Biff Pocoroba Still Outside Looking in and Other Injustices

WARNING: Tasteless stuff ahead. May be considered misogynist, racist, homophobic, or otherwise politically incorrect. Those with asses too tight to enjoy are encouraged to run on over to pinterest and check out needlepoint patterns of unicorns, while those of us with a stomach for the real world attend to things here.  

Major League Baseball, the wacky folks who gave us the Infield Fly Rule, the Designated Hitter, and Bob Davidson, among other affronts to common sense and decent, decided a few years ago to nudge their Hall of Fame balloting a bit. And they may have actually done something right. 


This is the Expansion Era Committee ballot, not to be confused with the suddenly stingy BBWAA ballot. These ballots are chosen by historical review boards, and will include, in the future, separate ballots for the Pre-Intergration (1871-1946) and Golden (1947-1972)  era. Soon to come: The Blow Era (1978-1989), the PED Era (1988-2005), and the Sam Holbrrook is a Blind, Fucking Idiot Era (October 5, 2112 through October 5, 2012). 

Billy Martin

Joe Torre

Tony La Russa

Bobby Cox

Marvin Miller

Dave Concepcion

Steve Garvey

Ted Simmons

Dave Parker

Dan Quisenberry

Tommy John


A lot of managers up for consideration. I figure Martin or LaRussa to go in ahead of Cox, as committees like this just love 'em a drunken guinea bastard with a bad dye job. 

Bonds and Clemons are often said to have been probable inductees, even without the PED usage that reinvigorated their careers when they should have been swigging Metamucil and enjoying their farewell tour. 

Bonds deserves to go in despite mucking around with his body chemistry enough that he ended his career looking like the Incredible Hulk with a fine mahogany finish. The first two-thirds of his career are deserving. But he won't get in, as the committee and writers invoke the "Asshole Clause".

Clemons, though, without the juice, was Dwight Gooden. Not quite good enough, long enough, to make the cut. Plus, points taken away for bad decisions. Joe Dimaggio? Marilyn Monroe. Bo Belinsky? Mamie Van Doren. Call me old-fashioned, but banging Mindy McCready is bush league, and should be taken into consideration. 

And not only does Stenbrenner NOT belong in the Hall, the committee should rent a bus, drive to Hell, and piss on him as he shovels Centaur manure into the bottomless pit. 

If I voted on this committee? I'd probably go heavy for non-players. Torre, although he had a playing career worthy of consideration, gets the nod for his overall contributions to the game. And if you had told me, in 1985, that I would be saying that today, I would have asked for a hit of whatever you were smoking. But he gets a vote. 

No idea why Concepcion isn't in. He deserves more than any player on this list, without question. He should have been in by now. He was the best all-around shortstop since Honus Wagner, and his numbers would have been even better had Dave Pallone not been such a vindictive little bitch. He gets a vote. 

Miller deserves consideration, although I don't see him as a singularly baseball-centric character. This seems a reasonable way to recognize his contributions, and I think he'll get in. Not with my vote, though. 

Bobby Cox gets my vote because he's Bobby Fuckin' Cox, and if you don't like that, fuck you. That's another vote.

Cox and LaRussa would both assuredly get in through the standard BBWAA voting. Martin has not, and this is his shot. For all the drama, he belongs. So he gets a vote. 

Steve Garvey, Tommy John, Dave Parker, Dan Quisenberry and Ted Simmons? Nope, nope, nope, nope, and nope. Fine players, all. Just not quite there. Of course, neither was Bert Blyleven, but he whined until the writers finally put his ass in, probably in an effort to shut his yap, once and for all. 

That leaves one vote, and LaRusaa ain't gettin' it. Fuck him. That miserable fucker turned a blind eye as his Oakland teams ushered in the steroid era, jacking themselves up with everything from Durabolin to Liquid Plumber, and then he rode similarly junked-up players, like Mark McGwire and Albert Pujols, to tainted success in St. Louis. He'll get in, but, more than any other non-playing candidate, deserves to be given the Unofficial Steroid Blackball treatment. 

Fuck it...I'm writing in Glenn Burke.




Brent Sanders


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