The BBWAA Sucks

This lunatic is a member of the BBWAA

Maybe he handled a lot of absentee ballots.  Maybe he once received a paper cut from a voter registration card that required express mail tape to stop the bleeding.  Maybe he was a big Dewey supporter, and felt like his man got FDR’d out of a job.  In any main event, the possessor of the loin (or loins as the case may be) from which this here fruit sprouted and grew into whatever it is that I am, my formerly postally employed father has always stated – for the record, 8 track or other audio recording medium: “If you vote on it, it’s phony.”  I believe a disgruntled Mondale supporter by the name of Billy Idol had a hit called “Phony Phony” at one point.  Just because ole’ Ronnie was less cognizant than Skynyrd’s lead singer with a broke mic before getting into the power ballad and greatest hick love song of all-time, Free Bird, does not mean Mondale was cheated out of his rightful place in the Oval Oraphus.  Mondale was screwed out of the presidency because he failed to engage Reagan in any of their debates.  He should have gotten all cerebral and asked him questions such as, “Mr. President, is the White House really white?”, “Is Pennsylvania Avenue in Pennsylvania?” or “Is the Secret Service the Agency within the Department of the Treasury, or an Escort Service with an employee named Treasure Chest?”  I think the Annheusers‘s would have clearly been exposed, and the voting public could have looked past Mondale’s choice of that Ferrari lady as a running mate.  Unqualified has never had such luxury amenities as ignorance with leather trim and a V-12 engine that can go from completely clueless about foreign affairs to making statements about invading New Mexico in 60 seconds or less.

But let’s get back to my dad’s theory, and discuss why I feel it is important to discuss it.  The Baseball Hall of Fame is set to announce the inductees to the 2010 class.  To get into the Baseball Hall of Fame, you have to receive 75% of the vote from the Baseball Writers Association of America, or BBWAA (since when is “baseball” two words?).  If you get less than 5%, you’re bounced from HOF consideration by the BBWAA; but you can eventually be considered by a bunch of ole coots called the Veteran’s Committee.  In other words, there is a consolation round to determine if the stats you compiled years earlier that haven’t changed – by virtue of you having put down the bat and picked up a 4 Iron, a Sharpie for diluting the market with your autograph, philanthropy or philandering – are suddenly worthy of getting into the HOF.  Before these BBWA nerds – who are probably masturbatorily challenged due to carpet tunnel vision – can focus their nerdish thoughts on your HOF worthiness, you have to have played in 10 seasons and been unemployed for 5.  You get 15 years to be voted in by the BBWAA as long as you stay above 5%.

Every year, when the pencil pushing nerds – who never even came close to strapping on a cup and lookin’ at a curve ball with a 12 to 6 break - start ruminating about who is HOF worthy and who isn’t – much akin to Elaine Benes trying to decide who she thinks is a good candidate for her to sponge it up with – there begins a whole of mess of bantering about how some players are “first ballot” hall of famers, and how some will “eventually get in” when they are in different classes (i.e. considered in year with what is perceived to be lesser talent). In other words, you could be like Jim Rice and wait 15 years to get three additional voting percentage points, when you last played the game in 1989.  The BBWAA is basically saying we, as a bunch of tired asses who have only had wet dreams about playing professional baseball, hold the fate of former players in our hands and we play politics.  It has gotten to the point where there is more lobbying for Hall of Fame induction than there is between John Wall and DeMarcus Cousins on a fast break.  Hell players being screwed out of the ultimate recognition damn near take out billboards, hire whores, and offer the latest high tech nerd gadgetry to get past the Hall Monitors patrolling the pearly gates of the HOF like Saint Peter’s posse.  You can almost see a BBWAA writer carryin a boom box while patrolling with Peter, playing Jim Neighbors’ Songs of Inspiration.  God, wouldn’t that be Hell.

Explain to me or anyone reading this, listening to you reading this, or reading your mind how in the hell something other than wine or liquor can get better with age, simply because it sits there a while?  It’s like the BBWA members have some form of vintage voting Cialis, and are waiting for the right time to bone up and vote someone in.  If you have been retired for 5 years, your stats haven’t changed.  You were either HOF-worthy 5 years ago when you quit, or you were not.  It isn’t like there are answers to this test, and you can hire a disgruntled Microsoft employee, or Bluto and D Day to steal the answers.  You had already taken the test and either passed, or failed more miserably than Charlie Brown attempting a kickoff.  It’s like when you die, your family gets to look at your life, think about what to say in your obituary, and on your tombstone inscription for five years.  At first, you were just a “loved” father.  But after consulting the memory replay, it was ruled you were a “beloved” father, because you bought alcohol for your kid’s teenage friends and refrained from dancing in front of company.

