When Will The Hall Of Fame Writers Stop Their Moral Judgement?

Alex Rodriguez has shown significant growth since retiring from baseball, and his maturity was on full display as he extended heartfelt congratulations to this year’s Hall of Fame inductees this week. While his graciousness is admirable, it’s hard to ignore that he’s likely feeling some disappointment over not being considered for the Hall of Fame himself. After all, Rodriguez is undoubtedly one of the greatest hitters in baseball history. However, his connection to performance-enhancing drugs has cast a long shadow over his career, and it’s evident that sportswriters are reluctant to honor athletes tied to scandals or controversy.

Rodriguez’s career stats speak for themselves: three AL MVP awards, 696 home runs, 3,115 hits, 14 All-Star Game appearances, and a 2009 World Series championship with the Yankees. Yet, despite these achievements, he remains on the outside looking in, even as he appeared on the ballot for the fourth consecutive year. His predicament isn’t unique, as history shows that Hall of Fame voters consistently penalize players linked to performance-enhancing drugs or other ethical concerns.

Take Mark McGwire, for instance. Despite his record-breaking home run season and an illustrious career, McGwire has not been elected to the Hall of Fame due to his admitted steroid use. Similarly, Roger Clemens—who dominated as one of the best pitchers in MLB history—fell short of the 75% vote threshold in his final year of eligibility in 2022, earning just 65.2% of the vote. This trend reveals a clear pattern: past transgressions, whether proven or suspected, continue to hold players back from baseball’s highest honor. 

And it’s not just players from the steroid era who face scrutiny. Even Carlos Beltrán, whose involvement in the Houston Astros’ sign-stealing scandal tarnished his reputation, has found himself under the Hall of Fame microscope. Terry Collins, former Mets manager, recently spoke out about the situation, calling Beltrán’s treatment unfair. Collins pointed out that plenty of Hall of Famers likely benefited from knowing what pitches were coming, yet Beltrán seems to be bearing the brunt of the blame as one of the few players associated with the Astros scandal. Collins stated, “He wasn’t even a starting player, so it’s not like he gained much from what was happening.”

The broader question remains: when will this end? How long will Hall of Fame voters continue to blacklist players from the steroid era or those caught in controversial moments? At what point does the selective moral outrage stop? It’s worth questioning why certain players—such as Harold Baines, whose inclusion in the Hall sparked debate—are inducted while others with far more impressive resumes are excluded.  Think about it; even Jered Weaver tweaked this after Ichiro got in:

“1 writer said no on Ichiro?  another example of why Hall of Famers should vote on it and not writers”

He’s not wrong. Why should these writers hold any power?

Barry Bonds, for example, is arguably the greatest hitter the sport has ever seen. Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro, and even Pete Rose—all legendary players in their own right—remain outside the Hall due to scandals or suspicions, despite their undeniable impact on the game. Isn’t it time for voters, many of whom have never played baseball at the professional level, to reconsider their stance?

The Hall of Fame is meant to honor the greatest players in the history of baseball, yet it feels increasingly like a battleground for moral judgment. If the goal is to preserve the integrity of the game, perhaps it’s time to reflect on whether this rigid gatekeeping is achieving that—or simply rewriting history.