Nearly 24 hours after voters failed to vote a single soul into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, the discourse that ruled yesterday seems a far-away memory. Perhaps because when all the smoke and Curt Schilling grandstanding had cleared, we could see well enough — maybe for the first time — to understand that we don't really care all that much about who makes it into Cooperstown and who is left waiting for the call.
At least that's where I'm at personally. The Baseball Hall of Fame and its accompanying debate has veered dangerously close to the space television ratings occupy, which is to say that I'm rapidly losing all interest in them. And certainly don't need the validation of popularity to influence whether or not a player or game was enjoyable.
Jim Rome appears to be in a similar place, giving voice to the disillusioned an indifferent on his show this afternoon.
One of the main sticking points that's prevented me from going all-in on apathy is the belief that it'd be bad for baseball if me, a person who loves baseball, felt like this. But it does seem reasonable to extricate the beautiful game from what is essentially a bureaucratic nightmare and increasingly political or self-serving endeavor. There's certainly no rule that says I have to care about the Hall of Fame voting forever, even if it used to be a big deal.
That's really the major takeaway here. The Hall of Fame voting news cycle is not helping baseball. It's not turning on new fans. In fact, it's turning some away. And that's a problem in need of a solution.
Or is it? I raised a big stink when Harold Baines was elected. Now I forget for months at a time until I'm reminded and shrug. Maybe deep down, an overwhelming number of people simply cannot find the reservoir of care to get worked up or excited about this ritual.