Mark McGwire Will Never Make the Hall of Fame

I wrote this back in July 2010, but with the Hall of Fame vote results expected tomorrow, I thought it was timely to bring it back to the front. -BH

And he knows it.

There are certain stigmas players can't get over when it comes to Hall of Fame enshrinement: gambling, drugs, cheating, and monumentally frosty relations with sportswriters. Oh, and a low batting average or a high ERA.

What about an alcohol problem? Next round's on me, Mickey. Were you a racist brawler? Hey, Ty Cobb is in there as an original member. Did you engage in folk-hero-esque cheating as a player? Get in here Gaylord, you lovable scamp.

Gambling is pretty cut-and-dry. Pete Rose? Never means never, man. Hal Chase? Not gonna happen. Shoeless Joe? I don't care if you have the IQ of a raisin, you just can't accept money or the promise of money from a known gambler. Of course, there are others who dodged the gambling bullet (John McGraw (he owned a pool hall, for pete's sake!), Tris Speaker, Ty Cobb), and don't forget that Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays were briefly, officially exiled by Bowie Kuhn for conduct detrimental to the spirit of the game because of their post-retirement associations with casinos (as greeters, no less).

Drugs is less cut-and-dry, but let's just say that when your drug nickname makes it onto the front of your 1989 Topps card, you better just enjoy the moment there, Rock Raines, because while the Hall opens its doors for drunks, it does so with less frequency for known drug users. In fact, I think it's safe to say that if you were somehow involved in the Pittsburgh Drug Trials or perjured yourself in front of Congress whilst denying steroid abuse, you're not going to make it to the Hall. And honestly, the double standard is a shame. Especially in light of the "character" issue Hall voters use to judge players. So what – alcohol is ok but not drugs? Seems a little hollow. I mean, what if society was big into social drug use and drinking was considered a breakdown in morals? I'm guessing it would be the other way around, no?

What's important here is that between these two events — Pittsburgh Drug Trials and the House Committee hearing after the Mitchell Report — we're talking about a lot of talented players who will have the drug albatross around their necks forever. Guys like Dave Parker, Keith Hernandez, and Tim Raines, Rafael Palmeiro, Jason Giambi, Andy Pettitte, Gary Sheffield, Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, and yes, Mark McGwire, to name but a very few. And in the end, it doesn't matter if drugs in any form were rampant or the accepted culture of the game: to make it to the hallowed Hall, you have to do it cleanly, on your own two legs.

So back to the original idea: Mark McGwire never making it into the Hall of Fame has nothing to do with statistics, though I think he's only a borderline Hall of Famer based solely on stats. And before that vein in your forehead pops, let me say this: being a prodigious home run hitter does not get you into the Hall of Fame by itself. You have to do lots of other things, too. Having a decent batting average helps, as does a relatively high hits total. McGwire was a career .263 hitter, with a total of 1,626 hits. Over a third of those were home runs.

Did you want McGwire in your lineup? Yes. Was it exciting to watch him break Maris's record? Of course. Did he take copious amounts of muscle-enhancing drugs? All signs point to yes. Were those drugs illegal at the time he took them? Ehhhh, no...

And this could be McGwire's saving grace: when he took them, the drugs he took weren't illegal in the eyes of baseball. But now, in this post-shit-hitting-fan period where we're debating his eternal baseball immortality, the drugs are illegal. And not only that, but the drugs association is a bad one to have. A very bad one.

Statistically, McGwire could make it. But it's going to take him a heck of a long time to garner enough support. For one thing, he denied, denied, and denied again. They he shunned the spotlight. And after a tearful admission, his case seems really weak. Weak like "I'm only saying this so I can work again" weak.

Sportswriters and Hall of Fame voters may have a tendency to worship the ground sports heroes walk on, but when it comes time to vote on enshrinement, the player's entire history comes into play — not just what they said recently.

Salute to an American Rock

Tim Raines, 1988 Fleer Superstars

This card is a proud member of Fleer’s beautiful 1988 Superstars series. Did you have any doubts this card was produced IN AMERICA? You did not. But if so, here’s this:

U.S.A.! U.S.A.! Go back to Taiwan, Topps! The color scheme also goes perfectly with the red, white, and blue of the Expos, one of many proud, American franchises. And hey, you know what goes great with red, white, and blue, aesthetically? Yellow. Yellow screams, “This is our country, you yellow-bellied commie bastards!” This series is a regular cornucopia of American-based colors, and I for one salute it.

Standing front and center today is Timothy Theodore* Raines. Part of the reason he is front and center is because Fleer has cleverly grayed-out his anonymous friend and baseball companion as if this were a Facebook profile picture. Status update: single.

