Bill Ballou has covered baseball for the Telegram & Gazette of Worcester, Massachusetts, for more than three decades, and in December, he explained why he was not voting for Yankees closer Mariano Rivera -- or anybody else, out of respect for Rivera.
Ballou believes that the value of closers doesn't match that of other positions, which is hardly an outrageous argument to make. There are 30 front offices that agree with him, apparently, based on the lesser compensation they annually apply to relief roles relative to what starting pitchers are paid. Because of that perspective, he decided that he couldn't vote for Rivera. But he acknowledged in his column that he knows his opinion is in the minority.
"I could be wrong about all of this," he wrote, "and everyone I have the debate with says, 'I see your point, but Rivera is different.' Maybe he is and I'm just missing something. Rivera could be the first Hall of Famer elected unanimously. I think I'm right about closers, but not so much that I would deny Rivera a chance to be the first unanimous Hall of Famer."
Following that reasonable rationale, he decided to not submit a ballot, rather than hurt Rivera's percentage in the voting. And yet through the blitzkrieg of social media, Ballou was lambasted. Just before Christmas, Ballou mentioned the outpouring of response to his column in this tweet.
The reaction was a rabid overreaction, played out on Twitter, Instagram and other social-media avenues, now standard within any element of the Hall of Fame voting -- whether it's a discussion about the candidates linked to performance-enhancing drugs, Pete Rose's status, or the veterans' committee decisions.
Folks involved in this annual exercise have come to believe that the social media attacks and counterattacks have become a factor in the voting. The Baseball Writers' Association of America is a collection of journalists who theoretically should be devoted to transparency, and yet the Hall of Fame has continued to protect the writers' prerogative to keep their ballots private. This may well be to ensure that each voter can fill out a ballot without fretting about a tidal wave of backlash from those who don't agree with his or her choices.
Some writers prefer that anonymity. In 2016, three of 440 Hall of Fame voters did not include Ken Griffey Jr. on their ballots, and we still don't know who didn't vote for the longtime All-Star, or why. It could be that their choices were based on a strategic use of the 10 spots on the ballot -- knowing that Griffey was going to be elected overwhelmingly, they may have passed him over in order to vote for other players more in need of voter support.
I don't agree with Ballou's perspective on closers. I think all Hall of Fame ballots should be made public. And I don't agree with the choice of leaving Griffey off the ballot.
But it's ridiculous that we've gotten to a place where the response to the selection process for baseball's Hall of Fame seemingly mirrors this nation's political discourse, in its anger and viciousness. The candidacies of Harold Baines, Omar Vizquel, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and others should be based on their merits and complications, and not affected by social-media bullying. But this is where we are. Andy McCullough of the L.A. Times addressed the joyless nature of the Hall of Fame conversation. "The Hall of Fame is a museum," he wrote. "It shouldn't make you angry."
• The words of Kris Bryant and Evan Longoria about the sluggish free-agency market reflect the growing frustration among the players, and you can expect more and more to speak out. The ways that teams invest their money is evolving, with greater focus on maximizing the return on every nickel, transaction and decision, which is what Longoria referred to when he mentioned the word "value" in his social-media post. This is what agents are talking about; this is what players are talking about.
Of utmost importance for the players and their union, moving forward, is that the mounting frustration metastasizes into something useful for them all. The most visceral response might be to echo the words of Dodgers closer Kenley Jansen, who suggested last spring that the players might need to strike. But there are many intermediate steps that the union could explore before taking that monumental step.
1. The players should define exactly what they want. In the early history of the players' association, they fought for an enhanced pension fund; later, it was for free agency; then, in 1994 and '95, against a serious effort by the owners to break the union.
What, exactly, are they fighting for now?
There are players and agents who believe the union would benefit from having that defined and articulated, and then communicated to the rank-and-file.
2. There needs to be a greater understanding among the players of how the union works, and how the players work together. An agent told a story recently of going to a client wedding and having a conversation with another player -- a veteran -- about the labor situation. When the agent mentioned a decision by the union's executive committee, the veteran blanched: He seemed to have no idea about the existence of the executive committee, or its composition, or its impact on the other players. Other agents feel the same way: that a lot of players have a very loose awareness, at best, of the union's issues and challenges and history. They believe players need to know more, need to be more involved. Anybody who has read the storied accomplishments of Marvin Miller, Don Fehr, Gene Orza and others who successfully built the union to the powerhouse it became knows that the backbone of the Players Association was the players' education on matters of labor.
3. The players could get updates on what should be constant engagement and conversation. It's no secret that the union is dissatisfied with the financial direction of the sport. So then, what's next? What are the proposed changes? What is the strategy for the next meeting, and the meeting after that? If there is little discussion happening, what's the strategy behind that?
The free-agent class of 2017-18 was heavily impacted by the negotiated terms of the 2016 collective bargaining agreement, and by the increased devotion to analytics -- as Longoria noted. The situation looks even worse for the 2018-19 free agents, and because so many players will take one-year deals and go back into the market next fall, the concerns will persist.
The players can and should ask: What needs to be done? What are we asking for? What are we doing? How is management responding?