The arbitrariness of these bastards is what kills me.  Roberto Alomar is on the chopping block this season.  He is considered by everyone to be a “first ballot” hall of famer.  He was a great second baseman, and deserves to be in the Hall of Fame, no doubt about it.  But he should be a goddamn first ballot Hall of Famer, because he is just as good now as he will ever be!  You can’t go back and change your vote from G.W.B. because you like what B.O. has pulled off in his rookie season.  You can’t go back and use the ole “Nah. She’s just a friend. We just hang out and shit.” line with the chick you wanted to hamhock after not thinking it up at the time, because you drank more Gin and Juice than Snoop Dogg working in an orchard.

What sense does it make to basically say a guy like Andre Dawson has HOF numbers, but it just isn’t time for him to get his laminated membership card to wear on one of those incredibly gay lanyard things?  Those things make you look like someone who believes a laminated photo of themselves with other miscellaneous information means they’re hip like Kojack, and are members of whatever the Diner’s Club was.  One argument I heard today as to why The Hawk had not been elected was because he started his career in Montreal, and their games were not televised on a regular basis.  Apparently these idiots had no access to the Harry Carey Network, a/k/a WGN, that showed every one of his games while with the Cubs from 1987 to 1992.  WGN was like one of the only channels you got on basic cable in the ’80′s.  It showed the news, Bozo The Clown, Chia Pet commercials, re-runs of Mama’s Family, and Cubs’ games.  During the Summer, you couldn’t avoid Harry swilling Budweiser, wearing those Hubble Telescope-sized glasses, and butchering the National Anthem.  In any event, say these bastards were still in the rabbit ear age until 1996 when he hung up his wings.  Considering they’ve been considering him for years, have they not taken into consideration looking at the considerable statistics on the back of his baseball cards?  Assume you’d never heard of Andre Dawson prior to being asked to vote on him getting in the Hall of Fame.  Do his career statistics deserve more scrutiny because you couldn’t pick him out of a line up?  Do looks matter when it comes to getting in the HOF?  Is it his lack of worthy numbers, or the fact that Willie McGee always looked like he had smelled a fart the real reason why he is not in the HOF?  Maybe the writers have a copy of Dawson’s driver’s license from his playing days, and are holding his unwillingness to part with the Jerri Curl against him.  It may seem more fickle than a cucumber debating the pros and cons of pickledom, but it is just as good or better reason for letting his stats marinate for years before deciding some shit that hasn’t changed in 13 years suddenly makes him a worthy candidate.

To illustrate my point better than a courtroom sketch artist with a pornographic memory covering a Larry Flynt trial, take the curious of case of the anti-Benjamin Button.  Not only did Willie Mays age properly, he also played the game like no one before or after him.  Speed, power, great fielding, he was basically the top of the line Kubota of his day.  He could do it all, and you didn’t have to buy that 2 year “extra service” warranty.  He only got 94.8 % of the vote when he got elected in his first year of eligibility.  This is like Martin Luther the King gettin into Heaven, and some of the Descendents or whoever they were questioning whether he was fire hosed enough, or suffered enough dog bites.  They didn’t think he was totally worthy, because being shot by a racist lunatic just isn’t as painful as being nailed to railroad ties, dying, and then showing back up to eat ham and hunt eggs.  Well excuse him.  No one has ever been elected unanimously.  Babe Ruth. Nah, he was too fat and hurt the game by hitting more home runs than anyone until Hank Aaron.  His transcendence of the sport was a little too all-encompassing.  Any time a person is the best at a particular vocation, that should be held against them to some degree.  I mean, John Wayne Gacy got the death penalty for being the most evil clown this country has ever seen.  I guess a little cereal killing can get in the way of career accolades.  Ty Cobb. Nah, he was just the all-time hits leader when he was elected.  Hits aren’t really important to the game unless you want to score runs.  Rickey Henderson.  Forget it.  Just because he was the all-time stolen base leader (and either has, or had the record for most home runs leading off a game) he too held on to the Jerri Curl too tightly.  Plus, his nostrils were freakishly big in a Daryl Strawberry-type way.

The point of all this is it proves my dad’s point.  Voting makes anything anyone gets to vote on phonier than Pamela Anderson’s acting – Bet you thought I was going to Silicon Valley with that one didn’t ya?  How anyone tasked with the job of voting players of a sport they’ve only played on video games could not simply unite and Say Hay, “If you don’t vote for Willie Mays, we’re going to come to your house, rip all your pocket protectors in half, deflate all your girlfriends, tell your mom the basement doesn’t fit your needs, and call your sister to tell her where Prom Dress Barbie can be found.”

That’s my vote for dephonifying the Baseball Hall of Fame voting.  The votes of voters should also be made public, so they can be subjected to random baseball-related hate crimes - like leaving burning baseball cards or jerseys in their yards – Cotton-candying a house can get your point across as well.  In terms of excising the phoniness associated with all other voting, vote how you wish and hope to Jehovah a bunch of other fools see it your way; because of the car you’re guy drives, what his wife wears, or the fraternity he pledged still keeps the phony factor high.  You can only vote the way you believe.  That can still make it phony, cause you may vote for the candidate whose name reminds you of your favorite children’s book.  I think I McCain, I think I McCain, I think I McCain…