Raines also appears curiously old and up-to-something. I can’t say that I trust him. What have you been up to, Tim Raines? Why the wry smile? YOUR HAND IS IN THE COOKIE JAR! There’s no telling what Raines and his grayed-out partner in crime have been plotting, but if I had to guess I would say: a hot foot. Or, murder.

Raines was famously nicknamed “Rock,” often rumored to be a result of rocks of cocaine falling out of his back pocket while sliding into second base. Wikipedia squashes this notion, stating in a footnote:

Raines received this nickname at an Expo rookie camp when he was seventeen, based on his physique.

This seems more believable. I always found it rather outlandish that baseball players, notoriously discreet amongst each other regarding illegality, would name a fellow player after drugs. It’s a wonderful, heartwarming anecdote to tell your grandkids, but I remain skeptical. Assuming the physique thing is true, it’s safe to say that Tim Raines in no longer “Rock,” but what fifty-something former ballplayer and should-be-Hall-of-Famer amongst us really is? (Those who are, please leave shirtless pics in the comments. Ben’s idea, not mine.)

Of course that is not to say that Raines did not have problems with drugs at one time. According to Wiki:

Raines's performance dipped in 1982, as he hit .277 with a .353 on base percentage. At the end of the season, Raines entered treatment for substance abuse, having spent an estimated $40,000 that year on cocaine. To avoid leaving the drug in his locker, Raines carried it in his hip pocket, and slid headfirst when running the bases. He used cocaine before games, in his car, after games, and on some occasions, between innings in the clubhouse.  Raines would later testify at the infamous Pittsburgh drug trials, in September, 1985.

I enjoy the detailed account of where Raines would use drugs, which reads like some demented Dr. Seuss book.

I do cocaine before a game

I do cocaine in my automobile

I do cocaine after a game

Then a base I will steal!

But I don’t want to make too much of that. Old news. People recover from their mistakes and go on to succeed. It’s the American way, and that is the type of story Tim Raines’ career appears to have personified. Raines was a switch-hitter with a career .385 on-base percentage and 808 steals. In ’83 he scored 133 runs; he hit with decent power for a leadoff hitter, leading the league with 38 doubles in ’84; he won titles with the Yanks in '96 and '98; totaled 279 bases in ’87; and those are just a few highlights from a consistently great and long career.

Someone should crop out the biased, nonsensical tendencies of a select group of yellow-bellied, entitled old men and elect Tim Raines to the Hall of Fame. He should get in on stolen bases alone. This is, after all, AMERICA, and if there’s anything more American than stealing, I’ve never heard of it.

“It’s the rock in the building,” – Jay-Z, rapper, baseball Hall of Fame suggester

*guesstimate

792 Ways to Say I Heart Baseball

I'm gonna put The 792 to bed this weekend, just in time for that annual moment when all of America pauses to lavish attention on their baseball card collections: The Super Bowl. Er... right. Anyway, here's the next 50 cards.

The 792: #451 - 500
451. Bruce Hurst, 1985
452. Lee Smith, 1982 (RC)
Within all the talk lately about Gossage's Hall of Fame bid, one thing keeps coming up: A lot of writers/fans are downplaying what Lee Smith did in his career. If I understand their argument correctly, it's that guys like Fingers, Sutter and Gossage deserve enshrinement but guys like Smith don't because Smith didn't have to work hard for his wins and saves. But I don't think you can discount Smith out of hand that easily. If that's the case, then will critics apply that rule to guys like Trevor Hoffman and Mariano Rivera? Like Smith, both were completely dominant in their primes. Is it more that Smith never really played for a perennial contender and therefore his saves weren't worth as much? Lee Smith was a great player who, in my humble opinion, never got enough credit for his accomplishments.

453. Steve Jeltz, 1986
How come it seems like there are more memorable Phillies cards from this decade than any other team? Is it just that the Phillies poached their team from the cast of Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo?

454. Bob Welch, 1983
455. Rick Burleson, 1981
456. Jeff Reardon, 1981 (RC)
457. Mackey Sasser, 1989 (RC)
458. Kevin Bass, 1986
459. Dennis Eckersley, 1987
460. Ryne Sandberg, 1985
461. Dwayne Murphy, 1980
462. Domingo Ramos, 1986
463. Fred McGriff, 1988 (RC)
I gotta tell you, I still find it shocking that it took so long for McGriff to find his way onto a regular-issue Topps card. Considering Donruss had him as a Rated Rookie in 1986, Topps really dropped the ball by not including him until three sets later (his XRC is in 1987 Traded). By the time 1988 rolled around and McGriff finally got his FTC rookie, he was already destined to be a minor/semi star for his career. I think that if his extended rookie card (XRC) had come in the 1986 Traded set, and his first Topps card rookie (FTC) in 1987, he would have enjoyed greater success and a larger fan base in the hobby.

