Baseball Hall of Fame thinks fans are easily confused by two-syllable names

Big problems with the Baseball Hall of Fame plaques unveiled today.

The obvious issue is that neither of the two guys representing the Mets are wearing the Mets logo on their plaque caps.

Tom Glavine as an Atlanta Brave? Seriously? As if any one remembers Glavine’s time down South. Remember, earned No. 300 as a Met.

Then you have Joe Torre, who, for some odd reason, is shown wearing a Yankees cap. Right city, wrong cap.

You’d think the Hall would want to salute the next-to-last player-manager in baseball, a highlight of Torre’s tenure in Flushing, rather than guiding a number of steroid-soaked Yankee teams to ill-gained championships.

Torre would  be wise to simply slip those trophies over to the more deserving teams, especially the one from 2000.

But I’m not even talking about those slights.

The Hall, apparently, thinks baseball fans are easily confused by common two-syllable names.

In the past, Hall of Fame plaques would list a player’s full name. If necessary, it the plaque also included a nickname.

Let’s use plaques from some other former Mets misidentified with lesser teams as examples.

Sometimes this was essential, as with Lawrence Peter Berra, “Yogi.”

Sometimes it was more playful, as with Willie Howard Mays, Jr., “The Say Hey Kid” and Gary Edmund Carter, “Kid.”

But in recent years, for some odd reason, the Hall decided that fans needed to see in quotes shortened versions of very common names.

Glavine’s plaque reads Thomas Michael Glavine, “Tom.” Torre’s reads Joseph Paul Torre, “Joe.” Tony LaRussa’s plaque reads Anthony LaRussa, “Tony” and Bobby Cox’s reads “Robert Joe Cox, “Bobby.”

Greg Maddux’ plaque is a total mess, with Gregory Alan Maddux, “Greg” “Mad Dog.” Yes, two nicknames. Imagine -- a guy named Gregory getting called "Greg." Didn't see that one coming.

Frank Thomas benefits from having a one-syllable first name, with his plaque reading Frank Edwin Thomas, “The Big Hurt.” You just know there was a heated conference call discussion where someone debated that “Frank” should be added along with “The Big Hurt.”

Enlighten me, Hall of Fame. After 75 years of hanging plaques on the wall, why was this suddenly necessary?

It seems that 2001 was the last year when basic, common shortenings were not included, as Dave Winfield’s plaque simply calls him David Mark Winfield without being followed by “Dave.”

There were a bunch of years with one-syllable names like Ryne and Barry, Dennis and Paul and Bruce.

Then we started getting Tony Gwynn’s plaque including “Tony” and “Mr. Padre,” Calvin Edwin Ripken Jr. with “Cal.”

Was there confusion in the past? Do people walk by the Michael Jack Schmidt plaque and wonder if it’s that’s the same Mike Schmidt who played all those years for the Phillies? Could Roland Glen Fingers be the guy with the mustache known as Rollie?

And in an example near and dear to our heart, George Thomas Seaver is identified as such without “Tom” and we all still can figure out who he is.

Hey, Hall of Fame – baseball fans are smart people. Give us some credit!

Reggie Jackson is right, there should be two Halls

I actually agree with Reggie Jackson about something.

Reggie and Ian O’Connor of ESPN-New York where having an otherwise nonsensical conversation about whether Yankee pitcher Andy Pettitte would have a clear path to Cooperstown if he would beat Cliff Lee in the ALCS game that night, which, of course, he did not.

O’Connor’s a Jeter-obsessed Yankee hack of the highest order, and it’s laughable that Pettitte would be in the Hall of Fame with his 3.88 career ERA, steroid confession, a mere three All-Star Game appearances and complete lack of awards.
And this goofy discussion included this line:

“But Jackson also believes there should be a second Hall of Fame for the real Hall of Famers. In other words, he believes there are too many ballplayers enshrined in Cooperstown, men who were too mortal on the playing field to be sculpted into bronze baseball gods.”

The problem is, Yankee hacks think all of their players – at least those deemed “True Yankees” -- are fit to be enshrined, even Derek F. Jeter! And because some of these hacks actually hang around long enough to get BBWAA ballots, a number of unworthy players have found themselves with plaques.

