The Power of Story

     In a week of Manti Te’o, Lance Armstrong, and the opening night of hockey, yes, I am writing about baseball.  And for that I will not apologize.

    It has taken me a long time to process the decision of the BBWAA to elect nobody to the Hall of Fame this year even though there were at least 6 no-brainer Hall of Famers on the ballot judging from their on-field performance.  There are so many things I want to say about this issue and I have sat down a couple of different times to try to write the post-vote article and I have been too fired up to do it.  Instead of saying everything I want to say I will just share one thing I want to say, and that is this – the Hall of Fame, baseball history, statistics, and sports in general are nothing without the story.

First of all, anyone who says (which I have heard many times over the last 2 weeks) that the Hall of Fame is just a museum is politely asked to leave the discussion and never to return.  The importance of the Hall of Fame to these players and to the sport of baseball cannot be overstated.  It is the Hall of Fame and all it encapsulates that separates baseball from every other sport.  That we can legitimately compare Babe Ruth and Albert Pujols without calling them apples and oranges is a part of the beauty of this game – but if we separate Babe Ruth and Albert Pujols from the story then all we have is numbers on a stat sheet.  

     The Hall of Fame tells the narrative of baseball.  The cornerstone of Ebbets Field is there on display with Curt Schilling’s bloody sock.  And yes, there are 300 men whose baseball accomplishments were so great that they have been selected to join a club so prestigious that its standard is contained in its name.  There is no standard by which the voters can give their yea or nay other than to judge them against the museum itself – Is this player worthy of the Hall of Fame?  If elected, a plaque is made and hung on the wall with a few words to summarize his career.  For example, Lou Gehrig’s plaque reads: 

Henry Louis Gehrig, New York Yankees – 1923-1939  Holder of more than a score of Major and American League records, including that of playing 2,130 consecutive games.  When he retired in 1939, he had a lifetime batting average of 340.

Hank Aaron’s plaque reads:

Henry L. “Hank” Aaron, Milwaukee N.L., Atlanta N.L., Milwaukee A.L., 1954-1976  Hit 755 home runs in 23 year career to become Majors’ all-time homer king.  Had 20 or more for 20 consecutive years, at least 30 in 15 seasons and 40 or better 8 times.  Also set records for games played (3,298) at-bats (12,364), long hits (1,477) total bases (6,856) runs batted in (2,297).  Paced N.L. in batting twice and homers, runs batted in and slugging pct. four times each.  Won most valuable player award in N.L. in 1957.  

     Their accomplishments earned them membership but their plaques in no way tell the story – that is my job and yours.  Lou Gehrig’s lifetime batting average is impressive, but his plaque tells us nothing of a consecutive games streak and career that was cut short by a horrible disease which now bears his name.  His plaque does not ask the question, “How would Gehrig’s career have been different had he never had ALS?”  That is the job of sportswriters, bleacher sitters, and Hall of Fame visitors to ask those questions.  Hank Aaron’s plaque says nothing about the atmosphere of Atlanta racism that he had to endure as he was chasing Babe Ruth’s record – that is the job of the storytellers.  Conversely, Ty Cobb’s plaque does not mention that he was the most disagreeable man ever to walk the planet; Mantle’s plaque ignores his alcoholism.  These players cannot be separated from their stories, but their stories will never be completely written on their plaques.  

     When my Father turned 60 years old we got him a trip to Cooperstown for his birthday.  We are a family of baseball fans and growing up out west we had never made the pilgrimage that we had always talked about.  In 2009 we went.  My Father has great stories.  Having grown up in Southern California, having worked at Dodger Stadium for some years, and being a walking baseball reference book, he is the kind of guy you want to go to Cooperstown with.  He was there the night Sandy Koufax pitched a perfect game.  When he was in high school he went to the Coliseum the night they honored Roy Campanella, one amongst 93,000 people. I have heard many of his opinions and experiences of over 50 years as a baseball fan.  Baseball has better stories than other sports.  

     It also has worse stories than other sports – the black sox scandal, the gentlemen’s agreement among owners not to sign black players, the reserve clause, the cancelation of the 1994 World Series, and now steroids.  If the depraved individuals who have written baseball history have not destroyed the game thus far than I am convinced that it cannot be destroyed.  The game has been played by scoundrels and saints.  It has been segregated, fixed, cancelled, juiced, run by conspirators, heck, even congress has tried to step in at times.  Throughout  baseball history there has been significantly more failure than fame.

     For the next decade the Hall of Fame voters will have to decide whether or not to vote players into the Hall of Fame who played in the “Steroid Era.”  Some things must be objectively considered – Jim Thome’s home run numbers are not the same as the home run numbers of Jimmie Foxx, Willie Mays, et al.    Some things can be said for certain – Rafael Palmeiro failed a drug test, Mark McGwire admitted to taking steroids.  So much of what is swaying voters is based on speculation.  Clemens was named in the Mitchell report but was not convicted by a grand jury.  Greg Maddux, who comes up for election next year must not have juiced because in the locker room when he takes his shirt off we cannot tell if he is the 300 game winner or the equipment manager.  Piazza probably juiced because he hit a lot of home runs and he played in the late ‘90’s.  There are those under the cloud (Bagwell, Sosa, etc.) and those who are not (Biggio, McGriff, Griffey, etc.). Will Frank Thomas be left out just because he is a big dude?  Will Schilling make it eventually because he was outspoken against juicing?  If this year’s standard continues then one need not even be under the cloud of suspicion but just in the general vicinity to be the proverbial baby who is tossed out with the bathwater of an entire era. 

      I have made clear my opinion about what to do with the steroid era players in a previous article.  Put them in based on their performance against their (possibly also juicing) peers.  Don’t create another wing of the Hall.  Don’t put any asterisks next to their names.  Put their plaques on the wall and write about their baseball accomplishments, and let us, the storytellers, tell the complete story.  I say put Barry Bonds in the Hall, and when I take my kids to Cooperstown I will tell them that I think Barry Bonds is the 2^nd best offensive player in the history of baseball.  I will tell them about the time when I saw him take batting practice at Bank One Ballpark and how I have never seen such a short swing produce so much.  I will tell them gladly that Bonds never won a World Series.  And I will tell them about steroids, that he never tested positive but that baseball didn’t even have testing for most of his career.  I will tell my boys what kind of jerk he was.  I will tell them that he was a cheater, but that even if he had never cheated he would still have been the best baseball player of my lifetime.  He deserves to be in the Hall, but he also deserves to have his story told.  The Hall of Fame begins to tell the story of baseball through the careers of those hanging on its walls, and those of us who walk through those halls have the responsibility and the pleasure of continuing the story.