Major League Baseball Hall of Fame induction class announcements come with a known sense of apprehension. It’s a cloud that I can’t help but think is a bit of their own doing with shifting standards and the lack of an overall consensus to acknowledge those players within the storm of the steroid era. It’s become so undefined and overarching that players thought to have some sort of involvement have been iced out completely. This shouldn’t take away from the selections of Joe Mauer, Todd Helton, and Adrian Beltre, who’ve had successful characters in their own right. However, the voting process has turned into an escapade of who gets left out.
We have circled the wagons around former outfielder Gary Sheffield, who pending some revelation from the Era committee, will not get into the famed hall after his tenth time on the ballot. Funny enough, his 63.9% gain of the votes put him in the 60% club with Barry Bonds (66% in 2022) and Roger Clemens (65.2% in 2022). These are some of the best players who have ever played in their positions (Bonds might arguably have been a Hall of Famer even without those San Francisco Giants seasons). But these three men and others, such as Mark McGuire, Sammy Sosa, and Rafael Palmeiro, share the scarlet letter of being accused of using performance-enhancing drugs — even if MLB gleefully enjoyed the benefits from it. Remember the “chicks dig the long ball campaign?”
But Sheffield’s case is unique and indicates there is more to the sanctity of the game and the high-ground stance many of the voters have taken. His batting stance was undeniable and, I’m sure, hurt the wrists of many little leaguers who tried to emulate it. Sheffield amassed a career of Top 10 MVP votes six times, was a nine-time all-star, and was one of only four players with 2,500 hits, 500 home runs, and 250 stolen bases. That enough should have Sheffield moonwalk into the Hall of Fame, but alas, the Mitchell Report implication.
In 2002, his trainer applied a cream to help heal ripped stitches in Sheffield’s knee. He indicated he had no idea it contained steroids, and MLB sought no reason to punish him. Then there was the question of Sheffield purchasing vitamins from BALCO, to which he claimed to have never received steroids from the company. Of course, there was The Mitchell Report implication itself, but Sheffield had never failed a drug test throughout his 22-year career. If anything, he went out of his way to admit he used unknowingly with the cream incident.
This is a top-40 hitter of all time who is being shut out for semantics. Sheffield’s relationship with the baseball press, former managers, and teammates has been contentious throughout his storied career. But is all this enough to keep an offensive player of his caliber out? I bring all this up because another case might be the opposite side of this. Former Red Sox great David Ortiz made the Hall of Fame during his first year on the ballot in 2022 as the first designated hitter to go in. In 2003, The New York Times reported Ortiz tested positive for a banned substance. These tests were supposed to remain anonymous, but leaked out nevertheless. Like many others, that doesn’t take away from Ortiz’s great career and didn’t seem to shake the voters. His likability and penchant for being a remarkable teammate seemed to have covered all notion of what happened in 2003.
So, baseball voters can decide case-by-case based on a player’s career? I’m shocked. Sheffield may not have been the most accessible player to deal with, but his impact on the game is undeniable. He has stayed close to the game and worked on television as an analyst like David Ortiz is now, so what’s the issue? Baseball and those in the surrounding circle are still operating under the illusion that the game didn’t benefit from the steroid era. Ever since that consensus has been set, there’s been an active movement to sweep all of that under the rug.
If you were implemented or adjacent, good luck trying to make it into Cooperstown. That’s unless you are the commissioner who reaped all the benefits of that time — you can go on ahead. In Sheffield’s case, it’s a shame because there is more at play than just the “cheating the game” inferences. It’s more about settling old scores and ultimately punishing those who didn’t meet the supposed entry fee of playing the game the right way—another reason why the often archaic “unwritten rules” remain within the baseball credo. If it were merely about steroids, Ortiz wouldn’t have gotten in either. Which made it more baffling when current MLB commissioner Rob Manfred came out and questioned the validity of Ortiz’s positive test in 2016. His urge for leniency to the Baseball Writers Association of America has seemingly only worked in one case. Is that because the voters deter some smugness from Bonds and Sheffield, and because they can’t snuff it out, they put this honor in a holding pattern?
The air of moral worthiness is hurting the most prestigious honor in baseball, and the old guard has nobody to thank but themselves. We’re not talking about Joe Mauer being the third catcher to be a first-ballot Hall-of-Famer. It’s always about who didn’t get in. If drug tests didn’t happen to catch those whom BALCO and the Mitchell Reports accused, a collective has decided they will be the bouncers outside of Cooperstown. Even in the face of knowing everyone, whether you were a league official, a player, a reporter, etc., you benefitted from the chase for Roger Maris’s single-season home run record (and the subsequent investigations). It’s past the time for writers and voters to explain their reasoning as to why voting standards flip depending on the player because the impact of being inducted will be diluted entirely if it hasn’t already.