464. Gaylord Perry Super Veteran, 1983
465. Mark Grace, 1989 (RC)
I distinctly remember an ad that used to run in Beckett Baseball Card Monthly of a little kid with five McGwire Team USA cards fanned out in one hand, and I remember thinking 'Shit! If only I was a year older, then that would be me with those five McGwires!' I also remember that I did the same thing--fanning out cards in one hand--only I did it with this card of Mark Grace. I was ready for my closeup and the untold riches and girls in bikinis that came with it. Needless to say, I'm still waiting.

466. Kal Daniels, 1987 (RC)
467. Bob James, 1986
468. Darren Daulton, 1988
469. Storm Davis, 1986
470. Nolan Ryan, 1984
471. Dick Howser, 1984 (MGR)
472. Dyar Miller, 1981
473. John Lowenstein, 1983
474. Kurt Kepshire, 1985
475. Cesar Geronimo, 1980
476. Danny Tartabull, 1987 (RC)
477. Mike Easler, 1986
478. Juan Eichelberger, 1981
479. Expos Future Stars, 1981 (RC)
If Tim Raines somehow defies the odds and makes it into the Hall of Fame, does that open the door for Kenny Lofton, should Lofton decide to ever retire?

480. Carlton Fisk, 1981
For some reason I had an overabundance of 1981 Red Sox cards when I was growing up. I had the Coke team set, but also just a lot of the regular cards. This is weird because I was two years old in 1981. This card of Fisk (his last as part of the Old Towne Team) was always my favorite of him (until I got a copy of his card from 1977; that one kicks some major ass).

481. Chris Brown, 1989
482. Rickey Henderson, 1980 (RC)
Speaking of guys who will never retire...

483. Fergie Jenkins, 1984
484. Ivan DeJesus, 1982
485. Garry Templeton, 1981
486. Otis Nixon, 1987
487. Bret Saberhagen, 1986
488. Ray Knight, 1987
489. Dodger Leaders, 1988
490. Chris Sabo, 1989 (RC)
I'd like to see a show of hands of those who rooted for Chris Sabo simply because of his Kareem goggles. Keep 'em raised if you thought Sabo's head looked a little like Mr. Met.

491. Jim Palmer Super Veteran, 1983
492. Tucker Ashford, 1984
493. Orel Hershiser, 1985 (RC)
494. Gary Roenicke, 1986
495. Eddie Murray, 1988
496. Bruce Bochte, 1987
497. Kevin Mitchell, 1988
Mitchell's Giants cap in this photo is up there for Achievement in Airbrushing. Coupled with the Dave Dravecky card from this year, it's almost as if the Topps editor woke up in the middle of the night and realized they'd forgotten to include cards of the Giants in the 1988 set, so they had to improvise. Fast.

498. Wade Boggs, 1983 (RC)
499. Bruce Ruffin, 1987 (RC)
500. Jose Canseco, 1989
Could #500 really have been any other card? The answer, of course, is 'No.'


Looking for scans? Cardboard Junkie's got you covered.

User Friendly

In less than 24 hours, the entire American media will be consumed with Roid Rage. Columnists and bloggers will never have had it so easy, with myriad angles to cover, so-called big names to out and moralizing to be done. But the question that probably won't be raised (because it doesn't sell papers) is: Does anybody actually care? Seriously. Do you really want to know if your favorite sports star has injected himself with more hormones than a Perdue chicken?

I mean, read any anecdotal baseball book and you'll see that ballplayers have been popping greenies since the Seventies. It's one of the things that ballplayers are all about: getting an edge, acting batshit crazy on the road, and winning the World Series. But you still like those players from the Good Ol' Days, right? You still collect their cards. Even if they were users.

And what about the Pittsburgh Drug Trials? Players were buying cocaine from the Pittsburgh Parrot, for chrissakes. Sure, it may have ruined Tim Raines's and Dave Parker's chances at making the Hall of Fame, but Keith Hernandez figured into that stuff as well, and well, he's still a well-liked baseball celebrity.

Baseball has probably weathered more vice charges than any other sport in America, and may rank second to soccer on the world stage in terms of public relations nightmare scandals and fuck ups.