Reggie’s right. There should be two parts to the Hall of Fame. One would be for the Seavers, Aarons, Robinsons and the rest of the greatest players. The other would be for Yankees who are otherwise undeserving, but were enshrined anyway.

Reggie, the career leader in strikeouts, his underwhelming .262 batting average, and his abuse of a fan’s glorious Hall of Fame autograph ball, would be in the latter.

Alas, he’s hardly alone. When the Hall curators decide that they are too busy planning the Mike Piazza exhibit and need me to help sort out this new wing, here’s who I’d start ripping off the wall:

Phil Rizzuto: Let’s get this one out of the way. Rizzutto has 38 career home runs, just 1,588 career hits and a weak .272 average. Plus he’s got just 149 career steals. So he wasn’t fast, couldn’t hit for power and couldn’t hit for average. That must be why it took 38 years after his career ended before the Yankee hype machine could convince enough people on the Veterans Committee that Rizzuto was something more than a just an average player on a stacked team.

Joe Gordon: Gordon’s stats are even more pedestrian than Rizzuto’s. He retired in 1950, but he must have done something to make the numbers more convincing over the next 59 years to get him elected in 2009. That’s impressive, considering he died in 1978. And his plaque is among the most confusing. Sometimes the Hall lists the player’s nickname after his formal name, like “The Franchise” following George Thomas Seaver. But this one reads Joseph Lowell Gordon, “Joe,” “Flash.” Did the Hall really need to add “Joe” after a guy named Joseph?

Tony Lazzeri: Lazzeri played between 1926 and 1939. He was added to the Hall in 1991. If you have to wait 60 years before you think someone is worthy, he’s probably not worthy.

Earle Combs: A centerfielder, Combs is another guy the Vets snuck in 30 years after he stopped playing. He played only 11 years – just one over the minimum to be considered – because he was injured crashing into a wall in 1934 and into a teammate in 1935. Guess that’s good news for Jason Bay and Carlos Beltran.

Red Ruffing: Ruffing’s an unusual Yankee enshrinement because it took only 20 years for him to be elected. About the best you can say about his 3.80 ERA is that it’s slightly better than Andy Pettitte’s.

Rich Gossage: If Gossage was so good, then why did he bounce around to eight other teams? Oh, and so you wouldn’t be confused, the Hall noted that this guy named Richard also went by “Rich.”

Bill Dickey: The Yankees retire everyone’s number. I’m sure Boone Logan’s already planning his number retirement ceremony. But it took so long for the team to retire Dickey’s No. 8 that they had already given it away to Yogi Berra, who went on to glory as a Met.

Waite Hoyt: Typical Yankee induction, meaning that it took 32 years for mystique and aura to convince enough Veterans Committee that his .359 ERA and lackluster .565 winning percentage were something worthy of keeping company with Walter Johnson and Cy Young.

Herb Pennock: Pennock has 241 wins, which at least is one more than Andy Pettitte. And his 3.59 ERA is the same as Waite Hoyt’s. Guess that makes him your typical undeserving Yankee.

Lefty Gomez: Amazingly, it took only until only recently for the Hall of Fame to take action against a Veterans Committee that seemingly never met a Yankee it didn’t like. Gomez doesn’t even have 200 wins, and was slipped into the Hall after 29 years.

Whitey Ford: Like Pettitte, Ford’s a confessed cheater. From his Wikipedia entry – and you know Wikipedia is never inaccurate: “After his career ended, Ford admitted to occasionally cheating by doctoring baseballs in various ways, such as the "mudball," which could only be used at home in Yankee Stadium: Yankee groundskeepers would wet down an area near the catcher's box where Yankee catcher Elston Howard was positioned; pretending to lose balance on a pitch while in his crouch and landing on his right hand (with the ball in it), Howard would coat one side of the ball with mud. Ford would sometimes use the diamond in his wedding ring to gouge the ball, but he was eventually caught by an umpire and warned to stop; Howard then sharpened a buckle on his shinguard and used it to scuff the ball. Ford admitted in several interviews to doctoring the ball in the 1962 All Star Game at Candlestick Park to strike out Willie Mays.”

Mickey Mantle: Look, Mantle and Ford were known to be inseparable. If Ford was a confessed cheater, Mantle was, at best, an aider and abettor. Perhaps, when sober, Mick was the mastermind behind all the cheating. Mantle took those dark, dark secrets to the grave, so we'll never know for sure. I'll just assume the worst.

