My Mariano Rivera Story

During the first weekend of June, 2003, my Yankees came to the North Side of Chicago for the first time since the 1938 World Series. It was a tough ticket to get.  But the Friday game was delayed over an hour by rain, so I got on the Red Line and hoped for the best. I went to the Day of Game window and got lucky. Apparently some folks decided to skip the game on account of rain. I wound up with a seat in Aisle 36, ten rows behind the Yankees bullpen.

The first sight of a Yankees squad in Road Greys at Wrigley since the last year of Lou Gehrig's career began with Derek Jeter popping out of the visitor's dugout.  There was no batting practicethat day,  but the skys parted and all was clear before the first pitch. It was a lovely day for baseball after all.

The Yankees got out to a 5-0 lead early. David damn Wells hit a double! (Full disclosure-I was in line for a beer and watched that play on the TV above the right field line concession stand.)

Mariano Rivera was known to take naps during the early innings of a game. He liked to take the mound when he was at his peak-about an hour after the clubhouse boys woke him. In about the sixth inning he came out to join his bulpen mates. It didn't look like he would be needed that day, but stranger things have happened.

A little boy of about seven was sitting in the row in front of me with his dad. His dad pointed out Rivera to him and told him about what a special player he was. In between innings, the boy ran down to the famous brick wall with a small disposable camera. Mariano noticed him and smiled as the child line up his photograph.  The kid ran back to his dad and was full of excitement. "That's great," the dad said. "Maybe next innning you can get his autograph.

After the next half inning, the boy ran back down with a ball and pen in hand. Mariano saw him again, but politely explained that he wasn't allowed to sign autographs during the game.  "Come down after the last out of the game. I'll sign it then."

The score at the time was five to two. David Wells was in command of all his stuff.  But then in the bottom of the eight inning, Corey Patterson hit a solo home run to tighten up the game. Antonio Asuna came in to get the last out of the inning, and Mariano began to warm up in earnest. He might just be needed after all.

The Yankees did not score in the top of the 9th, so Joe Torre brought in his big gun for the bottom half of the inning.  Mariano was not perfect that day. He gave up two singles, but didn't allow a run. He Sop Choi struck out for the final out of the game. Final Score, Yankees 5, Cubs 3.

The Yankees dugout emptied and all the players casually slapped high fives in single-file. As the brief celebration ended, the players headed into to the clubhouse by way of the dugout.  The boy was holding out hope for an autograph. The father of this kid was trying to let his son down easy. "Look, Mr. Rivera didn't know that he would be pitching when he promised to sign your ball." The kid looked devastated. I never wanted an autograph, even as a child trying to get Don Mattingly's attention, as I wanted this kid to get Mariano Rivera's signature. But it seemed not to be.

We all watched the Yankees file towards their dugout. Except one. Mariano Rivera, instead of heading for the dugout steps, turned toward right field and slowly walked out toward the bullpen. For a second I worried that he was just going to get his jacket or sunflower sseeds. But no, he was headed straight for the little kid in Aisle 36, Row 9.

When he got out by us, he pointed right at the kid and told him to come down to the railing. Mariano took the ball, signed his name on it and flipped it back to him.  The boy ran back to his father, filled with joy.

A few grown ups started yelling for Mo to sign their stuff. He ignored them and trotted back to the dugout. More than one of the grown ups called him a name or two.  They didn't know the whole story.

I've been a Yankees fan for over 40 yers. I can recite the name and statistics of my favorite players. I have their succession memorized: first Reggie Jackson, then Graig Nettles, followed by Don Mattingly, followed by Bernie Williams, followed by Mariano Rivera and then, for one year only, Derek Jeter. After that it's a little hazy. Favorite players are less important to adults. I am only a few years younger than Mariano Rivera. But when I heard the news today that he is the first unanimously chosen member of the baseball Hall of Fame, I got choked up.

The indelible image of Mariano Rivera is him trotting through the Bronx night while "Enter Sandman" plays over The Staidum's sound system, so he could put out a proverbial fire from the mound. But my strongest memory of  him will always be him calmly walking down the right field line of the Friendly Confines with "Go Cubs Go" playing, so he could keep a promise to a kid in the stands.

The last 42 is the first 100. Congratulations, Mo.

2014 Hall of Fame Ballot

So this is the first (and probably last) year that I was able to actually vote for the baseball Hall of Fame.  Deadspin.com has worked out a deal with an unnamed HOF voter who has agreed to vote for whoever the Deadspin readers want him to vote for.  So I filled out a ballot on their site and learned a thing or two about the process.  Here is who I voted for, and why.