Here's a handful of other good times: Hal Chase gambling on games while still on the field playing in them, Tris Speaker and Ty Cobb fixing a game in 1927, legends Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays banned for life for appearing at a casino, and who could forget Sammy Sosa losing his grasp on English before the Senate Committee? Yes, it's easy to make it through a whole post on baseball's storied scandals without even mentioning Pete Rose or the Black Sox. (Well, almost.)

So let's face facts. There will be hundreds if not thousands of articles written on the Mitchell Report. ESPN will launch special coverage and Pedro Gomez will go without sleep for six weeks as Barry Bonds will most certainly be named in the report.

Will card prices suffer? Cards of The Asterisk have had plenty o'time to have the bottom fall out, and if anything, it's been a slow decline. But what about others? I just don't see it happening. Well, unless Clemens is named...

Of Venezuela y Argenis Salazar

I would like to elevate Argenis Salazar onto a medium-height pedestal just for a moment. Actually, I would like to elevate Dave Concepcion onto a pedestal (one that for all arguments, should be considerably higher than Salazar’s). Both were born and raised in Venezuela (currently made famous thanks to the O’s: oil and Ozzie Guillen), both played shortstop (like Guillen also), and both enjoyed careers in the majors, Concepcion finally retiring at age 290 after 180 years with the Big Red Machine. Who really knows how old Davey Concepcion is? He’s like Orlando Hernandez—he could be 50 years old or 75, it doesn’t matter, you still want him starting on your team.

Anyway, I want to recognize Salazar first, and the fantastic year he had in 1982. Imagine this: you’re in the Montreal system, it’s 1980, and you’re playing in Calgary, Alberta, in the middle of a wheat field, hitting in the .240s and generally sucking it up while guys like Tim Wallach pass you by on their way to growing pencilthin moustaches and playing in the hot corner for Youppi and breaking their knees every time they dive for a ball, but, more importantly, getting a front row seat as guys like Tim Raines, Hawk Dawson and Steve Rogers have fantastic careers with generally nobody watching.

Okay, so you make it out of the rodeo in Calgary and your next assignment is West Palm Beach, Florida. Are you kidding? It’s 1982, sunglasses and feathered hair, blazers and pastels, old people and spring breakers arriving in their Jeeps with the gigantic wheels and Bud Lights…all right, it was a little early for Spuds MacKenzie, but you get the idea. Anyway, I’m not suggesting that Argenis Salazar starting smoking something when he got down to the beach, but all of a sudden he sets career highs in nine statistical categories, including 25 stolen bases and 109 hits. He got 105 hits the previous two years combined. To top it off, he was of the MVP of his league’s all-star game.

After 82, he gets a cup of coffee at the end of 83 with les Expos, then gets sent back down in 84 and resurfaces via trade with the Royals in 1986, where he plays in 117 games, hits in the .240s and generally sucks it up. So out of the six years recorded on the back of his 87 Topps card, Salazar played for 7 teams (major and minor), with only one of them in a truly warm weather climate (not really comparable to Venezuela, but you can’t be perfect)—and that’s the year he’s a breakout star. It’s too bad he wasn’t born maybe 15 years later, he could’ve been the starter for the Marlins.

Which brings me to Concepcion. He was great, borderline Hall of Fame material, and a starter on a very good team for more than fifteen years in a row. That’s saying something. Anyway, I’m not really interested in his career, or contemplating him as a person. But if you want to talk about other Reds, I really liked George Foster, for sort of no reason except that he looked like a bad-ass and he would probably put cigarettes out on his tongue and strike matches on his cheek, like some kind of bastard Marlboro Man. Anyway, I wrote him a fan letter and asked for his autograph, and he sent back a form letter asking for $10. Actually, that might not be entirely accurate. I’m still looking through a cloud of anger about this.

What I want to talk about is his 1987 Topps card. I started thinking about the players with long, interesting names, like Joaquin Andujar and Cookie Lavagetto, names that just roll off the tongue like singing scat or ordering a fine wine. So when I started looking through 1987 Topps, I came across such favorites as Oddibe McDowell (I actually got excited about his card once), Argenis Salazar and Dave Concepcion. But Concepcion’s card’s different. Not only is he featured in a rare in-focus action shot, but he’s tagging out Herm Winningham of the Expos. That’s two rather long names on one card! What are the odds? The football equivalent would be Karl Mecklenburg tackling Bill Romanowski (but I don’t think their positions would allow for that name-on-name action). In basketball it would be Dikembe Mutombo blocking Dave DeBusschere, or maybe someone in the right time frame perhaps…I don’t know what it would be in hockey, but I’m guessing it doesn't involve Brett Hull.