I’ll concede that Lou Gehrig was a decent enough player, and Babe Ruth gets in, no doubt on the strength of his fine seasons with the Red Sox and Braves. Manages McCarthy and Huggins are in because, well, you have to let an occasional manager in or they all get a little cranky. DiMaggio had a nice little hit streak that he parlayed into a lot of positive pub.

Casey Stengel was probably furious that there’s a Yankee cap on his Hall plaque cap instead of his properly glorious Mets cap. You can’t see Yogi Berra’s cap logo, so I’m assuming it’s the properly interlocking orange NY.

So that leaves, what, five legitimate Yankees in the Hall? At least Reggie – and possibly Pettitte and Jeter – will have plenty of company in their new wing.

Yes!

Place No. 74: Bob Feller Museum; and Place No. 74A: Bob Feller statue and the amazing man himself

The only way you could learn more about Bob Feller than visiting the Bob Feller Museum is to spend a couple minutes with “Rapid Robert” himself.

I’m convinced about that after having the pleasure of meeting Feller a couple times.

Josh Pahigian takes us to Feller’s hometown of Van Meter, Iowa and the Feller Museum as place No. 74 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

I’ve never been there, so I’ll substitute:

Place No. 74A: Bob Feller statue at Progressive Field, Cleveland

It’s a huge statue just outside the rightfield gate at the Indians’ home, a fine meeting spot before or after a game, as you can tell from Will and I hanging out here in the mid-1990s.

If you’re an autograph collector and you don’t have Feller’s signature, that’s on you and not Feller. He is among the nicest and most prolific signers in the game.

My experiences with Feller were a few years prior to the new stadium and that statue. I was living in Connecticut and working in the Bridgeport Post’s Valley Bureau. Feller had relatives in nearby Waterbury.

Each summer he’d visit, and would be sure to line up a handful of appearances in the area. I’m sure he made a few bucks – and not many, based on the low-for-the-time rates he was charging. But I think Feller just liked meeting fans and talking baseball.

I was a little nervous the first time I met him at a card shop in Seymour, Conn. in 1987. I brought a ball for him to sign, and there were only a handful of other people in the small store.

With little prompting, Feller starting telling me about his amazing Hall of Fame career. After asking my name, he wrote on an 8.5 by 11 sheet with his photo on the front, and flipped it over to show me where it listed all his career achievements.

I heard about the 266 wins and three no-hitters, and how he could have had more of each had he not enlisted in the Navy after Pearl Harbor, spending 44 months serving his country and earning eight battle stars.

He pointed out the line reading “The only pitcher in Major League history to win 20 games or more games before age 21,” then crossed out “only” and replaced it with “first,” since Dwight Gooden had matched the feat.

While proud of all he had done, Feller was humble, too. I handed the Hall of Famer a new ball to sign, and he chose the spot above the Rawlings logo, instead of the sweet spot, where only, managers and the best players sign. I met Johnny Mize a short while later, and he had no qualms writing his name in that spot on that ball.

I met him again the next year at a New Britain Red Sox game, sitting at a table near the concession stands, signing photos and telling stories. He signed everything for everyone and then walked around the stands talking, signing and shaking hands.

He come off a little crusty in interviews these days, not having a lot of love for modern players who don’t approach the game the same way. Don’t expect Feller to ever welcome Pete Rose, Barry Bonds or Mark McGwire into the fraternity with open arms.

But he’s also still throwing in Old-timers Games, too, and he's in his 90s. I think Feller views himself not just as a standard bearer for old school hardball, but as an ambassador for the game. And to that end, few are better than the “Heater from Van Meter.”

Baseball place No. 55: Heroes of Baseball Wax Museum; and No. 55A: LaMontagne sculptures at Hall of Fame

Wax museums are like clowns. They give me the creeps. I don’t know why. They just do.

So the odds of me going to see the Heroes of Baseball Wax Museum in Cooperstown are pretty slim.

Nevertheless, Josh Pahigian takes us there for sport No. 55 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

According to Josh, the museum has 35 figures set against backgrounds. Some are serous, like Lou Gehrig making his “luckiest man” speech. Others are supposed to be whimsical, like Randy Johnson standing next to Eddie Gaedel.

