I sometimes refer to the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) as "masters of the obvious" when it comes to the Hall of Fame elections. Last year, the BBWAA voted in automatic, slam-dunk selections like Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn, even with misguided writers submitting blank ballots for self-righteous reasons. Yet, when it comes to subtler selections, players who weren’t iconic figures but were still dominant stars for extended periods of time, the Baseball Writers haven’t shown a similar aptitude.

The writers have a chance to rectify that situation this Tuesday, when the results of the 2008 election will be announced in New York City. (Alex Belth and Cliff Corcoran, will you be attending the press conference at the Waldorf-Astoria?) The litmus test will be provided by Rich "Goose" Gossage (as seen in this odd 1978 Topps card), who has been on the ballot for eight years and has never received more than the 71 per cent of the vote he picked up in 2007. The Goose was the most egregious omission on the 2007 ballot—an omission that serves as a black mark against the writers’ voting patterns in recent years. To me, it’s patently obvious that Gossage, who led the league in saves three times and finished second two other times, belongs in the Hall of Fame. Here are a few reasons why:

*For nine straight years, Gossage posted ERA’s of 2.90 or less. That’s right, from 1977 to 1985, Gossage didn’t have even one season with an ERA as high as 3.00. That’s a pretty long level of peak performances, without any bleak seasons to break up the string. Some of his ERAs were eye-popping during that stretch: 1.62, 2.01, and an unfathomable 0.77 in the strike year of 1981. And it’s not like he did that pitching as a situational reliever or in a one-inning, ninth inning, comfort role; he logged large numbers of innings during that time, far more than typical closers do in the current-day game.

*In recent years, Sabermetric research has shown the value of pitchers who can strike out large numbers of batters, thereby putting less pressure on the fielders behind them, reducing the element of bad luck base hits, and preventing baserunners from coming home on sacrifice flies. Well, Gossage was a Sabermetric dream in this respect, reaching 100-strikeout totals five different times as a reliever and matching Rollie Fingers’ career total. Bruce Sutter achieved that only three times. When it came to the pure power of the fastball, no relief ace of the 1970s could match The Goose.

*Gossage was an absolute workhorse. Unlike the fashionable pitching trends of today, which require one inning per night from a closer, Gossage often pitched the seventh, eighth, and ninth innings in recording saves. Four times in his career, he accumulated 100 or more innings while pitching out of the bullpen. Pitching for the 1978 World Champion Yankees, Gossage pitched more innings than either Jim "Catfish" Hunter or Jim Beattie, the team’s fourth and fifth starters. How many closers in today’s game log more innings than their teams’ No. 4 starters?

*Except for his legendary tangles with George Brett, Gossage was a superior reliever in the postseason. He generally excelled with the Yankees, but did struggle in his lone postseason showing with San Diego. Still, even with the problems he had facing Kirk Gibson, Goose put up terrific October numbers. Over a span of eight postseason series, he posted a 2.87 ERA with 29 strikeouts in 31 innings. He did his best postseason pitching in the World Series, with an ERA of 2.63 in 13 innings.

*One could make an argument that Gossage was the best reliever of the 1970s. Only Hall of Famers Fingers and Sutter can really take their rightful places in that argument. Is there not room in the Hall for a third reliever from the decade that introduced a spectacular level of relief pitching, a decade that included standouts like Bill Campbell, Gene Garber, John Hiller, Dave LaRoche, Sparky Lyle, Mike Marshall, Tug McGraw, and Kent Tekulve?

In my mind, Gossage was at least the second-best reliever of that era, just behind Fingers and perhaps the equal of Fingers. Gossage enjoyed a longer peak than Sutter, and also had the longer career. It’s still not clear to me why Sutter is in the Hall of Fame—and Gossage is not.

Hopefully the writers will rectify this inconsistency in 2008. History favors Gossage; any player who has received as much as 71 per cent of the vote from the writers has eventually breached the 75 per cent barrier. It will be very close, with Gossage likely to finish somewhere in the 73 to 77 per cent range, but I have a feeling that it will happen this time around. And the Hall will be a better place with The Goose nesting in Cooperstown during the final weekend in July.

Bruce Markusen is the author of "Cooperstown Confidential" at MLB.com and has written seven books on baseball.

Been enjoying poking my nose through my baseball library and selecting some cherce quotes, so here’s another one for ya. This one if from Foul Ball: Five Years in the American League, by Alison Gordon, who covered the Blue Jays from 1979-83. Gordon describes herself as “a socialist, feminist, hedonist with roots in the sixties, a woman who had marched against the bomb, done drugs, and never, ever even wanted to date the head jock at school, had nothing in common with these children of Ozzie and Harriet, locked in a fifties timewarp.” Some combination, huh? I enjoyed her take on Mr. October:

Undeniably a star with an extraordinary sense of the moment, Jackson was one of the most fascinating, but unpleasant, characters I encountered in baseball. It’s only a fluke I feel that way. There were some reporters I respect whom he liked and who assured me that Jackson was a sensitive and intelligent man, unfairly at the mercy of the sharks that surrounded him. It could be. I wouldn’t know because he thought I had a fin on my back, too. He was a bit like Billy Martin in that way. If you encountered either one on a good day you came away thinking he was a prince. On a bad day there were jerks. I never hit a good day with either one.

Had I not been a print reporter it would have been a different matter. Jackson loved television interviewers once the camera was turned on because this was an image he could control. He was wonderful in front of the cameras, self-effacing and God-fearing, all “Hi, Mom” and five-dollar words. Out of their range, he was completely unpredictable.

Being a reporter from the boonies didn’t help either. What importance could a reporter from Toronto have in the world of baseball, for heaven’s sake? I wasn’t Peter Gammons of the Boston Globe or Tom Boswell of the Washington Post, so why bother? I didn’t cover the Yankees or the Angels when he played for those teams. I wasn’t in the inner circle.

