Big news from the big leagues today: Burt Blyleven and Roberto Alomar were inducted into the baseball hall of fame. While that’s kind of a “big whup” in itself, what we should remember as parents — at least of parents of kids who like baseball — is that the time to go take them to the Hall of Fame itself in Cooperstown, New York, is now. And by now I mean now, as in this year, and trust me: it’s important that you hurry.
No, not for Blyleven or Alomar’s sake, but because pretty soon the Hall is either going to be filled with steroid- and HGH-taking cheaters (Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, Sammy Sosa, etc.) or the baseball writers won’t admit any of them (as they did with Pete Rose after he was found to have bet on baseball), and the Hall won’t represent the last generation of what happened in baseball. Because, face it, baseball since the 90s was dominated by people we now know were on the juice; that’s going to be a highly unpleasant thing to have to explain to your kids (Yes, Johnny, if you take this thing that’s really bad for you, you do hit many more home runs. But, really, you shouldn’t take it. Really…). Better to visit Cooperstown now while the only misbehavior you’ll have to explain will be the Black Sox of 1919, the Babe’s penchant for beer and hotdogs, and Ted Williams’ post-mortem freezing. Actually, come to think of it, leave that last one out.