7 January 04
Baseball News
The Eck, as Chris reminds me, was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame yesterday. Dennis Eckersley pitched for Boston as a starter, had a break and a bout with alcholism, and had a second career with the Oakland A’s as a fabulous closer. Doc Rock used to watch him at the Coliseum and said he only had two pitches but he always nailed them.
Paul Molitor was also inducted into the Hall of Fame yesterday and is apparently miffed that Pete Rose, the Bad Boy of Baseball, chose this week of all weeks to admit that he had, in fact, yesiree bob, bet on baseball while a manager for the Cincinatti Reds. For this crime he has been permanently barred from baseball and the Hall of Fame.
Pete Rose was possibly the greatest hitter the game has ever seen. He certainly had the most hits. But his gambling habits got the better of him, as he admitted on Monday. He also made some dubious decisions as a manager.
The Hall of Fame is an American oddity and, in my opinion, an anachronism. There’s a Basketball Hall of Fame, a Football Hall of Fame, a Tennis Hall of Fame, and no doubt a Trivial Pursuit Hall of Fame. This is the place where the ball that was someone’s 300th strikeout is housed and on display; where the boots worn by some fabulous base runner are kept; and on and on to the nth degree. But it is also the bastion of morality in sport, and gamblers and low-lifes are not welcome.
The fact that Shoeless Joe Jackson, who is supposed to have “thrown” the World Series (against the Cincinnati Reds, of all teams) along with seven of his teammates in 1919, is disbarred from baseball and the self-righteous Hall of Fame so long after his death is a scandal. So, I would argue, is the barring of Pete Rose. If Ty Cobb, a wife-beating, racist, homophobic maniac who routinely maimed his opponents on the field is in the Hall of Fame, I see no reason to barr the others. Paul Molitor, shut up and take your place gracefully. Like the Eck.
Previous: Vatican II and the Equalization of the Liturgy Next: Macked(Mac’d?)-out
Hard to argue with your reasoning behind thinking Rose ought to be admitted into the HOF. I can’t stand the guy, but it has little to do with his gambling. His lying, self-centeredness is partly what drives me crazy, but as you note, there are a handful of lesser beings than Rose in the Hall, so what the heck?
As you know, I love baseball, and yes, I have visited the Hall of Fame (and plan to do so this summer when Molitor and the Eck’s presence take over the place). Why do sports fans (American or not) care so much about their sports and teams? Why do I turn into a 12-year-old boy every time I have the opportunity to possibly get the autograph of one of my baseball favorites? I don’t have the answer… it’s all tied up in the lure and the lore of the game. And my mood, and even my clock and calendar, are directly tied into my love of baseball. Like Hall of Famer Rogers Hornsby said, “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.”
I’m still waiting!
When Chris Evert played Wimbledon in the 1970s she was the darling of the BBC announcers, especially Dan Maskell, because she had “impeccable manners,” routinely apologizing for net cords in her favor and congratulating her opponents on good shots. That’s “cricket.” It’s not, and never will be, baseball. (And certainly not football, basketball, etc.)
(Soccer football in England is not “cricket,” either, their origins falling at opposite ends of the social spectrum.)
And what does baseball do? Again, Giamatti offers this: “It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.”
Glad to not be totally alone as we keep the game alive in your blog!
—Chris