I’m not quite 30, meaning my memories of baseball start in the early ‘90s. I was an all-in baseball fan, playing Little League every season and spending hours in my room organizing and reorganizing my extensive card collection. When the strike of 1994 hit, I was heartbroken. My dad and I had been planning a trip to San Diego to see a game, but this was suddenly and unceremoniously ripped from my nine-year-old hands. I didn’t fully understand the dispute involved, and it’s not like I swore off baseball because of the stoppage, but for nearly a year my focus was forced onto things besides America’s greatest pastime. In turn, my interest in the game waned.

That interest wasn’t fully reinvigorated until 1998, when Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa battled for the single-season home run record. Although some have disputed that McGwire and Sosa “saved baseball,” there is no doubt that they served that role for me personally—and how many other fans are in a similar position?

At-Bats as Media Events

When McGwire and Sosa were chasing the record, you could be sure that your ESPN program would be interrupted if one of those two came up to bat. A few years later, when Barry Bonds was looking to eclipse the same milestone, this effect was even more pronounced. These at-bats were more than just moments in individual games: they were cultural milestones that captivated a nation.

I was fortunate enough to attend several Barry Bonds games during his prime years. He is not known as a particularly friendly guy. We all know this. As a child, I once waited outside Candlestick Park after a game, hoping to get some autographs. When he emerged from the clubhouse, Bonds ignored a group of two dozen kids pleading with him to stop for a moment to say hi and sign some balls. At the time, I couldn’t understand. My poor parents got to hear me cry in the backseat for the whole six-hour ride home. (And for the record, Matt Williams also blithely ignored that group of kids.)

Bonds being blatantly unpleasant doesn’t mean he’s not one of the best players that ever lived. The feats he performed in this game were like nothing fans had ever seen before, and they won’t be replicated for years to come, if ever. During the early years of AT&T Park (then Pac-Bell Park), Giants games were the place to be, and not just for diehards, but for casual fans looking for a cool place to hang out.

Even with a crowd that wasn’t always focused on the game, Bonds’s plate appearances were something special. Vendor lines emptied. Restrooms went unoccupied. Trying to time a good moment to leave one’s seat came down to a simple question: “When is Bonds due up?” One simply did not miss a Barry Bonds at-bat. He was simultaneously baseball’s biggest villain and its greatest hero. Love him or hate him, his presence in the game defined baseball fandom for a whole generation.

Please Won’t Someone Think of the Record Book?!

The argument for keeping Bonds (and many of his contemporaries) out of the Hall of Fame comes down to his reported use of steroids. The BBWAA is asking: why should a cheater be given baseball’s greatest honor?

Of course, a cursory glance of Hall of Fame inductees reveals a long history of cheating. Gaylord Perry threw the spitball, an illegal pitch, for much of his career. The 1951 Giants had an elaborate sign-stealing system the year they won the pennant. Many players throughout MLB history have been documented corking their bats or taking “greenies,” an illegal amphetamine. Derek Zumsteg’s The Cheater’s Guide to Baseball points out several game actions that are technically illegal but implicitly allowed by the powers-that-be. Hall-of-Famer Rogers Hornsby famously said, “I’ve cheated, or someone on my team has cheated, in almost every single game I’ve been in.”

And really, I’ve sometimes wondered why steroids are considered cheating at all. Hall-of-Fame pitcher Sandy Koufax didn’t have Tommy John surgery available to him and was forced to retire at age 30. Although this was ostensibly for arthritis, the doctor behind the surgery has argued it may have saved his career. Many pitchers since have extended their careers through use of this scientific advancement. Did they cheat? Do players who undergo this surgery make the field uneven for those who don’t? If early record holders didn’t have it available to them, why should current players get the opportunity? Doesn’t the very existence of Tommy John surgery ruin the Hall of Fame’s purity?

Steroids are science. They give athletes the means to heal faster, extend their careers, and to be more efficient in their workouts. They’re not miracle drugs that instantly turn scrubs into all-stars. A steroid user still has to work hard to become big. And a big guy still has to have skills to be good at baseball.

So science has evolved the ability for athletes to become faster and stronger and better than they’ve ever been, but for some reason this is unacceptable, despite the many other supplements, surgeries, and procedures now allowed that were unavailable to past generations of players. As a fan, I actively want to see the best, most exciting baseball possible. We’ve allowed other scientific advances to become commonplace, but for some reason, this one is special.

Talking About My Generation

Babe Ruth. Hank Aaron. Willie Mays. Nolan Ryan. Ty Cobb. These are the saints of the religion of baseball. I’ve read about all of them and seen lots of old footage, but I never got to see them play live. I respect their legacies, but at this point, they’re just names and numbers on a page. I don’t consider their accomplishments to be holy records that should never be broken. These names carry weight, sure, but they don’t define baseball, at least for my generation.

Barry Bonds. Roger Clemens. Gary Sheffield. These are names that mean something to me. These are the guys that made baseball worth watching. And now the same BBWAA that gave multiple MVP and Cy Young awards to these players is not even entertaining the notion that they might be worthy of the Hall of Fame. The hypocrisy is blatant.

Frankly, I’m starting to wonder why the Hall of Fame should even matter to me at all. The BBWAA is essentially telling my generation that our experiences with baseball aren’t valid. That the feats we witnessed and the records we saw broken don’t really count. If the Hall of Fame won’t honor some of the best players to ever take the field, is it even relevant to the average fan anymore?

The media ignored the PED story for years, at least until it became convenient to hop on the anti-steroids bandwagon and start scapegoating the game’s biggest stars. There’s not really much middle ground: clubhouse journalists were either incompetent or they were in on it. In either case, why are these jokers the gatekeepers to the Hall of Fame? Baseball is long overdue for a paradigm shift. If the BBWAA is willing to completely discount one of baseball’s most successful eras, what damage will it do to the game next?

Photo credit: Unattributed photo from Pixabay used under CC0