Idiots Write About Sports

The Hall of Fame ceremony isn’t just about pomp and circumstance and cranky speeches from embittered baseball players who sure were tougher, more honorable sumsabitches than the pill-popping pantywaists sullying the game these days, that’s for sure. There’s also the opportunity to amuse friends, annoy loved ones, and collect on small wagers during the always enjoyable introductions-of-living-Hall-of-Famers-who-made-the-trek-to-Cooperstown portion of the program. Here’s a few games I enjoy playing, which you are free to use to liven up your next Hall of Fame induction ceremony get-together.

Name That Player: The introductions of each Hall of Famer are written in such a way as to obscure the identity of the Hall of Famer in question until the last possible moment. In this sense, it is much like the Who Am I? game that appears on the DiamondVision at your local ballyard in which you must use a series of ever-more-obvious clues to determine the name of the pixilated player before you.

For example, from master of ceremonies Gary Thorne’s introduction today:

Our next Hall of Famer was noted for extreme focus as a competitor on the mound. His out-pitch, a hard-biting slider, complemented a tremendous fastball. He won 329 games, second only to Warren Spahn among lefties. 4,136 strikeouts exceded by only Nolan Ryan when he retired. He had six, count ‘em, six 20 win seasons, and was the first pitcher ever to win four Cy Young awards. Like so many of the pepole, you’ll meet here today, you only need one word — Lefty.

If you didn’t say “Steve Carlton” by the time “second to Warren Spahn among lefties” left Thorne’s lips, I’m afraid we can’t be friends anymore.

I’m pretty good at this particular game, though I have a tendency to guess too early, much like the contestant who buzzes in before Alex Trebek has finished reading the question.

This San Francisco Giant…

Willie McCovey!

… is the pride of the Dominican Republic.

Shit!

One humble request of ESPN for future Hall of Fame ceremony telecasts: please refrain from showing footage of the player in question, or, even worse, the Hall of Famer waiting off-stage in the wings until the M.C. has reached the end of his intro. It takes all the sport out of guessing that the Hall of Famer who threw no-hitters in both leagues and wound up with 224 career wins was Jim Bunning, when you’re already running a tape of the future distinguished Senator from Kentucky back from in his prime.

Name That Team: For every Robin Yount who spends his career with one franchise, there are dozens of Paul Molitors who take their All Star talents from team to team. When a player is introduced, try naming every club for whom he ever toiled. For Billy Williams, just as a for instance, the answer is Chicago and Oakland. For Dave Winfield, it’s San Diego, New York, California, Toronto, Minnesota and Cleveland. Special bonus points if you can name the teams in chronological order.

Yes, I am that much of a nerd, thanks for asking.

Name That Unfortunate Accomplishment: Every Hall of Famer has that moment they’re not especially proud of — a usually out-of-character incident that’s little more than a footnote to their career and certainly would never be included in a Hall of Fame introduction. Unless, that is, you’re watching the ceremony with a jerk like me.

What I’ll do is, wait for the M.C. to wrap up his laudatory remarks and then tack on some sort of inappropriate conclusion that you will never in a million years hear in any sort of introduction made in polite society. Say, George Brett is being welcomed to a the podium. The M.C. might say:

Our next Hall of Famer is a member of the 3,000 hit club. He is a 12-time All-Star, played his entire 21-year career with the Kansas City Royals, earning the American League MVP, a Gold Glove, three batting titles and a lifetime average of .305. His .390 average in 1980 is still the highest since Ted Williams’ .406 mark in 1941…

To which I’ll add: …and he might be serving a life sentence in federal prison for beating Tim McClelland to death, had someone not gotten in between the two of them during the Pine Tar Game.

Or, for a certain mustachioed Oakland relief pitcher…

This 17-year career epitimoized what we know today as the closer, relying on a sharp slider. 341 career saves. The distinctive handlebar mustache…

…the pre-World Series brawl with Blue Moon Odom after the starter made an ill-advised crack about his failing marriage. Please welcome Mr. Rollie Fingers!

Really, this disgraceful activity is more fun than it has any right to be.

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