted-to-be.

He was that good. We knew it.

I was there for a ton of it. My son -- noted as not a big sports fan -- jumped in my arms when he got the hit that put him as tops in the history of the New York Yankees. We were both there on a rainy Friday night to watch it.

He and I watched Jeter hit DJ3K (aka, his 3,000th hit) from our living room a few years later. Again, he jumped in my arms. Special. Father. Son.

Hate Jeter all you want. I'll hold onto those moments.

In need of a big hit on Mickey Mantle Day when he was a rookie? Bang. Walk off hit.

Game 6, 1996? Bang. Base hit off Greg Maddox, who spurned the Bronx for the burning of Atlanta.

The Mets climbing back into the 2000 World Series? Ha, I say. First pitch. Game four. Bobby Jones. One-nothing, New York Yankees. Series basically over.

Go into the stands against the A's in '01 or the Red Sox in '04? Sure.

He's also Mr. November, of course.

The Flip Play.

The last at-bat in the Bronx, followed by the last AB in Boston.

Every fist pump. Ever win.

Yankees win. You know the rest.

I get it. You think he's overrated. Because how could a guy by THIS good?

He was never the best...doesn't deserve to be unanimous because Ruth, Aaron, Mantle, Mays, Musial, Junior, Cobb or Piazza weren't. It's flawed logic, but you do you, I suppose.

He was that good, and he would have been anywhere. But, in New York, he found the right combination. The bright lights. The big city.

Bernie and Jorge and Coney and Paulie and Mr. Torre and Zim and Andy and Mo and Tino and SupercalifragilisticexpialiBrosius all played parts in those four rings from 1996-2000.

But, it could have been Shelly Duncan or Shane Spencer or Aaron Small. It didn't matter.

Five rings overall. Endless playoff appearances.

And, arguably, the greatest shortstop ever. Yes, I said arguably.

I got to be around him once, in the Yankees locker room following a win against the Blue Jays in a makeup game in 2003.

It was surreal. He said everything and nothing. He was respectful and in control. It was masterful.

No athlete I've covered has impressed me more.

Yeah, I know. "Rob's biased." "Man crush." Whatever. You'd be impressively wrong with that take.

He's not on the Yankees' Mount Rushmore. Those spots sit clearly with Mssrs. Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, and Mantle. Yogi is probably next.

But 3,465 hits are hard to ignore.

He has hurt his image in Miami, no doubt. He's following in Michael Jordan's footsteps as an executive. But he's Derek-freaking-Jeter, and I have no reason to doubt him.

No athlete has kept himself more squeaky clean in the limelight, despite involving himself with Mariah Carey (I told you so at the time).

So, no. Unanimous happened last year with Mo. Game over with the closer. As it should be.

I didn't need to see 100% next to DJ's name tonight.

He's in.

Yeah, Jeets.

A Hall of Fame Post

Alex Karras closes in on Sonny Jurgenson

Before I get to the meat of this post, allow me to express my sadness over what iHeart Radio has done, putting many talented people out of work as they do a mass reorganization. Scott Fybush, the master of NERW at fybush.com, has more -- along with a growing list of names. I'm saddened to see the business take such a massive hit.

And now, back to our regularly-scheduled program...

Halls of Fame were all the rage today.

(Incidentally, Derek Jeter will be making his way to Cooperstown next week, so we'll deal with that then)

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame named their latest class, and frankly, I don't care. I feel no anger or pleasure at the announcement. I suppose, to an extent, that's a good thing.

The inductees are Depeche Mode, The Doobie Brothers, Whitney Houston, Nine Inch Nails, The Notorious B.I.G. and T-Rex. Jon Landau and Irving Azoff are the recipients of the Ahmet Ertegun Award.

I mean, OK. Sure.

I have nothing against any of these acts. I liked a few and didn't care about the others. We can skip the "Whitney Houston and Biggie aren't rock" discussions, because that debate is long gone. She had one of the great voices ever and he was hugely influential on rap.

Maybe someone else would have excited me, but I'm content to feel nothing over this, so there will be no Harold Baines-esque meltdown.

The Pro Football Hall of Fame also named a new collection of inductees. Bill Cowher and Jimmy Johnson were both announced over the weekend. Earlier today, Steve Sabol, Paul Tagliabue, and George Young were named as contributors. The players named are Harold Carmichael, Jim Covert, Bobby Dillon, Cliff Harris, Winston Hill, Alex Karras, Donnie Shell, Duke Slater, Mac Speedie, and Ed Sprinkle.

I'm particularly pleased about Sabol, Young, Cowher, and Shell.

Plus Alex-freaking-Karras! We're talking about George Papadapolis -- Webster's Dad!

And more importantly...MONGO from Blazing Saddles. Mongo liked candy and was only a pawn in the game of life.




 

The Countdown Continues

That's number 23, Don Mattingly

We start today with 23 posts remaining on our odyssey.

It's one of those nights where I just feel nothing.

I'm not interested in arguing about the Hall of Fame anymore. Put Ted Simmons in. Heck, put Mackey Sasser in while you're at it.

Or Butch Wynegar.

