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During one weekend in mid-July each summer, the Major League Baseball spotlight shines on the small town of Cooperstown, NY—where the National Baseball Hall of Fame turns boyhood heroes into immortalized icons of the game.

The hallowed halls of the National Baseball Hall of Fame opens its doors this weekend to welcome two most-deserving legends of the game, when my boyhood hero, Barry Larkin and the boyhood hero of many Chicago-ans, the late Ron Santo, are enshrined forever as baseball immortals.

These two 2012 Baseball HOF inductees captivated their respective cities of Cincinnati and Chicago because they represented more than just excellence on the field—they represented the best that baseball has to offer off of the field as well. Barry Larkin and Ron Santo represent integrity, perseverance, humility, dedication, commitment to their cities and the highest of character.

Growing up in Cincinnati in the 80s and 90s, it was only natural that I was drawn to Barry Larkin. The slick fielding and sharp-hitting Larkin taught me how to play baseball—the right way. As a pre-teen and teenager, I watched as Lark would hit behind the runner. I watched him take on nearly every spot in the lineup and excel by adjusting his approach. I watched him beat out an amazing offensive year by Dante Bichette—claiming the 1995 MVP award with his leadership and willingness to give himself up for his team. And I watched him be as humble as any player I have ever seen about his accomplishments.

Of course there was the other stuff too—you know, the stats. He was the first 30/30 shortstop, a perennial .300 hitter, a nine time Silver Slugger award winner, and yada yada yada. You see, Larkin didn’t need to flaunt his stats—they were there—but they were a product of the player and person that he was and still is. 

Barry Larkin epitomized the type of person that every parent wished for their kids to look up to. He was the hometown kid made good, who continued to give back to his community through service and through his examples on the field that rubbed off on those watching off the field.

Decades earlier, as Barry Larkin was growing up in Cincinnati and idolizing the likes of Pete Rose, Tony Perez, and Lee May—a charismatic captain of the Chicago Cubs named Ron Santo was winning over the hearts of youth in Wrigleyville. 

The playful, fun-loving third baseman with his trademark heel click, represented all that was good in baseball for 15 seasons in Chicago. Ron Santo’s accomplishments on the field would only be strengthened when it was let known that he played his entire career while suffering from diabetes.

I once heard Santo tell a story of a grand slam that he hit while suffering from severe adverse affects of his condition—he claimed that as he came to bat he looked to the mound to see not one, not two, but three pitchers on the mound. He decided to swing at every pitch thrown by the middle pitcher and immediately connected for a shot over the Wrigley wall—amazing.

Santo, like Larkin (or vice versa), was recognized and idolized more for the person that he was and not just for his numbers. Again, though the numbers are certainly there (nine time All-Star, five Gold Gloves, 342 HR’s, 1343 RBI, etc…), but they were only a product of the person.

Ron Santo was to Chicago what every person there saw in themselves, he represented the backbone of middle-America, showed up to work with a smile and performed his job with a smile and dedication. These were traits that would be with Santo through all of his post-playing career adversity and proved to everyone that Ron Santo, the person, outweighed the great Ron Santo that played third base for the Cubs.

If there was ever a time to visit Cooperstown, this is the weekend. The crowd on Induction Sunday will surely be filled with Cincinnati Red and Chicago Blue. Two cities that are normally baseball rivals will be united as one—celebrating two men, both equally deserving and both equally as respected by the other’s rival city.

There is a mutual respect that these two men bring to the table, and like everything else that they have represented throughout their lives, it rubs off on those that surround them.

Though I usually root against the Cubbies, for one day I will not only be a Reds fan, but I will be a Cubs fan, a Ron Santo fan. I am pretty confident that my rival fans in Chicago will reciprocate this feeling as No. 11 Barry Larkin and the late No. 10 Ron Santo—two of the greatest players of all time—share the Cooperstown stage.

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Barry Larkin and Ron Santo will be enshrined in the National Baseball Hall of Fame this week, taking their place alongside 295 others who have a plaque hanging in Cooperstown.

The Hall of Fame is meant to showcase and preserve the game’s greatest players, moments and artifacts, but has provided moments and talking points of its own over the years. The current debate about whether to allow known steroid users into the Hall is going to rage for years to come.

