Frank Thomas Is a Hall of Famer

[flavum]

Verducci had a pretty good article in support of Jack Morris.

 

It probably won't change anybody's mind, but he makes some good points.

 

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/mlb/news/...s-hall-of-fame/

[Harry Chappas]

Verducci had a pretty good article in support of Jack Morris.

 

It probably won't change anybody's mind, but he makes some good points.

 

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/mlb/news/...s-hall-of-fame/

 

 

Would love to see Glavine, Maddux, Thomas, Jack Morris and hawk get recognized. Would be a simply awesome class.

 

I cannot believe no starter who has debuted in my lifetime (1971) has been elected to the HOF.

[southsider2k5]

MLB Network ‏@MLBNetwork 14s

 

Congratulations to former @Braves and @BlueJays manager Bobby Cox on being elected to the @BaseballHall of Fame!

[southsider2k5]

Buster Olney ‏@Buster_ESPN 8m

 

George Steinbrenner finishes a half-dozen votes short of HOF induction. I'd bet he wouldn't have been thrilled that Torre got in before him.

 

Bernie Pleskoff ‏@BerniePleskoff 9m

 

Bobby Cox, Tony LaRussa and Joe Torre elected to Hall of Fame from Expansion Era (1973-present.) Nobody else on ballot got more than 6 votes

 

Jon Heyman ‏@JonHeymanCBS 9m

 

No one else on ballot got more than 6 of 16 hall of fame votes. 12 needed. That includes steinbrenner and marvin miller.

[flavum]

Even if Frank gets in this year, he'll be a side show to the Braves group.

 

If it meant Minnie Minoso standing next to Frank, I wouldn't mind if he went in another year.

 

Not sure when Minoso will be voted on again, but he totally deserves to be in.

[Buehrle>Wood]

When do they announce the main ballot results

[lasttriptotulsa]

When do they announce the main ballot results

 

Writers ballots need to be turned in by the end of the year. Inductees are announced on the 8th of January.

[southsider2k5]

Chuck Garfien ‏@ChuckGarfien 57m

 

Jerry Reinsdorf on Hall of Fame chances for Frank Thomas: "It would be a terrible miscarriage of justice if Frank isn’t in that class."

[Texsox]

I have conflicting thoughts with this.

 

I want Frank to get in as an example of playing the power game cleanly in baseball.

I don't want him to get in based on not using PEDs.

He deserves to get in based on his career performance.

I don't want to hear reports that he got in because he "played it clean".

I want kids to know you can be successful and not cheat.

[The Ultimate Champion]

I have conflicting thoughts with this.

 

I want Frank to get in as an example of playing the power game cleanly in baseball.

I don't want him to get in based on not using PEDs.

He deserves to get in based on his career performance.

I don't want to hear reports that he got in because he "played it clean".

I want kids to know you can be successful and not cheat.

I'm not seeing any conflict there. You want him in because his numbers are both legitimate and rank him as one of the greatest hitters of all time, certainly the greatest hitter in this franchise's history.

 

I don't think you can ever send any message to kids that would come across so plain and simple. For example, MLB players who are paid extremely well can afford to dedicate their entire lives to baseball, have private workouts in their own private gyms, they can afford their own trainers and nutritionists, they can acquire the best knowledge out there and afford to take any and every legal means of upping their performance. Pretty much no prospect can afford any of that, and yet they still have to "naturally" compete with the MLB guys, because the more MLB roster spots taken up by vets, the fewer spots available to younger players.

 

Kids/players in general will always push the envelope as far as they can. And while it's nice to point to Big Frank and say "See? All Natural." it's kind of like pointing to Kobe Bryant and saying "All you need to do is work hard, kid." For most people in the world, those genetics simply aren't happening.

