The Hawk and The Hall

By Joe Jenkins

People change. Sometimes for the better; sometimes for the worse, but people change.

When I was 6 I wanted to be a Transformer. By the time I was 18 I wanted to be a journalist. Now I’m 28 and all I want to be is incredibly wealthy and retired.

On a very quick and sentimental note, I’d like to think most people are always trying to change for the better. I’d really like to think that most of the people around me have. If I might quote from the book of Balboa, chapter 4 verse 33: “If I can change; and you can change, everybody can change!”

Funny thing though. Stats don’t change. Not even a little. They’re locked in. Walter Payton still ended his career with 16,726 yards in 1987. Hack Wilson still drove in 191 RBI and hit 56 home runs in 1930.

It’s for this reason that I can’t just sit back and be happy that Andre Dawson finally got inducted into Cooperstown today. Is it nice? You bet…

…but just because it’s nice doesn’t make it right. Take a quick peek at this:
In 21 seasons, all The Hawk did was bat .279 jack 438 home runs (for you younger readers, this was a very high number before players starting eating Winstrol brownies.); steal 314 bases; total over 2,700 hits; 8 Gold Gloves and All-Star selections; winner of Rookie of the Year in 1977 and NL MVP in 1987 (runner up in 1981 and 1983).

Okay, on the surface a lot of these numbers look like they need to be filed under “pretty good” and not quite “Cooperstown worthy.” On paper I agree, but consider this:
Dawson spent the better part of the ‘80’s and going into the early ‘90’s as one of the most feared hitters in the National League. Remember: Dawson was hitting between 20-30 home runs a season when that was a lot. For those that remember seeing him play, Dawson threw absolute peas from any of the three outfield positions. Now, prepare yourself while I blow your mind:
Those 400 home runs and those 300 stolen bases? There’s a list of other people that have done that: Barry Bonds... and Willie Mays… I am now done with the list… …and spooling up my indignant tirade.

Can somebody please tell me why voters waited 8 whole years to vote in a guy that has compiled career numbers that have only been eclipsed by two of the greatest baseball players of all time?!! (Don’t start on the whole Barry Bonds thing…not the venue.) Three guys!! EVER!! One of them widely considered to be one of the top two players…EVER!! How is this even possible?! The Hawk didn’t get any better over the last 8 years did he??!! Why now??!! Why do I keep using multiple punctuations??

I’ll tell ya why!! 1) Because I wrote it to be grammatically correct, and the proper levels of rage were simply not conveyed. 2) Dawson didn’t get in until now because the whole idiotic system is just plain screwed up, that’s why!!

Luckily for you folks, along with all of this very wordy babbling, I have come up with a solution. I’m a fixer. It’s what I do. Solving life’s little problems with reasonable and rational remedies makes me feel smexy (that’s smart and sexy, gang). I figure these things will come in handy when I’m named the sports czar of North America. And on the day after instituting my system of promotion and relegation to the BCS, this is the process that will clean up the steaming pile of poo that is the Baseball Hall of Fame induction process: Take (some) of the power away from the problem.

A quick lesson for those of you that never worked in the sports industry:

Think back to your high school days. Remember the geek that obsessed over baseball and knew every stat? You know the guy that would jump into a conversation to remind you how many times Frank Viola threw more than six innings on weekdays after the passing of the Summer Solstice? No, no, no, not the skinny, hairy, yet strangely handsome fellow that just won’t let his sideburns go, that’s me. The other guy. Yeah…him… he became a sports writer, too.

Here’s what’s scary: This guy has a couple hundred friends that call themselves the Baseball Writers Association of America. These guys stalk locker rooms and clubhouses clinging to an antiquated notion that they alone are responsible for protecting the sanctity of baseball like they belong in a Dan Brown novel. They do this by holding the keys to Cooperstown. If they hold a grudge, you’re out. If they think you were kind of ornery in the locker room after a loss? You might not get voted for. If an older beat writer from Boston hasn’t ever heard of a player from San Diego, he won’t get the vote. I’m not kidding about any of this.

So instead of just putting the players through a screening process, I say we put the writer’s through a test to see if they still have their heads about them. Those that carry sufficient knowledge and the clarity of mind to judge players based on their ability and not if they stole a writer’s lollipop in elementary school will keep their vote. That vote will count for 1/3 of the voting process.

So where does the other 2/3 of the vote come from? So glad you asked! (You didn’t ask? Well, I’m going to keep writing…so…don’t make this awkward.)

Players know Players

The good news is, there’s a bit of a failsafe in place if a player gets screwed by the writers. Living Hall of Famers, a.k.a “The Veteran’s Committee.” The bad news is “The Veteran’s Committee” treats the Hall of Fame more like a fraternity and a popularity contest than the writers do.
Same deal here. Pass a screening…keep your vote... but it only counts as 1/3 of the total process.
The Honor is for the player. Cooperstown is for the fans.

Look, we’re the ones that elevate them to rock star status. We’re the ones that enable them to make millions, and we’re the ones that get outraged when they aren’t voted in, and we’re the ones that visit the museum in the first place. Remind me why we don’t have a say as to who gets in? The fan vote portion would be simple. Every year mlb.com offers a 24 hour window for fans to sign on and register for Hall of Fame voting. Each year, 500 registrants are randomly selected to select from the ballot. They vote and it counts for the final 1/3. A player still needs 75% total to get in, but can’t have any one category dip below 55%. This should prevent any fan uprisings from trying to get a truly undeserving player in.

For the Pete Rose’s and the “Shoeless” Joe’s of the world, the solution is simple. Under the new system, banned players get one shot. If you’re voted in, good for you; if not, there’s the door. Next time don’t break the rules.

Finally, no more 15 years. After the 5 year waiting period, everybody gets 10 years as long as they maintain 25% of the vote. At the end of the day, sometimes we need a little time to sit back and realize just how good somebody really was, but it sure as hell doesn’t take 20 years for that to happen.

And there you have it:
More democracy. More change.
Change is a good thing…
…but I still kind of want to be a Transformer…