At the close of every year, Time magazine names their “Person of the Year,” the man, woman or group of people whom they believe “for better or for worse…has done the most to influence the events of the year.” This year, their honoree was President Barack Obama. A little over eleven years ago, in 2001, Time had bestowed this title upon Rudy Giuliani in the wake of the attacks on September 11th. There was a more than valid argument, though, that this was a title more appropriate for Osama bin Laden, the terrorist mastermind behind the aforementioned attacks (as well as many others). After all, Time had already set their precedent for these types of situations by naming Adolf Hitler their PotY in 1938, and Josef Stalin PotY in 1939, and again in 1942. There was even an argument that Adolf Hitler should have been named Time’s “Person of the Century,” with historian Nancy Gibbs writing that it was Hitler who “perhaps more than any other figure, who demanded a whole rethinking about good, evil, God and man.” She went on to ask, though: “Evil may be a powerful force, a seductive idea, but is it more powerful than genius, creativity, courage or generosity?” Time, of course, named Albert Einstein as their PotC (with Gandhi and FDR as the runners-up), so in their mind the evil of Adolf Hitler was not more powerful than the genius of Albert Einstein, which is certainly a valid opinion, but can also be debated endlessly. Which brings me back to the Rudy Giuliani/Osama bin Laden conundrum.
In the months following 9/11 it’s fair to say that America was drunk with patriotism – and rightfully so. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Osama bin Laden wasn’t named as Time’s PotY – giving him such a title would have, essentially, strengthened him. Which was why Time’s anointment of Mayor Giuliani was as much a celebration of his resolve as it was a condemnation of bin Laden’s cowardice. In Time’s PotY feature on Giuliani, Gibbs wrote:
If the graves alone were the measure, Osama bin Laden would own this year; we lost more lives on Sept. 11 than in any terrorist attack in U.S. history. And bin Laden did more than kill people. We had just packed up and stored away the century of Hitler and Stalin–both Men of the Year in their time–which we imagined had shown us the depths to which a despot could sink. To watch bin Laden sit in delight and create a skyscraper with his hand–like a child playing Here’s the Church, Here’s the Steeple–then slowly crumple it into a fist was to confront not only the nature of evil but how much we still don’t know about it.
But bin Laden is too small a man to get the credit for all that has happened in America in the autumn of 2001. Imagination makes him larger than he is in order that he fit his crime; yet those who have studied his work do not elevate him to the company of history’s monsters, despite the monstrousness of what he has done. It is easy to turn grievance into violence; that takes no genius, just a lack of scruple and a loaded gun. The killers he dispatched were braver men than he; he has a lot of money and a lot of hate, and when he is gone there will be others to take his place.
What she was basically admitting was that bin Laden was the most important newsmaker of 2001, but because of the cowardice of his deeds – and because he wasn’t on par with the monsters of yore, Hitler and Stalin – he doesn’t deserve the award. Which is, I guess, understandable when you’re as drunk as we were as a nation. In hindsight, though, it’s kind of silly (as most things you do while drunk are). It’s ludicrous to suggest that any single human being had a larger impact in 2001 – or in the 21st century, for that matter (save for, possibly, Barack Obama) – than Osama bin Laden. Act of cowardice or not, that single attack – and the fear, and seeming imminence, of more attacks – changed the securitization of our country, and the world, forever; it changed our relationship with the Middle East, and almost institutionalized Islamophobia and intolerance; it led us into two costly wars (in terms of both lives and money) which exacerbated our economic woes even further; and the securitization led to the emergence of the modern American surveillance state. Rudy Giuliani ran for president and failed to win even a single state before withdrawing from the Republican primaries.
I really don’t give a shit about Time’s PotY, though. I mean, I care about it because I believe the person(s) they name serve as an accurate barometer of that given year’s political or cultural climate, but I don’t give a shit about it because Time is a fairly nondescript, irrelevant publication at this stage of its life. And because of this, the people who choose their PotY are even more irrelevant than this publication – hilariously, of course, the PotY is now determined by online polling of Time’s readership, the only group of people more irrelevant than the people whose words they read. What I care about is the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, and its selection process for inductees.