Edited December 13, 2013 by The Ultimate Champion

[The Ultimate Champion]

^Also, let's say you're a prospect on the fringes on the Major Leagues. Which do you think hurts more, 50 games on the bench because you got busted or 50 years at the Post Office because you didn't try? Look at how much money these athletes are worth. As a fan I'm not a fan of the cheaters, but if I really thought that roids were the only way I'd make it to MLB & get a shot at that payday I'd have every goddamn steriod known to man in my mouth, on my skin, up my ass, you name it.

 

The roiders that really get me though are the ARods and Bonds types who don't need them anyway. But they fall in a completely different category. You compare Frank's all-time numbers to theirs, but you don't compare Frank's numbers to Tyler Flowers' or Melky Cabreras or any other far lesser MLB performer.

[witesoxfan]

The reasoning behind Frank getting in has everything to do with him not using PEDs though. He won't get in BECAUSE he didn't use PEDs - hundreds upon hundreds didn't use. He will get in because he was an insanely talented hitter who was also clean of all suspicion. That's the problem with a lot of these guys who may have been clean.

 

They are absolutely invoking the character clause with this one. Yes, there are a few others who put up arguably more impressive numbers than Thomas did, but not only did he not use, he took a stand and did what he could to remove steroids and PEDs from teh game.

[The Ultimate Champion]

If robots were commissioned to fill out the HoF ballots rather than human beings & we're supposed to consider nothing but statistics on paper, Frank would be voted 1st ballot.

 

With human beings filling out ballots rather than robots, considering context with everything, Frank still *should* be first ballot. The only argument they would have is the DH argument, which is obviously a valid argument for a BORDERLINE HOF candidate, but not a machine like Frank. There is *no* valid argument against him, and that's why he should be in. However, I do think that some voters may elect Frank 85-90% because of his career and potentially 10-15% as a big "f*** you" to the steroid era. And I would have no problem with that, and obviously Frank doesn't seem to have an issue with that either.

 

I can see people actually *not* wanting Frank to get in as some kind of anti-steroids poster boy since it could potentially detract from his incredible numbers. The "clean" part of his career should be a distant second to his otherworldly performance. Frank doesn't need to be a talking point for people who want to b**** about Bonds, his career should stand on its own 2 feet, and in time it certainly will EVEN IF a lot of the Frank praise that should be coming over the next few months also serves as a backhanded slap to other players who don't belong in the discussion.

[witesoxfan]

Related:

 

First, please read this.

 

Then see this.

[hi8is]

Related:

 

First, please read this.

 

Then see this.

This is exactly who Frank Thomas was to the fans who followed him closest.

I'm sure many of you can attest as well with similar stories.

 

Frank was the reason I became a Sox fan. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, there really was no other reason for a 7 year old boy to latch onto the Chicago White Sox. All it took was one ESPN highlight of him mashing a Mike Mussina meatball out to the left field concourse.

 

And so a childhood obsession began.

 

Whenever the Sox were in town playing the Angels, my dad took work off... Bringing me with him for a series long indulgence of modern day Cracker Jack glory. My pops was a pretty smart guy - the first thing he taught me about the spectator side of Baseball was, "get to the park early." Real early. Four hours early.

 

We would wait for players to arrive and get their signatures with a black felt tip Sharpie pen. It was a crap shoot I'd soon learn.

 

Some players would quickly sign for a couple of people without breaking stride or taking their sun glasses off. Others would treat fans as if they where air and walk right by. The first time I saw Frank Thomas walk up with his six foot five frame holding two hundred and something pounds of muscle - I figured it would be a tough autograph to pull off.

 

He always was dressed as a consummate professional. A full suit with a coat. Nice slacks and a fleece sweater. Not flashy or arrogant but rather, as a man who was there to do a job. Being that he was one of the most talented players on the planet - I expected him to just blow by all the fans.

 

They swarmed up quickly... Clearly everyone had really been waiting for him. It was a shock seeing what happened:

 

Frank walked up to the entrance door. Removed his glasses. Turned around and smiled. He said two words, "Line up!" and then resumed back to smiling.