Here, we take a look at the 10 greatest moments of the inductees’ speeches.

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The Roger Clemens trial is over. The ripple effect of the verdict will be felt for a long time and will become relevant in January.

Roger Clemens was found not guilty of perjury the other day. He was not found not guilty of taking steroids or HGH or anything else that his friends, wife and trainer all admit to using or selling. The fact that everyone excluding his dog all took the stuff is clearly a coincidence and does not involve the alpha male of the group whose body changed.

So now writers are wringing their hands, talking about the legal questions and the loss of our innocence. The most common headline claimed the trial had no winner.

Nonsense. The real winner was Jack Morris. That’s right, the former Tigers ace and one time contemporary of Clemens will be the beneficiary of the whole Clemens mess.

Morris will be on his 14th Hall of Fame ballot this offseason. He has just two more chances to be elected into Cooperstown. And not since Clemens’ former teammate Jim Rice has there been a more polarizing candidate.

His supporters point to the fact that he won more games in the 1980s than any other pitcher and he came up big in big games. He threw a no-hitter, was the World Series MVP in 1991 and had a 10 inning game seven shutout that year that clinched the title.

His detractors point out that he was never the best pitcher in any one year. He may have compiled wins over the decade, but was never a dominating pitcher like Dwight Gooden, Fernando Valenzuela, Dave Stewart, Orel Hershiser or Frank Viola. He never was even the Cy Young runner-up. His ERA was too high and new stats point out that he may not have been as good as he seemed to be.

But as far as anyone knows, Jack Morris was clean. And even those who do not support his Hall of Fame candidacy admit that he was a tough competitor who played the game the right way.

In the last Hall of Fame election, Morris got 66.7 percent of the vote, just shy of the 75 percent needed for induction.

This offseason, the Cooperstown ballot from hell will be distributed. Sammy Sosa will be on it for the first time. Returning candidates like Mark McGwire and Rafael Palmeiro are back.

And, fairly or not, sluggers like the returning Jeff Bagwell and the new arrival Mike Piazza will have their power numbers scrutinized strongly.

But the biggest new names will be Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens. Both would normally be no-brainers. But there is no way either will get in on the first ballot.

Craig Biggio and his 3,060 hits will likely get voted in on the first try. And Piazza will probably join him. But the other spots on the ballot might have room for a protest vote.

The final 8.3 percent of the vote that Jack Morris needs to become a Hall of Famer could come from writers fed up with Roger Clemens.

Benefiting from someone else’s resentment may be a strange way to achieve immortality. But at this point, Jack Morris will no doubt accept it.

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

The Boston Red Sox are one of baseball’s greatest franchises. They have won more World Series championships than all but two AL teams, play in the oldest stadium, are part of the sport’s best rivalry and have seen a long line of legends don their uniform.

Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, Carlton Fisk and Carl Yastrzemski head a list of Hall of Famers who have played for the Sox, but there are many greats who have not yet had their chance at earning a plaque in Cooperstown.

Here we take a look at the current and recently retired Red Sox who could or should one day receive baseball’s greatest honour, as well as some who have been unjustly overlooked.

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The Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) cast their votes for players eligible for induction into Baseball’s Hall of Fame before January 1, 2012. Bleacher Report baseball writers cast their votes yesterday.

The premise of the vote was exact, however. All candidates that appeared on the official 2012 ballot appeared on B/R’s ballot, and writers were able to select a maximum of 10 candidates. For mock induction, a player needs to appear on at least 75.0% of the total ballots cast.

The following slides reveal our voting results and some comments from various B/R baseball writers about why they chose or didn’t choose players for induction.

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With this being a weak crop of first-ballot candidates, this year gives some guys who have already been on the ballot previously a little extra boost to their chances.

Former Atlanta Braves star Dale Murphy is a player who fits that profile, being a guy who has been on the ballot for a while without making it.

This article examines the reasons why Murphy deserves to make the Hall of Fame as well as the reasons he does not and will give my personal opinion on whether he’s Hall of Fame material.

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Growing up, a lot of young men want to be a professional athlete.

With that comes countless hours in the backyard honing your sport and doing a play-by-play with you at the plate, the three-point line as the clock hits zero, or catching a winning touchdown pass in the Super Bowl.