I love the Hall but it's changed. It's not about fame. It's not about the best players anymore. It's about politics and cronyism (in the case of the various Veterans Committees). It's become the Hall of Sort of Good and Occasionally Great.

Not that the greats aren't getting in. But it's further watered down.

So, yes, come on in Ted Simmons. Certainly a good catcher, but at no time was he someone who I had among the dominant catchers of the era. Bench? Yes. Munson? Um...YES. Fisk? Of course. Ted Simmons was fourth at best in that era.

I don't mind Simmons getting in, but the lack of respect for Munson is astounding. I've also said for many years that I wouldn't have put Munson (and, basically, all of the 2019 nominees) in the Hall but, again, the standards have changed.

I've also been suitably ripped for my passionate take about the Nike swoosh appearing on the front of Major League Baseball jerseys which, apparently, MLB took extra money to allow.

There are words I'd like to use. I won't.

One genius on Twitter (with no followers and following nobody) told me, essentially, to shut the bleep up because they look "dope."

To which I responded that I only saw one dope and no followers.

Oh, and twice I got told I was a boomer. Now, it's rather pedantic of me, but being born in 1968 doesn't make me a "boomer."

So, bye...er...Felicia.

I also found myself in a small Eli Manning/Ben Roethlisberger debate. That was probably the nicest debate of the day! If a Waffle House was nearby, Tim, Ron and I could hash (brown) it out over some All-Star Specials.

But, alas.

So, that's where we are.

We'll be down to 22 to go after I hit "publish" and I really don't want to give out. I don't even want to stop but, unlike Cal Ripken, I'll hopefully know when to take a day off.

Oh, did I open another debate?

Opening Day

 From left: Lou Gehrig, Joe Cronin, Bill Dickey, Joe DiMaggio, Charlie Gehringer, Jimmie Foxx, and Hank Greenberg

Few phrases make me smile more than Opening Day.

No other sport has people counting down to it like baseball fans.

That's not to demean other sports, and you probably know I love so many other sports.

But baseball is special.

Think about it. There are special pop culture moments regarding baseball. Some movie channel will run a baseball festival. Radio shows will chime in with baseball-related programming and music.

Opening Day of baseball season is just different. If only we could get back to Cincinnati being first before everyone else, but I know that train left the station a long time ago.

Besides, I'm an ESPN guy (yeah, right) so who am I to criticize?

Anyway, it's sort of become a thing to repost the post I wrote on April 5, 2015, simply entitled Baseball. A little backstory for you: I was in at a low point that weekend due to extemporaneous noise. I sat down and wrote that Sunday to just put a little spirit back in me. I felt emotional writing it, and that's normally a barometer that I've done something sort of OK.

I posted it, and the reaction was just beyond my expectations. So here it is again, as I wrote it (and even read it on the air) from that day.

I've made very minor changes to move it forward to 2019.

*****
Check out that picture above. Look at them: Gehirg, Cronin, Dickey, DiMaggio, Gehringer, Foxx, Greenberg. Even non-baseball/sports fans know at least two of those names (Gehrig and Joe D., of course).

It was taken at the 1937 All-Star Game at Griffith Stadium in Washington. Look at that glorious NBC sign in the background. Incidentally, three radio networks broadcast that game (NBC, CBS, and Mutual).

You might not know that every one of those players are enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Yet they are. Those guys aren't scrubs. They're among the best to ever play the game of baseball. Naturally, I've written tons about The Iron Horse, and a few words about DiMaggio as well. Bill Dickey, by the way, is vastly overlooked.

For you non-fans, Jimmie Foxx was the loose model for Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own.

You probably know this, if you've read anything here, but I love this great game. My god, we've screwed it up incredibly over the years. The race issues were deplorable. The sport struggled with growth and competition from the NFL through the 70s (and it continues today). We've added playoff teams, and dealt with drugs (steroids, greenies, cocaine, etc. Go on. Look it up.). We're worried about pace of play and bringing the inner city back.

We had Black Sox and a gambling Red (just put him in the Hall of Fame, please?).

We have the Babe. The one and only. The single greatest, most important athlete in the history of sports. Yes, I know, Jim Thorpe, Bo Jackson, and others might have been better true athletes, but given everything involved, there's Babe Ruth and everyone else.

We've sold our souls too many times. Baseball shouldn't open at night, but ESPN's money is too much to overlook (2019 Rob here: it doesn't start at night. Thankfully).

Yet today, in the day, with the stands full and the records 0-0, the lines will be painted fresh. The grass will be gloriously green. I wish a band would play, and we could recreate some of the openings of seasons past, but a voice will intone the starting lineups, and they will gather on those freshly-painted baselines. The anthem will be sung. A ceremonial first pitch will be thrown. There might be a flyover or some other special effect.

Then, as there has been since 1869 (the generally-agreed upon "first year" of Major League Baseball), a batter will step up to home plate. A pitcher - 60 feet, six inches away - will author a first pitch.

And there will be baseball. To me, for its history, grandeur, strategy - everything - it is the greatest game of them all.

Football is the national passion. Baseball is the National Pastime.

Give me 714. Give me .406. Sixty-one. Fifty-six. I wish we could have 1918 back, but time marches on. A fan knows what these numbers are.