On the fringe, I wastched as he manipulated my colleagues, who practically tugged their forelocks in deference. He sighed at what he considered dumb questions while winking at the reporters who covered him daily, exempting them from his scorn. They ate it up. Then he would turn and snarl at the offender, asking him exactly what he meant by his question. He reduced the meek to jelly and enjoyed it. It made me ashamed of my profession to be reduced to acting a role in Jackson’ drama of the moment. The man was only a ballplayer, after all, whatever inflated importance he placed on it, and not that great a ballplayer either, day in and day out.

That these men are perceived to be more important than doctors or scientists or firemen or teachers, on the evidence of what they are paid, struck me often, but the disproportion never seemed greater than when I dealt with Jackson. Here was a supreme egotist with one skill, the ability to hit a baseball out of any park in the major leagues when the game was on the line, and for that he was deified by the fans…He exemplified none of the greater virtues of sport, team play and sportsmanship, but he was a greater hero than those who did.

And yet there was another side to him. He was kind to young players, dispensing bits of himself to star-struck rookies and making them feel at home on his turf. Once, in 1979, in Toronto, he was walked by Phil Huffman. He yelled at the young pitcher all the way to first base, accusing him of not having the guts to throw him a pitch he could hit. Huffman, cocky himself, yelled right back. A week later, in New York, in the last game Huffman would pitch in the major leagues, in his eighteenth loss of the season, Huffman struck Jackson out. When the game was over and Huffman was packing up his stuff, the clubhouse attendant walked up to him at his locker and handed him a baseball. It was inscribed “To Phil—I admire your toughness. Reggie Jackson.”

I admired the gesture, which meant a lot to Huffman, but I also saw it as an extraordinarily condescending thing to do to a player who was, after all, a fellow major leaguer, not a beseeching twelve-year-old fan. But I’m sure that baseball now holds a place of pride among Huffman’s souvenirs.

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The year has turned, and that means in six weeks, pitchers and catchers report and all will be right in the world again, as long as no MLBers are using needles or ingesting growth hormones to pad their stats and subsequently, their bank accounts.

For this entry, I’d like to take a break from the negativity that has pervaded coverage this offseason and turn this blog over to you, since this column is as much yours as it is mine. I also appreciate the feedback and want to give you, the readers, what you want.

In looking at ideas for tweaking this year’s installment, I ask you, what changes, if any, would you like me to make? One thing I’d like to do is be more consistent with the Yankees vs. Mets backpage counter during the season. I’ll also try to incorporate more links when applicable.

There’s a lot of ground to cover both in traditional and non-traditional media when it comes to covering the Yankees. Who gets it right? Who does it best or worst? Who does the best job of providing both pertinent information that you can’t get anywhere else, and also serving as the eyes and ears of the fan? What can the traditional types learn from the bloggers and vice versa? Read the Dick Young piece that Alex Belth referenced further down on the page. Do we want our media to have that much influence on affecting the way teams do business? Is that right? With big corporations owning the outlets, is there an alternative? (It can’t be a "Rollerball" environment already). These are the questions I try to answer on a weekly basis; you all were a tremendous help — even when you were ripping me — in 2007. I’m continually impressed at the intelligent commentary that this and every other column spawns on the Banter.

As many of you know, I covered the Yankees from 2002-2006 for YESNetwork.com. The site and the network are not off-limits, but because I still have ties and many colleagues there, I need to be sensitive to any and all YES references. And as I said in my introduction last year, I will not bash my former colleagues on the beat, but I will be critical. To me, that means not automatically accepting what’s put in front of me as truth. I ask questions, analyze and look at the broader scope.

So now it’s your turn. Thank you for making me feel welcome here in 2007, and keep the suggestions coming in ’08.

Until next week …

Red Smith is often considered the greatest sports columnist of them all. He came to New York after the second World War to work for Stanley Woodward at the Herald Tribune. Later, he moved to the Times. Unlike Dick Young, Smith found himself becoming less reactionary as he grew older, which is notable when you consider their respective takes of the changing nature of the game during the Marvin Miller Era. Here is Smith, from a 1972 interview in Jerome Holtzman’s classic oral history, No Cheering from the Press Box:

Unlike the normal pattern, I know I have grown more liberal as I’ve grown older. I have become more convinced that there is room for improvement in the world. I seem to be finding this a much less pretty world than it seemed when I was younger, and I feel things should be done about it and sports are part of this world. Maybe I’m sounding too damn profound or maybe I’m taking bows when I shouldn’t. I truly don’t know. But I do know I am more liberal and probably one of the reasons is that I married not only Phyllis, who is younger and more of today than I was, but I married five stepchildren who are very much of the current generation. They are very good friends and very articulate, and I think that this association has helped me to have a younger and fresher view.

My sympathies almost always have been on the side of the underdog, or the guy I think is the underdog. There was a time when I was more inclined to go along with the establishment. It may be because I’m no longer traveling with a baseball club and no longer exposed to the establishment day in and day out. I supported the players this past season when they went on that historic thirteen-day strike. No that I do a column, I can stand there, a little removed, and look at what the Charlie Finleys and Bowie Kuhns are doing.

When I first heard about Marvin Miller—the players’ man—I didn’t hear anything favorable. I heard complaints from owners and club executives about how these ball players were putting themselves into the hands of a bloody labor organizer, a steel mill guy. I remember hearing one player, Dick Groat, saying he was in Pittsburgh and how he saw some of the results of union operations and that he wasn’t in favor of it. He voted against employing Miller, as some other ball players did.

Then I began to hear that Miller is a pretty smart guy, seems like a nice guy. The owners and the hierarchy, like the league presidents and such, were beginning to be very discreet in their remarks about Marvin. I had never met him until the winter baseball meetings in Mexico City, in 1968. I introduced myself. Since then, when there has been a newsworthy dispute in baseball—and there have been a lot of them—I have found I get straighter answers from Marvin than from anyone else I know in baseball. I have yet to find any trace of evidence that he’s ever told me an untruth.

There have been times when he has said, “I think I had better not talk about that now,” which is understandable. I don’t doubt for a moment that he knows he’s talking for publication and he’s going to tell me what he thinks will look good on his side of the argument. But as far as I know, it’s the absolute truth. More honest than most.