I. Three First Time Candidates:
1.  Gregg Maddux. I had real hope that Maddux would become the first unanimous HOFer, but just heard that one blow hard is voting only for Jack Morris in protest of "the steroid era".  Nevertheless, I'm pretty sure Maddux and Glavine will both get very high percentages and go in with their heads held high.

2.  Tom Glavine.  See above.

3.   Frank Thomas  Being primarily a DH hurts him, but he has the numbers that matter most to traditionalists, a batting average in the 3s (.301) and over 500 home runs (521).

II.  The Previously Snubbed.

4.  Tim Raines.  One of the best lead off hitters and base stealers of all time.  He has been overlooked for too long.

5.  Mike Piazza.  The only reason he wasn't elected as a first-time candidate last year is some very murky suspicion of steroid use.  This makes no sense to me.  I remember Piazza as a prototypical line-drive hitter and I didn't notice any obvious changes in his body during the worst of the steroid years. Much more importantly, he never tested positive and has never been formally charged with anything related to use of steroids.  I really don't think it's the place of sports writers to keep someone out of the Hall based on such vague innuendo.

III.  The Steroid Users.
6.  Barry Bonds &
7.  Roger Clemens

These are the toughest calls for me.  Their statistics make them obviously qualified candidates.  But they did use steroids.  I would not have voted for them the first time up, because there should be some consequences for such blatant violation of the rules of the game.  But here is my personal standard for known Steroid Users: they don't get in on the first ballot, and they don't get in if their qualifications are on the margin.  But if they put up HOF worthy numbers before using steroids, they deserve consideration.  And in the case of these two men, I would vote for them.  Yes, they tarnished the game, but so did every owner and GM who signed any of these guys to a contract.  You can't just erase two decades of the game from the history books.  They both deserve to be in the HOF.

IV.  A Guilty Pleasure.
8.  Don Mattingly.  I have long said that although Donnie Baseball is my favorite athlete of all time, I know he is not deserving of being in the Hall of Fame.  He had a six year period that had him on pace for the hall, but most HOFers put up those kind of numbers for 10 or 12 years, not six.  But a funny thing happened when I was filling out my semi-sort of official ballot.  I voted for him.  Because I could.  I guess it's the only way I could thank him for the many joyful hours of my childhood.  It seemed only fair, even though I know he's not strictly deserving of the honor.  This has taught me much about this process.  Consider that most of the voters  have been up close and personal with these men for the length of their playing careers.  It must be an emotional process for them sometimes too.

Notable non-votes.
1.  Jack Morris.  I have said for several years that I would vote for him but the best defense of such a vote I can come up with is that he was better than Bert Blyleven.  (And he was.)  But one substandard player getting in should not be an invitation for others to get in.  So I'll pass.  But I think Blyleven should have to wash Jack Morris' car once a month or so until one of them dies.

2.  Craig Biggio.  A close call.   And there is a statistical argument in favor of him, but I think he just comes up short of the standard.

3.  Lee Smith.  Also a close call.  Maybe next year if my top four all get in, I'll give him more serious consideration.  This is a big year, with three deserving first-timers and a small backlog of oversights.

The Dreck of the Steroids Era.
1. Sammy Sosa.  I thrilled at watching him at Wrigley my first few years in Chicago.  He was a terrific player, but never really the full package.  And it's pretty obvious that his strength came from synthetic sources, and he might have been a very marginal player without steroids.

2.  Mark McGwire.  If he never did steroids, his career would have petered out in the mid to late 90s and he probably would have retired with 300-odd home runs, a share of the rookie Home Run record, one World Series ring, and ample good will as a human being.  One of my favorite things to look at on baseball-reference.com is the Similarity Scores.  For most of Mark's career, he was most similar to a variety of other power hitters who wound up well short of the HOF: Roger Maris, Cecil Fielder, and Ryan Howard.  Then his last four seasons, he was most similar to a pair of HOFers: Harmon Killebrew and Willie McCovey.  The difference in his career after the age of 34 is that he was using steroids.  Steroids gave him inflated numbers, and he doesn't deserve to be in the Hall of Fame.

3.  Raphael Palmiero.  Another very good player whose numbers and reputation were greatly enhanced by chemicals.  Looking again at baseball-reference similiarity scores, we see a player most similar to such very good, but not great players as Will Clark, Al Oliver and John Olerud in his twenties.  Suddenly in his 30s, he was most similar to Billy Williams, Orlando Cepeda and Eddie Murray, in that order.  Three Hall of Famers, each of increasing quality and stature.  No dice, Raphael.

http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/p/palmera01.shtml