 

About fifty or a hundred people would stand in a single file line. We all fell into formation. The Big Hurt stood there and signed every autograph. He shook any outstretched hand. He posed for any picture requested. He treated everyone as if they where equals. The respect we had for him as a baseball player was returned to us tenfold as fans.

 

The first time I saw this system - I figured we just came on the right day. Got lucky. It was a priceless moment. I've no clue who won or lost the actual game but I'll never forget that moment.

 

After the stadium emptied, my dad turned to me and asked if I wanted to wait for the players again - this time catching them as they exited. To a seven year old, "sure!" is the only possible response. And so we waited.

 

About two hours later, Frank appeared at the player door, yet again in his professional attire. Everyone saw him and lined up. The man signed autographs for at least another hour. Amazing.

 

And so began a family tradition. For nearly the next decade - we always saw the Sox play in Anaheim. More often than not, Frank would sign for hours before or after a game... Sometimes both.

 

Unbelievable. Consistent. Humble. Amazing. Powerful. One of a kind.

 

Those are words that not only define his career on the field but they also are appropriate descriptions of his character.

 

Two years ago, right before getting married and starting a family of my own - I had a chance to save up some cash and surprise my dad with a trip to Chicago. It was our first trip to The Homeland after all of those years on enemy grounds. I wrote to Brooks Boyer and told him a little about my Dad and his selfless dedication to me during all of those Sox away games. After so many years waiting around for autographs and seeing the Angles beat our Sox - my pops was finally treated to a surprise on a new level.

 

Brooks instructed me to meet him at the field on our last game of a 7 game set. We arrived an hour before gates opened to the public. He greeted us - shook my dads hand... And walked us into the executive offices. He walked us down under the stadium, by the players locker rooms, and up through the umpire tunnel. We arrived behind home plate.

 

The look on my Dads face was priceless. He had no clue any of this would happen. Standing behind home plate, on the dirt of US Cellular Field... My old man cracked a smile like Frank Thomas always showed and teared up a bit.

 

Bad. Ass.

 

Thanks Frank Thomas for introducing me to the White Sox. Thanks for absolutely crushing baseballs. For inspiring me to play the game. For showing me how to handle success with grace. For affording me the opportunity to know gratitude and show appreciation on a Big Hurt scale. Thanks for leading me to the best organization in all of sports. An organization where everyone from the top down treats each other like a family. Thanks for being a legend of mythic proportion that can now be passed down to a son of my own once he's born this March.

 

He'll be three weeks old when the 2014 season opens this year. He'll be wrapped in his first Sox jersey - watching his first game with Daddy. Here's to hoping that by 2021 - when I go wait around with my boy at first first ball game - that some now unknown player will treat us with so much dignity.

 

I doubt there will ever again be a player of such a Big Hurt magnitude.

But hey, here's to hoping... Right.

 

Frank Thomas is already in the Hall of Fame to me.

Period.

Edited December 15, 2013 by hi8is

[Quin]

This is exactly who Frank Thomas was to the fans who followed him closest.

I'm sure many of you can attest as well with similar stories.

 

Frank was the reason I became a Sox fan. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, there really was no other reason for a 7 year old boy to latch onto the Chicago White Sox. All it took was one ESPN highlight of him mashing a Mike Mussina meatball out to the left field concourse.

 

And so a childhood obsession began.

 

Whenever the Sox were in town playing the Angels, my dad took work off... Bringing me with him for a series long indulgence of modern day Cracker Jack glory. My pops was a pretty smart guy - the first thing he taught me about the spectator side of Baseball was, "get to the park early." Real early. Four hours early.

 

We would wait for players to arrive and get their signatures with a black felt tip Sharpie pen. It was a crap shoot I'd soon learn.

 

Some players would quickly sign for a couple of people without breaking stride or taking their sun glasses off. Others would treat fans as if they where air and walk right by. The first time I saw Frank Thomas walk up with his six foot five frame holding two hundred and something pounds of muscle - I figured it would be a tough autograph to pull off.

