Bonds and Clemens Belong in the Hall

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It seems that every year I end up writing a post opining the  "sanctimonious nonsense" of Hall of Fame voters regarding their personal hangups over voting for suspected steroid users:

It's ridiculous. I don't need baseball writers to teach me about morality, thanks all the same. I want to see the best of the era in the Hall of Fame, and if that includes PED users (and it most certainly does), so be it. Why should some players get the benefit of the doubt, while some get tainted by the brush of their peers?

This year we saw a little movement in the vote totals for players like Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, not to mention the actual election of one Mike Piazza. Rumors of steroid use have followed Piazza for years - and most people within the sport are reasonably convinced those whispers are true.

Steroids or none, Mike Piazza was one of the greatest offensive catchers in the history of the game, and he deserves his plaque in Cooperstown. But you know who else deserves to be enshrined in those hallowed halls? The best pure hitter of a generation, Barry Bonds, and the Rocket himself, Roger Clemens (both of whom were enjoying Hall of Fame worthy careers before they allegedly began dabbling in artificial enhancement).

There's no way for any of us to truly know who was clean and who was using; some estimates bandied about in the baseball industry guesstimate that up to 70% of players between 1990 and 2005 used performance enhancing drugs at some point. Even if the real number is much lower, who are we to make the judgment call about who was clean, and thus deserving of admiration, and who was dirty, and deserves to be ignored or scorned?

Baseball in the era of free agency is completely transformed from the pastoral game that once took up lazy afternoons across the country. The season is longer, the money has exploded, and with that there have been advancements enjoyed by today's players that those of yesteryear couldn't conceive of.

It's perfectly legal (and really, expected) for players to employ personal trainers and chefs, to get lasik eye or Tommy John surgery, and to generally take advantage of every modern edge they can to mold their bodies into the best possible tools to win. Decades ago, players drank and caroused all season, then spent the offseason working another job, because baseball didn't pay the average player enough to live off year round.

Why are some modern enhancements encouraged and others shunned as despicable cheating? Who does this line in the sand benefit? Anyone interested enough in baseball to visit the Hall of Fame already knows that Bonds, Clemens, Piazza, et al are suspected steroid users, but if it makes you feel better, we could demarcate every plaque between 1990 and 2005 with an asterisk denoting the era they played in, and the suspicions that accompany that.

Mike Piazza will enter the Hall of Fame in a few short months. Personally, I'm hoping that Bonds and Clemens eventually follow suit. You can scream about the sanctity of the Hall all you want, but so long as it includes avowed racists, drunks, and misogynists, that argument is absurd.

The Hall of Fame has never been the Hall of Saints. It's a place meant for the best of the best from every part baseball's illustrious (though sometimes shameful) history. If you don't think Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens fit that bill, I don't know what to tell you.

Reader's reluctance and Tito's new book

I got my copy of Francona: The Red Sox Years, right on time on its release date from Amazon.  It is currently sitting, unopened, on my bedside table.  I'm sure it will be well-written, as everything Dan Shaughnessy has a hand in writing has a certain style, and I'm sure it will be interesting, because Terry Francona's arrival in Boston coincided with a very exciting time in Red Sox history.

So why haven't I opened it yet? It's not because I'm in the middle of another book (surely a lackadaisical winter reread of Harry Potter can be put aside for a new release like this one), nor is it because I don't have the time - indeed, I have a shameful amount of free time lately.

No, my reluctance to dive into what is sure to be a page-turner has more to do with a halfhearted attempt at preserving my illusions. I know that there were players who were difficult, even during the magical 2004 and 2007 seasons (the sections on Manny Ramirez alone must be pretty hefty). But I'm not ready to lose my mental pedestals for players whose indiscretions might have flown under the radar of the fans - if, for instance, there's a passage about anyone that at all resembles the Roger Clemens anecdotes from Joe Torre's The Yankee Years, I might just lost it.

I've heard good things about the book, and I'm sure that once I manage to start it, I'll be through it in a matter of days.  I'm equally certain that the book will have me feeling some serious nostalgia for the good old days of the Pedey/Tito bromance.  Have any of you guys read the book? Am I being nervous for nothing? Let me know here in the comments, on Twitter, or on the Facebook page!