The debate being had within baseball circles is whether or not users of performance-enhancing drugs – or even suspected users of PEDs, without any tangible evidence – deserve enshrinement. One side of the argument believes any, and all, players whose careers are deserving, should be enshrined; the other side believes…well, I’m not quite sure. Some believe they cheated – even though, for most of the players in question, PEDs were not banned by Major League Baseball at the time of their suspected use. Some believe they violated the Hall of Fame’s “character clause” because they used substances banned by federal law. Others believe some nonsense about it being bad for children? or something? Honestly, it’s difficult to keep track of all of the ridiculous excuses some of these writers will use to keep worthy players out of the Hall based on nothing more than suspicion, or perhaps a grudge. The problem, of course, is that the latter seem to far outnumber the former, which seems to be leading to a Hall of Fame (possibly) devoid of an entire generation of stars, which, in turn, poses an even bigger question: is simple suspicion of PED use a disqualifier for enshrinement into the Hall of Fame?
We know Rafael Palmeiro used performance-enhancing drugs because he tested positive for them. We believe Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire used them because there seems to be evidence and reporting to support that claim. Some suspect Jeff Bagwell or Mike Piazza used them because the former looked like Popeye the Sailor Man and the latter had bacne. The trouble I have with this is the question of why some are above suspicion while others are not? Why are some writers willing to dismiss Jeff Bagwell, but not his smaller-in-stature teammate, Craig Biggio? Is this an insinuation that I believe Bagwell or Biggio used PEDs? No. But any suspicion of Bagwell, or Piazza, or any other player from this era must similarly be applied to all players from the era, because, really, how are we to determine – without actual evidence – who we believe to be users and non-users? Is it a character judgement? Because, as Brandon McCarthy points out, “Marvin Harrison was an all-time great character guy. Whoops.”
The point is that you can’t simply pick and choose which players you wish to believe did or did not use performance-enhancing drugs – this is one of the few moments where an absolutist philosophy toward voting is acceptable. Which leaves two options: disregard PED suspicions and vote for whomever you believe is deserving, or vote for no one from the era. Voting for no one, though, is more than just problematic: it’s a denial of our history and of our culture. We seem to forget that the Hall of Fame is – above all else – a museum, and a museum such as the Hall of Fame is meant to preserve the history of baseball and its most significant contributors, for better or worse.
The truth is that the players of the supposed “steroid era,” or whichever moniker you wish to apply to it, had just as great of an impact on the game as Hank Aaron, Ty Cobb or Babe Ruth.* Mark McGwire’s and Sammy Sosa’s chase of Roger Maris’ single-season home run record in 1998 revived baseball following the 1994 strike – even Bud Selig would admit this. What they did was turn an entire generation of young kids into lifelong baseball fans (myself included). Since then, baseball as a sport has steadily gained in popularity, and, in turn, Major League Baseball has steadily grown as a money-making machine. In 1998, for example, the team with the largest revenue (the Yankees) brought in $175.5 million, while the team with the smallest revenue (Expos) brought in $46.5 million (via Biz of Baseball/Forbes). In 2012, the highest and lowest revenue numbers were $439 million (Yankees), and $160 million (Athletics). Yes, of course, there are any number of reasons for this – DVR proof television leading to absurd TV-rights contracts, new ballparks, the internet, and inflation – but all of these factors (save for inflation, of course) are entirely dependent on the popularity of the sport, a popularity cultivated, largely, by the home runs off of the bats of our suspected PED users. Chicks dig the longball, and it’s clear that the entire industry profited off of these so-called “cheaters.” Profits went up, Bud Selig’s salary went up, columnists like Mike Lupica wrote books praising McGwire and Sosa.** Everyone was swimming in cash, and yet no one chose to address the elephant in the room. But now, after they’ve all profited from this supposed crime against the sport, they choose to condemn them? What they’re doing would be akin to banking executives ten years from now – after making billions on sub-prime mortgages and derivatives trading – firing the guys who made them all of their money, because, you know, maybe they shouldn’t have been taking so much risk.
*The irony, of course, is that Aaron used amphetamines, Cobb was an alcoholic and a racist, and Ruth never faced a Dominican with a Bugs Bunny changeup. So your “character clause” is a sham, and your “level playing field” is a myth.