I chose this quote not because I think being liberal makes a person morally superior, but as a counterpoint to Young’s attitudes. Now, here is another meaty quote, and something that is still relevant today:

I won’t deny that the heavy majority of sportswriters, myself included, have been and still are guilty of puffing up the people they write about. I remember one time when Stanley Woodward, my beloved leader, was on the point of sending me a wire during spring training, saying, “Will you stop Godding up those ball players?” I didn’t realize what I had been doing. I thought I had been writing pleasant little spring training columns about ball players.

If we’ve made heroes out of them, and we have, then we must also lay a whole set of false values at the doorsteps of historians and biographers. Not only has the athlete been blown up larger than life, but so have the politicians and celebrities in all fields, including rock singers and movie stars.

When you go through Westminster Abbey you’ll find that excepting for that little Poets’ Corner almost all of the statues and memorials are to killers. To generals and admirals who won battles, whose specialty was human slaughter. I don’t think they’re such glorious heroes.

I’ve tried not to exaggerate the glory of athletes. I’d rather, if I could, preserve a sense of proportion, to write about them as excellent ball players, first-rate players. But I’m sure I have contributed to false values—as Stanley Woodward said, “Godding up those ball players.”

I know I “God up” ball players. It’s hard not to when you are a fan (see Roger Angell). It seems as if the sporting press–who are not, first and foremost, fans–puff the jocks up, only to delight in tearing them down. But that holds true for our entire celebrity culture, not just the sports department. What Smith talked about is just accelerated, heightened now.

On cue, here is the latest from Hank Steinbrenner re: Johan Santana:

“I think the Twins realize our offer is the best one,” Steinbrenner said Wednesday in a telephone interview. “I feel confident they’re not going to trade him before checking with us one last time and I think they think we’ve already made the best offer.”

…Steinbrenner said the offer “does not include two of the three young pitchers” – Phil Hughes and Ian Kennedy, from a group that also includes untouchable Joba Chamberlain – “but it’s still the best one. And let’s face it, we’re the best able to handle the kind of contract (extension) Santana will be after.”

…”I either have to do it (a Santana deal) or don’t do it, same thing for the Red Sox, I guess,” Steinbrenner added. “I think the Twins would like to keep him, so I don’t think there’s any hurry on anyone’s part. It all depends on what he asks for in an extension. You obviously have to be very careful with pitchers, for obvious reasons.”
(Anthony McCarron, N.Y. Daily News)

Big talk. Enough to make you wince. But you know the old line. Don’t let your mouth write a check…

So far, it seems as if there is nothing affordable about the new Yankee Stadium. Juan Gonzalez has the latest in the Daily News.

In 2008, Hank Steinbrenner emerged as new voice of the Yankees. He’s good for a quote, though he’s got some big shoes to fill. Speaking of Old Lions, dig this quote from Darryl F Zanuck, “The Last Movie Tycoon:”

“We had a great preview up to the last ten minutes. Then the bottom dropped out. It ended on a laugh and it was no comedy. The preview cards were average, mostly marked fair, but gave us no clues to the ending. (God, how I hate audiences.) Suddenly, that non-existent, invisible bug whispered in my ear, as it had done all my life. I had the answer. I started to talk. Before I was half through the first sentence, the director Michael Curtiz yelled ‘Wonderful! Darryl! Yes! Yes!’

“I glared at him and said, ‘For Christ’s sake don’t say yes until I finish talking!'”

From Don’t Say Yes Until I Finish Talking by Mel Gussow

Sir, yessir!

This year for Christmas, my secret Santa (my step-sister’s husband) got me a 1996 World Series baseball autographed by Joe Torre. How cool is that? I don’t care much about autographs but this one I like. It’s the perfect gift to get from a secret Santa. Thoughtful.

One of the things I’m most excited about 2008 is the release of The Best Sports Writing of Pat Jordan, a book I edited, with help from Gabe Fried at Persea books and Pat himself. As I’ve mentioned on the Banter previously, Jordan played with Torre in the Braves’ minor league system in the early ’60s.

In 1996, Pat did a piece on Joe Torre for the New York Times magazine in the middle of the summer as the team was surging then slumping. It wasn’t a long profile or a particularly memorable one. By Jordan’s own admission, it is a minor piece. The story did not make the cut for our collection; in fact, it didn’t make the B-list. However, I have a couple of drafts of the story, one called “The Patience of Joe,” and another one, completely restructured, called “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?” that have some good stuff in ’em.

Here is the begining and end of Pat’s working draft of “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?”

Joe Torre, the New York Yankees’ manager, is sitting behind his desk in his office off the clubhouse in Yankee Stadium, talking to Rick Cerrone, the team’s director of media relations, while making out today’s line-up card.

Torre is a big, dark, sinister-looking man of 55. He has the blocky build of a professional wrestler, The Villain, recently gone on a diet. He has dark, olive-colored skin, black stubble of beard, and bushy black eyebrows that hand low over his threatening, black eyes. He does look villainous…a Mexican bandito about to pillage a town of peasants…a vengeful Saracan warrior about to sack the camp of a hated enemy.

A sportswriter barges in, unannounced. He starts haranguing Cerrone over his late-arriving press credentials which caused him to be an hour late for his interview with Torre. The sportswriter’s face is flushed with anger. Torre’s threatening eyes shift up, only the whites showing. Torre stands, a dark, threatening presence. He raises his hands, palms out, as if to fend off heat.

“Calm down,” he says, almost pleading. “Calm down. I’ll give you all the time you need. Have some coffee. Someone get him some coffee. Please!”

When Torre was a pudgy, 20-year-old catcher in the Milwaukee Braves’ minor league farm system in 1960, he looked every bit as old and dark and threatening as he does now. He always looked like an old man playing a young man’s game. At 20, Torre would waddle out to the pitcher’s mound in his catching gear to confront his baby-faced pitcher, red-faced, furious, kicking the dirt, making a spectacle of himself, embarrassing himself and his teammates because of their latest error. (Torre never embarrasses his players, he says, because, “I hit .360 one year, and .240 another, and I know I tired just as hard both years.” When Yankees’ rookie shortstop, Derek Jeter, made a crucial error that lost a game in August, Torre said, “He’s played his tail off for us and has won a lot of games. More than the error, that’s what to keep in mind.” Which is why, Wade Boggs, the Yanks’ veteran third baseman calls Torre, “A player’s manager.”)

