Thinking about Tommy John, Roger Clemens, and the Baseball Hall of Fame

The Baseball Hall of Fame's stated mission could use a formal tweak. The institution, as well as the museum within its walls, bear a responsibility to catalog and celebrate those who made an outsized impact on the game. But the caveat that should be formalized, and is too often ignored, is that those who made such an outsized impact deserve that recognition while they are still with us to enjoy it, for however much time there is remaining on their personal clock.

Left-handed pitcher Tommy John — and he was so much more than that, but yes, he was a left-handed pitcher, and he fought in a way no one else ever had to be a left-handed pitcher for a decade longer than his predecessors would have been — died over the weekend, one week after sending a "goodbye" note from hospice care that was released on Yankees Old-Timers' Day.

He is the only man with "Did not play - injured (eponymous surgical procedure)" listed on his Baseball Reference page, nestling alongside only Lou Gehrig in the halls of baseball misfortune. But instead he found new life. Prior to the 1975 season, he'd won 124 games at the age of 31. After missing the entire year during a grueling rehab for ligament reconstruction surgery, a risky-beyond-risk procedure invented as a last-ditch attempt at saving his arm, he won 164 more games over 14 more seasons. It's nothing short of absurd to imagine.

Anyone dinging John's statistical case as a "compiler" should be asked, as a follow-up question, "Does he get extra credit for compiling after being given a second life that no one could've possibly imagined? Does he get a bump for taking his second chance to its upper limit, not interested in stopping once a miracle cure had given him the ability to start again?"

If John had been elected to the Hall of Fame by his peers or by the writers, 12 wins shy of 300 but 164 wins past the point where his career should've ended, he would've been a middle-of-the-road Hall of Famer out of context, neither raising the floor significantly nor approaching the ceiling. But in context? He's one of the most important names in the game's history — and so is his surgeon, Frank Jobe, who also deserves to be in. As Joe Posnanski pointed out over the weekend, John had a slightly better career than Hall of Famer Jim Kaat, a vibrant storyteller who meant plenty to the game's history but who probably never saved anyone's career in his wake.

Jobe died in 2014. John died this week. And watching the Hall of Fame tweet that they'd presented some sort of award to him back in 2013 rang as hollow as a plaster model elbow.

Which brings us to Roger Clemens.

Tommy John's Hall of Fame case rises during big week for Yankees icon Roger Clemens

MLB's Field of Dreams Game nostalgia-fest took place on Thursday in Dyersville, Iowa between the Philadelphia Phillies and the Minnesota Twins. Barry Bonds was on Netflix's pregame show for an hour before the game, then Roger Clemens hopped in the booth with his son Kody mic'd up on the field with the Twins. The broadcast was an advertisement for what's made baseball great for decades, with Hall of Famers emerging from the cornfield for a centerpiece moment before the contest. And ... there were Bonds and Clemens, prominently in the spotlight, informally banned from the museum.

After the game, Clemens donned a 1930s Red Sox uniform and asked his son if he'd have a catch with him, evoking the movie's ending where an innocent ballplayer joins the damned and the tears flow. The undertones were pretty clear — Clemens wants to reconnect with the game (and share moments with his family while he is still able). The game, clearly, wanted to reconnect with him, too; the clip was papered all over social media, and Clemens was given an inning all to himself on the broadcast.

If Clemens and Bonds are good enough for baseball's jewel showcase game, how are they still not good enough for the Hall of Fame?

While John, without historical context, would be a mid-tier and totally acceptable Hall of Famer, that historical context is essential to his being. Clemens is history. He needs no context. He is unparalleled. He is the standard. And baseball's arbiters should honor him before it's too late, which it seems to be far too often. For Dick Allen. For Ron Santo. For Minnie Miñoso. For Marvin Miller. And now for Tommy John.

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