San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
Why I didn’t vote for Hall
I could blame my situation on the absurd flood of email that arrives daily in my virtual mailbox, a constant stream of betting odds, offers to interview “experts” or improve my website and, only occasionally, some useful information that I should actually notice.
Another theory is that my situation is purely the result of my subconscious being hard at work.
Whatever the reason, I did not vote for the Baseball Hall of Fame — the ballots were due Friday — for the first time in about a quarter century.
I’ve been a voter since the 1990s. I have taken my voting status seriously. It’s a badge of honor, a task I didn’t ask for but one that was bestowed on me for being a longtime member of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America. Though I’ve never exclusively covered baseball, I have carried a BBWAA card for decades and did not — do not — take voting lightly.
My voting profile: I’m a small-Hall voter. I’ve always believed that this honor is reserved for only the best players in history. I believe, for the most part, that either I vote for a player the first time he’s on the ballot or not at all (though I have softened that stance on occasion). I’ve never felt the need to check whatever number of boxes was required to get to the maximum limit. Sure, I look at the numbers, but I definitely go more by gut feel. You know it when you see it.
Also: I have never voted for perhaps the best baseball
player I’ve ever covered as a journalist. A player whose career I charted regularly from the moment he arrived in San Francisco to his final game in 2007.
I have never voted for Barry Bonds.
Why? Because I have followed the rules I’ve been given (a notion that would make my late parents and many of my high school teachers
chuckle. Oh, so now she’s a rule follower?)
As voters, we are presented with a list of voting rules. Those include Rule 5: “Voting shall be based upon the player’s record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.”
So, for the past nine years I have never voted for Bonds. Or Roger Clemens. I never voted for Sammy Sosa or Mark McGwire. Nor did I vote for players who carried strong rumors of steroid use without the heavy weight of evidence.
Yet here I sat in Bonds’ final year on the ballot, and I didn’t vote one way or the other.
In October, voters received an email from the Hall of Fame asking us to register in the voting process. This is a fairly new development, intended, I assume, to weed out the voters who are no longer actively covering the game or perhaps no longer even in journalism. October was a busy month around here and the email, like so many, was buried. As was a reminder a few days later.
I know I vote in December, so it was only when the calendar flipped to that month that I realized I hadn’t received a ballot. And when I started seeing other ballots posted online.
My reaction to realizing my oversight was not one of panic or regret. It was more of a shrug.
I’ve been increasingly ambivalent about voting. At times I downright dread it. I’ve seen some of my respected colleagues stop voting and considered joining them. Hence, the theory about my subconscious at work. I didn’t actively decide not to vote. Yet I didn’t vote.
I agree with the argument that writers’ votes should be transparent. Most of us make our votes public. But with that, as with pretty much everything in society these days, comes an ugly, attacking element.
I’ve been trolled online for my voting, disparaged on sports-talk radio. I’ve received hateful, threatening posts. It’s the divisive, polarizing world we live in, and I don’t really enjoy being a part of it. There are so many real outrages in the world that being part of a process that should be enjoyable yet makes people so irrationally angry is a bit disturbing.
Nothing the trolls say has made me change my mind about my vote. Believe me, the voices of people like the late Joe Morgan and Giants broadcaster Jon Miller, both of whom have said in the past they didn’t think Bonds deserved the honor, carry far more weight that a Twitter troll or radio bloviator.
Some of my colleagues changed their vote after Bud Selig and Tony La Russa were put in the hall by a veteran committee. I agree that it is the height of hypocrisy to let them in and keep players out — Selig happily oversaw the steroids era and La Russa managed the original steroid teams. But I didn’t make that choice. I didn’t vote for them. I can only vote based on my own interpretation of the rules and the ballot presented to me.
As a journalist, I don’t like being part of the story. And for the years Bonds and the other steroid-linked players have been on the ballot, votes are part of the story and we voters are asked to defend our vote, our opinion. Some outlets, like the New York Times, forbid their employees from participating in award or Hall of Fame voting because it could present a conflict of interest. I understand that reasoning more now than I did earlier in my career.
I resent that baseball has asked writers to solve its steroid issue and tainted legacy. Baseball has never come up with its own solution or interpretation. There has never been a serious move to modify Rule 5. (For comparison, the Pro Football Hall of Fame has no such clause: “The only criteria for election to the Hall of Fame are a nominee’s achievements and contributions.”) Pushing everything onto the writers is easy: just one more way baseball is dodging an issue that plagued if for decades.
The conflicts aren’t going away when Bonds and Clemens fall off the ballot. Alex Rodriguez and David Ortiz were in their first year of eligibility. What’s going to happen when the Houston Astros players who took part in the sign-stealing scandal become eligible? Some of the most ardent pro-Bonds advocates were wildly outraged about that scandal.
With the latest revelations about the differences in types of baseballs and how they affect performance makes one start to doubt all the numbers and wonder how the game has been manipulated from the very top.
My ambivalence means that perhaps I’m not the one to tackle these issues.
Obviously, I have not been alone in my voting process. Bonds has yet to come close to election in the past nine years. With or without my vote, Bonds may have gotten in in his final year. That’s fine with me — I don’t tell other people how to vote. And he still could get in through a subsequent committee vote. Whatever happens, I know this: Bonds’ legacy is secure.
Being part of a process that should be enjoyable yet makes people so irrationally angry is a bit disturbing.
VILIAMI TEU (ST. FRANCIS); SERGIO BELTRAN (MENLO SCHOOL-ATHERTON)
Teu, a rugged and speedy 5-11, 195pound running back headed to San Jose State, broke several school rushing records while leading the Lancers (11-1) to an unbeaten West Catholic Athletic League title and No. 3 spot in the final Chronicle rankings.
He rushed 270 times for 2,211 yards and 27 touchdowns, including a school-record 45 carries for 344 yards and two scores in a 44-21 win over Serra to clinch the WCAL title. “He was unbelievable today and he was unbelievable all season,” St. Francis
coach Greg Calcagno said after that game.
Beltran set the single-season CCS record for touchdown passes (52) while throwing for 3,575 yards. He also had 1,078 rushing yards. The 5-11, 170-pound senior completed 71.6% of his passes (242for-338) and averaged 8.7 yards on 124 carries while leading the Gators to a 12-1 season. They lost in the CCS Division 2 finals to Wilcox-Santa Clara 54-20 after outscoring their 12 previous opponents 540-160.
“He does an unbelievable job,” Menlo offensive coordinator Austyn Carta-Samuels said. “He’s one of the most humble kids I’ve ever met in my life.”