 

He always was dressed as a consummate professional. A full suit with a coat. Nice slacks and a fleece sweater. Not flashy or arrogant but rather, as a man who was there to do a job. Being that he was one of the most talented players on the planet - I expected him to just blow by all the fans.

 

They swarmed up quickly... Clearly everyone had really been waiting for him. It was a shock seeing what happened:

 

Frank walked up to the entrance door. Removed his glasses. Turned around and smiled. He said two words, "Line up!" and then resumed back to smiling.

 

About fifty or a hundred people would stand in a single file line. We all fell into formation. The Big Hurt stood there and signed every autograph. He shook any outstretched hand. He posed for any picture requested. He treated everyone as if they where equals. The respect we had for him as a baseball player was returned to us tenfold as fans.

 

The first time I saw this system - I figured we just came on the right day. Got lucky. It was a priceless moment. I've no clue who won or lost the actual game but I'll never forget that moment.

 

After the stadium emptied, my dad turned to me and asked if I wanted to wait for the players again - this time catching them as they exited. To a seven year old, "sure!" is the only possible response. And so we waited.

 

About two hours later, Frank appeared at the player door, yet again in his professional attire. Everyone saw him and lined up. The man signed autographs for at least another hour. Amazing.

 

And so began a family tradition. For nearly the next decade - we always saw the Sox play in Anaheim. More often than not, Frank would sign for hours before or after a game... Sometimes both.

 

Unbelievable. Consistent. Humble. Amazing. Powerful. One of a kind.

 

Those are words that not only define his career on the field but they also are appropriate descriptions of his character.

 

Two years ago, right before getting married and starting a family of my own - I had a chance to save up some cash and surprise my dad with a trip to Chicago. It was our first trip to The Homeland after all of those years on enemy grounds. I wrote to Brooks Boyer and told him a little about my Dad and his selfless dedication to me during all of those Sox away games. After so many years waiting around for autographs and seeing the Angles beat our Sox - my pops was finally treated to a surprise on a new level.

 

Brooks instructed me to meet him at the field on our last game of a 7 game set. We arrived an hour before gates opened to the public. He greeted us - shook my dads hand... And walked us into the executive offices. He walked us down under the stadium, by the players locker rooms, and up through the umpire tunnel. We arrived behind home plate.

 

The look on my Dads face was priceless. He had no clue any of this would happen. Standing behind home plate, on the dirt of US Cellular Field... My old man cracked a smile like Frank Thomas always showed and teared up a bit.

 

Bad. Ass.

 

Thanks Frank Thomas for introducing me to the White Sox. Thanks for absolutely crushing baseballs. For inspiring me to play the game. For showing me how to handle success with grace. For affording me the opportunity to know gratitude and show appreciation on a Big Hurt scale. Thanks for leading me to the best organization in all of sports. An organization where everyone from the top down treats each other like a family. Thanks for being a legend of mythic proportion that can now be passed down to a son of my own once he's born this March.

 

He'll be three weeks old when the 2014 season opens this year. He'll be wrapped in his first Sox jersey - watching his first game with Daddy. Here's to hoping that by 2021 - when I go wait around with my boy at first first ball game - that some now unknown player will treat us with so much dignity.

 

I doubt there will ever again be a player of such a Big Hurt magnitude.

But hey, here's to hoping... Right.

 

Frank Thomas is already in the Hall of Fame to me.

Period.

 

I like this story a lot.

[BigEdWalsh]

I like this story a lot.

Me too. Being ultra-sensitive as I am, I got pretty choked up reading that.

 

[hi8is]

Me too. Being ultra-sensitive as I am, I got pretty choked up reading that.

Thanks guys - Glad that it meant something to you both.

[southsider2k5]

This is exactly who Frank Thomas was to the fans who followed him closest.

I'm sure many of you can attest as well with similar stories.

