The Hall of Fame voting season is driving me crazy. I just can’t stand it, man. I told myself that I wasn’t going to care this year, that I wouldn’t let all of the expected nonsense and grandstanding drag me down. Pitcher Wins, Character, Grit, Look at Me, Morals, Jack Morris, Ethics, No Seriously Look At Me I’m Important—I was done letting all of that get to me. And then it started. I doubt I need to rehash it all here. One of the most complex and stacked collections of eligible players of all time and probably not a one is going to make the cut. This is because the all powerful and conflicted and innocent and tortured baseball writers can’t be bothered to exercise a collective shred of common sense or nuanced thought. Let us pray for them and their immeasurable burden.
The published ballots have been a hoot. Some blank, some with only one “good guy,” most all of them equal parts lazy and intellectually dishonest. It sure is a good thing that the Hall of Fame doesn’t really matter! Because if it did, I would have already threw a gainer out the window. In honor of how important, and difficult, and gut-wrenching, and important a decision like this is for the baseball scribes shouldered with such crippling responsibility, I’d like to do my small part and submit my own personal ballot. I took it about as seriously as an essential baseball mind like myself possibly could. You’re welcome.
I like my Hall of Famers to be mediocre, and with mustaches. Just something I believe in.
He was nice to my dad one time and so I always promised myself I would honor that kindness in this way.
I totally buy into all that garbage people say about the ninth inning, and mentality, and heart and guts and grit and saves and shit.
One of the greatest baseball players of all time, but he was probably a cheat, so as a sign of protest I waited until the fourth spot on my ballot to list him.
Hall of Fame ability to sire and name children.
I don’t have to explain myself to you!
Career triple-slash of .312/.418/.515. A 147 OPS+. Over 500 doubles, over 300 home runs. One of the greatest pure hitters of all time. They named the street next to the stadium in Seattle after him. Also, very slow.
Because he’s in that picture up there with Edgar and I wanted it to make sense.
Wrote him in because I play by my own rules and answer to no man.
Jonah Keri is holding me captive and feeding me nothing but those weird cheese curd and gravy french fries. Please send help.