Explaining the baseball Hall of Fame to the year 2000

There are so, so many things I would like to tell myself from 15 years ago. Buy Apple stock. Don’t worry so much about the FogDog.com stock. Don’t take the 2002 World Series so hard. Wear sunscreen. That sort of thing. Except now that I have a chance to do just that, I’m going to use this power to discuss the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. Because, clearly, this is the most important issue of our time.

Here, then, is a conversation with myself from January 6, 2000.

Hello, me from the past.

Oh, god, I grow up to be a shitty writer who pretends to talk with a version of himself from the past because he’s lazy and bad at his job.

You do! It’s not so bad. You have comfortable shoes, and your ***phone*** is also a ***video camera***! But we don’t have much time, so we’re here to talk about the Hall of Fame.

Sure, of course. We need to get the less serious stuff out of the way, though. Do they ever make a video game that’s better than “Ocarina of Time”?

No.

Does anyone ever make an album better than “I See a Darkness”?

No. But it’s possible -- possible -- that as I’ve aged, I’ve grown out of touch, and I’m not looking for new things like I used to. Mostly, though, I want to talk to you about baseball. Give me your thoughts about baseball.

I like baseball.

I mean, really give me your thoughts on baseball. What’s it like to watch baseball back there, back in 2000?

Dingers. Boy, people sure can hit dingers these days.

Right. But how does that make you feel?

I prefer a pitcher’s duel, to be honest. The tight anything-can-happen of a 1-0 game that bleeds into the late innings. The feeling of dread or anticipation when a runner reaches second in the bottom of the 11th of a scoreless game. But dingers are pretty neat. I like baseball.

Who are the stars of the game? Who’s getting the most attention?

Let’s see, there’s Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa, but there are also Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire. There are other guys -- this young kid, Alex Rodriguez, you should see him, probably the best ever -- but those guys still rule the game. They’re the brightest stars in the baseball universe

I remember the narrative being that McGwire and Sosa “saved baseball” after the strike, which seems hyperbolic and silly from the future.

That narrative is in play already. Maybe it’s a baseball nerd’s job to roll his or her eyes because, c’mon, it’s not like baseball was going to wither away and die without them.

Yeah, baseball was never going to turn into the XFL.

I don’t understand that reference.

Just make sure to write all the He Hate Me jokes first, when you have the chance. Save them. Treasure them. But the point is that no one player or duo of players was going to save a game that didn’t need saving.

Yeah, but at the same time ... I get it. I don’t know what it’s like in the future with flying cars and talking blenders, but I’ll bet there aren’t a lot of times when the world is buzzing about baseball. Like, the entire world. Wherever you go. My college roommate never considered turning on a baseball game. There was a lot of TV in the house, but she would have rather watched Bob Vila doing stretching exercises than baseball. Except there we all were, in 1998, watching as many Cardinals and Cubs games as they would broadcast. It was a communal thing. And when she didn’t watch them, she would ask what happened in them when I got home.

I had another friend give me a glossy, commemorative magazine-style celebration of the ‘98 home run chase. He didn’t care about baseball. Not that I knew of, anyway. He spent an hour at Christmas telling me about his favorite parts of the chase.

I’ll be honest with you: It’s almost impossible to comprehend that world from where I am.

It’s hard to comprehend here because ...

All aboard the dinger truck.

It’s hard to ...

Toot toot!

It’s hard to comprehend here because in 2015, McGwire and Sosa are about to fall off the ballot for the Hall of Fame.

Wait ... do they run into each other on the bases this year and die? I’m not prepared for that. Wait, no, I guess Sosa might be more of a Roger Maris type. He probably stops hitting.

No, he hits 50 home runs in 2000 and 64 the next year. Leads the league after that, finishes with 609 homers ... no cliffs.

So he’s a gambler. He couldn’t just play basketball for a year?

It’s the steroids. I don’t want to be the one to tell you this ... they all go down. They’re all on steroids.

Steroids?

All of them.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

Sorry, man.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa. Steroids? Of course they’re on steroids. They’re all on steroids.

Uh.

“‘Ello, I’m from the future, fancy your fortune, guv’nor?” Steroids. You aren’t from the future. You’re my friend, Terry. Stop screwing around, Terry.

You’re taking this well.

Seriously, everyone knows they’re on steroids. At least, we’re all guessing they are.

That’s what I thought, but I figured I was imagining that retroactively, like I was trying to justify my own feelings on the matter. But you’re right. Everyone had an idea.

What changed?

There was a big scandal, I guess. Remember when you would fake a stomach ache in middle school because you didn’t do your homework, and you would go to Mrs. Novitsky to call your mom? Remember how she had all those press clippings about her son, who was some sort of basketball player in college? Well, that guy grew up to dig through some trash behind a laboratory just a couple miles from where you are right now, and ...

You’re obviously making this up now.

Shortened story: Players get exposed. One guy writes a “thank you” note to his supplier on team stationery. Public opinion turns. The media gets nasty. There’s a best-selling book.

I have this theory, though. Just three seasons after McGwire and Sosa capture the world’s attention, Barry Bonds breaks the home run record. He hits 73 dingers, if you can believe it.

Yessssss. Ba-rry! Ba-rry! Ba-rry!

He’s clearly ‘roided up at the time.

Aw, nuts.

And it was just too much for everyone to take. The unspoken perception was that players were just going to get bigger and stronger and better, and that every record was going to fall. It took 37 seasons for someone to topple Maris, and it took 34 for Maris to topple Ruth. But Bonds came around and set a new record in three seasons. Instead of focusing on just how ridiculous it was -- and considering his seasons before and after -- how unlikely, even with the chemical help, people thought this was the new normal. That because of health risks that some players were willing to take and others weren’t, suddenly we were going to have to get used to 70 home runs all the time. It was too much. Baseball fans will put up with a lot of crap, but they won’t stand for anyone making the old-timers look silly. They certainly won’t stand for their records falling in some sort of untoward fashion.

If Bonds hits 55 homers that year, I don’t know, maybe the scandal still happens, but there isn’t enough vitriol to keep these players out of the Hall of Fame.

Wait, wait. Are you telling me that Bonds ...

Not in the Hall. Not yet. He’s at 36.8 percent and trending upward, ever so slightly. It’s unlikely he’ll get voted in, though.

No, I was expressing surprise that Bonds retired at all. But this is even worse. So even though he had a Hall of Fame career before this moment, the taint is enough to keep him out?

Exactly.

Weird. They’re all totally on steroids, though. It’s not a big deal. This is very, very disappointing. Do the Giants at least win one lousy World Series in the next 15 years?

They have a stretch of three in five years, actually. It’s amazing.

At least Barry has that, I guess. At least he has that.

Well ...

I guess these wavy motion lines mean you’ll be going. Goodbye, time-traveler. And thank you for depressing me.

Wait, forget about the FogDog stock! Buy Apple!

Got it. Don’t forget about the FogDog stock. You don’t do this shitty talk-to-yourself-from-the-past conceit often, do you?

No. But it was the only way I could wrap my head around how twisted this all got, somehow. There’s a Hall of Fame vote going on, and Sosa, McGwire, Bonds, Roger Clemens ... they’re all forgotten by the writers, as if baseball didn’t exist back then.

Steroids, eh? Weird. If you need me, I’ll be sitting in the corner for the next three months, waiting for baseball to start.

Best of luck.

I can’t wait to watch those dingers.