**And ripped off his title from David Halberstam. Sure, he might consider it an homage, I consider it a blowhard with no creativity.
The hypocrisy of the entire industry is palpable. Tell Barack Obama, or the people at Halliburton and Blackwater, that Osama bin Laden didn’t have a greater impact than Rudy Giuliani – they’d laugh at the suggestion. Time’s “Person of the Year” is essentially the “News Hall of Fame.” It’s a title bestowed upon the biggest newsmakers every year, much in the same way the Baseball Hall of Fame honors the baseball players with the biggest impacts on the game every year. To deny the players of this era admittance into the Hall of Fame is to deny the impact they had on the sport, for better and for worse – because, let’s just be honest, if you’re between Roger Clemens and Jack Morris, who do you think left a bigger mark on the game? Let’s just hope our Guardians of the Hall don’t make too many decisions while drunk with superiority.
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I’m filling out my own imaginary ballot, because, well, why the fuck not. I’ve broken it down to different categories, and then the ballot (listed in order of strength of candidacy).
I like you and everything, but no (in no particular order):
Todd Walker, Jose Mesa, Sandy Alomar, Mike Stanton, Jeff Conine, Royce Clayton, Roberto Hernandez, Aaron Sele, Ryan Klesko, Rondell White, Woody Williams, Jeff Cirillo, Steve Finley, Reggie Sanders, Shawn Green, Julio Franco, Lee Smith.
The Yankees:
Don Mattingly: If Keith Hernandez is not a Hall of Famer, neither is he.
Bernie Williams: He has a decent case, but not nearly strong enough for this deep of a ballot, or any ballot really.
David Wells: More career wins than Curt Schilling (239 to 216), but, as we’ve learned, wins aren’t everything.
The Easy Cut of the Guy Who Gets Way Too Many Votes:
Jack Morris: He received 66.7% of the vote last season, based on the strength of his 254 wins and heroics in the 1991 World Series. Because of this he’s considered a “big game pitcher” even though people seem to forget that he gave up 10 runs in 10.2 innings (while going 0-2) in the 1992 World Series, and that his career 3.80 playoff ERA is nearly identical to his career 3.90 regular season ERA. Top it off with his pedestrian career 105 ERA+ (tied with Javier Vasquez and Tim Wakefield, just behind Kevin Millwood, and just ahead of Jamie Moyer), and everything tells you he isn’t a Hall of Famer.
The Crime Dog:
Fred McGriff: The 493 career home runs, and .377 career on-base percentage are nice, but as a first baseman, he’s held to a slightly higher standard. His 48.2 career WAR (all WAR numbers via baseball-reference.com, rather than FanGraphs) places him behind guys like Lance Berkman, Will Clark, John Olerud and Keith Hernandez.
The Tough Cut of the Guy Who Gets Way Too Few Votes:
Dale Murphy: His aggregate career numbers aren’t overwhelming – a career .265/.346/.469 hitter with 398 home runs doesn’t exactly scream “Hall of Famer” – but during an eight year period (from 1980 to 1987) Dale Murphy won two MVPs, was an All-Star seven times, and won five Gold Gloves. Is he a Hall of Famer? No. But I’m in the camp that believes a greater emphasis should be placed on a truly excellent stretch. Sadly, for Murph, this is his last year on the ballot.
The “Not This Year” Guys*:
*These are players that I consider Hall of Famers, but, due to the depth of this year’s ballot, it just isn’t possible to place them in my top ten.
Kenny Lofton: Offensively, he has a decent case, but he gains value with his baserunning and defense. According to JAWS (Jaffe WAR Scoring System – we all know the best way to build a formula to is create the acronym first and then reverse-engineer) Lofton ranks 8th among all CFs in baseball history, with six of the seven ahead of him in the Hall, and the other being Ken Griffey, Jr. That being said, his JAWS score may be more than slightly inflated by a discrepancy in defensive-metrics. He has a case, but given the depth of this ballot (and of future ballots) it’s probably a long shot – though still possible – that Lofton ever receives the 75% necessary for enshrinement. His case will gain strength, though, once Tim Raines is elected (more on him in a bit).
