I worshipped Jim Rice growing up. He was my favorite player during the years when one's life as a fan is defined, those years between 7 and 12, when professional athletes are larger than life and when the games are everything. I may well have been part of the last generation of American kids whose lives revolved around going outside and playing sports. During the summer four or five kids managed to create entire baseball leagues. We would play everything under the sun all year around. Tackle football with snow on the ground? Basketball on a gravel driveway? Hockey on an icy incline? Boxing with old mittens?No problem. As a result, sports were immediate, and during that time in my life Jim Rice was the central figure in my Red Sox dramas. He was not alone, of course, but he was first among equals.
Shaughnessy argues that Rice might be the first beneficiary of the backlash of the steroids era. Say whatever else you want, but Rice's seemingly deflated numbers look a whole lot better in light of what we now know, and there is little doubt that he was the dominant power hitter in his era, from 1975 until about 1986, when his skills began to decline precipitously. He is not a lock, and his vote totals have climbed slowly, from 30% his first year of eligibility to just under 60% last year. But maybe, in a relatively weak class, this will be his year. I hope so. We will know in a little more than a month if events of the past year will help Rice to get the 80 extra votes he needs to get into the Hall with the required 75%. I imagine if he does, I'll be twelve years old again, if only for a little while and I may well go to my first Cooperstown induction next summer.
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