Skating on Cooperstown: The Class of 2018 never really hurt us

Yesterday, the annual opportunity for the nation's Gammonites to pretend they are the Hollywood Foreign Press Association resulted in four new Lifetime Golden Globes Baseball Hall of Fame inductees. As far as I'm concerned, none of them ever drew blood on a Yankee team that wasn't already dead.

As long as it's not Edgar Martinez - whose mere presence in an on-deck circle still haunts me - or that self-righteous blob of jellied morality who bilked the good people of New Hampshire out of their tax money - let's call the Cooperstown Class of 2018 what it is: 

A big, fluffy, floating, harmless, anti-Yankee hair ball.

For your consideration...

Chipper Jones twice faced us in the World Series with Atlanta, and each was as pleasurable as a barefoot romp through a field of nipples. In 1996, we roared back on the bat of Jim Leyritz to launch the great Yankee Teams of Torre. Chipper went 6-21 (.286) with no homers and three RBIs. Three years later, his Braves returned to seek revenge. They lasted four games. Chipper went 3-13. 

I'm not saying he wasn't a great player and is undeserving of the Hall. Over his career, Jones went 35-103 against the Yankees (.340) in the regular season. I just can't remember one game that mattered. When I hear the word "Chipper," I think of the dismemberment scene in the movie "Fargo." 

Trevor Hoffman's induction greases next summer's path for Mariano, in his first eligible year. (If it's not unanimous, Trump will order a Justice Dept. probe.) A great closer - no doubt, but I smile remembering the 1998 World Series, in which the San Diego saver recorded not one save. In fact, his lone appearance in game three resulted in two runs and a loss. Nothing but fond memories.

Vladimir Guererro did hurt us once - the 2005 ALCS, with the Angels, when he went 6-18 with a few dunk singles. Still, he doesn't stand out from that horrible, wretched debacle - (Juan Rivera and Bengie Molina, ugh) - which came during the Great Dark Age following The Curse. Vladimir faced us twice more - the 2009 Angels, who we beat - and 2010 Rangers, which did us in. But he wasn't a force in that series, hitting .269. In his post-season career against the Yankees, just one home run.

When you study Hall of Fame resumes, you can conjure some serious Yankee killer demons of the night. Vlad the Impaler isn't one of them.

Finally Jim Thome. He faced us four times in the post-season, his teams going 1-3. In the 1997 Divisional Series - when his Indians beat us - he hit a measly .200. A year later, he blasted 4 HRs in the ALCS, but we won, so who cares? In his two final incarnations - with Minnesota (2010) and Baltimore (2011) - Thome was a memory of his former self. Combined, he went 2 for 22. 

Over his regular season career, he hit 26 HRs against us, batting .251. But you know what? He hit 35 against Boston and batted .271.

Finally, none of the steroid untouchables - Roger Clemens, Barry Bonds, et al - won induction. I've made my opinion clear about what I consider extreme, hypocritical Gammonitic piousness. But as long as the Great Steroid Wall remains in effect, that means no plaque for Big Papi, right? RIGHT? 

So be it. If that's the rule, I'll take it.