Robinson Cano reawakens the steroids/ Baseball Hall of Fame debate
The New York Yankees used-to-be second baseman Robinson Cano has been suspended 80 games for using a banned substance. Somehow the connection between doing something MLB automatically expels players for, and that players eligibility for the Baseball Hall of Fame, remains elusive for some fans and writers.
New York Yankees former 2B Robinson Cano and current Seattle Mariners star has as much Baseball Hall of Fame talent as any player in the last 20 years. His career slash of .304/.354/.493 along with his 2,417 hits, 305 HR, and WAR of 67.5 are all high in his favor — and that he will finish at or close to 3,000 hits is a reasonable projection.
He is also without question the greatest second baseman I’ve ever seen. His patented stream of milk throws from the shortstop hole, under his left arm, with his back turned, directly to the first baseman’s mitt wouldn’t be believed in a movie.
He is a millionaire many times over, won a WS with the Yankees in ’09, and rode the Canyon of Heroes on a day no one can take back. Robinson Cano has made multiple All-Star appearances and will one day retire young to fabulous wealth and luxury.
But he will never be in the Baseball Hall of Fame. And he shouldn’t be. And for more reasons than I can list here; instead, I’ll stick to two.
Who’s On First
First is the seriousness of the offense from both the fans and MLB’s point of view.
As a fan, what is the most important aspect of any player on your team? His/her performance on the field, right? Few Yankees fans would have wanted Stephen Drew to stay on the team even if they found out he was spending his spare time healing the sick.
Now Robinson Cano has thrown away 80 games, half a season for all intents and purposes. Please, any comments about his injury overlap will be ignored as obtuse to the point of distraction. Robinson Cano made a choice to do something he knew full well could cost him 280 AB or so.
And that intentional loss of production should count against him. Production still counts, doesn’t it? That is still an essential element of the game, isn’t it; number of days on the field?
Some readers might at this point be thinking, but he was trying to stay on the field. To that I would say, one, the path to hell is paved with good intentions, and, two, I don’t care what a person tries to do so much as what they actually do.
Baseball is about results, as is life.
In all fairness to his stats and his chosen impact on the team, his numbers should be averaged out to include his banned games. So, if he comes back and ends with a .300 average over 80 games, his true average should be .150 for the season. Same with figuring his lifetime numbers.
That would put into perspective his real crime against his team and the fans thereof. Because it’s going to count against the teammates that he left to fend for themselves.
Going, Going…
The Seattle Mariners window for winning is closing. Oh, I’m sorry: Closed.
That’s what happens when your best and the highest paid player decides to take himself out of the lineup for the middle HALF of the season. New York Yankees fans remember when Alex Rodriguez missed an entire year.
Unlike Yankees fans, however, Seattle Mariners fans have been waiting a long time to get a chance to fight for a championship, to qualify for the postseason tournament and bathe in even the briefest warm glow of playoff heat.
They deserve that, don’t they? After all their years of supporting this team–of starting spring with the hope that lies eternal within the baseball fan’s breast only to see those hopes and dreams come crashing down– just once to have a successful season and watch meaningful October games?
To sit in the stands and watch the sun go down over Puget Sound, and feel a nip as the cool of Autumn takes over from the late heat of an Indian Summer, while home runs and high fives resound throughout the stadium.
That beautiful baseball dream has been stolen by Robinson Cano. New York Yankees fans get plenty of eventful Octobers; why should the Seattle Mariners fans be robbed of one of their few?
I grew up there, and I know how much they’re hurting. And they’re hurting because a player they believed in to lead them to the promised land, a guy they thought they could count on to play 160 games and be their best offensive and defensive player, will now play in maybe 80 games. By choice.
And when he comes back, the damage might already be done.
Too Little, Too Late for Robinson Cano
When he’s not there to hit in those big series against Anaheim, the Astros and the Yankees; or the team has to decide how much to spend to replace a player coming back in the same season instead of adding to another area of weakness; when a lesser defensive player fails to cut down a runner at first in the top of the ninth of a tied game; that’s when he’ll be hurting the organization, his teammates, and the fans.
But when it comes time to decide if he is one of the best players of the era and deserving of eternal praise for the way he conducted himself as a representative of the game, none of this will seemingly matter to some.
Poise Counts
That is an odd disconnect. Major League Baseball has made it clear that taking a masking agent of steroids is a crime against the sport. In the case of Robbie, “I guess we do know” Robinson Cano, that agent is Furosemide.
If they catch you just once, they suspend you for half of a season. If a player does it a second time, he loses an entire season, while the third results in a lifetime suspension. That makes this seem like a very serious matter to baseball. And the players union.
What other crimes merit this severe a punishment? And, how many players are suspended just as much for other crimes?
But to some writers and fans, losing half a season or so is no big deal. A full season? Yeah, but he sure was great in all those seasons he successfully cheated! This crime that seems so big to baseball is seemingly forgotten, though, by writers and fans as soon as the player’s publicist writes an apology.