Even at 20, Torre knew not to embarrass his teammates, and when he saw his young pitcher doing it, thrashing around the mound, he would stop ten feet from his raging pitcher, raises his hands, palms out, and say, in the same, pleading voice he uses today, “Calm down. Relax. We’ll get ’em for you. Don’t worry.”

After Torre has calmed the sportswriter, he says, “I have a temper, I just don’t vent it. (He also has stomach troubles.) Maybe it’s more healthy to show emotion. I don’t know. I’m a patient person.”

Torre always played the game with the patience of an older man. Even at 20, he had what was called “a professional attitude.” Which meant he approached the game unemotionally, diligently, doggedly, the only way possible if a player is to fashion a long career over 100-plus games a year. Each season, each game, each inning even, can be a lifetime of emotional highs and lows. Young players, furious pitchers, caught up in those emotional high and lows don’t last long in the game. Torre lasted 17 years. He finished his playing career with a lifetime .297 batting average and is the only player to be voted the National League’s Most Valuable Player, in 1971, when he led the league in both batting, .363 and runs batted in, 137, and the National League’s Manager of the Year, in 1982, when he led the Atlanta Braves to a division title. This is Torre’s 15th season as a manager (New York Mets, Atlanta, St. Louis Cardinals) and his first with the Yankees, who are leading the American League East with the third best record in baseball, and are considered one of three teams with the best chance at winning the World Series, the last of which the Yankees won in 1978.

Torre has blended a team of youthful players and grizzled veterans, born again Christians and recovering substance abusers, into arguably one of the most well-balanced teams in baseball. The present-day Yankees play an unremarkably adept game Torre calls “a National League game. We grind it out, one run at a time.” The Yankees pick away at their opponents, a single, a stolen base, a sacrifice bunt, a sacrifice fly ball, and a run, in a way that makes every player feel he’s contributing to their success.

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So, I know this is kind of a bummer way to end the year, but I was doing some research not so long ago and stumbled across the Dick Young article that effectively sent Tom Seaver packing from the Mets, the one where Young brought up Nolan Ryan and his wife. This is Dick Young at his absolute, mean-spirited, vicious worst, shilling for M Donald Grant:

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More on Rock. Once again, from Rich Lederer, who breaks down the Bill James Abstract take on Raines from the 80s, and this, a fine Q&A with Jonah Keri.

Seriously bad news for a former Yankee. The story was originally reported in the Miami Herald.

With this representing the final installment of Pastime Passings for 2007, it’s an appropriate time to pay homage to some of the baseball people we’ve lost over the final months of the year. Here are tributes to those who have passed away, both broadcasters and players, during the months of October, November, and December.

Stu Nahan (Died on December 26 in Studio City, CA; age 81; lymphoma): A well-known presence on the Los Angeles sports scene since the 1950s, Nahan most recently worked on Dodgers broadcasts as a pre- and post-game host for KFWB Radio. After retiring from a journeyman hockey career as a minor league goaltender, he became a go-fer for veteran broadcaster Bob Kelley on Pacific Coast League broadcasts for the Los Angeles Angels. He eventually became a play-by-play man for the minor league Modesto Reds before hosting nightly sports reports on KCRA TV in Sacramento. In 1968, he returned to Los Angeles to anchor sports reports, working at a variety of local stations before being dismissed in 1999. Nahan also gained national acclaim for playing commentators in feature films, including Brian’s Song, Private Benjamin, and all six incarnations of Rocky. In one of his most memorable appearances, Nahan played himself while interviewing the lead character of Jeff Spicoli (portrayed by Sean Penn) in the 1982 hit, Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Tommy Byrne (Died on December 20 in Wake Forest, NC; age 87; congestive heart failure): A hard-throwing left-hander with a reputation for wildness, Byrne pitched for four American League teams from 1943 to 1957. He was best remembered for his tenure with the Yankees, his first and last major league team. Pitching in three different stints for the Yankees, Byrne earned selection to the All-Star Game in 1950 and appeared in four World Series. In 21 postseason innings, he struck out 11 batters while forging an impressive ERA of 2.53. Nicknamed "Wild Bill," Byrnes led the league in walks three times. An intimidating pitcher who liked to throw inside, he led the league in hit batsmen five times. Byrnes could hit almost as well as he could throw hard fastballs. He batted .238 during his career (143-for-601) with 14 home runs, including two grand slams. In addition to the Yankees, Byrnes pitched for the St. Louis Browns, Chicago White Sox, and Washington Senators during his 13-year career. After his playing days, he served as the mayor of his hometown in Wake Forest for 15 years.

Don Chevrier (Died on December 18 in Tampa, FL; age 69; blood thinning disorder): The first television play-by-play man in the history of the Toronto Blue Jays, Chevrier became known as the primary sports voice of CBC, the Canadian network. Described as the "voice of God" by former CBC executive Rick Brace, Chevrier featured a booming baritone that helped make him popular with Canadian viewers. As the first TV voice of the Jays, he partnered with former Yankees star Tony Kubek to form a memorable broadcasting tandem. Chevrier also became close friends with another Toronto broadcasting icon, the late Tom Cheek, who died in 2005. The versatile Chevrier did play-by-play on Canadian Football League Grey Cup telecasts while also becoming the CBC’s voice of curling. He also did work for ABC TV in the United States, including "Monday Night Baseball" and boxing broadcasts, where he frequently teamed with Howard Cosell.

Bob Marquis (Died on November 28 in Beaumont, TX; age 82): Marquis played one season for the Cincinnati Reds, appearing in 40 games in 1953. The left-handed hitting outfielder batted .273 with two home runs in 44 at-bats. A U.S. Navy veteran, Marquis had previously served in the military during World War II.

Joe Kennedy (Died on November 23 in Tampa, FL; age 28; cause of death unknown pending an autopsy): The seven-year veteran left-hander, who had pitched for three major league teams in 2007, collapsed in the bedroom of his wife’s parents while preparing to serve as the best man at a Florida wedding. He was taken to nearby Brandon Hospital, but was pronounced dead shortly after arrival. The cause of his death remains undetermined, pending the results of an autopsy.

