Gossage and Morris are Hall of Famers
Posted: Monday, January 07, 2008 5:28 PM
A new year but the new boss is the same as the old boss. Roger Clemens denies all on national television on Sunday night, talks to the media Monday, and thus will dominate the news on Tuesday – which is the day results of balloting for induction into the Hall of Fame are announced.
Can’t we have baseball – free of steroid news -- for at least one day?
Couldn’t Clemens wait until next week to talk? After hearing his self-absorbed screed Sunday night (he lost me with his opening salvo about everything he’s done for baseball -- rather than the other way around), maybe he could wait for several months. But in keeping with my New Year’s resolution for baseball and more baseball, here are some Hall-of-Fame thoughts:
THE PROCESS
I have never had a vote, will never have one and would never accept one. The honor is too great and the financial rewards too significant for media people to be the judge and jury.
But I understand that the Baseball Writers Association of America, particularly in the face of the increasing irrelevance of newspapers, will not surrender its grip on the voting. So all I suggest is that there be set a serious new bar to determine which BBWAA members vote. Presently, any 10-year member gets a ballot. I receive an annual shock, though, when I read some piece from a voter who never covered a team.
How can this be? The one uncompromised qualification for a Hall-of-Fame vote must be for one to have traveled with a team as a beat writer. There is no substitute for the daily experience of a baseball season, for witnessing the saga of players, managers and coaches that changes every day during a seven-month campaign. Columnists are usually positioned as the “stars” of a newspaper sports section, but in baseball they pale in knowledge against the beat writer, whose presence in every clubhouse and stadium affords insight that cannot be duplicated.
THE BAROMETER
What disturbs me about the Hall of Fame is that it appears to have morphed into a numbers honor. Benchmarks have been set for automatic entry: 3,000 hits, 500 homers, and 300 wins. Blogs allow more analysis from the world of sabermetrics. Pure statistical breakdowns are here to stay in baseball front offices. And they have earned their place. But the view here is their role in the Hall-of-Fame voting should be limited to clarifying one’s achievements, not defining the achievement.
Players must only be compared against their peers and within their eras. No number can be truly compared across generations for reasons so obvious they need not be offered here. If a deep study is needed to buttress a player’s case, it is most likely an unworthy argument.
Bottom line: the Hall of Fame is about quality, not quantity.
Leonard Koppett, the late New York sportswriter who has been honored by the baseball and basketball Halls of Fame, told me repeatedly that his Hall-of-Fame voting standard was simple: if he had to think about the player’s candidacy, then the vote was no. To Leonard, a Hall of Famer was obvious.
I have immense respect for the passion displayed by those who analyze baseball in new ways. They often present fresh and compelling arguments on Hall of Fame candidates, Rob Neyer being the best of the group. But I hold firmly that my 22 years of traveling with MLB teams provided the best perspectives and judgments on players. Every beat writer/broadcaster has had the greatest education baseball can provide -- the daily intimacy through which we learn about the unique rhythms of the game, the people who play it, and what makes them succeed or fail. Dispassionate analysis can support but never replace or supersede that education. Is there emotion and subjectivity in such an approach? Most likely, but that’s a price well paid in determining an honor so important.
With that background, Tuesday can bring legitimacy to the electorate if Goose Gossage and Jack Morris are voted in to the Hall of Fame.
Let me start by saying I have never met Gossage but he is being dealt a great wrong by not being in the Hall of Fame. Dennis Eckersley and Bruce Sutter belong, but so does Gossage -- the most feared reliever since the closer role developed.
We all know about the numbers and the multiple-inning saves, a relic, and his prominent role on the Yankees’ 1978 World Series team (he pitched an insane 134 innings as the “closer” and entered the Bucky Dent playoff game in the seventh inning).
Here’s what I know. In 1980, I stood just outside the Oakland dugout as Gossage entered in the ninth inning with a one-run lead. Billy Martin, the A’s manager, turned to summon pinch-hitters but he couldn’t find any. The lefty hitters, most likely to be drafted, had scattered. No one wanted to face Gossage in his prime. Not one batter was anywhere near the bat rack. Martin’s coaches had to round up the available men. I have never seen a similar moment.
I spent many hours with Morris during the 1991 season and developed an intense admiration for his pitching as you’ll read below.
I was pleasantly stunned to read a glowing endorsement for Morris in the Sunday New York Times. All the sensible reasons that Morris should already be an inductee were presented. Simply, he was the best pitcher of his time (this seems to surprise some but wins and losses are the prime currency of baseball and Morris was the winningest pitcher of his full decade, the 1980s). And his postseason exploits in a culture that reveres winners and humbles the runner-up (check on that with Fran Tarkenton, Bud Grant, Jim Kelly or Marv Levy) should be indisputable.
Somehow the numbers folks have dissected Morris and point to his 3.90 career ERA (3.73 if you eliminate his final two over-the-hill years) or his 254 wins (the benchmark factor. I often read pieces that degrade the presence of players already inducted to inflate another’s candidacy. That tact is distasteful. If you care, just compare Morris with his peers, including those already in the Hall of Fame. In every measure of quality, Morris is a no-brainer. In measures that are more significant to the analysts (ERA, WHIP, etc.), Morris can be tainted. Problem with that thinking is that Morris was the top dog on three World Series title teams. Find me a peer who matches that claim. Morris wasn’t a stat man’s lover, he just won. Let’s make sure everyone has that one more time. Morris was the number one guy on three World Series winners. And he pitched one of the two greatest postseason games in history.
But here’s what I remember: late September 1991 and Minnesota is trying to clinch the AL West. The Twins are in Toronto where the Jays are looking to finish off the East. Morris was in the throes of a divorce throughout the summer. Often his mind would wander and the pain that can only be known to those with like experiences would surface. That weekend in Toronto seemed to be a time when the cumulative weight of his personal life crashed down upon Morris. Yet, on a Saturday afternoon, he calmly went to the SkyDome mound and tossed a shutout at Toronto that clinched a division tie for the Twins.
After that, Game 7 of the World Series, one month later, was no surprise. And it’s why Morris passes the Leonard Koppett test --no thought needed. He is a Hall of Famer.