From the WSJ Opinion Archives
REVIEW & OUTLOOK
A Man for All Seasons
Forget Pete Rose. Why isn't Gil Hodges in the Hall of Fame?
They're looking at the wrong man.
The Hall of Fame, that is. While the entire baseball world fixates on the ban on Pete Rose, a true injustice goes almost unheralded: the exclusion of Gil Hodges from baseball's Hall of Fame. The good news is that when members of the newly revamped Veterans Committee cast their ballots this month, they will have the perfect moment to right this wrong.
Over 18 seasons, the Dodger first baseman hit 370 home runs, had seven straight seasons where he drove in more than 100 RBIs, won the National League's first three Golden Gloves for his position and was an eight-time All-Star. He played in seven World Series, where he twice hit game-winning home runs. As a manager, moreover, Hodges led the 1969 Miracle Mets to their first World Championship.
But the Hall of Fame isn't supposed to be just about numbers. Rule No. 5 states that voting should be based not only on the player's stats but on "integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played."
Nobody fits the bill better than Gil. After only one game with the Brooklyn Dodgers in the 1943 season, Hodges traded in Dodger blue and the baseball diamond for Marine green and Guadalcanal. It says something of the man that his own wife, Joan, didn't know he'd earned a bronze star until a New York Times reporter told her about it years later. The war record also shows a commendation for courage under fire.
Like all Marines, Gil bore the Corps' imprint for life. Joan Hodges, who still lives in their home on Bedford Avenue (renamed Gil Hodges Way a few years back) recalls driving to Florida for spring training each year with their kids singing "The Marine Corps Hymn." "I think it was the first song he ever taught them," she says.
From the old school, Manager Hodges insisted on coats and ties for his players. When Joan suggested that maybe he was being too strict, she'd remind him that "they're only boys, Gil." Invariably he would remind her, yes, they were boys--but they were his boys. Marines take care of their men, and in the category of contributions to his teams it is incredible how many players say they learned what it meant to be a professional from Gil.
What better symbol for this post-9/11 America than this native Hoosier who became one of New York's most beloved sports figures, a star athlete who always put service above self? Gil's record on the diamond speaks for itself. But as Hall of Famer Tom Seaver once put it, this man was a hero well before he ever stepped back onto the ballfield. It's about time the lords of Cooperstown recognize that keeping Gil Hodges out of their hallowed hall only diminishes its own claims to greatness.