Drafted in the eighth round of the 1998 amateur draft by the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, Kennedy made his big league debut in 2001, marking the start of a three-year tenure in Tampa Bay. Establishing a reputation for his competitiveness on the mound, Kennedy gave the Rays hope of finding an ace for the top of their rotation. Making 72 starts for the D-Rays, Kennedy pitched well at times, but suffered from a lack of run support, accounting for a record of 18-31. After the 2003 season, the Devil Rays traded him to the Colorado Rockies, where he would enjoy his finest season. Despite pitching half of his games at Coors Field, Kennedy posted a 3.66 ERA while winning nine of 16 decisions. He never matched that level of triumph again, eventually bouncing to the Oakland A’s. After starting the 2007 season with Oakland, Kennedy was released, signed by the Arizona Diamondbacks, released for a second time, and then signed by the Toronto Blue Jays. Kennedy became a free agent at season’s end; in spite of his recent struggles, he was expected to receive offers from the Blue Jays and potentially several other teams. Over his seven seasons, Kennedy posted a record of 43-61 with a 4.79 ERA in 908 innings.

Kennedy became the second active major leaguer to pass away in the last two years. In 2006, former Yankee right-hander Cory Lidle (a onetime teammate of Kennedy) died just days after New York was eliminated by Detroit in the American League Division Series. Kennedy is survived by his wife and one-year-old son.

Joe Nuxhall (Died on November 16 in Ohio; age 79; non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma): Nuxhall was best known for being the youngest major leaguer of the 20th century, pitching in a 1944 game for the Cincinnati Reds at the age of 15 years, ten months, and 11 days. Nuxhall struggled badly in his wartime debut, giving up five runs on five walks and two hits in only two-thirds of an inning against the first-place St. Louis Cardinals. Undeterred, he spent the rest of the season in the minor leagues, returned to high school in the fall, and then continued a long baseball apprenticeship in the minor leagues before making it back to the Reds in 1951, seven years after his debut. Nuxhall would last 16 seasons in the majors, establishing himself as a solid left-handed pitcher in the mid-1950s. A two-time All-Star, Nuxhall led the National League in shutouts in 1955. Except for brief stints with the Kansas City A’s and LA Angels, Nuxhall remained with Cincinnati through the 1966 season, when he retired with 135 wins and over 1,300 strikeouts. The following spring, "The Ol’ Lefthander" returned to the Reds as a broadcaster, continuing what would become a 63-year association with the franchise.

Matthew Wasser (Died on October 24 in Waltham, Massachusetts; age 22): A member of the Yankees’ media relations department, Wasser was assisting the Boston Red Sox with statistical work during the American League Championship Series at the time of his death. Wasser was killed when his taxi was struck by a suspected drunken driver. The driver, Lawrence P. Laine, was arrested and charged with operating under the influence of alcohol.

Wasser had joined the Yankees only last spring, working with both local and national in media. He was scheduled to graduate from the College of New Jersey in December. As a tribute to Wasser, the Yankees sent his family a signed baseball to be placed in his casket.

Owen "Red" Friend (Died on October 14 in Wichita, Kansas; age 80): After signing with the St. Louis Browns in 1944, Friend made his major league debut five years later. A defensive-minded infielder with the ability to handle second, short, or third, Friend played two seasons with the Browns before missing two years while serving in the U.S. military during the Korean War. He returned to the big leagues in 1953, splitting the season between the Detroit Tigers and Cleveland Indians. He later played for the Boston Red Sox and Chicago Cubs before his major league career ended in 1956. After his playing days, Friend became a minor league manager, scouted for the Houston Astros and Baltimore Orioles, and served on Joe Gordon’s inaugural coaching staff with the expansion Kansas City Royals in 1969.

Don Nottebart (Died on October 4 in Cypress, TX; age 71; effects of a recent stroke): Nottebart was best known for throwing the first no-hitter in the history of the Houston Astros/Colt .45s franchise. Pitching for the Colt .45s on May 17, 1963, the right-hander set down the Philadelphia Phillies, 4-1. Nottebart allowed a single run in the fifth inning through little fault of his own—a two-base error followed by a sacrifice bunt and a sacrifice fly. Using a devastating slider, Nottebart struck out eight Phillies and walked three in pitching the no-hitter at Colt Stadium. He would finish the 1963 season with a record of 11-8 and a 3.17 ERA. Over the course of a nine-year career, Nottebart won 66, lost 96, and posted an ERA of 3.65. A veteran of the Colts, Astros, Milwaukee Braves, and Cincinnati Reds, Nottebart saw his career come to an end in 1969, when he split the season between the Yankees and Chicago Cubs.

Bunky Stewart (Died on October 3 in Wilmington, NC; age 76): A veteran of five major league seasons, Stewart pitched for the Washington Senators from 1952 to 1956. The left-hander finished his career with a record of 5-11 and six saves. All five of his wins came in his final season, when he logged a career-high 105 innings.

Bruce Markusen is the author of "Cooperstown Confidential" at MLB.com. He can be reached via e-mail at bmark@telenet.net.

Why bother blogging when Rich Lederer is doing such a bang-up job? Rich has long championed Bert Blyleven’s candidacy for the Hall of Fame (hey, Bill Conlin is actually voting for Blyleven this year). Now, he takes on a new case: Rock Raines. If you think I’ve beat this horse into the ground already, well, get used to it. I’m on the Raines bandwagon.

Okay, here’s a random question for the day: If you could read a biography of any sports writer who would it be? And I’m not talking about a book that has already been written. Or maybe the better question is this: What major sports writer most deserves a serious biography? Jim Murray, Dick Young, W.C. Heinz? Who would you be interested in reading about?

