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My ballot for the National Baseball Hall of Fame 2013 election is in the mail.
It’s dutifully signed, has my Baseball Writers’ Association of America badge number recorded, all official.
What it does not have is a vote for a single player.
The day of reckoning I’ve been dreading for five years — ever since Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens finally left the playing field and started the countdown to Hall of Fame eligibility — has arrived.
With no guidance from either the Hall of Fame or Major League Baseball, no clarity from the courts or Congress, and no soul-baring from the players themselves, it’s up to the 600 or so Hall of Fame voters to be judge and jury for these symbols of baseball’s steroids era.
The questions are unprecedented. Who was dirty? Who was clean? Who got an advantage from using performance-enhancing drugs and who didn’t?
In the end, all we have is a ton of circumstancial evidence, a general acknowledgment that it was a dirty time in baseball for a lot of players, but no checklist telling us who juiced and who was clean.
Hall voters are left with three options:
Vote based on players’ career records and shelve the PED debate.
Selectively vote based on whatever suspicions one might have.
Vote for no one.
I am choosing to speak loudly by using silence.
This is my way of expressing my anger to baseball. Angry that the powers-that-be turned their backs while this was going on. Angry that it took us so long to shine light on it.
If you think I’m being stubborn, illogical or naive, or you think I’m ducking the issue, you are welcome to those opinions. And here’s something else that might push you off the deep end: I probably won’t do the same thing next year.
Over time, the debate has gone from outrage to disinterest. The prevailing winds now blow toward a reconciliation of sorts: Baseball’s issues from the past haven’t impacted the Hall of Fame, so why is this stain different? I’m not sure I buy that, but I acknowledge that lots of people are sick of talking about this.
Straw polls have made it pretty clear that Bonds, Clemens and Sammy Sosa won’t get enough support for election when the voting results are announced on Jan. 9. But Hall of Fame voters have a history of changing their minds, and I can see some of these players getting voted in some day, maybe even next year. That drives players nuts; they argue that the statistics haven’t changed, so their chances shouldn’t either. But a Hall of Fame is more than a set of impressive numbers. It’s a reflection of the times in a given sport, an assessment of who rose above their peers. The passage of time can impact one’s evaluation.
I don’t know what I’ll do next year, but I’m fairly sure I won’t send in a blank ballot. This one-year protest should make my point.
I admit to a tiny bit of guilt over possibly keeping out an innocent player by not voting, but I can live with it since there is no one I’d vote for who is in his 15th and final year of eligilibity. I’m not jeopardizing anyone’s legacy.
Frankly, I’d feel a whole lot guiltier checking the box next to the names of Bonds and Clemens and a few other guys. That can wait for another day — or never. Remains to be seen.
It’s dutifully signed, has my Baseball Writers’ Association of America badge number recorded, all official.
What it does not have is a vote for a single player.
The day of reckoning I’ve been dreading for five years — ever since Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens finally left the playing field and started the countdown to Hall of Fame eligibility — has arrived.
With no guidance from either the Hall of Fame or Major League Baseball, no clarity from the courts or Congress, and no soul-baring from the players themselves, it’s up to the 600 or so Hall of Fame voters to be judge and jury for these symbols of baseball’s steroids era.
The questions are unprecedented. Who was dirty? Who was clean? Who got an advantage from using performance-enhancing drugs and who didn’t?
In the end, all we have is a ton of circumstancial evidence, a general acknowledgment that it was a dirty time in baseball for a lot of players, but no checklist telling us who juiced and who was clean.
Hall voters are left with three options:
Vote based on players’ career records and shelve the PED debate.
Selectively vote based on whatever suspicions one might have.
Vote for no one.
I am choosing to speak loudly by using silence.
This is my way of expressing my anger to baseball. Angry that the powers-that-be turned their backs while this was going on. Angry that it took us so long to shine light on it.
If you think I’m being stubborn, illogical or naive, or you think I’m ducking the issue, you are welcome to those opinions. And here’s something else that might push you off the deep end: I probably won’t do the same thing next year.
Over time, the debate has gone from outrage to disinterest. The prevailing winds now blow toward a reconciliation of sorts: Baseball’s issues from the past haven’t impacted the Hall of Fame, so why is this stain different? I’m not sure I buy that, but I acknowledge that lots of people are sick of talking about this.
Straw polls have made it pretty clear that Bonds, Clemens and Sammy Sosa won’t get enough support for election when the voting results are announced on Jan. 9. But Hall of Fame voters have a history of changing their minds, and I can see some of these players getting voted in some day, maybe even next year. That drives players nuts; they argue that the statistics haven’t changed, so their chances shouldn’t either. But a Hall of Fame is more than a set of impressive numbers. It’s a reflection of the times in a given sport, an assessment of who rose above their peers. The passage of time can impact one’s evaluation.
I don’t know what I’ll do next year, but I’m fairly sure I won’t send in a blank ballot. This one-year protest should make my point.
I admit to a tiny bit of guilt over possibly keeping out an innocent player by not voting, but I can live with it since there is no one I’d vote for who is in his 15th and final year of eligilibity. I’m not jeopardizing anyone’s legacy.
Frankly, I’d feel a whole lot guiltier checking the box next to the names of Bonds and Clemens and a few other guys. That can wait for another day — or never. Remains to be seen.
This fucking guy.
1 year protest really meaning he doesn't have the balls to make a decision already.
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