ROGER MARIS, 1961, AND THE GAPING HOLE IN THE HALL OF FAME

           The summer of 1961 was arguably the most riveting and exciting season in baseball history.

            That was the year when the incomparable New York Yankee outfield duo of Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris staged a season-long duel in pursuit of baseball's most illustrious and sacrosanct record:  Babe Ruth's legendary 60 home run standard, set in 1927.

            I well remember rushing to the newsstand each morning that summer to get the daily paper and check the sports page to see whether Maris, Mantle, or both had homered the day before.  Needless to say, there were no sports websites in 1961, and during the summers back then active teenage boys like me (I was 16 at the time) had little time or inclination to find what little TV sports news there might have been.  So I bought more newspapers that summer than I ever did in my life – just to keep track of Mantle and Maris.  Millions of American youngsters (and adults) did likewise.  It was a special and unique season.

            As the season progressed, and the two Yankee superstars drew nearer and nearer to Ruth's record, reports of their home run progress even moved from the sports page to the front page in some papers.  As they say about the Masters golf tournament today, it was "a season like no other."  Even inveterate Yankee-haters followed the daily heroics of the M&M Boys as they pursued the Immortal Babe.

                                                                 

                     Maris and Mantle:  The Home Run Heroes of 1961

            But there was also something of a dark element to the Great Race for Ruth's record.  For unfathomable reasons, much of the sports media, and many fans as well, somehow resented Roger Maris's role in this heroic home run derby.  He was a relative newcomer to the Yankees (he had only joined them from Kansas City A's in 1960) and was viewed by many Yank fans as something of an interloper.  Mickey Mantle, on the other hand, was already a well-established and well-beloved pin-stripe icon, with an appealing, "aw shucks" personality.  Mantle was the decided favorite of most fans and reporters to break Ruth's record – if anyone did, that is.

            Maris, on the other hand, was a painfully shy and quiet North Dakotan who went about his baseball business with dedication and determination, but little charm or charisma.  In today's media environment, he would be the star who somehow never gets the endorsements.  He had won the American League MVP award just the year before (he won it again in 1961), but that somehow seemed to be quickly forgotten.  If any star ever needed a shrewd PR agent, it was Roger Maris.  But he was not the type to care about such frivolity. 

            In 1961, the MLB season had been expanded from 154 games (as it had been in Ruth's era) to 162.  Consequently, baseball traditionalists and other crank sportswriters objected that if Ruth's record were not broken before the 155^th game of the season, it would be somehow illegitimate.  Indeed, many traditionalists resented both Mantle's and Maris's challenge to Ruth's record no matter how it was done.  

            Of course, the advantage of the slightly longer season was probably offset by the more daunting challenge of modern pitching, especially the factor of facing well-rested relievers, rather than arm-tired starters, in the late innings of a game.  Another challenge to the modern sluggers was the added visual difficulty of hitting in night games.  But taking everything into account, it is fair to say that neither Ruth's era nor Maris and Mantle's enjoyed a decided advantage.  In short, the challenge to Ruth's great record in 1961 was a fair one (unlike the later steroid-enhanced home-run records of Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds).

            As the season drew to a close, Maris gradually drew away from Mantle in the home run race.  Mantle's pursuit of the record had been handicapped by a late season hip infection, leaving Maris effectively in sole pursuit of the Babe (Mantle ended up with a still remarkable 54 homers). 

            As Maris came closer and closer to the record with each pressure-packed homer – 55, then 56, then 57, and so on -- the relentless daily focus on his progress expanded from sports reporters to the general media.  Reporters continually surrounded him, demanding interviews.  The daily stress became so intense that Maris reportedly started to shed hair in clumps – which the closely crewcut North Dakotan could ill afford.

            Notwithstanding the pressure, Maris continued to pile up the homers and the RBI's (he led the American League in both categories that year) and led the Yankees to another AL Championship and subsequent World Series victory.  Even aside from this home run record, it was an extraordinary season by any standard.

                                                          

           Even the President shared in the season's excitement:  Maris signing a baseball for JFK at the White House.

            On the last day of the season, October 1, 1961, under unimaginable pressure and hostile scrutiny, Maris cracked his 61^st homer of the season -- a trademark rocket to the right field stands against the Red Sox at Yankee Stadium.  He had broken baseball's most illustrious and revered record – and many embittered die-hard reporters and myopic bystanders would never forgive him for his fabulous achievement. 

            But millions of kids like me (and grown up kids as well) broke out into euphoric cheers as we listened to the announcer's call of No. 61 on our scratchy radios.  Against all odds and opposition, Roger Maris had broken baseball's most illustrious record.  It was a truly iconic moment in American sports history, as captured on the front page of the New York Mirror's Souvenir "Home-Run Edition" (reproduced below).

                                                   

                             How many Hall-of-Famers made a moment like this?

            Despite the media naysayers, Maris was duly recognized in 1961 not only for his immortal record but for an extraordinary overall season by any standard.  He was awarded his second consecutive American League MVP award and, beyond that, he was honored with the Hickock Belt as the top professional athlete of the year.  For that one great season, no one towered over the American sports scene like Roger Maris.

            The remainder of Maris's relatively short career was somewhat anti-climactic, at least for the great slugger who had broken baseball's greatest record.  Nonetheless, he earned World Series rings with the Yankees in 1961 and 1962, and again with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1967.  His star performance for the Cards in their '67 Series victory (where he hit .385 and had 7 RBI's) is rarely remembered, mainly because it was so starkly overshadowed by his exploits as a Yankee Slugger.  

            Despite what could fairly be considered the greatest single-season exploit in baseball history – achieved without the aid of artificial stimulants and in the face of relentless media hostility – Roger Maris remains excluded from MLB's Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.  This is a gross travesty, and should be rectified by the HOF's Era Committee by proposing Maris's well-deserved, if belated, admission.

           

            The only plausible justification for Roger Maris's continued exclusion from the HOF is the relative brevity of his career and, particularly, his career as a top-flight star.  But that lame objection is forcefully overwhelmed not only by the singular and historical nature of his remarkable 1961 season, but also by the extremely great overall achievements of his peak years:  Two MVP awards; three World Series Championship Rings; seven times selected for the All-Star game; two-time AL RBI leader; and Gold Glove award for 1960.  Roger Maris, simply speaking, was a great all-around player – and a winner to boot.  

            Moreover, the singularity of Roger Maris's home run record in 1961 is that it still stands today as the American League home run record.  Think of that.  Babe Ruth's immortal record had stood for an impressive 34 years when Maris broke it; yet Maris's AL record still stands today, after 59 years!

            Career longevity and career statistical landmarks (like 400 homers, 2,500 hits, or a lifetime .300 batting average) are surely legitimate criteria for the Hall of Fame, but they are not the sine qua non.  An iconic, illustrious feat such as Maris's home run record, coupled with the genuine greatness of his peak seasons and his Three-Ring record as an indisputable winner, more than offset the fact that this great player's career was only about 11 years long.

            The continued exclusion of Roger Maris from the Hall of Fame is an inexcusable embarrassment to that otherwise admirable institution.  It is based on myopic, unreasonable, and biased mindsets that have long since outlived any justification.  The saturnine North Dakotan, who generated what was probably the most riveting and fascinating season in baseball history, should be admitted to Cooperstown at the next opportunity.