Aw man, sorry for being out-of-the-loop for a minute there, guys. Got caught up in the holidaze and, well, there wasn’t any pressing news that needed to be covered anyhow. One guy who hasn’t let the year-end festivities slow him down, is my old pal, Rich Lederer, who has a terrific Q&A with veteran baseball writer Tracy Ringolsby up at The Baseball Analysts. Here’s a bit about Rock Raines:

Rich: You sent me an email last year, saying that you had come around on Blyleven. I commend you for being open minded on the subject and changing your vote. My next project is to have you see the light on Raines. I would be remiss if I let the comparison to Coleman go by without comment. Yes, they both played left field, led off, and stole a lot of bases. But, other than that, the difference between Raines and Coleman is like night and day. Raines hit .294/.385/.425; Coleman, .264/.324/.345. That’s 141 points of OPS. Over the course of their careers, Raines got on base twice as often and had twice as many total bases as Coleman.

I know you referenced their top five years, but the truth is that Raines (.334/.413/.476 with an OPS+ of 151) was a much better player than Coleman (.292/.340/.400 with an OPS+ of 104) at their respective peaks, too. I don’t think the five-year numbers are much different. We agree on Coleman. He’s not a Hall of Famer. But we disagree on Raines. I believe he is very worthy. I hope you keep an open mind on Raines and give him a closer look next year.

Tracy: That’s probably not the only one we disagree on. Raines will have to get in line for me, behind Dawson and Murphy and Rice, while I still try and sort those three out. I know there is support for each of them, but I guess what I have the hardest time dealing with is why Rice’s support seems stronger when I would put him third out of the three, and I’m not convinced yet on any of the three. Now that’s where a vote gets difficult because I have so much respect for the people that Dawson and Murphy are that it is hard not to put them on my ballot.

With all due respect, how long does it take to sort out candidates like Dawson, Murphy and Rice, guys who have been on the ballot for a good while now? I read one baseball writer’s list recently, and a guy he voted for last year isn’t get his vote this year, and vice versa. It’s frustrating to read about the voting process at times, but, ah, what am I getting steamed for? This is the Hall of Fame we’re talking about. Tom Yawkey’s got a plaque in the jernt. Never mind.

It’s been more than a week since the Report’s release, and the Yankees have been at the center of the coverage and analysis. Of the 86 names released in the 409-page document — how many of you have downloaded it? — 22 were Yankees, either past or present, with Roger Clemens and Andy Pettitte at the forefront.

What surprised me at the outset was the experts’ surprise at Clemens’ inclusion in the report. Ever since BALCO broke four years ago, Clemens’ name has been sprinkled among prominent players on the accused list of PED (performance enhancing drug) use.

"I don’t want to believe it," John Kruk said during the Mitchell Report special aired on ESPN that afternoon. He then contradicted himself by saying that as players age, they should not get better, and that since Clemens did, that’s a possible indicator of foul play.

"In my days as a general manager, I had heard rumors of Clemens using steroids, but I always attributed his success to his tremendous work ethic," Steve Phillips said on the same program.

Curt Schilling’s Dec. 19 post on 38pitches.com was interesting, gripping and will certainly be a talking point for a while. In his 3,200-word post, he wrote that if Clemens is found guilty, he should return the four Cy Young Awards he won in the time frame of the era in question, but that if he’s clean, he should come forth and declare it, as Albert Pujols did in response to WNBC-TV’s indefensible release of incorrect names two hours before Senator Mitchell’s press conference. If you’re going to scoop someone, at least make sure you have the facts and corroborate the sources.

The evidence presented by Jose De Jesus Ortiz in the Houston Chronicle supports that. Ortiz wrote that Clemens’ name was wrongly included in an LA Times story published last year on the players included in Jason Grimley’s affidavit, which at the time were redacted.

A few of the accused have, in fact, come forward and admitted their usage, like Brian Roberts, Jay Gibbons, and most notably, Pettitte. Pettitte’s admission was strange, particularly the "if what I did was an error in judgment" line. HGH was still illegal to obtain without a prescription in 2002, so yes, committing a crime was an error in judgment. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," is akin to the Chewbacca defense.

On ESPN.com, Jemele Hill called Pettitte’s admission a farce, comparing the statement to "smoking weed for glaucoma." Her analogy may be a bit extreme (doctors in more than a dozen states can prescribe medicinal marijuana to glaucoma patients), but I understand Hill’s skepticism and the tone of her reaction. Every player who admits guilt or professes innocence will have his words interpreted 12 ways from Sunday, dissected for tone and leaving us to question the athlete’s contrition.

I credit Pettitte for issuing some sort of response to defend himself, given that one of his closest associates, trainer Brian McNamee, sold him out. And judging from my interpretation of Pettitte in covering him for two years, I believe he was sincere.

The media will be split in their interpretations of the admissions and their perceptions of the players who come forward — or don’t — because of their inclusion in the report. Friday’s opening of Kirk Radomski’s sealed affidavit, as well as Grimsley’s, could lead to an even bleaker picture of the game. In addition, journalistically and legally, the public release of those documents could change the way we access information, regarding what becomes public record.

* * * * *

In terms of overall coverage, ESPN had the broadest and covered the most angles. I’m actually surprised they haven’t developed a microsite within the MLB index solely devoted to the Mitchell Report. The timing of ESPN forming its investigative team could not have been better. T.J. Quinn, Mark Fainaru-Wada, Shaun Assael, Howard Bryant, and Mike Fish were all over the report and finding stories behind the stories. It gives me hope that good journalism, even in the sports field, where traditionalists and professors still cringe at the juxtaposition of sports and journalism, exists.

The reporting has been generally well-founded, and I’m surprised that since the Report was released, fewer writers have rushed to the morality soapbox. That’s been left to the politicians. As a fan and a realist, I’m not a fan of the romanticization and preservation of the myth of purity in baseball or any other sport. Regardless of how much testing there is, or how severe the penalties are for the athletes who test positive, there will always be cheating. People will always look for an edge. It doesn’t just occur in athletics, it’s everywhere.

* * * * *

David Justice’s inclusion in the report is surprising on one hand, but then not, when you look at the sharp decline after the 2000 (age 34) season. Declaring his innocence on Colin Cowherd’s ESPN Radio show is not exactly a way to boost credibility, either. (I apologize to fans of The Herd, but the way he treated Sean Taylor’s death was disgraceful, and having a segment called "Spanning the Globe" when all the news within the segment comes from within the U.S. is an insult to our intelligence.)