After that comes the dreams of being a superstar in that sport and becoming one of its best.

Then, comes the speech you’ll give when you’re being inducted into the Hall of Fame. You got through countless drafts as a young kid, dreaming of how cool it would be to live in immortality.

For a few baseball players, that dream will become a reality in just a few short days. They will be announced as the 2012 Hall of Fame class for Major League Baseball, living what most kids dream of.

All through their playing days, some felt they were destined for greatness, while others feel honored to just get Hall consideration.

Undoubtedly, many big-league players will watch or listen to that announcement with much anticipation. Because for many, it’s a dream that they hope becomes a reality for them years down the road. Some, are shoo-ins, some we’re still not sure of.

Here’s a look at the top 10 players who are shoo-ins for the Hall of Fame at this point in their careers.

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The Baseball Hall of Fame—holy ground for America’s national pastime. Within Cooperstown’s pantheon are honored 296 of the diamond’s royalty. Some are gods; some many have never heard of. A few don’t truly belong; others, having received the sport’s ultimate reward, remain under-appreciated.

Each of them was immortalized by vote, a process vulnerable to an array of human foibles. Whereas most Hall of Famers fully deserve their honor, more than a few waited for enshrinement long after their achievements warranted such recognition (sometimes for decades), or, occasionally in the case of the Veterans Committee, wormed their way in via cronyism, inflated reputation or voter incompetence.

Because (since 1958) the ballot permits—but does not require—voting to the 10th place, some very mediocre players garner votes. Often, this safeguard prohibits too many candidates from making the cut—lest the Hall grow even more overpopulated than it already is— although it occasionally detracts votes from worthy players who should make it in but wait many unnecessary years, or never make it at all.

Why the electorate felt compelled to cast votes for the pedestrian likes of Mike Jorgensen, Terry Puhl, and Eddie Miksis is a wonder. Maybe those responsible also pulled the lever for Harold Stassen…

In 1981, Gates Brown received a vote. A talented batsman who, at his retirement, stood third all-time in pinch hits, Gates enjoyed a superlative year as a sub during the Detroit Tigers championship season of 1968.

Coming off the bench and delivering key hits time and again, Brown contributed mightily to Detroit’s pennant run. A career total of 582 hits, however, stands as far from the stuff of legend as the 119-loss Tigers of 2003 did from first place. Yet Brown shared 27th spot in the voting with five other nondescript players.

This means that some voter penciled Brown as a 10th-place selection over 17 far more Hall-worthy players. If the top nine vote-getters are excluded, which any sane person—including, presumably, the voter in question—would when making Gates his final pick on the ballot, then Brown received a vote instead of later inductees Luis Aparicio, Bill Mazeroski, Orlando Cepeda and Richie Ashburn, as well as Roger Maris and Maury Wills.

Remember, electors are chosen for their expert knowledge of the game.

Poor Bill Buckner. Never mind that he won a batting crown, seven times hit .300, and came within a season and a half of the elite 3,000-hit club—his outstanding career is forever lost in the glare of a single gaffe that didn’t send the Boston Red Sox to another cursed World Series defeat (it merely enabled the hard-luck Bosox to drop the Series the next evening).

Buckner isn’t Hall of Fame material, but his numbers—including, ironically, a solid fielding record (and the penultimate mark for assists in a season by a first baseman)—exceed that of many Hall of Famers. Yet he qualified for the Baseball Writers’ Association of America (BBWAA) ballot only once, earning a paltry 10 votes, which permanently dropped him from eligibility.

Considering the ballot’s hangers-on who collect comparable numbers over multiple elections, it’s obvious that voters ignored Buckner’s 22 seasons because of one unfortunate occurrence.

Case-in-point: one-trick pony Don Larsen. Yes, that lone trick, a perfect game in the 1956 World Series, amounted to one of the most fantastic feats in baseball history. But the Hall isn’t permitted to enshrine players for a single event.

Yet Larsen received no fewer than 22 votes for 15 consecutive years. Not big numbers, but far more generous than his career totals: an 81-91 record (including a 3-21 season), a solitary 100-strikeout year, and an ERA often topping 4.00.

