For some, thoughts of sports warm the bones. In Chicago, unfortunately, this is often cold comfort, especially in recent times. The Bears, playing in what looks like a spaceship that crashed upside-down, have just concluded another depressing season and fired their coach the day after it ended. The Blackhawks, in their umpteenth year of denying televised home games to their dwindling fan base, have suffered through injuries and indifferent play and have fired their general manager. The Bulls have been dismal since winning their last championship and fired their coach in November, provoking slightly better play on the court, but not nearly enough to spark genuine optimism. And other Chicago teams like the Wolves (hockey), Rush (arena football) or Fire (soccer)? They get less press coverage than the annual mulching of Christmas trees by the Park District.
Which leaves baseball, which starts spring training in about six weeks. And there may be cause for interest there, despite the lack of big moves by the Cubs, who came within five outs of finally making it to the World Series for the first time in my lifetime; or the lack of any moves by the White Sox, who hired a new manager (former Sox shortstop Ozzie Guillen), then let most of their arbitration-eligible players go elsewhere in an effort to cut payroll, essentially running up a white flag before the first pitch has been thrown.
Still, the upcoming baseball season at least hints at optimism. And in this gray month, we'll take what we can get. And we can't even wait until spring training. Nope. We start ramping up now, when the Hall of Fame inductees are annually announced.
As is typical with my hometown--which, despite being the third largest city in America and one of the largest on the whole freaking planet, has an amazing inferiority complex--the press focuses hard on the players who have even the most tenuous connection with the city, the implication being that we wouldn't care unless it's about us. (Whenever a disaster happens--flood, plane crash, avalanche, etc.--the newswriters make sure to tell us whether or not Chicagoans or former Chicagoans were involved.)
So whenever the Hall of Fame vote comes around, the local newspapers, TV stations and radio talk shows first report who didn't make it from the local teams, then report who did make it. Example: On the cover of this morning's Sun-Times, the blurb reads as follows: "Ryne Sandberg, Andre Dawson, Bruce Sutter miss Hall of Fame." You have to flip to the back page of the paper to find out who did earn induction: Paul Molitor, who had more than 3,000 hits in his career and was a World Series MVP; and Dennis Eckersley, who became one of the most dominant relief pitchers in the game after spending years as a starter (including three with the Cubs, who traded him off after he developed a drinking problem, but before his shift to reliever--marvelous timing as always, Cubbies).
Molitor was one of the most consistent hitters in the game and deserved to get in. Eckersley was a great pitcher (as a starter or a reliever) and deserved it as well. No arguing that.
Sandberg? One of the best to ever play second base in the majors, a perennial Gold Glove winner, a former MVP. Never made it to a World Series with the Cubs (who has?), but certainly worthy of induction. He got more votes this year than last; his time will come.
Dawson? A feared hitter, great with a glove, won an MVP award with a last-place Cubs team in 1987. Unfortunately, he was an outfielder, which means the competition to get into the Hall is greater at his position. Also never made a World Series, with the Cubs or anybody else. May make it someday, but it may take years.
Sutter? A pioneer short reliever whose career was cut short by injury, but whose dominance at the position when he was healthy was incredible. His chief pitch, the split-fingered fastball, was virtually unhittable--it looked like it was rolled along a perfectly smooth, invisible table and then just abruptly fell off the edge. If he belongs in the Hall of Fame (and I think he does), then so do Rich Gossage and Lee Smith (ex-Cubs all). As for Pete Rose, who never played for either side of town but is generating a lot of buzz here, there and everywhere by finally admitting that he bet on baseball games while managing the Cincinnati Reds in a book to be released tomorrow...shut up even more, Pete.
You did something you knew was illegal, lied about it for more than a decade and then only fessed up when you had an opportunity to make some coin from the confession. I think you should be eligible for the Hall of Fame--you were definitely one of the greats of the game as a player, and there are certainly quite a few less-than-sterling characters already inducted, like racist Ty Cobb or boozing womanizer Babe Ruth. But yet maintained for years that you never bet on baseball at all, and now you say you did, but never against your own team and never from the clubhouse. I don't see how I could believe anything you say at this point. Yet you want to manage again? I wouldn't trust you to tell me which direction the sun rises in. Go away.
The debate as to who deserves what when can go on endlessly without resolving a thing. But all this talk of trades not made and the Hall of ShameÉer, Fame, just whets my appetite for the season itself and gives me something else to think about than how to keep from busting an ankle while carrying out the garbage or how much my head hurts from the wind chill or how little sun I can see.
But the sun is out in the daytime, even when it's behind the clouds. Spring training starts next month. I haven't fallen on my ass once in 2004. My cup? More than half full for now. I'll take what I can get.
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