YES has not stated whether it will keep Justice as an analyst next year. How they treat the situation, and how KHTK Radio in Sacramento handles the broadcast career of F.P. Santangelo, may determine how other outlets who have hired ex-players named in the Report deal with the analysts and the allegations made against them.

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In other Yankee News, Buster Olney writes that the Yankees might be coming around to the Joba Chamberlain bullpen theory I’ve advocated in this space for several months.

Alex Belth has the full excerpt below.

Finally … Alex Rodriguez’s "60 Minutes" interview was illuminating, particularly the description of the depth of his rift with Scott Boras, and his admission that opting out of the contract was a mistake. But even though he came across as sincere, I had to laugh when A-Rod called the opt-out scenario and the subsequent series of events "a bad nightmare." As opposed to the good kind?

Here’s to hoping you all have a safe holiday free of bad nightmares, PEDs and long legal documents.

From Buster Olney’s column today over at ESPN.com:

Heard this: If all goes well in spring training for the Yankees, Joba Chamberlain is likely to start next season in the Yankees’ bullpen, as part of the team’s effort to limit his innings. Chamberlain will go to spring training and, at the outset, prepare to pitch out of the rotation, along with five other rotation candidates: Chien-Ming Wang, Andy Pettitte, Phil Hughes, Mike Mussina and Ian Kennedy. Assuming that none of the other five has a physical or performance breakdown, Chamberlain would then open 2008 in the bullpen, as a set-up man, for at least the start of the season — under the Joba Rules.

The Yankees want to restrict the number of innings Chamberlain throws, and working him out of the bullpen for at least a couple of months will allow them to do that. Chamberlain may return to the rotation sometime in the middle of the season, depending on the Yankees’ needs.

I can’t imagine the thought of Chamberlain pitching out of the pen next season will sit well with many of you. Whatta ya hear, whatta ya say?

There’s a myth about Reggie Jackson that most of the controversy and conflict in his career took place during his five seasons with the Yankees. That’s really not the case. While his battles of ego with Billy Martin and George Steinbrenner garnered the most media attention of his career, Jackson was just as controversial during his days in Oakland. He butted heads with manager Dick Williams and most of his coaching staff. He once fought Billy North, a onetime friend who had become a mortal enemy by 1974. Jackson frequently sparred with A’s owner/general manager Charlie Finley, who could make Boss Steinbrenner look like Charles Ingalls by comparison. One of Jackson’s controversial episodes bordered on silliness, but it was just the kind of occurrence that made life with Finley’s A’s so entertaining.

In 1972, Jackson, reported to Oakland’s spring training camp in Arizona replete with a fully-grown mustache (as seen in his 1972 Topps card, No. 435), the origins of which had begun to sprout during the 1971 American League Championship Series. To the surprise of his teammates, Jackson had used part of his off-season to allow the mustache to reach a fuller bloom. In addition, Jackson bragged to teammates that he would not only wear the mustache, but possibly a beard, come Opening Day.

Such pronouncements would have hardly created a ripple in today’s game. Players freely make bold fashion statements with mustaches and goatees, and routinely wear previously disdained accessories like earrings. It’s really no big deal in 2007. But this was 1972, still a conservative time within the sport, in stark contrast to the rebellious attitudes of younger generations throughout the country. Given that no major league player had been documented wearing a mustache in the regular season since Wally Schang of the Philadelphia A’s in 1914, Jackson’s pronouncements made major news in 1972.

In the post-Schang era, several players had donned mustaches during spring training, including Stanley "Frenchy" Bordagaray of the Brooklyn Dodgers in the mid-1930s and, more recently, Richie Allen of the St. Louis Cardinals and Clete Boyer of the Atlanta Braves in the first two years of the seventies. (Allen’s 1971 Topps card shows the mustache in clear view, but it’s believed that the Dodger Stadium photograph was taken just before the start of the season.) Yet, in each case, the player had shaved off the mustache by Opening Day, either by his own volition or because of a mandate from the team. After all, there existed an unwritten rule within the conservative sport, one that strongly frowned upon facial hair. In addition, several individual teams had more recently instituted their own formal policies (most notably the Cincinnati Reds in the 1960s), policies that forbade their players from sporting facial hair.

Baseball’s conservative grooming standards, which had been in place for over 50 years, were now being threatened by one of the game’s most visible players. Not surprisingly, Jackson’s mustachioed look quickly cornered the attention of Charlie Finley and Dick Williams. "The story as I remember it," says former A’s first baseman Mike Hegan, "was that Reggie came into spring training… with a mustache, and Charlie didn’t like it. So he told Dick to tell Reggie to shave it off. And Dick told Reggie to shave it off, and Reggie told Dick what to do. This got to be a real sticking point, and so I guess Charlie and Dick had a meeting, and they said well, ‘Reggie’s an individual so maybe we can try some reverse psychology here.’ Charlie told a couple of other guys, I don’t know whether it was [Dave] Duncan, or Sal [Bando], or a few other guys to start growing a mustache. Then, [Finley figured that if] a couple of other guys did it, Reggie would shave his off, and you know, everything would be OK."

According to A’s captain Sal Bando, Finley wanted to avoid having a direct confrontation with Jackson over the mustache. For one of the few times in his tenure as A’s owner, Finley showed a preference for a subtle, more indirect approach. "Finley, to my knowledge," says Bando, "did not want to go tell Reggie to shave it. So he thought it would be better to have all of us grow mustaches. That way, Reggie wouldn’t be an ‘individual’ [anymore]." Rollie Fingers, Catfish Hunter, Darold Knowles, and Bob Locker followed Reggie’s lead, each sprouting his own mustache. Instead of making Jackson feel less individualistic, thus prompting him to adopt his previously clean-shaven look, the strategy had a reverse and unexpected effect on Finley.

