Green: Here’s one vote for Jim Rice

I’ve had many arguments about the Red Sox. Here’s a story about the last time I lost one. The year was 1986. I was wearing my favorite Osh Koshes, covered in tiny pink roses. I was at daycare. A boy with a crew cut shoved a Red Sox baseball card under my nose.

“Betcha don’t know who this is.”

“Sure I do,” I lied. “It’s Jim Rice.”

As far as I was concerned, there was only one Red Sox player whose name was worth knowing. I even confidently informed my mother that I wished to marry Mr. Rice. Never mind that I hadn’t yet been born when he won the MVP in 1978.

I didn’t know too much about him, but so what? This was before sabermetrics. I liked Jim Rice. I liked him in my gut. That was all I needed to know. He hit home runs. He broke bats on checked swings. He waded into the stands at Yankee Stadium to get his hat back from a fan who had rashly snatched it off his head.

Rice’s career was meteoric. In 1975, he was one of many glorious Red Sox rookies and finished third in MVP voting and second in the Rookie of the Year tally. In ’77, ’78 and ’79, he was in his prime. He hit more than 35 homers in each of those three years, while also collecting over 200 hits — the only major-league player to ever accomplish that feat. During those three seasons, he was peerless.

But it did not last. Despite solid production over many seasons, when Rice’s career ended after 16 years, his numbers were just this side of greatness: 382 homers, shy of the magical 400-mark; 2,452 hits, far short of the 3,000 needed to redeem a free trip to Cooperstown.

It’s Rice’s 14th year on the Hall ballot. Players only get 15 years before they are removed. By then, he’ll have been on the Hall of Fame ballot almost as long as he was on a big-league roster. This year is his last, best shot, at least outside of the Veterans Committee. But even in this thin crop of contenders, Rice’s chances are slim.

My Jim Rice baseball card is from 1988. His numbers are all right there on the back — the years of dominance, and the dropoff soon after. Courtesy of Fleer, I know he probably won’t ever get to Cooperstown.

The guy on the baseball card that snot-nosed kid showed me? A guy who had a really great year in 1986. A guy whose Hall of Fame election is assured. The voters probably won’t have the same problem confusing Roger Clemens with Jim Rice that I did when I was a 5-year old in overalls. But for Jim Ed’s sake, I wish they would.

Sarah Green is a freelance writer who can be reached at  .