Rafael Palmeiro: 3,020 hits and 569 home runs should make him a sure bet, but the only number anyone will care about is “1”, as in the one positive test for Winstrol (stanosozol). I like to think I draw a red line at testing positive, but, after really thinking about it, I realized Palmeiro served only a ten game suspension then, and even if he were to test positive now, would only serve for 50 games. Which makes me wonder: just how egregious of a violation do we believe this to be? I can’t find exact numbers, but a simple Google search of the words “Pedro Martinez suspension” brings up several instances of his being suspended between five and eight games. If we were to add up all of Pedro’s suspensions, it would be awfully close to the 50 games that a positive test would entail (if not higher), and it would certainly be far more than the ten games which Palmeiro served. So which is worse – 50 games served for taking a drug, or 50 games served for instigating several fights by throwing at hitters’ heads? All of which is to say that I believe Rafael Palmeiro is a Hall of Famer, but I need to be talked into it.
Larry Walker: A career .313/.400/.565 hitter, worth nearly 70 WAR over his career, far more than the other rightfielder on this ballot (we’ll get to him in a minute). I can’t seem to get over the fact that he triple-slashed a .381/.462/.710 line at Coors Field, where he played in 30% of his games throughout his career. He has Hall of Fame credentials, I’m not saying he doesn’t – he actually has a very strong case – but when weighing between he and the next eleven guys, he, to me, is the only one that can say his numbers are artificially inflated by something other than performance-enhancing drugs.
Edgar Martinez: This was definitely the most difficult omission from this ballot. Edgar had a career .312/.418/.515 line, he led the league in hitting twice, on-base percentage three times, OPS once, OPS+ once, doubles twice, RBI once and even had more career walks than strikeouts. He’s a Hall of Famer, and I’m not sure there were five right-handed hitters who were more fun to watch while I was growing up, but in this ridiculously deep class with 15 players with decent-to-great Hall of Fame arguments, he was the last man out.
The Ballot:
Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa: For obvious reasons I consider these two a package deal. Based on raw numbers – 583 and 609 HR, respectively – they’re each no-brainers, though when using advanced metrics, it would seem as if Sammy Sosa is a borderline Hall of Famer. Certainly his historic home run numbers – three seasons with 60+ HRs* – and 2,408 hits are good enough, but his .344 career OBP is exacerbated by his high strikeout rate (as opposed to McGwire who struck out a lot, but had a career OBP 50 points higher than Sosa’s). Sosa’s career 128 OPS+ also places him below Edgar Martinez (147), Larry Walker (141), Fred McGriff (134) and Rafael Palmeiro (132), tied with Ryan Klesko, and just barely ahead of Don Mattingly (127) and Bernie Williams (125). If I were “voting” based purely on statistics, Sammy Sosa wouldn’t be a Hall of Famer. Unfortunately, for Edgar Martinez, I can’t overlook the importance of Sammy Sosa (and Mark McGwire) in baseball’s resurgence in the late-1990’s and it’s for that reason – when combined with that lofty HR total – that I place a guy like Sosa ahead of Edgar Martinez, or Larry Walker or Rafael Palmeiro. After all, who is more important to the history of baseball: Sammy Sosa or Edgar Martinez? In this instance, Sammy Sosa is the Osama bin Laden (but in a totally good way) to Edgar Martinez’ Rudy Giuliani. He may have achieved his great counting stats through suspect means, but the impact of those home runs are undeniable, and thusly, he is a Hall of Famer.
*This is one of my all-time favorite baseball trivia facts: Sammy Sosa broke Roger Maris’ single-season home run record three separate times (66, 63, and 64 in 1998, 1999, and 2001, respectively), and never led the league in home runs in any of those years. Mark McGwire hit 70 in 1998 and 65 in 1999, Barry Bonds hit 73 in 2001.
Alan Trammell: One of the greatest Hall of Fame injustices of my lifetime is the fact that Alan Trammell is doubtful to ever be voted into the Hall by the BBWAA. He put up the 11th highest JAWS score among all shortsops, with eight of the ten players ahead of him being Hall of Famers, and the other two being Alex Rodriguez and Derek Jeter. Likewise, five of the next six players on the list are also Hall of Famers, including Barry Larkin who was inducted in 2012.
