I’ve never liked shades of gray.  Sure it looks fine hanging in the window of Banana Republic®, but when it comes to life and decisions, I don’t like gray at all. 

I think that I have my parents to thank for this very simplified view of things because as long as I can remember I've had comments directed at me like, “be hot or cold, but not lukewarm.” Perhaps my parents being brought up by a generation that had to make a number of hard decisions during The Depression and World War II, helped develop a perspective that seems rare today.  Like I said, it's not the color gray itself, but how we as people like to make shades of gray out of nearly every fact or situation.

I personally feel that in most cases, when gray areas appear, it is usually because someone is hiding something. Banks like gray. They use it in the small print at the end of their contracts, an area where a whole host of sins are hidden. Investors like gray. They’ll recommend an investment to you, only to bet against it without your knowledge. Manufacturers like gray. They use it to describe what lifetime means in their warranty, which in my experience, aside from Craftsman hand tools has yet to mean my lifetime.

No, to me most things are very black and white, right or wrong, or ying and yang for those of you who enjoyed the '60s and '70s too much.  I think that the 1920s, '30s, '40s and '50s were simpler times even though they included World War II, the Korean Conflict and the Cold War, because the average American simply knew right from wrong.

Baseball was in its heyday back then, where legends of the game swatted the ball over the wall, and hometown America rocked on their front porches hearing about it on the radio.  When kids would save their pennies for a pack of baseball cards and a stick of gum that tasted like it had Goodyear® written all over it.  A time when organized baseball for kids, was simply a matter of finding a park and a ball, unlike now where we have to have coaches, fancy uniforms and parents coming to blows in the stands.

Roger Maris on 1960 Topps (#377)

The world is what we make it, and we’ve made it all sorts of gray. Unfortunately, baseball has become the same way.  With an asterisk next to his name, Barry Bonds holds the record for the most home runs in a season.  But, with shades of gray many of us wonder if that should count at all, as we learn more about the HGH and steroid scandals of Bonds and the MLB in general.  Sammy Sosa’s home run contest with Mark McGwire captured a nation, and caused a collective, disgusted sigh later, when we found the use of steroids and corked bats.  Remember McGwire sitting in front of congress pleading the 5th, only to come back later and admit he was using steroids when he broke the home run record in 1998.

Then, when some of us naively thought that we had bedded down these problems and were ready to move on, we find that Alex Rodriguez among others are guilty of the same type of steroid use. While Pete Rose may never make it into the Hall of Fame for betting on his team, it’s the likes of Bonds, McGwire and Sosa that have cheated a nation, not just a sport.  Basketball is a sport. Tennis is a sport. Even Curling is an Olympic sport. But baseball, that’s America’s game, that’s our game.

Now in baseball we are once again having the conversation about whether Roger Maris should be inducted into the Hall of Fame. When you listen to the sports writers, commentators, experts and know-it-alls, it appears to be a gray issue as well.  “One amazing season at the plate isn’t enough to warrant Maris’ induction into the Hall of Fame,” said one expert on television.

For me, it is not gray at all. Baseball needs Maris, and America needs Maris in the Hall of Fame. Children need Maris in the Hall of Fame, showing that if you do things the right way, you’ll be remembered. There is no asterisk next to his name. There was no trial for him to attend. There was just the summer of 1961, when a New York Yankee set a record that for so long many have tried to surpass, and in my book have yet to achieve.