Josh said the wax statues are created by a pair of artists in England who update displays every few years.

I don’t want to sound too harsh here, but I’m wondering if the “artists” are interns from Madame Tussaud’s who have no clue what a baseball game looks like.

The museum has a Web site where you can see photos of the figures. Some of the faces look right, but the poses are more awkward than a middle school mixer.

Plus, the photo of former Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis identifies him as “Judge Landice.”

Dudes. You’re a museum.

OK, this is supposed to be Mike Piazza. Note the "photo opportunity stand here" sign. Impress your friends!

Apparently the building used to be a Mickey Mantle museum, so there might be some lingering taint issues.

But, if you want to see far better baseball sculptures in Cooperstown, I offer:

Alternative Place No. 55A: Armand LaMontagne carvings in Baseball Hall of Fame.

Visitors to the Hall of Fame are greeted by two live-sized figures of Ted Williams and Babe Ruth.

They are so incredibly realistic that I thought they were mannequins dressed in uniforms.

Then I read the plaque describing how they were made – carved from wood. I couldn’t believe it, and I stood as close as the museum lets you stand so I could to inspect, amazed that the uniform appeared to be flannel and the spikes made of old leather. There is practically stubble on their faces.

It turns out that LaMontagne is a master carver who specializes in New England sports figures. Each one takes six months of 80-hour weeks to create.

I’ve read that the two are the most-photographed items in the Hall of Fame, and that’s amazing considering all the glory contained in that building, like Tom Seaver’s plaque.

There is one mystery, though. LaMontagne is from North Scituate, R.I. and creates New England athletes. The Bambino played for two Boston teams with distinguished uniforms, the Red Sox and the Braves.

So why on Earth would the guy choose the depict Ruth in that clown suit he was forced to wear during those unfortunate middle years of his great career?

Baseball place No. 14: Doubleday Field

I choose to live in a very happy little world where George Washington never did tell any lies, where Kiss Alive was really recorded live and where no Mets player has ever taken steroids.

And I also believe that Abner Doubleday invented baseball in 1839 in Elihu Phinney’s cow pasture in beautiful Cooperstown, N.Y.

Deep down I know that the first George W. was a politician like the second, and Gene Simmons has confessed in recent years that there were in fact some studio touch-ups on the classic live album.

But no Met has ever taken steroids -- Guillermo Mota was just confused when he confessed in 2006, thinking he was on the other New York team.

But I absolutely, positively cannot accept that baseball was invented in Hoboken, N.J., as Congress resolved in 1953.

That’s because Cooperstown and Doubleday Field are just too perfect. We’re not going to let the facts get in the way of a good story.

Josh Pahigian names Doubleday Field Place No. 14 in the 101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.

The brick ballpark sits just a block away from the Hall of Fame, and, personally, I would have included them as one entry. But it’s not my book.

The cow pasture was christened Doubleday Field in 1920, with a wooden grandstand erected in 1924 and the present brick and concrete structure built in the 1930s as Works Progress Administration projects.

Major League teams played an annual exhibition on the field starting in 1940. The final game was supposed to be last season, but the Cubs and Padres were rained out. That would make the Orioles and Blue Jays to be the final big-leaguers to play on this slice of heaven, with the Orioles winning the 2007 contest.


The Mets have played in four Hall of Fame games, losing to the Senators in 1964 and the Brewers in 1975. They played to a 4-4 rain-shortened tie against the White Sox in 1982, and beat them 3-0 in 1992. Note, two Tom Seaver teams playing in the year he was inducted!

There are reports of an illegal Wiffle Ball game on or about the field late one afternoon in 1992.

Friend and colleague John Munson, wearing a jersey of his hero, Thurman, and a guy in a 1969 flannel Tom Seaver replica allegedly played catch and hit some balls where the Phinney cows once walked – and where Abner Doubleday most likely did not.
This appears to be photographic evidence if intent to play Wiffle Ball. Note the sign advertising the game between the Mets and White Sox.

We had to play on that picturesque spot in that lovely little ballpark. Because we sure as heck are not going to play in Hoboken.

Presidents' Day? How about Seaver Day!

I have a neat tear-off-a-day calendar on my desk at work that has all kinds of neat things in it. But few have been as neat as what greeted me this afternoon.

