Such a set of contradictory journeys has been absent from the Baseball Hall of Fame ballots in recent years. Sure, much maligned convicted bat corker Albert Belle donned the list last year, but his place in Cooperstown was always far from guaranteed. This year is much different, with next year's ballot released yesterday. But before we go into the reasons why, let us flashback to five years ago, when Major League Baseball's public road to impurity was just on the horizon.
It was going to be perfect. Three greats were hanging them up after the year. Cal Ripken Jr., Tony Gwynn and Mark McGwire would be honored after the season and, five years down the road, their bronzed faces would together grace the walls of Baseball bliss. Ripken, Gwynn, McGwire (and Rickey Henderson too if he had not chose to hang on so long) would go into the Hall together. And I, and all baseball fans my age, would be reminded of their childhood. We would be reminded of our baseball card collections and our first ball games, watching our first All-Star games, and for me, dreaming my team would one day make it to the World Series.
The trio represented three very distinct ball players. The styles and strategies of Ripken and Gwynn were both chronicled in George Will's epic piece Men At Work. Ripken, labeled ""The Fielder"" in Will's book, revolutionized the shortstop position. Standing at 6'4'' and weighing 225 lbs, Ripken paved the way for players like the great Alex Rodriguez and raised the bar for shortstops everywhere. It wasn't OK to simply be a light hitter and field well at the position. If it weren't for Ripken, Rey Ordonez might still be starting instead of desperately trying to make the Seattle Mariners. Ripken was a master with the glove and a dynamo with the bat, slugging 431 home runs and winning two MVPs. But what made him special was his dedication to the game. Though he had been ""banished"" to third base by the up and coming Manny Alexander (now fighting for time on the Padres), he labored on. His streak of 2,632 consecutive games played will most likely never be broken.
Then there's Gwynn. People my age will think of Gwynn as a portly guy who could swing the bat. But the man labeled ""The Hitter"" by Will probably only got plumper because he knew, despite the extra pounds, he could still hit any pitcher, so why not enjoy some Bon Bons along the way? In fact, I would guarantee that if he could stay healthy as a DH, he could come out of retirement at age 44 and hit .290. Nonetheless, with five gold gloves, eight batting crowns and 15 consecutive All-Star games, Gwynn was an integral part of my childhood baseball memories. A speedster in his youth, Gwynn adjusted to his annually budding waste size and became an even better contact hitter than he was before. He probably would have hit .400 in 1994, had it not been for the labor stoppage, and he struck out a total of 97 times over his last five full seasons.
But then we have the tricky part. If you could choose any one player to represent the tribulations of baseball during this stretch of time it would be Mark McGwire. Unlike Gwynn and Ripken, McGwire did not play on one team his career. In one of the worst trades in the history of the game, he was dealt from Oakland to St. Louis for Eric Ludwick (no-name No. 1), T.J. Mathews (no-name No. 2) and Blake Stein (no-name No. 3). He blossomed in Oakland from the start, setting what is still a rookie homerun record with 49. And he continued to blossom in St. Louis, setting (at that time) the all-time single season home run record with 70 in 1998 and, along with Sammy Sosa, reviving a game that desperately needed fans after the aforementioned '94 strike.
But what will haunt McGwire forever is the little bottle of Andro seen in his locker by a reporter in '98, which he refused to address at the Congressional Hearings concerning steroids. In saying repeatedly that he preferred not to speak about the past, about a substance that was not even banned at the time, McGwire, in the minds of most fans and writers, has indicted himself as a symbol of negativity for this era.
While he played, McGwire represented something different to baseball fans of that time. He was a slugger, a masher, a modern day Paul Bunyan. While Ripken and Gwynn were marveling crowds with their consistency, McGwire kept enthusiasts on their seats at the prospect of seeing a 600-foot blast.
And for me, and all other children of that era, to have to come to the realization that the sports' most prolific spectacle of that time period was a fraud and a phony just like the easily hateable Barry Bonds and Jose Canseco, is painful. But, the truth is that McGwire should be in the Hall of Fame, along with Bonds. He never failed any steroid test and the substance found in his locker wasn't even illegal at the time.
Growing up, my father taught me the importance and quirks of baseball's statistics. 755, 714 and 660 (the homerun totals of Hank Aaron, Babe Ruth and Willie Mays) were almost as important as A, B, C. Knowing Bob Gibson's E.R.A in 1968 was 1.12, but that he still managed to lose nine games was more important than knowing how to ride a bike.
And it's just upsetting that players that I held dear as memories of my childhood like my father had done before with Mays and Gibson, are now all under question. But that's why it's always good to look up and see players like Ripken and Gwynn. Because through all the fraud that emerged from the '90s, there was honor and respectability.
McGwire belongs, but, as Will wrote, ""The people who care about the record book — serious fans — will know how to read it.""
Big Mac has to be there, but we all know who we should honor.
A-Does Mac have your vote? Tell Pepper at sepepper@wisc.edu.
