What keeps us off the edge of our bleachers and glued to our screens? It’s the magic of the numbers, the treasured link bringing together generations of sluggers and pitchers alike.
A couple of days ago, I was quizzed by a buddy who isn’t a baseball fan and only dabbles in the sport. “Who lays down the Hall of Fame eligibility criteria, and what exactly are they?” he asked. As a longtime baseball geek, I naively thought I could answer easily, but not this one.
The predicament got more complicated the very next day. I watched almost an hour-long 2020 sit-down interview with Jose Canseco that all but oozed the love of the sport.
Indeed, who are the people behind the first-ballot picks? Criteria and sophistication of any other sort aside, do they love the sport the way we the fans do or the way Canseco did?
Canseco claimed the MLB bigwigs had reveled in the steroid-era numbers and perks in the interview and milked them in galore to their benefit. Later, they throw shade on the protagonists behind the thrill, the ones who drove home oodles of runs as well as their passion for baseball, infecting millions of mesmerized viewers with it all along.
Let’s face it. Baseball isn’t your hectic-paced, dumb-rules-in-place action-packed, and physical tug-of-war contest. Granted, we are treated to extra-inning back-and-forth nail-biters every once in a while. But most often, what keeps us off the edge of our bleachers and glued to our screens? It’s the magic of the numbers, the treasured link bringing together generations of sluggers and pitchers alike. We are rooting for the guy about to stretch his 10-game RBI streak or 20-game hitting streak, mired somewhere in seventh with a measly 2–1 on the scoreboard. With bated breath, we are equally stoked about a potential no-hitter brewing with six outs to go.
We are wowed by the ball’s exit velocity—not exactly the first thing your typical soccer fanatic yearns to know once Cristiano Ronaldo hammers one in from a free-kick. Could you imagine a diehard hockey or gridiron football fan thinking it’s okay to go scoreless, let alone hoping for that to happen, especially with no horse in the race? Right?
Occasionally, we can even applaud the archrivals for breaking the multi-year curse. Do you care to think of any other game in the 21st century where good old curses are a thing and even a conversation starter?
If you’ve checked all the above boxes, why then do those numbers suddenly not count when the protagonist admits to having crossed the line while taking his game one step further in a bid to keep you hooked with their outrageous outta here’s? Isn’t the “whatever it takes” attitude encouraged by the likes of Grant Cardone laudable in almost everything we do these days?
It wasn’t because the guy followed the rules to a tee to make miracles happen that you binge-watched eight seasons of House MD, was it? Don’t be a hypocrite and say otherwise.
The Bondses, Jose Cansecos, Big Macs, A-Rods, and Sammy Sosas do matter because they are the ones who get the very gist of the game and stir our agitation. Isn’t that the #1 reason we are spectating? Those guys nailed the essence of the drama behind our cherished sport–not that I’m advocating the juice. But they did. Admit it.
Hall of Famer? (photo, huffingtonpost.com)
And they aren’t eligible for the Hall of Fame in the foreseeable future. They are deemed unworthy of joining the likes of Derek Jeter, who statistically is one of the worst-faring shortstops in the modern era and, yet, a Hall-of-Famer. The guy cobwebbed in controversy throughout his career in the bigs and, yet, a Hall-of-Famer. The guy who seemed equally—if not more—invested in choreographing his bling-bling ritzy-glitzy celebrity persona off the field as he was in his on-field presence and, yet, a Hall-of-Famer. The guy who butchered the flamboyant Marlins’ organization and all but obliterated the franchise’s flair and, yet, a Hall-of-Famer.
True, Jeter may have meant the world (well, technically, the World Series) to Yankees fans. That’s okay. In Eastern Christianity they have locally venerated saints who changed the lives of particular communities for the better while striving for a sinless life. But they aren’t quite up there with the all-time greats. By the way, some of the latter don’t just have their jersey numbers, but their names are retired. It’s probably, a subject to consider for MLB.
Where I’m originally from, baseball never boasted a huge following. Whenever I tried to get sports fans hooked on it, I’d always point to stats and the magic of the numbers. (Un?)remarkably, Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, and Alex Rodriguez did a way better job driving the skeptical fanbase than most Hall-of-Famers. Let that sink in.
