Me and my Old Man, in front of Nellie Fox’s plaque at the Baseball Hall of Fame (July 1997)
The Baseball Hall of Fame has always been the biggest amongst corridors of notoriety. Pro Football Hall of Fame? Hockey Hall of Fame? It’s where those who excelled in and around America’s pastime are honored eternally. It beats out Hollywood’s Walk of Fame because, well, I’d like not to hurt anyone’s feelings, but you’d be surprised at the list of people and Tokyo-terrorizing monsters who have a star on the boulevard. It defeats all other sports hall’s of fame. Not only because it was established first, but it hasn’t changed its enshrinement style since it’s doors first opened in 1936.
I’m talking more about the plaques, and what it means to be on one of those plaques. Your now immortal baseball likeness in bronze; and right below it your career record, and a 12-lines or less bio that captures your stats, status and spirit. It’s a 100 word summary of why you deserve a permanent place in the history of the game.
Take my Old Man’s favorite player, Jacob Nelson Fox who was inducted into the Hall in 1997. (Dad, I’m only going to write this once so I hope you’re reading. I use the term “old man” affectionately, as Jean Shepherd does when referring to his White Sox fan father in A Christmas Story. I’ll remember to always capitalize it.)
But take a look at Nellie:
Sure-handed second baseman and skillful batsman for the “Go-Go” White Sox of the 1950’s. A 12-time American League All-Star who never struck out more than 18 times in a season. His strikeout to at bat ratio was third best all time. Once went a record 98 games without a strikeout. Played record 798 consecutive games at second. Led league in hits four times, putouts 10, field pct. six times. Won 1959 A.L. MVP honors by helping Chicago to first flag in 40 years.
In looking over an enshrined member’s plaque, you get the full feel of the man’s impact on the game and what it meant to himself and the teams he played for. You can interpret from his plaque that Nellie was a diligent hitter, who fiercely fended off any offering near the strike zone in an effort to find an infield hole to punch through a single. Playing in 798 consecutive games at second base, you can tell he wanted to loved the game he played, never wanting to be held out of the lineup. He was Chicago’s tobacco-chewing sparkplug from the South Side for over a decade, and embodied the hard-working attitude so admired by the city (and even inspired my Old Man to bestow upon me his namesake.)
It’s an immense honor to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame, which is why it’s such a big deal that some people, despite record setting numbers, are held out. But their names remain entwined in the game’s history.
In 1997, my Old Man took my mother, five siblings and myself on a trip to Cooperstown to see Nellie’s plaque finally in the Hall of Fame. It was an incredible trip. I was 7 years old, but already well-versed in baseball lore; from Stan
Stan and Zack with Brooks Robinson
the Man to Joltin’ Joe, the Robinson’s Jackie, Frank and Brooks, and Heinie Manush and Pee Wee Reese, whose names I still chuckle while saying, I had many plaques I wanted to see. We wandered the great hall stopping for
forty-five seconds at a time to read and remember the greatest men to ever be involved with the game of baseball. We took hours taking pictures alongside the greats and our personal favorites.
Then, we made our way to a corridor which was empty. There were no monuments hanging in this section, as it was extra space for inductees of the future.
“Hey, Zacky, why don’t you go over and get a picture with those plaques?”, my Old Man said.
My little brother was confused, there was nobody on the wall. Then, my sister Becky says to my Old Man, “But Dad, there’s nobody up there?”
“Oh sure there is”, he says, “That’s Shoeless Joe’s plaque right there. And Pete Rose right next to him.”
Gen and Zack with Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson’s Hall of Fame Plaques
The real point may have been lost on me as a wide-eyed 7-year old, but now thinking about those words 16 years later, I think about the point my father was trying to make. That despite their actions that may have been detrimental to the game, both Rose, the all-time leader in hits, and Jackson, who held a .352 career BA should be enshrined amongst the greats in the Hall of Fame.
Why aren’t they? Well, gambling. Rose bet on games, some of which he was playing in, and Jackson, along with other teammates, accepted money from gamblers during the 1919 World Series which the White Sox allegedly threw. These were crimes challenging the integrity of the game. Gambling had almost decimated the sport in the latter part of the 19th century, and Major League Baseball has since held firm stance against anyone involved with its doings. Why? To protect the integrity of the game, the legitimacy, and its competitive virtue.
Is the same thing happening today? Are gatekeepers trying to protect baseball’s legacy? PED users like Bonds, Clemens, McGwire and others are slowly sliding off Hall of Fame ballots due to questions of the legitimacy of their career records because they used performance enhancing drugs that gave them a physical advantage over every other player in the game who was not using them. Their muscles grew bigger, their power increased. They were able to throw harder, and hit the ball farther.
Was it incredible to see? Yes. I remember the night in 1998 when McGwire broke Roger Maris’ 61-home run regular season record in St. Louis. It was one of my most fond baseball memories. I didn’t realize how truly incredible it was. Later on I came to realize, yes, McGwire and eventually Sosa and Bonds, broke one of sports’ greatest records, but how did they do it? Banned substances, illegal drugs. They cheated. Should we still honor cheaters? Should we remember their improbable feats and hard-to-comprehend numbers?
No. They didn’t play the game the right way. They tried to cut corners and gain unfair advantages through sheer brute force. The Hall honors players like Nellie Fox, and 2014 inductee Greg Maddux, who both loved, studied, and respected the game of baseball. Constant perfectionists, they rose to greatness through hard-work and cerebral consciousness fueled by competitive fire. One, if not all, of these characteristics are shared by nearly all members of the Baseball Hall of Fame.
I don’t like the argument, “But everyone was doing it”, because everyone wasn’t doing it. Maddux’s fellow 2014 inductee Frank Thomas had a clean career. His power numbers are just about right for a guy who played on the same Auburn football team his freshman year of college alongside Bo Jackson. If we discredit the numbers of PED users and suspected users, Frank is vaulted from 18th to 12th in all-time home runs, a significant six place jump (over Manny Ramirez, Sosa, McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro, Alex Rodriguez and Bonds). But those six men remain ahead of Thomas in the record books.
Whatever your sentiment, I think it’s important to remember why some players are left out of the games history. And isn’t that what sportswriters and member of the BBWAA do? Record the games’ history for tomorrow’s paper, and posterity. That’s why they have the power to decide who does and doesn’t get into the Hall. We’ve entrusted them for keeping the game’s history. Whether you think that’s still the best way to decide, or think it an archaic practice, it is what it is. It’s evident writers don’t think PED users and suspected users belong in the Hall of Fame. As for gambling offenders of the past, writers don’t like them either. But my Old Man does, and he reserves a place in his Hall of Fame for Pete Rose and Shoeless Joe, but not Barry Bonds.
Jake Berent 
i think your old man and my old man should get together and go bowling