I'm fond of the 1980s. Maybe it was the great childhood. Maybe it was my love of baseball growing up.
Whatever the reason, some things need to change.
Perspective, folks. It's a beautiful thing.
Before I travel this path ... this not-so-yellow-brick-road that takes us to Oz, err the Baseball Hall of Fame, allow me to paint a picture.
A decade is a long time, would we agree? How about 17 years? Heck, that's an entire childhood.
Which is the beginning of this treacherous road filled with Lions and Tigers and Bears (well, maybe not them, oh my!). There will be those who try to prevent me from taking Mr. Morris with me on my mythical journey to "Oz," AKA that stubborn ole' Hall of Fame.
The one which says 75 percent of the baseball writers allowed (there are barely over 550 of them with a vote, folks) to chime in have to agree one is Hall-worthy. That's a tall order in place for a reason.
Nonetheless, meet Jack Morris. Let me add, that's a sweet moustache, dude. Quenville-worthy.
Jack, my friends, won more games than any pitcher in the 1980s. He also won more games than any pitcher in a 17-year span in Major League Baseball from 1977-1994.
Morris finished with 254 career wins, 186 losses --- and get this --- 175 complete games.
That should speak for itself, should it not?
But no, that darned Wicked Witch (is it the East or the West, I forget?), also known as "The Baseball Writers," have turned their noses at Mr. Morris, as if he's just not worthy of the same air people like Frank Thomas and Greg Maddux will soon breathe, cleanly (pardon the pun).
This is the last year Morris is eligible to be on the ballot.
With the steroid era now front page news in baseball on a near weekly basis in MLB, I submit to you it's time we start respecting and valuing the accomplishments of some of the best pitchers who've ever lived.
Morris was one of them. The stats say so. Like it or not, his numbers in nearly every key category, whether 50th place ever, or 200th, all put him in elite company, the top one-tenth of one percent of pitchers who've ever lived.
That's special, folks. But some feel it's not special enough.
The detractors' one main argument against him? His 3.90 career ERA would make Morris the pitcher with the highest career ERA in the Hall, if elected. He played for teams that had great offenses behind him, they cry.
I'm sorry, I couldn't see that side of your argument, Morris-haters. I was blinded by those shiny things. What's that you say? Those are your three (technically four) World Series rings, Jack?
Nope. I wouldn't want that guy on my team if I could go back in time. I mean, who wants a guy who's a legit #1 or #2 starter his whole career, and does nothing but compete and win for almost two decades, better than nearly anyone?
His defining moment may have come in Game 7 of the 1991 World Series against the Atlanta Braves: http://wapc.mlb.com/play/?content_id=3977851
"Whatever it takes, you're gonna outlast him," Morris told himself, facing legendary John Smoltz in his prime, who matched him pitch-for-pitch.
The result? A Picasso. A 10-inning, 1-0 shutout, World Series win that you couldn't dream up. His forkball was dancing, diving. The man was a bulldog, on the biggest stage. Painting corners in his very own masterpiece.
His team that year? The Minnesota Twins. Ask a Twins fan what that moment meant to them. Their families. Their kids. Their grandkids.
Morris won 15 or more games 12 times. With four different teams. And threw 3,824 innings, 50th all-time.
Folks, those things all don't happen simply by having good offenses over a 17-year span, with that many outs, that many innings.
I mention it because that moment in 1991 ... that was what Jack was all about. The bigger the game, the bigger he performed, as if saving what energy he needed for the big stage, to a degree. Like it or not, smart athletes know how to do this. To not burn themselves out too fast. To remain paced, and focused.
Unless you've played a 162-game season, which most of us have not, you haven't a clue how it affects someone, especially a pitcher.
Now that we are finding more and more people cheated the game of baseball to skew the very stats Morris needs to be elected, I think it's damn time we start loosening the tie a bit, so to speak. Especially when it comes to pitchers.
Or better yet, pour a giant bucket of water on that Wicked Witch, AKA "The Baseball Writers."
Watch their argument go up in smoke, then melt and disappear.
Don't be afraid of the man behind the curtain folks. He, too, had a huge moustache just like Jack did.
They can pull all the strings they want.
Morris was an ace. One with the 134th most shutouts. Ever. He's also 36th all-time in games started. He's 43rd all-time in wins. And don't tell me wins don't matter. It's WHY we play the games we do.
And if he doesn't make the Hall of Fame on this, his last try...
Don't be cowardly, Lion. Vote him in. You too, Scarecrow. Have a brain. Morris belongs. And you ... you Tin Man?
Have a heart.
The facts --- the best thing of all --- speak for themselves.
The man dominated a decade. And nearly a generation. You play to win. He did just that, personified. Better than almost anyone who ever played the game.
"I'm melllll-tinnnnng."
That's right, that's the Wicked Witch. She needs to go away so more incredible baseball players like Jack Morris can find their way to Oz, AKA the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Best of luck, sir. You belong. I hated you as a White Sox fan. This is an honor you deserve.
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