Baseball Place No. 1: Cooperstown

The glorious shrine that is the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum is the logical place to start our trip down Josh Pahigian’s 101 baseball places to see before we strike out.

I’ve been blessed to make three pilgrimages to Cooperstown, and, of course, there were adventures along the way.

The Hall of Fame was once a rather low-tech operation, as you can see from this meager Seaver shrine, complete with elements of the display falling off the background.

The first time was a family road trip in 1983, another example of being spoiled by my parents.

Cooperstown was a very different place, then, and so was the museum. It was very small-town, much like the picturesque village.



For some reason, the Hall felt obligated to note Casey's Yankee years along with his more notable time with the Mets.

We could tell that some changes were taking place, and the upper levels looked like a modern museum. But the older areas looked like something you’d see in a high school display case.

Not that we minded. Because the artifacts like Gil Hodges’ jersey are awe-inspiring whether they are placed on a simple shelf with a typed label or in a grand display.



The three or so blocks that made up downtown had some evidence of the Hall of Fame down the street, but it was along the lines of a luncheonette with a baseball name. A souvenir store next to the museum had amazing and ancient items that you know had been on those shelves for years.

I returned in 1988 with my wife to celebrate our first anniversary. She, too, spoiled me. Obviously.

We went in October when Cooperstown and its hills were beautiful with fall color. Sadly, we had to go all the way to Utica to find a hotel. And beautiful was not a word we used to describe it.

A ball from Tom no-hitter -- mounted on peg board. Clearly the Hall had not learned how to properly display such glory.

And we were there at the time the Mets were in the playoffs against the Dodgers. You can imagine that if my wife was willing to spend our first anniversary vacation days at the Baseball Hall of Fame, she was not going to be willing to watch the Mets on television.

I was able to slip the hotel TV on for a portion of Game 4, and saw that the Mets, already up 2-1 in the series, were in the lead, 4-2, with Dwight Gooden cruising.

I snuck the set on one more time in the top of the ninth — just in time to see Mike Scioscia become Mike "Bleeping" Scioscia.



All was still good in the world. We were at the Hall, and Mike Scioscia had not yet ruined Dwight Gooden.

We returned to Cooperstown again in fall of 1992 for several reasons.

1) Tom Seaver had been inducted the Hall earlier that year, and I knew there would be special exhibits and merchandise in the gift shop.

2) My son was born in July. Clearly, the duties of responsible parent are to take a newborn to see the Tom Seaver exhibits, even if the child is three months old at the time.







The trip did not start well, as the newborn was having some digestive issues and you will thank me for sparing you the details. Let’s just say we hold it over his head to this day.

But I had learned from the Utica mistake, and found a hotel that was a block from the Hall. Keep in mind, this was before the days of the Internet, and this was not easy. We had no idea what it looked like.

We pulled up in front of the Lake Front Motel, and discovered it to be a mom and pop place, an old building right on the water and shaped like a boat. It looked like something right out of the 1940s.



This was shock to our Hampton Inn-conditioned world, but once we got settled in we decided it was really cool in an odd retro way and liked it.

The next morning we pushed the stroller up the street to the Hall and found that it had changed dramatically from our earlier visits. It was now a very modern museum experience, with theaters and fancy exhibits.

Tom's jersey is clearly from 1983, but we shall not complain.

The village had changed, too, filled with memorabilia shops and other touristy places.

Which is not to say we didn’t have great fun.

The newly minted Seaver plaque naturally made us all weepy, and there was much to enjoy.



I parked the stroller in front of a photo of Rickey Henderson, and he promptly let out a window-rattling burp, signifying both that his digestive issues had passed and that he had already formed strong opinions of ex-Yankees.

Knowing both of those things made for a much smoother ride home.

Our scoreboard:

1) Baseball Hall of Fame. Visited 1983, 1988 and 1992.

Shamwow, walking tacos and other things Rickey might like

Absolutely crazy week, which explains why we’re getting the special Deezo Pre-Inauguration Friday, er, Monday Five.

1) Apparently I make a mean "walking taco." Rachael Ray would be so proud.

As the father of a high school athlete, I am assigned assorted duties, among them working in the concession stand during meets.