Some of you might be tempted at this point to write that since Bonds, Clemens, etc., never cost themselves or their teams these ill effects; they should not suffer in the voting. If that is what you can glean from what I have written, I welcome your comments.
And then I encourage to try Kevin Kernan’s stuff over at the Post. He makes it easy to understand his viewpoints by writing the same column more than once. You’ll like him.
Hopefully, we’ve established a connection to a crime against the fans and their teams with HOF voting. But it goes beyond that, to something even more important than production on the field. It goes to something deeper, something that those who castigate sports miss.
And it’s what turns observers into fans.
And no Honor in Cheating to Get Up
Have you ever seen the runner stumble? Seen her fall, grab her bleeding and swollen ankle, pick herself up, and finish the race in a collapsing heap of tears and sweat and pain?
How did it make you feel? Did you swell with shared pride? Did your soul rise inside you to pay tribute to another found so worthy? And did you honor her with silent appreciation?
Why? Why did you have that reaction? Was it perhaps in recognition of the triumph of will it took to rise and run again? Of how easy it would have been to quit, to fight another day, and give this one up as just not meant to be?
It might be that in those moments you saw the best in humans and the best in sports. And that you saw the quality that turns those who try into those who do. It allows the caged bird to sing her sweet songs and turns Alexanders into greats.
It turns ordinary moms into social justice crusaders and local high school kids into far-away warriors.
And we can see that in sports including the New York Yankees, sometimes, if we’re lucky. We can see men whose characters were made by working as hard as they could and performing at the top of their talents…and losing anyway.
At those moments, you find yourself in the Forge of Character. Yes, who you are is revealed, but that revelation can lead to reflection, resolution, and change. And the mighty hammer blows that reshape your soul you start swinging right then and there.
As the poet says,
Oh, a trouble’s a ton, or a trouble’s an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it, And it isn’t the fact that you’re hurt that counts, But only how did you take it?
Only, How did You Play It?
But you cannot climb out of the dark night of the soul without first paying the price.
In this case, it means acceptance and humility. It means working harder and playing through more pain. And it means remembering the lessons of your childhood while playing a child’s game.
Above all, however, it means asking and answering life’s most difficult but important questions, like, What kind of person do I want to be? And, am I willing to sacrifice my reputation and character for money? Does the who I am, and what I stand for, have a price? Or are those things priceless?
Men such as Robinson Cano and Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds seem to want to act as if they have such soaring spirits but without paying the price. They all want to be Willis Reed or Kirk Gibson or Michael Jordan, but never will they be.
That’s because when their times came, when it was time to see not what God-given talents they had but what kind of character they had created, they were found wanting. But that won’t leave them wanting for Baseball Hall of Fame votes.
Time out of Mind
It put me in mind of Scipio. He lived and fought when Rome was a republic, as America is now. He tells us, via Livy, that the greatest honor is in victory, but that the greatest victories are not those over others.
The man who has curbed and subjugated [his selfish desires] by his self-control has won for himself greater glory and a greater victory than we have won over Syphax.
Yes, indeed. By giving in to their wants, desires, and weaknesses they have damaged themselves, their teams, and the sport they say they love. Even a lesser-philosopher than Socrates knows you cannot hurt your soul or that of baseball, and help it at the same time.
Or your chances of entering the Hall of Fame.
Nolo Contendere
Robinson Cano has committed an act that Major League Baseball itself finds so damaging to the game that it suspended him for half of a season. If he continues, he will be kicked out of the sport altogether. He has betrayed his organization and damaged the Seattle Mariners chances in a rare season when they might make the playoffs.
He has limited himself to 80-AB this year, and it is the fans who will pay the price. They don’t get to go to Robbie’s mansion in the off-season or retire at 41 as he will do. All they can do is hope, hope to see their team fight to the last day, to the final out, for one chance at eternal glory.
But that was never Robbie’s fight. He wanted the big money and easy accomplishments. Pity there’s no pill that could make him run to first.
And that, all of that, is okay with some fans and writers. Okay, it’s your world. I know I’m as anachronistic as old and forgotten sayings such as,
And what do you benefit if you gain the whole world but lose your own soul?
Next: Severino and Stanton have Something Special Going On
I’m okay with that; I’ll still enter my house justified. And whether the Hall opens its doors to men such as Robinson Cano or the New York Yankees of a similar ilk is beyond my ability to control.
If they do, I would hope for a compromise: That they at least put the following quote from Scipio, once again, above the door. I would ask them to do it if for no other reason than in honor of sad fools like me, and a time long since past.
Perhaps it could be called The Fan’s Plea:
Conquer your feelings and be on your guard against letting one vice mar the many good qualities you possess and sullying the grace of all your services by a fault which is out of all proportion to its cause.