Sunday, January 24, 2010
Avatar: Round 2
Monday, January 11, 2010
The Summer of 1998 and My Boycott of Cooperstown
I don't care that Mark McGwire did steroids. I didn't care a year ago. I didn't care when he testified in front of congress, and I didn't care when there were murmurs of suspected steroid use in the Summer of '98. Mark McGwire provided me with one of my most magical baseball memories growing up, and for that I will always be grateful.
The summer of 1998 concluded for me with a last week in August family trip to Smuggler's Notch in Vermont. I was getting ready to enter high school, and had decided that it would be a great idea to try out for cross-country (my glory days as an athlete). I spent the week running and listening to the Rocky IV soundtrack cassette on my Walkman, taking tennis lessons, and giving my parents a hard time for taking me on a family vacation. There was only one thing that distracted me from running that week- Mark McGwire.
I distinctly remember hanging around the cottage we had rented, waiting for TV stations to cut into their scheduled programming to show a Mark McGwire at bat. Most of the games were not televised, but when Big Mac strode to the plate, everyone stopped what they were doing. He was on that historic of a pace. And it wasn't just that he was making history- it literally felt like everytime he came up he was going to hit it out. And he almost always did. I remember yelling to my brother that McGwire was up again and him running into the room just in time to catch Big Mac unleashing one into the upper deck. It was surreal and it was magical. I had never seen anything like it before and knew that I would never see anything like it again.
It is a little bit sad that almost 12 years later, as I sit here unmagically in my office chair, that what we have all known for years has been confirmed. McGwire did steroids. But do I really care? The answer is a confident no. For better or for worse McGwire is part of my childhood and part of the foundation of my life-long love for the game.
To the Hall of Fame voters, I say get a life. You aren't deciding whether or not this guy should go to heaven or hell. For lack of a better alternative, you are deciding whether or not this man should get into a baseball museum. The entire purpose of Cooperstown is to commemorate the game for the fans, who without the game would cease to exist. Well you have an entire generation of fans who grew up watching Mark McGwire and his peers of the steroid era create baseball memories. And now, these players will not have representation in the Hall?
Well, I make my statement today. I will not return to the Hall of Fame until the players I grew up with are represented in the Hall of Fame. I don't care if their plaques have an asterisk, a paragraph describing their steroid use, or a red circle with an X through it over their face. They just need to be there, because this is a baseball museum, and they are a part of history. My history.