 

Frank was the reason I became a Sox fan. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, there really was no other reason for a 7 year old boy to latch onto the Chicago White Sox. All it took was one ESPN highlight of him mashing a Mike Mussina meatball out to the left field concourse.

 

And so a childhood obsession began.

 

Whenever the Sox were in town playing the Angels, my dad took work off... Bringing me with him for a series long indulgence of modern day Cracker Jack glory. My pops was a pretty smart guy - the first thing he taught me about the spectator side of Baseball was, "get to the park early." Real early. Four hours early.

 

We would wait for players to arrive and get their signatures with a black felt tip Sharpie pen. It was a crap shoot I'd soon learn.

 

Some players would quickly sign for a couple of people without breaking stride or taking their sun glasses off. Others would treat fans as if they where air and walk right by. The first time I saw Frank Thomas walk up with his six foot five frame holding two hundred and something pounds of muscle - I figured it would be a tough autograph to pull off.

 

He always was dressed as a consummate professional. A full suit with a coat. Nice slacks and a fleece sweater. Not flashy or arrogant but rather, as a man who was there to do a job. Being that he was one of the most talented players on the planet - I expected him to just blow by all the fans.

 

They swarmed up quickly... Clearly everyone had really been waiting for him. It was a shock seeing what happened:

 

Frank walked up to the entrance door. Removed his glasses. Turned around and smiled. He said two words, "Line up!" and then resumed back to smiling.

 

About fifty or a hundred people would stand in a single file line. We all fell into formation. The Big Hurt stood there and signed every autograph. He shook any outstretched hand. He posed for any picture requested. He treated everyone as if they where equals. The respect we had for him as a baseball player was returned to us tenfold as fans.

 

The first time I saw this system - I figured we just came on the right day. Got lucky. It was a priceless moment. I've no clue who won or lost the actual game but I'll never forget that moment.

 

After the stadium emptied, my dad turned to me and asked if I wanted to wait for the players again - this time catching them as they exited. To a seven year old, "sure!" is the only possible response. And so we waited.

 

About two hours later, Frank appeared at the player door, yet again in his professional attire. Everyone saw him and lined up. The man signed autographs for at least another hour. Amazing.

 

And so began a family tradition. For nearly the next decade - we always saw the Sox play in Anaheim. More often than not, Frank would sign for hours before or after a game... Sometimes both.

 

Unbelievable. Consistent. Humble. Amazing. Powerful. One of a kind.

 

Those are words that not only define his career on the field but they also are appropriate descriptions of his character.

 

Two years ago, right before getting married and starting a family of my own - I had a chance to save up some cash and surprise my dad with a trip to Chicago. It was our first trip to The Homeland after all of those years on enemy grounds. I wrote to Brooks Boyer and told him a little about my Dad and his selfless dedication to me during all of those Sox away games. After so many years waiting around for autographs and seeing the Angles beat our Sox - my pops was finally treated to a surprise on a new level.

 

Brooks instructed me to meet him at the field on our last game of a 7 game set. We arrived an hour before gates opened to the public. He greeted us - shook my dads hand... And walked us into the executive offices. He walked us down under the stadium, by the players locker rooms, and up through the umpire tunnel. We arrived behind home plate.

 

The look on my Dads face was priceless. He had no clue any of this would happen. Standing behind home plate, on the dirt of US Cellular Field... My old man cracked a smile like Frank Thomas always showed and teared up a bit.

 

Bad. Ass.

 

Thanks Frank Thomas for introducing me to the White Sox. Thanks for absolutely crushing baseballs. For inspiring me to play the game. For showing me how to handle success with grace. For affording me the opportunity to know gratitude and show appreciation on a Big Hurt scale. Thanks for leading me to the best organization in all of sports. An organization where everyone from the top down treats each other like a family. Thanks for being a legend of mythic proportion that can now be passed down to a son of my own once he's born this March.

