Sprinting Into The New Year

It's been close to a month since the last post, and there's definitely some catching up to do. Unfortunately, most of it is outside of New England. Randy Johnson was traded, Barry Zito signed, another Japanese pitcher was added to the Bronx mix, J.D. Drew's contract continues to undergo modifications to it's language, and the Hall of Fame announced the 2007 inductees, Cal Ripken, Jr. and Tony Gwynn.

The most interesting thing to come out of the last month has been the discussion of Big Mac's credentials for the Hall of Fame. Should steroids keep him out, or should their impact be discounted due to what we suspect was widespread use during Mac's prime? Surprisingly, he did receive votes for the Hall, meaning that there really is truth to the notion that steroids weren't as devastating to the game as the media has hyped them to be.

Of course, in the end, he wasn't elected (just like Jim Ed), and two of the biggest baseball icons of the last 25 years will be walking to the podium at the end of July.

I know it's just a little bit, but I'll be back for more. Stay tuned.

Pics In The Hall

The Man Behind The Game

As I walked through the halls of the museum this morning, stopping to look at the brand new exhibit on the Negro Leagues that was recently installed (and paid for by the Boston Red Sox and the Yawkey Trust -- talk about trying to make up for past transgressions), I noticed a small crowd of people milling about through the exhibit of the Women's Baseball section. Everybody had a camera to begin with, but more than the usual number were aimed in one direction, at a short, older man glancing at the walls.

Allen H. Selig, better known as "Bud", was paying a morning visit.

Just like everyone else, I walked up to him and got my ticket stub signed, but as he walked away, I thought about how he's been as a commissioner. The wild card, division restructuring, revenue sharing, the players' strike, the first skipped World Series, the tied All-Star Game, the steroid controversy, the Congressional hearings, Rafael Palmeiro's suspension and exit from the game. If you think about it, Selig has lorded over quite a few events, probably more than any commissioner since Landis.

If you've read Andrew Zimbalist's "In The Best Interests of Baseball" (and you should) you know that Selig, though "officially" commissioner for only a short time, has been the acting commissioner of the game for over 2 decades. Unlike so many of the commissioners before him, Selig has the rare ability to connect with everyone and anyone around him, even when caught off-guard in a corner of the Hall. The kids, the dads, the moms, everybody spoke with him, and he entertained every one with a smile. Not a fake "You're the reason I play the game" smile, but the same smile you see when those same fans meet their favorite player.

You see, Selig is, as I've learned, a fan. He grew up a fan, he will likely die a fan. His fanaticism has both helped and hindered him during his career, but in the end, I believe he will be regarded as one of the more successful men to have ever held the title of "Commissioner of Baseball."

He can just as easily be criticized as he can be lauded for all he's done, and Lord knows I'm not a Selig homer.

But for today, he's alright in my book.

On Baseball's Most Uncertain Weekend, History Already Made

As the rumors of player transactions bounced from ear to ear in the world of Major League Baseball, hundreds of fans, historians, and families meandered down Main Street in the Mecca of our national pasttime, Cooperstown, New York. While the legend of baseball's creation has been proven to be nothing more than a myth, so much of the sport traces it's roots here, to 25 Main Street. Behind an unimposing brick façade decades of dirt and dust, pine tar, print, and leather make their home, and generations of faithful come to pay homage.

If you've never been to the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, you don't know what it's like to step back in time. Drive through upper New York on rather unspectacular highways, find your way down the offramp from route 88, and turn left into the winding backroads of a quieter place. Farmhouses and small corner stores are nestled into small clearings that, eventually, will lead you down a hill and into a picture book neighborhood.

The main drag in town is, fittingly, Main Street. Old storefronts lined with baseball memoribilia, folding tables and accompanying chairs, children staring deer-eyed at the window glass and display cases, fathers unsure of just how exactly to mitigate the behavior of both their outer adult and inner child, all are here. The greatest players in the game sit in back rooms and on card chairs, waiting to sign (albeit for a price) any item you desire. The history of the game, both present (in the players) and past (in the books, the photos, and the equipment) is nowhere so strong as here, in Cooperstown.

Ever wonder what Hank Aaron's locker looked like? What about the home plate of Ebbets Field? Collect baseball cards? The ones at home in your plastic card sheets look nothing like the ones suspended behind the glass here. Though not all of the readers for this site are Red Sox fans, but for that majority that is, why not take a look at the glove Orlando Cabrera used to spark the lackluster defense of the 2004 World Series Team? Keith Foulke's shoes? They're here, too. And somewhere, Doug Mientkiewicz's college fund hides from critics amidst far more worthy artifacts.

Whatever your age, whatever your affiliation, Cooperstown is worth the trip. Take your wife, take your kids, take your best friends. Go alone. It doesn't matter how, or even when, for that matter. All that matters is that you come, and breathe in the air of the generations that have passed.

On the road to Cooperstown...

(originally posted January 10, 2006) Tomorrow is the big day, the day when this year's inductees into the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY are announced. It's an interesting year, as much of the media is spewing forth garbage about how there are no really worthwhile candidates this year, which apparently opens up the case for players like Jim Rice and Andre Dawson. They're almost always grouped together as players who are "on the cusp" of induction. I really can't say why Dawson hasn't gotten in, as I think his numbers, Gold Gloves and MVP, in addition to his character, provide a heavy case.

Rice, though, is the thorny outsider. A black superstar in a city that is still trying to shake the stigma of racism and isolationism, on one of the last 2 clubs to put a black player on the roster, Rice wasn't exactly the mediaman's daydream. A quiet man, he was constantly viewed as aloof and arrogant, though nobody really minded when he came through for the club. Here's his career line:

1974-1989 Boston Red Sox (American)
G AB R H 2B 3B HR RBI TB BB SO SB CS OBP SLG AVG
2089 8225 1249 2452 373 79 382 1451 4129 670 1423 58 34 .352 .502 .298
*source: mlb.com

Rice led the league in HR during 3 seasons ('77, '78, '83), RBI in 2 ('78, '83), aw heck, his 1978 season was great, which is probably why he was the MVP. The point is, Rice was one of the legitimate power hitters of his era, touching a career peak of 46 in '78. I mean, cmon. 46 HR? That sure is a bunch.

Another one of the big arguments against, albeit one of the least legitimate, is that Rice DHed for a significant time (530 games exactly). In reality, however, Rice spent about 3 times that many games patrolling the grass at the Fens (1543 games), so he spent his time in the field. Granted, his career RNG is slightly below average (94) but he had a great arm (125).

The point is this guy was a legitimate threat when he played the game, and without him the Red Sox would've been a less potent offense. I say, let him in.