The day Boom Boom Mancini climbed into the ring with Duk Koo Kim, he could hardly have known that he was about to make history, and not the kind he'd want to write home to Youngstown about.
Nor did Greg Norman know, entering the final round of the 1996 Masters, the thrashing that history would bestow upon him.
Likewise, Wally Pipp probably never considered how a day off would turn into a headache that would linger thereafter in the record books. (For the record, the whole headache story is a myth.)
In the coming weeks, members of the Baseball Writers Association of America will very likely thrust themselves into the trash bin of history, possibly without realizing the folly with which future generations will view their decisions. Sometime before January 9, the writers will almost certainly reject the Hall of Fame candidacies of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa.
In case you're not keeping score at home, that would be MLB's greatest power/speed combination and home run king, the most fearsome pitcher of his generation, the 10th all-time home run hitter who retired with a .982 OPS, the greatest hitting catcher ever, and the only player in the game's 140 years to hit 60+ home runs in three different seasons. The history books are already warming up a good guffaw.
If all goes as threatened, the Hall of Fame will be absent the group above in addition to the all-time hits leader (Pete Rose), the third greatest hitter for average of all-time (Joe Jackson) and the man who transformed players from chattel to multimillionaires (Marvin Miller). It will, however, include an empty suit (Bowie Kuhn) and a long list of mediocrities, most of whose HOF cases, if you could call them that, rested on high batting averages in an era of high batting averages (Lloyd Waner, Rick Ferrell and Freddie Lindstrom among others). While the writers pass on the list above, they seem poised to coronate a pitcher (Jack Morris) with a 3.90 lifetime ERA and about as much value to his teams as, say, Lon Werneke. Yes, the Arkansas Hummingbird himself.
It makes you wonder why they don't just roll up the sidewalks of Cooperstown and forget it ever existed. A Baseball Hall of Fame without Pete Rose, Marvin Miller, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens is the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame without the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bill Graham.
And yet, I don't blame the writers. They have the awesome responsibility of dissecting krill from the baleen of blue whales. No one will ever know for sure if, when and how much the needle contributed to the resumes of the aforementioned, nor if, when and how much it contributed to those whose reputations have yet been sullied. They must distinguish greatness in a swirl of uncertainty through the haze of impropriety.
If history's derision doesn't move the writers to admit a few of the behemoths perhaps a logistical problem will. A major front is brewing over the next two years that threatens ballot mayhem by 2014. This year's selections include legitimate candidates Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Edgar Martinez. (Also aboard: Alan Trammel, Larry Walker and Kenny Lofton, who come up short, in my view.) Entering the ballot the following year will be Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina and Frank Thomas -- again, all worthy. With Clemens, Bonds, McGwire and Piazza, that's 13 candidates -- 14 with Sosa -- and only 10 votes per ballot. The logjam could cause serious gridlock for years. A writer with a multi-year time horizon would be well-served admitting a gaggle of those eligible.
Whatever the writers decide today will be fodder for their 2062 brethren, who are likely to sniff the dominance of Bonds, Clemens and their ilk and wonder what their progenitors were smoking. BBWAA, you've had your warning, which is more than Ray Mancini got.
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