Shocker! Hall votes made sense

Yep, Edgar’s in the Hall.

Finally.

And Mo was named on 100 percent of the ballots.

Finally.

It’s almost as though the Baseball Writers Association of America has stirred, then woken up to the fact that we’re in the 21st century.

Have these jokers whom Ted Williams snidely called the “knights of the keyboard” actually realized that baseball has evolved since Tinker to Evers to Chance?

You’re right, I’m making fun of the BBWAA, and I was a member of that gang.

Twice, actually.

To be honest, “making fun” of how the baseball writers traditionally have handled voting for the Hall of Fame is being a little light on the group.

In fact, it’s been a disgrace for decades.

I’ve raged against my former colleagues about this nonsense before — about ridiculous traditions, personal vendettas and even racism, all of which have come into play when filling out ballots for the Hall.

Now since I was a card-carrying member, I’ll have to phrase it this way…

We’ve embarrassed ourselves.

IT’S UNLIKELY you’ve ever been sent a Hall of Fame ballot.

They’re mailed only to “veteran” members of the BBWAA.

In other words, to writers who’ve had time to make enemies in the clubhouse, had players stiff them on a cocaine buy (yes, really), or form idiotic opinions about quaint things like second basemen and designated hitters.

But let me back up…

You’re allowed to choose as many as 10 players for your ballot.

Any player named on 75 percent of them is headed for Cooperstown.

So let’s think about that number 10 for a second.

That’s in the ballpark with your sweetie’s grocery list.

Yet until Rivera’s coronation this year — and thank God for it — no player ever had been named on each submitted ballot.

Not Babe Ruth.

Not Willie Mays.

And needless to say, not Ted Williams.

I mean, three morons decided that Ken Griffey Jr. didn’t deserve a spot on their list of 10.

OK, now have fun with your Butch Cassidy impression on this very next sentence...

“Who WERE those 10 guys better than Junior?”

IT’S FOOLISH to argue with these self-appointed baseball geniuses.

Far too many will tell you, dead seriously, that they can’t vote for a DH because “they only specialize in one part of the game.”

So do pitchers, by the way, and there’s no one rushing to tear down Cy Young’s plaque.

Still…

There’s also a pretty legit answer to the question on every-day players: Just look at the National League.

There are butchers playing the outfield solely because they swing the bat.

Williams, in fact, hands us a great example: He hated being in left field and played like Edward Scissorhands to prove it.

On the other side of the coin, every good DH (including Edgar Martinez) would be handed a glove and told to wing it if the American League hadn’t gone rogue in 1973.

But fortunately, deep breath now, Edgar made it under the wire.

No way he’d have been as lucky if he were a second baseman.

Take a few minutes some day and see how many of THOSE poor characters are in the Hall.

LET’S SEE, who are the best second basemen of semi-recent vintage?

Don’t cheat with Rod Carew or Paul Molitor, either, because both played more games at other positions — or took the DH gig.

Who were best pure second basemen?

I’ll take Ryne Sandberg, Craig Biggio and Roberto Alomar, thanks, and feel damn good about it.

First-ballot inductees in that crop…

None.

Ryno barely made it (76 percent) on the third ballot.

The writers are a tough crowd — but look, Rogers Hornsby nailed it on his first try.

Yeah, OK, the guy hit .424.

Those knights of the keyboard set the bar pretty high, if we’re talking Hornsby and Jackie Robinson.

Second base is rarely the last stop before Cooperstown.

Some thoughts on that, Brother Cano?

Steve Cameron’s sports columns for The Press appear on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and his “Zags Tracker” package on Gonzaga basketball runs on Tuesday.

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Email: scameron@cdapress.com