Comments Elsewhere: the Morality Police

I frequently comment on other blogs, and usually somewhere around the 3rd or 4th paragraph I wonder why I don't just make the tome a post over here as well. So I'm finally making my verbosity work double duty.

Over at Hardball Talk, Craig Calcaterra responded to some nonsensical chatter that the BBWAA makes for a suitable morality police squad. The discussion is interesting—not so much the argument over the factual reliability of history books in the United States public education system, but more the part about the issue at hand. Here's my response in the discussion of a post that accurately describes the case made by many writers over the infamous Character Clause, but one that ignores the rules applied to the rest of a player's credentials:

“That means that voters are asked not merely to decide if there is something “negative” in a player’s record, but whether he deserves to be enshrined BASED on his integrity, character, and sportsmanship. This invites a qualitative assessment, and suggests that players significantly deficient in these areas ought not to be admitted regardless of their other accomplishments.”

Except you (and voters who make this argument) fail to mention what the standard is for enshrinement in those areas. The Bible? The Constitution? Emily Post’s Etiquette, 17th Edition? Some voters are defiant that any cheating is grounds for dismissal. Others are at a loss to define it for themselves, begging the Hall to clarify or give some statement as to how to determine how to weigh integrity and sportsmanship.

It baffles me. Just use the same methods employed in baseball statistics: compare the player’s record with the record of his peers and that of other HOF members. Are McGwire and Bonds lower forms of life than the untold throngs of their contemporaries who cheated in the exact same way and competed against them? Does a steroid user have less integrity and weaker character than the amphetamine users, ball doctors, and racists who are currently enshrined? Because that’s the precedent. That’s the slope that thus far has proved anything but slippery.

If perfection is the standard, clear out the Hall. If being a really, really good person who never played a dishonest inning is the standard, There should still be dozens of ejections. But that’s not the standard. It’s not close to the standard. Anyone with an open and slightly functioning brain should be able to recognize the obvious standard: gambling is the only unpardonable sin baseball has ever formally recognized. Cheating successfully has long been greeted with open arms. The voters are changing that policy, and THAT is the slippery slope.

Obviously there's a big difference between ethical and moral standards in general and the standards historically applied when considering a player's Hall of Fame candidacy. I'm not arguing there was nothing wrong with PED use, I'm just saying it's foolish to pretend that PED users established a new low or that HOF members represent baseball's moral elite. No one truly thinks that even a little bit, except when they consider their HOF ballots.

Ryne Sandberg, Dues Payer

His number is flying on the freaking flag pole. But, yeah, Sandberg needs to pay his dues.

When the news broke yesterday about Ryne Sandberg's departure from the Chicago Cubs organization, a grand total of 0.00 people were surprised. But Kevin Goldstein (and at least 10 other people who felt the urge to retweet the sentiment verbatim) deemed Sandberg's rejection of his old job as manager of the AAA Iowa Cubs to be a petty move, even for a Hall-of-Famer.

Sandberg spent just 4 yrs as minor league mgr and quits because he doesn't get the MLB job. Insult to those that actually paid their dues.

What's truly insulting is the insinuation that Ryne Sandberg has not paid his dues to whatever association is currently collecting that payment. If it's the fraternal order of minor league baseball managers, four years isn't a ton of time. Still, if it doesn't qualify as paying his dues, Sandberg's four-year stint has to at least cover the initial registration fee.

Or did he not pay his dues to the Chicago Cubs? Fifteen seasons. Ten as an All-Star. One MVP. Nine Gold Gloves. Seven Silver Sluggers. Sixty-two wins above replacement. I'd say the four years managing in the minors was overkill as far as his Cubs dues are concerned.

No, I'm sure what Goldstein was getting at must have been the dues required to be a major league manager. So I decided to take a look at the current roster of managers and see who has paid what, especially in the currencies of minor league coaching/managing, major league coaching, and major league playing time before landing their first full-time MLB managing job.

Will Cubs Baseball Ever Love Us Back?

D'oh.

In his Hall of Fame induction speech, Andre Dawson repeatedly mused that if you love the game of baseball enough, the game will love you back. The moment itself was proof enough to Andre of the truth of his proverb, but the Cubs-Cardinals game that followed presented a pretty convincing rebuttal.

Even though Cubs fans still get caught loving the possibility of sweeping St. Louis and hoping that things would turn a bit less hopeless, baseball has no love for Cubs fans. Every team loses. Every team goes through stretches where they leave runners stranded, watch opposing homers untie games in extras, and find new ways to turn excitement into disappointment at neck-breaking speeds. But chronic losing isn't an every now and then affair with the Cubs.

For the Cubs and their fans, losing is a way of life.

Apparently we love it. Sure, the Cubs had a date with world-champion baseball for a couple, but it's been over a century. I don't know if she's gonna call back. The Cubs and winning have been seeing other people for 102 years. I'll keep loving baseball—yes, Cubs baseball—but with all due respect to the Hawk, I expect my love to go unrequited for another century or two.

Hawk Soars to Cooperstown

Andre. That is all. Photo: FansEdge Blog

Congratulations, Andre Dawson! Many will debate your stats and your Hall-of-Fame cap, but no one will ever question your commitment, power, talent, and overall badness. Thanks for sacrificing your knees to make the game better.