 

He'll be three weeks old when the 2014 season opens this year. He'll be wrapped in his first Sox jersey - watching his first game with Daddy. Here's to hoping that by 2021 - when I go wait around with my boy at first first ball game - that some now unknown player will treat us with so much dignity.

 

I doubt there will ever again be a player of such a Big Hurt magnitude.

But hey, here's to hoping... Right.

 

Frank Thomas is already in the Hall of Fame to me.

Period.

 

This is what sports should be all about. This is what I love about them.

[Whitewashed in '05]

This is exactly who Frank Thomas was to the fans who followed him closest.

I'm sure many of you can attest as well with similar stories.

 

Frank was the reason I became a Sox fan. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, there really was no other reason for a 7 year old boy to latch onto the Chicago White Sox. All it took was one ESPN highlight of him mashing a Mike Mussina meatball out to the left field concourse.

 

And so a childhood obsession began.

 

Whenever the Sox were in town playing the Angels, my dad took work off... Bringing me with him for a series long indulgence of modern day Cracker Jack glory. My pops was a pretty smart guy - the first thing he taught me about the spectator side of Baseball was, "get to the park early." Real early. Four hours early.

 

We would wait for players to arrive and get their signatures with a black felt tip Sharpie pen. It was a crap shoot I'd soon learn.

 

Some players would quickly sign for a couple of people without breaking stride or taking their sun glasses off. Others would treat fans as if they where air and walk right by. The first time I saw Frank Thomas walk up with his six foot five frame holding two hundred and something pounds of muscle - I figured it would be a tough autograph to pull off.

 

He always was dressed as a consummate professional. A full suit with a coat. Nice slacks and a fleece sweater. Not flashy or arrogant but rather, as a man who was there to do a job. Being that he was one of the most talented players on the planet - I expected him to just blow by all the fans.

 

They swarmed up quickly... Clearly everyone had really been waiting for him. It was a shock seeing what happened:

 

Frank walked up to the entrance door. Removed his glasses. Turned around and smiled. He said two words, "Line up!" and then resumed back to smiling.

 

About fifty or a hundred people would stand in a single file line. We all fell into formation. The Big Hurt stood there and signed every autograph. He shook any outstretched hand. He posed for any picture requested. He treated everyone as if they where equals. The respect we had for him as a baseball player was returned to us tenfold as fans.

 

The first time I saw this system - I figured we just came on the right day. Got lucky. It was a priceless moment. I've no clue who won or lost the actual game but I'll never forget that moment.

 

After the stadium emptied, my dad turned to me and asked if I wanted to wait for the players again - this time catching them as they exited. To a seven year old, "sure!" is the only possible response. And so we waited.

 

About two hours later, Frank appeared at the player door, yet again in his professional attire. Everyone saw him and lined up. The man signed autographs for at least another hour. Amazing.

 

And so began a family tradition. For nearly the next decade - we always saw the Sox play in Anaheim. More often than not, Frank would sign for hours before or after a game... Sometimes both.

 

Unbelievable. Consistent. Humble. Amazing. Powerful. One of a kind.

 

Those are words that not only define his career on the field but they also are appropriate descriptions of his character.

 

Two years ago, right before getting married and starting a family of my own - I had a chance to save up some cash and surprise my dad with a trip to Chicago. It was our first trip to The Homeland after all of those years on enemy grounds. I wrote to Brooks Boyer and told him a little about my Dad and his selfless dedication to me during all of those Sox away games. After so many years waiting around for autographs and seeing the Angles beat our Sox - my pops was finally treated to a surprise on a new level.

 

Brooks instructed me to meet him at the field on our last game of a 7 game set. We arrived an hour before gates opened to the public. He greeted us - shook my dads hand... And walked us into the executive offices. He walked us down under the stadium, by the players locker rooms, and up through the umpire tunnel. We arrived behind home plate.

 

The look on my Dads face was priceless. He had no clue any of this would happen. Standing behind home plate, on the dirt of US Cellular Field... My old man cracked a smile like Frank Thomas always showed and teared up a bit.