Tim Wakefield: Ironman

Yesterday afternoon, during a typical day game/Mariners beat-down at the Fens, Tim Wakefield continued his solid march toward Red Sox immortality, notching his 2,000th career strikeout with the team, and his 199th career Red Sox win.

Wakey had a bit of a shaky start, giving up three two runs in the top of the first inning, but his teammates were there to back him up, putting a five up on the scoreboard in the bottom half of the first - a nice change, since Wakefield traditionally hasn't enjoyed great run support.

The streaking Sox blew the thing open in the fifth, tacking on another five runs, allowing Wake to stay in the game for the sixth, where he struck out Mike Carp to tally his 2,000th strikeout in a Red Sox uniform.  Jarrod Saltalamacchia was catching, and he headed out:

"I knew it was the 2000th. I gave him the ball and gave him a hug to congratulate him...  Not that guys watch their stats, but that’s a pretty big number so I assumed he knew he was getting close. When I told him, he was like, ‘Congratulations for what?’ I was like, ‘Crap, did I get this wrong?’ I wanted to make sure," he said. "I looked at the [video] board and it said 2,000. He looked up and saw it and just started smiling."

I've made my feelings about Wake pretty clear on this blog: I LOVE HIM.  Over the years, he's done it all for the Sox, from eating innings in the bullpen, to starting, to closing, and though there were some minor hiccups last season with his role, he's been relatively flexible over the years.  Timmy's next win will be his 200th (186th as a Red Sox), and he keeps marching his way toward the team wins record of 192, currently held by some guys named Cy Young and Roger Clemens.

Wake lacks the pure electricity of either of these pitchers, and his status in the record book is a testament to his longevity and tenacity.  Tim Wakefield is Boston's own Ironman, and I for one am extremely proud of him.


[Quotes in this post are from the Boston Globe's Extra Bases Blog.]

Knuckling into history

Tim Wakefield, the current longest tenured member of the Boston Red Sox, just overtook Roger Clemens for the club record of most innings pitched, with 2,777.

I have the utmost respect for Wakefield. The man is 43 years old - practically elderly in baseball years, and he's still answering every call from the Sox. Sure, he might resent being sent to the bullpen, but he's earned the right to air those concerns, so long as he keeps on knuckling. Best wishes to Wakefield... hopefully he'll topple some more records before hanging up his spikes.

[Almost] Spring Training and the "Steroid Era"

Kevin Youkilis and Jon Lester have already reported to Fort Meyers for Red Sox Spring Training.  Did I mention I love these guys?  In other spring-related news, it was warm enough in Connecticut this morning to wear shorts to the gym.  There's the proof: the snow will melt, the grass will grow, and there will be baseball again.

Thursday can't come soon enough; I'm really tired of this whole "off-season" thing.  I mean, does any really care where Manny ends up anymore?  I mean, as long as he's far, far away from Fenway Park, it's alright with me, and all signs point to the Dodgers, or possibly the Giants [although I have learned never to count the Yankees out].

In other news, no one is surprised that Alex Rodriguez allegedly failed a steroids test in 2003.  Mazz has a good piece about it in the Globe today: at this point, we can only guess who else is on that list.  Would anyone be blindsided if it came out Nomar was using while in Boston?  We already know about Mo Vaughn and Eric Gagne.  Who else could be on the list?  Jason Varitek is looking smaller these days, though the official explanation is that he never regained his weight after an illness early last season.  

The point is, the time to point fingers and gloat has passed [OK, maybe we can gloat a little].  Until the other 103 names on that list with A-rod are released, I for one will be operating under the assumption that at least one of my childhood heroes was a juicer.  The sad truth of it is that more players than we would like to believe were artificially enhanced, and that the most famous among them never needed to use.  Roger Clemens would have been a shoe-in for the hall before he ever met Brian McNamee.  Barry Bonds was one hell of a player, and would have been remembered fondly if he had never heard of BALCO.  And A-rod is a natural.  As much as it pains me to say it, Alex Rodriguez might be one of the most athletically gifted ballplayers of his generation.  However, once you get linked with steroids, your legacy is forever tainted [just ask Mark McGwire's brother].

Hopefully baseball can recover from this [although, if more people boycott, I might actually be able to get tickets].  But the "Steroid Era" is not over.  It won't be over until every last player who used has retired.  And A-rod still has nine years with New York.