Curt Schilling: Career ERA+ of 127 places him 39th all-time, and his 61.4 JAWS score places him safely above the average among starting pitchers in the Hall of Fame. Some less enlightened folks will see his 216 career wins and tell you they weren’t enough. They’re wrong. Being not just a key contributor to two World Series champions, but one of the two or three most important players on each of those teams, including a historic championship with the Red Sox in 2004, should place him over the top for anybody doubting his candidacy.
Craig Biggio: 3,060 career hits, 1,160 career walks, and 285 career hit-by-pitches make him a player uniquely skilled at getting on base (and make no mistake, getting plunked is, in fact, a skill). Combine those numbers with the fact that he played most of his career at 2B (where he won four Gold Gloves), while also spending significant time at both catcher and center field, and you have a player providing historic totals at three of the four most important defensive positions.
Tim Raines: Raines’ has been a pet case for the statistically inclined. The best way to make his it is to compare him to one of his contemporaries, a “superstar” who was a first-ballot Hall of Famer: this player finished his career with 3,141 hits, 3,955 times on base (H + BB + HBP), 5,267 bases gained (TB + BB + HBP + SB – CS), and scored 1,383 runs, while Raines finished with only 2,605 hits, but was on base 3,977 times, gained 5,805 bases, and scored 1,517 runs. The Hall of Famer is, of course, Tony Gwynn, whose lofty hit total no doubt accelerated his path to the Hall. What’s obvious is that there is a clear bias toward the non-traditional skillset among the voters in the BBWAA. Raines was just as good, if not better than, Gwynn, but because his greatest skills were drawing walks and stealing bases, he’s overlooked when compared with Gwynn, whose greatest skill was slapping the ball through what he called the “5.5 hole.” He’s an obvious Hall of Famer and it’s scary that it’s taking this long for the voters to realize it.
Jeff Bagwell: Worth 76.7 WAR over his career, 7th all-time among first basemen. Of the six players ahead of him, five are in the Hall of Fame and the other is Albert Pujols. His JAWS score is 6th all-time. He batted .297/.408/.540 for his career, with 449 home runs. To some he “looks” like he used PEDs, and so they won’t vote for him. To me, that’s just a form of baseball McCarthyism.
Mike Piazza: The greatest hitting catcher of all-time with the 5th highest WAR and JAWS. He hit .308/.377/.545 with 427 HR and an OPS+ of 143 which stands as the highest total of any catcher with at least 1,000 games played (Buster Posey is at 146, but he’s only played 308 games). He’s another no-brainer, first-ballot Hall of Famer, but Murray Chass said he had bacne, so, of course, he won’t get in immediately.
Roger Clemens: By JAWS he’s the third-greatest starting pitcher of all-time (behind Walter Johnson and Cy Young). His 143 ERA+ is 7th all-time. He has 354 wins and 4,672 strikeouts. His ex-convict personal trainer said he took steroids, so here we are.
Barry Bonds: More than, perhaps, anyone else in the world of sports, Barry Bonds embodied what we’ve come to know as the tragic hero. From 1986 through 1998 Bonds was, arguably, the best player in baseball, and was already one whom you could consider as a first-ballot guy. As Mark Fainaru-Wada and Lance Williams would report in Game of Shadows, Bonds was driven to PEDs by his jealousy of Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. This is his prevailing legacy: a man who could have become the greatest hitter in three generations, instead was consumed by his own insecurities and flaws – by hubris and jealousy – and, like Oedipus, became a tragic figure in the baseball world. A post-PEDs Bonds would go on to break every major record known to man – single-season home runs, career home runs, single-season walks, career walks. He finished 1.1 WAR behind Babe Ruth for most all-time. He went from being, arguably, the best player of his generation, to, arguably, the best player ever. Unfortunately, for him, and for us, his legacy is now his tragic heroism. For the purposes of the Hall of Fame – a collection of players that isn’t tiered by greatness – this shouldn’t make any difference. He simply had two different careers, each of which were Hall-worthy. I shouldn’t have even spent this many words to make that point.
bhavin's mind grapes. 