Even so, Larsen’s relatively hefty vote totals—entirely attributable to a spectacular moment in a lackluster 14-year career—left in the dust such terrific, if not Hall-caliber, hurlers as Jim Perry, Billy Pierce and Dave McNally.

A voter shows himself more misguided to reward a player for one triumphant effort than to punish a player for one catastrophic incident.

Such specious voting extends to Johnny Vander Meer, who was just as liable to walk a batter as strike him out. Vandy’s wildness culminated in a meer 119-121 career record—yet, thanks to his consecutive no-hitters, he polled twice as many votes in 1966 as Arky Vaughan, one of the best shortstops ever (not to mention further outdistancing Ernie Lombardi, Hal Newhouser, Billy Herman and Bob Lemon—each eminently more deserving than he).

In fact, Vander Meer, who consistently finished higher than at least half a dozen future Hall of Famers during his years of eligibility, outpaced Newhouser all eight years that they appeared together on the ballot.

Whether or not one views Newhouser as a bona fide Hall of Famer, he did win back-to-back MVPs—and nearly a third—whereas Vander Meer never finished higher than 18th in MVP polling (incidentally, the very season he tossed his no-nos—so how could writers rank Vander Meer so highly for his career when they didn’t even rank him highly for his season of glory?).

Averaging 72 votes a year, Vander Meer’s claim to fame was taken too literally by some writers.

Whether the BBWAA has always known what’s it’s doing when it comes to casting Hall of Fame ballots is debatable (it’s done a largely admirable job in recent decades). However, one can peruse the vote totals of virtually any year and drop a jaw at who scored higher than whom.

As in 1949, for example, when Pepper Martin—a scrappy hitter and, for the time, terror on the base paths—parlayed a pair of heroic World Series performances that made him a legend of the Depressed Midwest into more votes than 25 future Hall of Famers. And even though quite a few of those eventual entrants likely didn’t merit enshrinement, they undoubtedly enjoyed more laudable careers than Pepper. (Certainly Goose Goslin, Sam Rice and Zack Wheat—absolutely deserving—should have scored higher than Martin.)

But that’s the human element of the Hall of Fame, and it’s still preferable to some statistically based program like the college BCS—heaven forbid, some egghead ever devises something similar for Cooperstown…

The 2012 election likely will usher into Cooperstown several great players from among 27 candidates. And if Barry Larkin and Jack Morris, the two favorites, ascend to Baseball Heaven—or even Tim Raines and several borderline candidates—then the BBWAA surely will have done its job.

But I’ll be scanning the bottom of the ballot to see how many wayward votes went to Terry Mulholland, Brad Radke and Tony Womack. 

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

I’m not real big on statistics.

Sure, they have their place in the game, but when it comes to evaluating a player’s career, I’m one of those people that feel certain statistics can be bent, massaged and manipulated to say whatever the person using them wants them to say, thus at times creating unnecessary debate.

You know what I’m talking about. Instead of just accepting what the stats say about a player, some folks with an agenda in tow will trot out variance explanations to make their case, such as, “I know so-and-so only hit .281, but his OPS on the road in night games was such and such and he shouldn’t be penalized for playing in so many day games.”

To me this is evident at times during Hall of Fame voting.

Every now and then, largely fueled by the statistical manipulating I referenced earlier, some guy gets in that makes me say “huh?” and every now and then the same type of manipulation keeps some guy out that makes me say “what?”

Look, I understand the Baseball Writers Association of America has a tough job to do evaluating candidates, and I respect the fact that each voting member gets to use his or her own individual, completely subjective, criteria, even if I don’t agree with it. But I’ve always been partial to those voters who eschew statistics in favor of a less refined, yet amazingly effective method for determining a candidate’s Hall-of-Fame worthiness.

Some call it “The Eye Test” and make reference to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s legendary claim about pornography, where he said he probably could never define it but “I know it when I see it.” In any case, that’s exactly how I feel about the way to go about determining what a Hall of Famer is. I may not be able to define it but, statistics be damned, I know it when I see it.

And I’m telling you right now, without even the slightest bit of hesitation, Jack Morris is a Hall of Famer.

