Bonds, Clemens deserve to be in

Players were elite long before PED suspicions arose.

Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens probably will have to wait a little longer to get their plaques in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

But that day is coming. As it should. Bonds and Clemens are essentially a package deal — the best hitter and pitcher of their time, both heavily tainted by the steroids era even though they never tested positive or admitted wrongdoing.

Some Hall of Famers, led by former Cincinnati Reds great Joe Morgan, have

urged media voters (myself included) not to select Bonds, Clemens and anyone else with links to that disgraceful period, because they made “a deliberate effort to cheat the game we love, not to mention they cheated current and former players, and fans too.”

“By cheating, they put up huge numbers, and they made great players who didn’t cheat look smaller by comparison, taking away fromtheir achievements and consideration for the Hall of Fame. That’s not right.”

That sentiment is understandable, but the issues are more complex.

Back in November, Morgan sent a letter that laid out three parameters for denying entry into the Hall: those who failed drug tests, acknowledged using steroids, or were identified in the Mitchell Report investigation into baseball’s rampant doping in the 1990s and early 2000s.

We can all agree on those

first two roadblocks. Mark McGwire came clean on using performance-enhancing drugs, so it’s only right he didn’t claim a hallowed spot in Cooperstown despite hitting 583 career homers. Let’s hope the same fate awaits Manny Ramirez, who has Hall of Fame credentials but twice tested positive for banned substances. He’s on the ballot for the second time this year, after coming up far short (23.8 percent) of the necessary 75 percent threshold on his first try.

He will never appear on my ballot.

But Morgan’ s third standard— inclusion in the Mitchell Report—is problematic.

While I see merit in Morgan’s argument, my views on Bonds and Clemens have softened since I left them off my ballot when they were

fifirst eligible in 2013. My reasoning is two fold.

First, both players were worthy of induction before anyone questioned what they might be putting into their bodies.

Bonds was a three-time MVP and clearly the game’s best player, a slender outfielder who had that rare combination of power and speed. Before his body grew to cartoonish proportions and he hit 73homers in2001, he had nine straight seasons with at least 25 homers and 28 stolen bases, becoming

one of only four members of the 40-40 club (42 homers, 40 stolen bases) in 1996.

Clemens’ career followed a similar arc. He had an MVP award, three Cy Young awards and four ERA titles before his 30th birthday, certainly enough to push him into the Cooperstown mix even if he didn’t have an eyebrow-raising career revival in his 30s and 40s, when he claimed four more Cy Youngs but emerged as one of the most notorious fifi fifi gu resin the Mitchell Report.

Which brings us to the second, more important, point. I have no idea how many

players from the steroids era were using. No one does. Surely other players, someof whom may already be in Coopers town, at least dabbled in chemical enhancement. Frankly, they would’ve been foolish not to if they wanted to keep up, given baseball’s decisionto largely ignore the problem because it needed freakish powerhitters to lure back fans after a devastating labor dispute in 1994.

This isn’t an endorsement of doping.

It’s a recognition of reality. Certainly, with each passing year, Bonds and Clemens become less polarizing.

A year ago, Clemens was named on 239 ballots (54.1 percent), while Bonds appeared on 238 (53.8 percent). This year, their support from publicly revealed ballots was tracking at an

identical 63.6 percent ahead of tonight’s announcement.

Given it’s only their sixth year on the ballot, leaving four more years to get in, it’s clear Bonds and Clemens will make Coopers town speeches at some point. Their support will continue to grow as the pool of media voters gets younger and younger, softening memories of the steroids era.

When that day comes, it will be surely be hotly debated.

But let’s not forget: Bud Selig, the commissioner who presided over that shameful era with his head largely

stuck in the sand, took his place in Cooperstown a year ago.

It’s time for Bonds and

Clemens to join him.