We sell a steady stream of popcorn, candy, popcorn, soggy bun hot dogs, popcorn, warm pizza slices, more popcorn and walking tacos, which I believe are a Michigan thing.

Basically, you take snack-sized back of Fritos, carefully open the top and spoon in taco meat, cheese, and a little bit of sour cream. Hand the kids a fork and a napkin, and off they go.

Only I decided to shake this up a little bit, adding cheese first, then the taco meat, then a lot more cheese before a generous spoonful of sour cream. This allows some of the cheese to melt over the Fritos.

I didn’t think this was too revolutionary, but one of the other parents was impressed and declared I make the best walking taco.

Sports parents, I learned, are very competitive, because one of the other parents overhead this and wanted to know why my walking tacos earned such a distinction.

Thinking this was a joke, I held up one of her earlier attempts, where she accidentally split the Frito bag, making it un-walkable.

This, however, was not deemed funny.

The rest of the shift was spent rushing over to the crock pot with the taco meat as soon as the order was placed, me defending my title and the other parent trying to top me like the Phillies in the last week in the last two seasons.

Unlike the Mets, I prevailed.



2) From the Department of Things I Really Shouldn’t Care About, But Do anyway, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announced it class of 2009: Metallica, Run-DMC, Jeff Beck, Bobby Womack and Little Anthony and the Imperials.

So, in review, the guys who sang "Shimmy Shimmy Ko-Ko Bop" about 50 years ago are enshrined, while the guys who sang, "Sultans of Swing" are not.

Bobby Womack, in. Rush, not.

It’s a rock and roll hall, right?

Will knows I vent about this each year and had a response ready when the news came down on Wednesday.

"I’ve decided to refuse to care about the RNRHOF until the following are inducted (all of them): Rush, Genesis, Peter Gabriel, Chicago, Kiss, Yes, ELO, Robert Plant, Pete Townshend, Dire Straits and ABBA. And I hated ABBA, but if you're going to include Madonna, then ABBA totally belongs."

Spot-on, as always, except that I like ABBA.

Meanwhile, we can all sit back and wait for that induction ceremony when the guys from Metallica jam with Little Anthony.



3) The Baseball Hall of Fame did a little better, adding another former Mets to its ranks, along with Jim Rice, who we spanked handily in the 1986 World Series.

Sadly, the Veteran’s Committee elected another dead Yankee. Joe Gordon died in 1978 and has not played since 1950 — pre-dating even Little Anthony!

Can someone explain to me how a guy can be not Hall-worthy for 47 years and suddenly earn a place beside Tom Seaver, Willie Mays, Richie Ashburn, Duke Snider, Warren Spahn and other Mets of note in year No. 48?



4) Grand Rapids has become a large enough city that two guys can show up at an outdoor event dressed as Scooby Doo and Under Dog and attract hardly any attention.

This was New Year’s Eve, and Grand Rapids was dropping a lighted ball, like in Times Square.

The difference was that our ball was dropped by a crane instead of down a flag pole atop a building and the people in attendance were actual area residents who went home with their wallets instead of the tourists who flood the homeland hoping to appear briefly on New Year’s Rockin’ Eve.

But ignoring a couple guys dressed like dogs was a very New York thing to do. I was impressed.



5) I’m strangely fascinated by the guy in the Shamwow commercials.

Clearly he’s a freak. The hair, the headset microphone, the ‘tude and the fact that he almost makes me believe that a yellow rag can soak up a Diet Coke spill and arrange a cease fire in the Gaza Strip. His delivery reminds me of a three-card monte dealer.

Did some research and it turns out Shammie’s name is Vince Offer and he wrote and directed the 1999 film "The Underground Comedy Movie" that a New York Post review gave zero stars, said it "may be the least amusing comedy ever made."

Ouch. But that explains why Vice is hawking miracle rags.

Bowie and Verducci lead the Hall of Fame over the shark

It’s a good week for Mike Pagliarulo, Steve Balboni and Kevin Maas.

But it’s a bad week for baseball fans every where.

The reason: The Baseball Hall of Fame has jumped the shark.

Oh, I’m sure it will still be a glorious place to immerse oneself in baseball history. Cooperstown is a slice of heaven. The museum always will be a special place.

But I’m about ready to walk right past the part of the building with the plaques.