My favorite Andre trait: the patented "this pitch is going over a Tru-Link fence, sucka" stare. What's yours?

UPDATE: Be sure to check out Charley Beatley's (of Hawk4theHall fame) post of the Top 10 moments of the Hawk's career. It's a great compilation.

Shady Acres: Wrigley's Rundown Retirement Village

This is just a quick note on the whole Dawson number retiring blah blah blahness.

The way the Cubs retire numbers is really odd. Ernie Banks entered the HOF in '77, but they didn't retire his number until '82 (the year after the Trib bought the team). At that point, it was pretty clear they didn't take the ceremony very seriously. Not because Banks didn't deserve it, but because it made it look like he was the first player worth recognizing after 100 years of Cubs baseball.

They didn't go back and honor Gabby Hartnett or Hack Wilson, the only two primarily Cub HOF'ers who actually had jersey numbers—though Hack was lucky to get in via the Veterans Committee and Hartnett didn't have enough clout on his own team to keep his jersey number (he had three). My point is, the recognition wasn't based on entry into the Hall of Fame. They just singled out Banks as Mr. Cub. Okay.

Then in 1987 when Billy Williams was inducted, they retired his number almost immediately. That made it look like HOF entry was the main criteria. Gotcha.

Four years later, Jenkins got in. Nothing. They waited another twelve years . . . and retired Santo's number. This signaled a change in policy: the Cubs would now retire jersey numbers based on the likelihood the player would die. Fair enough.

Meanwhile, the Cubs honored Fergie's HOF entry by letting Maddux take #31 to the Braves. Then they let Kevin Foster, Bobby Ayala, Brad Woodall, Mike Fyhrie, Donovan Osborne, and Mark Guthrie all don the should-be-retired digits. Oh, and then Maddux brought it back in style from '04 to '06.

But when Maddux retired, the Cubs retired his number in a joint ceremony with Fergie. I loved both pitchers, but it just didn't make much sense to wait this long after Jenkins entered the Hall or to act this immediately after Maddux left the game. Is the number retired upon Hall entry, upon the player's retirement, or just whenever the crap the Cubs feel like it?

Now, apparently it's just contingent on the hat Hawk will be wearing. Thus far, the criteria for jersey retirement are as inconsistent as Rich Hill. The best thing for the Cubs to do is completely reform the process. Andre's number is the least of their worries.

One thought: completely renovate the outfield wall. Figure out a system to plant ivy over padded wall sections surrounding the wall. Cut out sections in some panels that display the outfield distances and some that display retired player names and/or uniform numbers that are more representative of the Cub greats throughout history. The wall would look just as magical and ivy covered, but you'd have more flexibility to recognize the greats, advertise in a few more spots, and not kill people who run into the wall. Just a thought.

Does Dawson Belong? Not My Problem.

There are people who make a great case for Andre Dawson's Hall of Fame qualifications. There are those who don't, and I don't feel compelled to link to them.

The debate over what constitutes a Hall of Fame career is over my head. There are some magic plateaus that, in the past, have made the conversation pretty easy: 300 wins; 3,000 hits; 500 home runs. The advent of PEDs has rendered even those landmarks somewhat powerless. Mark McGwire can attest to (and Sosa, Bonds, and Clemens will soon learn about) the strange veil of judgment under which the Hall of Fame question is currently enshrouded.

I don't think there's one answer for what constitutes a Hall of Fame career looks like. Sometimes it's stats (Tony Gwynn). Sometimes it's championships (pick a Yankee). Sometimes it's superhuman skill emanating from your pores (Ozzie Smith). Sometimes it's just . . . fame (Jim Rice). But I'm approaching Dawson's candidate as a fan, not an objective sportswriter. So when you ask me if I think Dawson's accomplishments have earned him a place in Cooperstown, this is how I respond.



I don't care. I want Dawson there because I really, really like Andre Dawson. He gave me a lot of good memories at the expense of his knees. He picked the Cubs. Just gave them a blank check and said, "Sign me. Pay me what you want. I'm playing here." That may have been a stupid thing for him to do, but so is cheering for the Cubs. I mind-numbingly chose the Cubs three decades ago, and I'll do it again. I can't explain why I'm a Cubs fan, and I can't explain why Dawson decided he wanted to play here. But that decision (and the time he spent patrolling right field in Wrigley) is more than enough to command my loyalty.

And so he has it. Look, one of the things I remember most about Dawson as a Cub was the simple fact that his knees were already shot when they got here. I remember the media dogging him for being so hobbled. I remember the questions of whether he was too crippled by his swollen knees to keep playing professional baseball. I don't remember him as an unstoppable force on the North Side. I remember him like a kind of grandpa who showed more heart, grit, and bad-assedness than I had ever seen from a baseball player. Yeah, I remember him being awesome when he wore the Montreal elb* on his hat. But the bulk of my personal memories were of him struggling to walk as much as dominating.

I think Dawson deserves to be in the Hall, but that's not my decision. And it's not my job to be objective. I want him in. So I'll keep tweeting #Dawson4theHall, hoping it becomes a trending topic and a conversation item among voters. Will it work? I don't know, and I don't care.



*Yes, I know it was a letter M. But it freaking looked like it said elb.You know it. I know it. The Canadian people know it.