My daughter called yesterday, as
is her wont, while I was in the shower.
You fathers and husbands out there living in one-bathroom domiciles
probably know what I mean in saying that it’s better to hold off on showering
until the other folks are out of the house.
Clare is long gone, but the late afternoon shower has proven a hard
habit for me to break.
Anyway, my daughter was calling
with the Hall-of-Fame voting results, less for who got in—Mariano Rivera along
with Roy Halladay, Edgar Martinez and Mike Mussina—than for who didn’t. In Clare-land, that would be Barry Bonds and
Roger Clemens, both of whom managed a fraction over 59 percent of the
vote. You need 75 percent to make
Cooperstown, and the PEDS Duo have only three more years on the ballot.
I love reading sportswriters
debate whether or not the dopesters belong; they hardly ever ask actual ballplayers
for an opinion. And the pro-dope voters
never bother to consider what the consequences of Bonds and Clemens in
Cooperstown would be, not just the surly acceptance speeches, but the green-light
sent to high school and college athletes.
I guess there isn’t column space or podcast time available for that sort
of thing.
This is what you’d call a good
Clare phone call, then. Next year, with
Paul Konerko of the White Sox debuting on the ballot, I’m not so sure. I just read Cliff Corcoran in The Athletic,
and he says “the only new candidate likely to receive more than the five
percent of the vote required to stay on the ballot” will be Derek Jeter. I also saw Jasen Vinlove of USA Today write, “439
homeruns is pretty awesome but not good enough” and predict Konerko won’t make
the cut.
No, I’m supposed to get all
excited about Larry Walker with his career .313 BA. Never mind that Konerko tallied more hits,
RBIs and homers than Walker; it’s all about WAR, man, and Walker tops Konerko
72.7 to 27.7. I swear, you play for the
White Sox, and they should give you a Rodney Dangerfield CD.
The South Side just don’t get no
respect.
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