Two reasons: A guy they just voted in and a guy just selected to do the voting.

First, the newly configured Veteran Committee elected someone for the first time since the whole Bill Maseroski debacle. No players, mind you. But five executives and managers.

One of those earning a plaque was former Commissioner Bowie Kuhn.

Dating myself here, but remember that song on Sesame Street that went, “One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong?”

Let’s see. Jackie Robinson, Walter Johnson, Tom Seaver and Bowie Kuhn.

Yup, you guessed it.

About the best thing you can say about Bowie was that he wasn’t the worst baseball commissioner. My buddy Will put it best: “Bowie’s ‘leadership’ resulted in two player strikes, a lockout and bad player-management relations for decades.”

Granted, it’s not like Kuhn allegedly encouraged owners to collude or exclude black players or even look the other way when certain players started looking like the Shrek balloon in the Macy’s parade, like some other commissioners might have done.

But 30 years after he was booted out of the job, you just don’t hear people walking around saying, “Bowie Kuhn, right man at the right time. Thank goodness he was at the helm in the turbulent 1970s.”

Plus, he resided over the era of polyester uniforms. He should have evoked the “best interests of baseball” clause the moment the first player stepped on the field with elastic instead of a belt.

About the best thing you can say about Kuhn being in Cooperstown is that there are actually less-deserving people in there. Like Phil Rizzutto.

This leads me to the second reason the Hall has gone shark-jumping. Expect to see many more undeserving Yankees getting votes. Tom Verducci has been invited to join the ranks of those casting ballots.

The Baseball Writers Association of America decided to add to its rolls some people who write for Web sites rather than just newspapers. There were 18 writers nominated and 16 were accepted. A dozen were former newspaper people like Peter Gammons, so this was pretty much bringing some alumni back into the fraternity.

Rob Neyer and Keith Law from ESPN were the two guys who were excluded. I think that’s wrong, but they can fend for themselves.

But Verducci, the Yankee-lovin’ columnist for Sports Illustrated, was one of the writers who gets a vote.

Somewhere, Hensley “Bam Bam” Meulens is cheering.

I envision all kinds of problems. First, we’ll hear Verducci calling for the likes of Fritz Peterson, Bucky Dent and Fred “Chicken” Stanley to be restored to the ballot. And if that happens, we know they’ll get at least one vote.

Then, I suppose he’ll call for waiving the rule mandating a player wait five years until after he retires to be on the ballot --but just for Derek Jeter.

“Why make Derek wait? We all know he’s going in,” he might say.

Oh, who are we kidding. Verducci might start writing in Jeter’s name while he’s still active.

And Verducci already is showing his colors. He wrote a column this week advocating for Tim Raines to be enshrined. I support that, as Rock was one of the best players of the 1980s. I can overlook his short time in pinstripes at the very end of his career.

But in that column, guess the subject of the first three paragraphs? If yousaid "Derek Jeter" you are correct!

As Casey used to say, you can look it up.

The proper way to vote for the Hall of Fame

The sports editor at a paper I used to work at had the great honor of being able to vote for the Baseball Hall of Fame. Each year he’d let be fondle the ballot, which was not especially impressive -- and neither was the ballot.

It was just a mundane list of names with little boxes next to them. I guess I expected parchment or gold leaf, something that indicated the gloriousness of the Hall of Fame.

I appreciated the gesture, and also appreciated that the editor took his vote very seriously. He had a system and did his research, which I’m certain is better than a majority of the people casting ballots. I didn’t always agree with his selections, but at least I could understand why he was voting for certain playes – as opposed to the doofs who say they vote only for guys who “feel like a Hall of Famer.”

Naturally, I have my own system and create a ballot, even though my vote doesn’t count.

This year we can consider: Harold Baines, Albert Belle, Dante Bichette, ,Bert Blyleven, Bobby Bonilla, Scott Brosius, Jay Buhner , Ken Caminiti, Jose Canseco, Dave Concepcion, Eric Davis, Andre Dawson, Tony Fernandez, Steve Garvey, Rich Gossage, Tony Gwynn, Orel Hershiser, Tommy John, Wally Joyner, Don Mattingly, Mark McGwire, Jack Morris, Dale Murphy, Paul O'Neill, Dave Parker, Jim Rice, Cal Ripken, Bret Saberhagen, Lee Smith, Alan Trammell, Devon White, Bobby Witt.