When the ’80s began, I was just starting to come into my own as a baseball fan. I was eight when the decade began and 17 when it ended. Now I admit, my memory may not be the greatest, but I’m struggling to recall a more dominant pitcher during that time, at least not in the American League. Others may have had had better individual seasons, but when the decade was over Morris clearly stood above everyone as the best. I honestly don’t even remember this being a debate. Here’s what I do remember:

I remember Morris putting the Tigers on his back during the ’80s and pitching them back into relevancy, culminating in a World Championship in 1984.

I remember after finishing the decade as the American League’s best pitcher for that 10-year period, he moved on to Minnesota and was the ace of the staff that won the World Series in 1991.

I remember Morris following up THAT performance by moving on to Toronto the next season and anchoring THAT team to its first World Series title in franchise history.

See, that’s the thing: I can bust out all these statistics that make my case for Morris’ enshrinement, but the guy choosing not to vote for Morris can break out his own statistics to support his argument. But you see, all of that is irrelevant because if you were around during that time and saw Morris pitch, you can’t deny what you saw, nor what commentators, sportswriters or fans had to say about it. Any attempt to do so is engaging in revisionist history, which sadly wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened during election season. That’s my biggest problem with statistics. They don’t speak to you the way your eyes do.

I also don’t like it when voters compare players from different eras, either. There are so many differences between the way the game was played in the ’50s, ’60s, ’70s, ’80s, etc. that showing how Morris stacks up statistically against current Hall-of-Famers who pitched in different eras tells me nothing of consequence. So what if Morris’ ERA was higher than Bob Gibson’s? It was a different game then. And on the flip side, what does it really say that he has more wins than Don Drysdale?

How you did against your peers at the time you were playing is the only true test of a player’s greatness. Take the steroid era, for example. Should someone who, during his entire career, was never even in the top five at his position be given entry into the Hall of Fame simply because his numbers stack up favorably to other Hall of Famers from different eras? I don’t think so. That’s like rewarding the sixth-place finisher in the 2012 Olympics with entry into the Track and Field Hall of Fame simply because he ran faster than sprinters from the ’30s, ’40s, etc. 

It makes no sense, yet voters engage in these types of debates all the time, particularly when it comes to those players who have gotten some support but not enough for election.

I don’t get into the debates about these “borderline candidates” on the ballot each year. I’ll leave that for the stat-heads to argue about. I understand the need to debate about someone like Bert Blyleven or Jim Rice. But that’s what is so frustrating about Morris’ candidacy. To me he’s not borderline anything!

Am I crazy? Did I miss something? Am I “misremembering” the ’80s?

I believe anyone who relies more on statistics than empirical evidence to make their decision on Morris is doing the Hall a disservice. Jack Morris was the best pitcher in the American League during the ’80s, and not just because he led the decade in wins. He was fearless on the mound, a great leader off of it, and led not one, not two, but THREE completely different franchises to World Series titles.

He didn’t piggy-back on any of those teams, either. He led them. He anchored them. And when it was time to answer the call, he carried them.

He was the guy who got the ball in Game 7 of the 1991 World Series, and not because it was his turn in the rotation, either. And while one game alone doesn’t define a player, that game does serve as the perfect example for the kind of pitcher Jack Morris was. Because in that game, and for most of the 13 years that surrounded it, Jack Morris was the best and anyone who was the best at what they did for that length of time deserves to be in the Hall of Fame.

Read more MLB news on BleacherReport.com

Every year there’s a new Hall of Fame Ballot for the members of the Baseball Writers Association of America to choose players from to induct into the hall. 

The ballot is generally made up of some pretty good former major league players. Then again there are always some odd names on it ballot as well. 

This year is no different. 

Sure, you’ve got guys like Lee Smith, Barry Larkin, Jack Morris, Alan Trammel, Jeff Bagwell and Bernie Williams. All of them were very good players who are deserving of being in the discussion for induction into the Hall. 

There are also some puzzling names as well. Any player with more than 10 years of experience in Major League Baseball has the opportunity to pass through a screening committee and end up on the ballot. That’s fine, those are the rules. In general, the Hall of Fame gets it right more often than they get it wrong. 

People will always obsess over the one or two inductees or snubs they most vehemently disagree with, but the hall is well-stocked with plenty of worthy members. 

That doesn’t mean there aren’t some amusing names on the ballot.

Don’t believe me? 

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