In equally stunning news as this weekend’s UFC 257, the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame announced that there would be no new inductees in the hallowed halls of Cooperstown, a remarkable outcome that hasn’t happened since 1960. In 2013, the Hall saw no players voted in by the writers as well, but the veterans committee picked up the slack by electing three members.
Whenever I am asked about a particular player being “Hall of Fame worthy,” I have a pretty reliable, simplistic, rubric: if I can’t give an immediate yes, then no, that player is not good enough to get into Cooperstown, Canton, or any other venerable Hall of Fame in the country. This gutcheck rubric, as I call it, is not open to interpretation, with the understanding that your gut may say something different than mine. Derek Jeter? Hall of Famer. Miguel Cabrera? First ballot Hall of Famer. Jason Giambi? Not a Hall of Famer. I will even conceded the occasional election to the Hall even when players I don’t think are worthy will get in. Yeah, you know who you are Eli Manning.
But I think this current slate of players presents a far more interesting paradox than a simple question of career performances, and belies a certainty this question will be with us a while.
I don’t think Curt Schilling is worthy of the Hall of Fame, I just don’t. Part of that gut check rubric is the question whether you were the best at your position at any given point of your career. Were you the most dominant player at your position amongst your contemporaries? Say what you will about his stature, his lack of success in the playoffs, and lack of big name credentials, Zach Thomas deserves to be in Canton. He had a solid 8-10 year run where he was consistently one of the best inside linebackers in the NFL. Quarterbacks knew they had to know where Thomas was, they game-planned for him. Who game-planned for Curt Schilling? Who changed their line-ups, changed their rotation, did anything out of fear for Schilling’s albeit rather nasty split-finger fastball.
Also, Schilling is an arrogant and petulant vulgarian. So there’s that. Could he get the 16 votes he needed to get from 71.1% to 75%? Maybe, but I doubt it.
But while we can argue the validity of “character” and “reputation” as a determiner of one’s worthiness for the Hall of Fame, (the honor being for great players, not the greatest of people), what we can’t argue is that performance matters, especially against those you would call peers. And while Schilling’s numbers are very good, what 2021 reminds me of is the deficit of the era in which these players played.
What continues to be clear, and most likely will continue for at least another decade is the significance of the steroid era in baseball limiting these HOF worthy classes. Barry Bonds (61.8%) and Roger Clemons (61.6%) again just finished short in the voting, and after nine years of eligibility, next year is their last chance at enshrinement through the BBWAA voting process before veterans committee might change their fortunes.
But that’s no guarantee the old timers will be favorable to their cause, and next year is a virtual guarantee they’ll be shut out. Next year will see a load of new steroid era big boppers in Alex Rodriguez, David Ortiz, and Mark Teixeira, along with Jimmy Rollins, Joe Nathan, and Jonathan Papelbon. While it’ll be interesting to see how the Hall treats ARod, (I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance he gets in), the more interesting case lies with the other two leading candidates. I don’t think Teixeira’s good enough to get in (see gut check rule), but Big Papi is the more intriguing case. Granted Ortiz tested positive in the first PED class when the MLB first leaked those names, but he kept his nose clean and only endeared himself to the fans and media with his fun loving personality and personable demeanor. That dude is beloved in Boston and adored in his native DR. I think he sits a year, and is elected in 2023.