We can only vote for 10, so we must find ways to eliminate the unworthy. The first thing to do is eliminate any Yankees, because goodness knows there are already too many undeserving Yankees in the hall.

So cross off Brosius, Buhner, Canseco, Fernandez, Gossage, John, Mattingly, O’Neill and Smith.

Look, someone has to balance out Tom Verducci’s ballot, and you just know he’s pounding out a column to talk about O’Neill’s “intangibles” make him worthy.

I’m a little unsure about purging Gossage that quickly, but that leaves us with Baines, Belle, Bichette, Blyleven, Bonilla, Caminiti, Concepcion, Davis, Dawson, Garvey, Gwynn, Hershiser, Joyner, McGwire, Morris, Murphy, Parker, Rice, Ripken, Saberhagen, Trammell, White and Witt.

Next, we have to determine if any player crosses “The Rizzuto Line.” In other words, is the player worse than the very worst player in the Hall, whose very presence taints the other plaques and allows patrons to make an argument that their admission price should be lowered by a buck because the once-great Hall has been stained, which of course is what happened when the Veterans Committee voted in Yankee mascot/shortstop Phil Rizzuto.

This is a better year than most, and the Rizzuto rule only allows us to eliminate Dante Bichette and Bobby Witt. It’s tough to be worse than Rizzuto and last 10 years in the majors, the standard for being on the ballot.

Next, has a player ever tried to run over trick-or-treaters with his car? Oops, goodbye Albert Belle.

Did the candidate ever play for the Mets? Extra points for Bonilla, Saberhagen, and Hershisher. Tony Fernandez would have gotten a point for his 48 games with the Mets in 1993, but that’s not enough to overcome his 108 games with the Yankees.

But we’re not homers here. We have to consider the following rules: Did the player’s Mets tenure end in shame and banishment to the Rockies? Sorry, Sabes.

Then, did the player do anything prior to his Met tenure to keep the Mets from ever advancing to the World Series? Sorry, Orel, but we’re still upset about 1988.

Did the player ever confront Yankee hack Bob Klapischand threaten to “show him the Bronx?” Extra points for Bonilla!

But, did the player not follow through on his threat, and proceed to bring great shame to the team, especially by playing cards in the clubhouse during the closing moments of the infamous 1999 NLCS? That rule’s not going to come up a lot, but it does this year, eliminating Bobby Bo.

Now we’re down to: Baines, Blyleven, Caminiti, Concepcion, Davis, Dawson, Garvey, Gwynn, Joyner, McGwire, Morris, Murphy, Parker, Rice, Ripken, Trammell and White.

That’s 17, still too many. Now we move to the advanced criteria. Did a player ever receive an MVP award later proven to be undeserving because of steroid use? That eliminates Caminiti, but not McGwire, who never won an MVP.

Is a player better than Rizzuto, but not as good as Tony Perez, who many consider a borderline member of the Hall? That’s tough, forcing us to eliminate Concepcion and Eric Davis – with regrets – Garvey (with the obligatory “once thought to be a lock for the Hall” line), Joyner and Devon White.

Baines’ numbers are very similar to those of Perez, and his baseball-reference.com comparables are all either in the Hall – Al Kaline, Billy Williams – or fall just shy, like Rusty Staub.

Now we have: Baines, Blyleven, Dawson, Gwynn, McGwire, Morris, Murphy, Parker, Rice, Ripken, Trammell.

That’s 11. Someone has to go, and I’m starting to feel guilty about tossing Gossage. I’ll pick Morris, who had some nice moments but falls just shy.

There you go!

Writers who don’t look at stats tend not to vote for Blyleven, Parker and Trammell, and Dale Murphy and Rice and some monster seasons but fell apart early, which seems to get held against them.

And I know there’s talk about sending a statement of sorts by not voting for McGwire in his first year. But the truth is that the only thing McGwire’s been proven guilty of is a horrible performance before Congress.

The only real concern is that Gwynn or Ripken could surpass Tom Seaver’s record for highest percentage, which was close to 99 percent!

Luckily, some Verducci-type will say “If they were any good, they would have been Yankees” and not vote for them, keeping Tom’s record safe.