FIFTY THOUSAND MOONS
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Posted by el duque at 3:22 PM
Nope. Nothing new. Same ol’, same ol’. Once again, Bernie Williams has been stiffed for Cooperstown. Nobody expected otherwise. He has Yankees Disease: Too much fame, so obviously, he doesn’t belong in the Hall of Fame. All we can do is remember this insult when Josh Hamilton, Torri Hunter and Big Papi come around, so we can politely ask how many rings they accrued in their long and august careers. Because Bernie has four. And write this down, folks: There won’t be many people in the Hall for the rest of time who have four.
Oh, yeah, we know the argument: Bernie’s career numbers don’t rate the Hall. Of course, it’s the Craig Biggio argument. Lookit all them there base hits! Nevermind that only two dozen came in a pennant race. They should make Cooperstown the Hall of Numbers — eliminate the sportswriters altogether and install a counter out front of the Hall: When a guy reaches that golden number of hits — bingo, he’s in. Eliminate the middle man! Hey, let’s hear it for Tim Wakefield. Two hundred wins!
Say, how many rings does Tim have, anyway? Two. Well, that’s two more than Josh and Torri.
Listen: Bernie Williams was part of the heart and soul of Joe Torre’s Yankees – the last great team in baseball history. Four rings, baby. Four. That’s two more than the Big Red Machine, two more than the Mantle-Maris Yankees (who, shamefully, have still been denied Maris) Torre’s team faced extra rounds of playoffs, too. But hey, don’t bother looking for anyone in the Hall. Why — those World Series championships must have won themselves. Of course, Jeter will make it. Mariano will make it. After that — well, like I said, it all must have just happened on its own.
Well, we know the deal. Play in Kansas City and the sportswriters will take up your cause, because they’re all about comforting the oppressed. Plus, you can have your Arod years — just swing away and stack those numbers! In New York City, a season is a lifetime, and week is a year. Bernie is one of our greats. He's done. He's off the ballot. Jeez, I can’t believe the New York writers let the profession get away with this.