"Well, as it turned out, guys started growing ‘em, and Charlie began to like it," says Hegan in recalling the origins of baseball’s "Mustache Gang." Finley offered a cash incentive to any player who had successfully grown a mustache by Father’s Day. "So then we all had to grow mustaches," says Hegan, "and that’s how all that started. By the time we got to the [regular] season, almost everybody had mustaches." Even Dick Williams, known for his military brush-cut and clean-shaven look during his managerial tenure in Boston, would join the facial brigade by growing a patchy, scraggly mustache of his own. Baseball’s longstanding hairless trend had officially come to an end.

And as always, Finley had found a way to profit from it.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Bruce Markusen, who writes Cooperstown Confidential for MLB.com, is the author of the upcoming book, Out of Left Field: Unusual Characters in Baseball History.

Knick fans have been called the most loyal of all New York sporting fans. The fact that the Garden still draws crowds with the organization in its current state (i.e. shambles) says something about the Knick faithful. Maybe the rattle-your-jewelry crowd just needs a place to keep warm. I don’t know how anyone but a complete boob or a die-hard fan could go to the Garden to watch this horrid excuse for a team. The call for Isiah Thomas’ job has reached new heights in recent days (despite the fact the Knicks actually won a game last night). But I’m afraid that with Jim Dolan running the team, Thomas is only part of the problem. Still, he can’t split soon enough for most of us who care even a little. The sooner we’re rid of this snake-oil salesman the better.

Which brings me to another bit from an old Sport magazine that I ran across recently, circa 1976. From a cover story on Earl Monroe (the original “Magic” though he’s of course better known as “Pearl”) by Woody Allen:

My impressions of Monroe [when he played for Balitmore]? I immediately ranked him with Willie Mays and Sugar Ray Robinson as athletes who went beyond the level of sports as sport into the realm of sports as art. Seemingly awkward and yet breathtakingly graceful…

Then in 1971 he got traded to the Knicks…Could he play alongside Walt Frazier? Frazier was then the premier all-around guard in basketball and had set standards so high that years later when he might be off his game a fraction and could no longer single-handedly win games, the fans could not deal with it and turned on him. I found this unforgivable and it certainly says something about the myth of the New York sports fan.

Woody reluctantly went to talk to Monroe at the players’ upper west side apartment. When he arrived, Woody was greeted by Pearl’s girlfriend (“My God, she’s packed into those jeans with an ice cream scoop.”) Monroe was out running errands, so Woody and the girlfriend chatted…for a few hours. Monroe never showed up, and finally Woody excused himself.

I back out the door, dumbling and apologizing, for what, I don’t know. Then, walking home this sunny, Saturday afternoon, I think to myself, how wonderful. This great athlete is so unconcerned about the usual nonsense of social protocol. Unimpressed by me, a cover interview, and all the attendant fuss and adulation that so many people strive for, he simply fails to show up. Probably off playing tennis or fooling with his new Mercedes.

Whatever he was doing, I admired him for his total unconcern…That night, Earl scored 28 points and had eight misses against Washington; the next day he tossed in 31 points against the same team.

I thought about how Sport’s editors had relayed Monroe’s enthusiasm about the prospect of our interview. I thought, too, that if I had missed an interview I’d be consumed with guilt. But that’s me and I’m not a guy who can ask for a ball with the team down by a point, two seconds left on the clock, and, with two players hacking at my body and shiedling my vision, score from the corner. If I misse the basket and lose the game for my team, I commit suicide. For Monroe, well, he’s as nonchalant about that tension-strung situation as he is about keeping appointments. That’s why I’d tense up and blow clutch shots, while Monroe’s seem to drop through the hoop like magic.

Boy, the Knicks sure could use some magic these days. But even Houdini would have his hands full making this bunch disappear.

Baseball has barely had an off-day since the end of the World Serious this year. Even before the release of The Mitchell Report last week, the Hot Stove League has kept us all busier than normal. Especially us Yankee fans. Ever feel as if the constant media coverage–including the daily posts here at Bronx Banter–is just overwhelming? Sometimes, it’s just crosstown traffic, a lot of noise to me, and I’m as much a junkie, insatiable for breaking news, as the rest of you. In light of all this activity, my annual posting of the following Roger Angell quote, may seem old fashioned or wistful for a quieter time. I’m not generally one for nostalgia, but so be it. I’m a willfully stick my head in the sand for a minute and give my winter fantasies some room to roam:

“There is a game of baseball that is not to be found in the schedules or the record books. It has no season, but it is best played in the winter, without the distraction of box scores and standings. This is the inner game, baseball in the mind, and there is no real fan who does not know it. It is a game of recollections, recapturings, and visions. Yet this is only the beginning, for baseball in the mind in not a mere yearning and returning. In time, this easy envisioning of restored players, winning hits, and famous rallies gives way to reconsiderations and reflections about the sport itself. By thinking about baseball like this, by playing it over and yet keeping it to ourselves, keeping it warm in a cold season, we begin to make discoveries. With luck, we may even penetrate some of its mysteries and learn once again how richly and variously the game can reward us.”

Roger Angell, from “Baseball in the Mind”

Chew on that. We’ll be back shortly with more buzz.

It will be more expensive to go to Yankee Stadium next year. This is a drag, but not much of a surprise. The Red Sox already raised their ticket prices by 9% for 2008, while the Mets will hike their prices by close to 20%. Gasp, Yipe, and all of that good stuff.

Mariano Rivera, who likes his pockets fat not flat, spoke to reporters yesterday after the Yankees made his new 3-year, $45 million deal official. Naturally, he was asked about Andy Pettitte and the Mitchell Report. According to Mark Feinsand in the Daily News:

Rivera thinks that players fingered by the report would be better off admitting their mistakes and moving forward.

“I will not lose respect for my teammates or whoever did it,” Rivera said. “I don’t know the reasons why they did it – or if they did it. I just saw Andy come out and say that he did it, and if you did it, the best thing to do is bring it out and start new. Put an end to this thing.”

…”I’m not trying to tell people to do that; I’m just a friend, and I respect their decision,” Rivera said. “If they want to come out, they’ll do it. If they don’t want to come out, they won’t do it. I think it’s the best thing, to put an end to this thing and move on. It’s a new year, hang up everything and start new.”

In another minor story, the Yankees signed Met-killer Nick Green to a minor-league contract. He will join Chris Woodward in fighting for a spot come spring training.