Give me the billy goat. The Bambino. Curses real or imagined.

Give me those uniform numbers that we all know: four. Three. Seven. Five. Forty-two.

Give me The Mick. Jeet. Gabby. Dizzy. Daffy. Dazzy. Pudge. Yaz. Three-Finger. Blue Moon. Vida. Catfish. Bucky. Stan the Man.

Give me Willie, Mickey, and The Duke. Tinker to Evers to Chance.

Give me The Called Shot. The Homer in The Gloamin'. The Shot Heard Round the World. The Miracle of Coogan's Bluff. Those last two are the same thing.

Give me Ebbets Field. Forbes Field. Crosley Field. Now give me Camden Yards and Fenway and Wrigley. The Big A. Chavez Ravine.

Give me the corner of E. 161st Street and River Ave. The most famous address in sports history.

Give me the Royal Rooters and the Bleacher Creatures.

Give me 27 rings.

Give me those great quotes, from music to movies to TV and beyond.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game. "Luckiest Man."

“That's baseball, and it's my game. Y' know, you take your worries to the game, and you leave 'em there. You yell like crazy for your guys. It's good for your lungs, gives you a lift, and nobody calls the cops. Pretty girls, lots of 'em.”
―Humphrey Bogart

Give me Vincent Edward Scully. The man known as Vin. The man who learned at the side of Walter Lanier Barber, the Old Redhead himself sitting in the catbird seat, while the bases were FOB (full of Brooklyn).

Give me a Ballantine Blast. Tell me "It's Miller Time" or "This Bud's for you."

Give me Cooperstown.

I love this game. It energizes me. Engulfs me. Fills my heart, yet breaks it. It enraptured me for sure when I saw my first pro game in 1972 and a guy named Murcer doubled off another guy named Palmer. One is a hall of famer. The other doesn't need to be.

(Note: I actually first saw the Yankees play the Royals in the first game I ever went to. It was still 1972, and Bobby Murcer actually hit a home run. But...let's stick with the above paragraph)

It made me cry when in 1996, my boyhood team won their first title in 18 years, and I couldn't share it with the one person I wanted to share it with.

Most of all, selfishly, give me a microphone so that I can broadcast it.

This is the beginning of my year. This is when I feel refreshed.

This is when I know that this horrible winter is over.

It's Opening Day.

Play ball.

Mo: Perfect

October, 2015. Mt Kisco, NY.

Mariano Rivera is a member of the baseball Hall of Fame tonight.

Shocking, I know.

He was the first player to ever receive a unanimous induction from the writers (special circumstances like Lou Gehrig in 1939 aside).

He'll be joined by Edgar Martinez, Roy Halladay, and his former teammate Mike Mussina, as well as Lee Smith and Harold Baines.

If you know anything about Mo, then you know how handled this.

He praised God. He praised his family. He praised his teammates and the New York Yankees organization.

He thanked the writers and the fans.

It was all about the praise for everyone but him, though you never doubted his confidence.

He'll remain as humble as ever.

Mariano Rivera,  a product of Panama, appeared on the scene in 1995. I remember watching him on the Fourth of July, as he allowed two hits and struck out 11 Chicago White Sox over eight innings to win, 4-1.

By the '95 playoffs -- the Bombers' first appearance since 1981 -- Mo worked 5.1 innings of relief in the five game loss to Seattle. I remember being nervous, but impressed, at how he handled the high wire act of that series.

By 1996, he was the man, as the dominant eighth inning setup man (as for closer John Wetteland, who's in the news for all the wrong reasons, I'm sickened by the charges. Innocent until proven guilt, of course, but still. Sickening.).

Wetteland was gone after '96, and Mo was now the closer. Things went well until the ALDS, when Sandy Alomar Jr. launched a home run to right in the eighth inning of Game 4. The Yankees lost the series in five.

Closers need to have short memories. Mo had that to ponder all winter. Yet '98 turned out just fine.

And '99.

And 2000.

As for 2001 (just as in 2004), well, things happen. Tip your hat to the Diamondbacks who, frankly, were better than the Yankees that year (despite the Bombers being an inning away from winning the World Series). The Red Sox got to Mo in 2004.

Again, it happens. George Brett took Goose Gossage deep in the 1980 ALCS, and Kirk Gibson took the year that been so improbable and did the impossible by homering off of Dennis Eckersley in the 1988 World Series.

He handled it with grace and humor, his faith always sitting in the forefront.

He set the saves record eventually (yes, I know it's a flawed stat).

He otherwise dominated, even recording 44 saves in his last season.

You want good character? Find me a bad thing about Mariano Rivera.

He checks literally every box that a Hall of Famer should.

He is universally loved in and out of baseball.

He'll probably be back next year when Derek Jeter joins him.

He also thinks the '98 Yankees would beat anybody. Just saying.

Welcome to Cooperstown, Mo. I can't wait to see your plaque with my own eyes.

As you probably know, I had the profound pleasure of interviewing him myself back in 2015 on the HAN Network.



I recorded Doubleheader tonight to break down all of the Hall of Fame news and notes.