 

Bad. Ass.

 

Thanks Frank Thomas for introducing me to the White Sox. Thanks for absolutely crushing baseballs. For inspiring me to play the game. For showing me how to handle success with grace. For affording me the opportunity to know gratitude and show appreciation on a Big Hurt scale. Thanks for leading me to the best organization in all of sports. An organization where everyone from the top down treats each other like a family. Thanks for being a legend of mythic proportion that can now be passed down to a son of my own once he's born this March.

 

He'll be three weeks old when the 2014 season opens this year. He'll be wrapped in his first Sox jersey - watching his first game with Daddy. Here's to hoping that by 2021 - when I go wait around with my boy at first first ball game - that some now unknown player will treat us with so much dignity.

 

I doubt there will ever again be a player of such a Big Hurt magnitude.

But hey, here's to hoping... Right.

 

Frank Thomas is already in the Hall of Fame to me.

Period.

 

Fantastic post.

[CaliSoxFanViaSWside]

This is exactly who Frank Thomas was to the fans who followed him closest.

I'm sure many of you can attest as well with similar stories.

 

Frank was the reason I became a Sox fan. Being a born and raised Southern Californian, there really was no other reason for a 7 year old boy to latch onto the Chicago White Sox. All it took was one ESPN highlight of him mashing a Mike Mussina meatball out to the left field concourse.

 

And so a childhood obsession began.

 

Whenever the Sox were in town playing the Angels, my dad took work off... Bringing me with him for a series long indulgence of modern day Cracker Jack glory. My pops was a pretty smart guy - the first thing he taught me about the spectator side of Baseball was, "get to the park early." Real early. Four hours early.

 

We would wait for players to arrive and get their signatures with a black felt tip Sharpie pen. It was a crap shoot I'd soon learn.

 

Some players would quickly sign for a couple of people without breaking stride or taking their sun glasses off. Others would treat fans as if they where air and walk right by. The first time I saw Frank Thomas walk up with his six foot five frame holding two hundred and something pounds of muscle - I figured it would be a tough autograph to pull off.

 

He always was dressed as a consummate professional. A full suit with a coat. Nice slacks and a fleece sweater. Not flashy or arrogant but rather, as a man who was there to do a job. Being that he was one of the most talented players on the planet - I expected him to just blow by all the fans.

 

They swarmed up quickly... Clearly everyone had really been waiting for him. It was a shock seeing what happened:

 

Frank walked up to the entrance door. Removed his glasses. Turned around and smiled. He said two words, "Line up!" and then resumed back to smiling.

 

About fifty or a hundred people would stand in a single file line. We all fell into formation. The Big Hurt stood there and signed every autograph. He shook any outstretched hand. He posed for any picture requested. He treated everyone as if they where equals. The respect we had for him as a baseball player was returned to us tenfold as fans.

 

The first time I saw this system - I figured we just came on the right day. Got lucky. It was a priceless moment. I've no clue who won or lost the actual game but I'll never forget that moment.

 

After the stadium emptied, my dad turned to me and asked if I wanted to wait for the players again - this time catching them as they exited. To a seven year old, "sure!" is the only possible response. And so we waited.

 

About two hours later, Frank appeared at the player door, yet again in his professional attire. Everyone saw him and lined up. The man signed autographs for at least another hour. Amazing.

 

And so began a family tradition. For nearly the next decade - we always saw the Sox play in Anaheim. More often than not, Frank would sign for hours before or after a game... Sometimes both.

 

Unbelievable. Consistent. Humble. Amazing. Powerful. One of a kind.

 

Those are words that not only define his career on the field but they also are appropriate descriptions of his character.

 

Two years ago, right before getting married and starting a family of my own - I had a chance to save up some cash and surprise my dad with a trip to Chicago. It was our first trip to The Homeland after all of those years on enemy grounds. I wrote to Brooks Boyer and told him a little about my Dad and his selfless dedication to me during all of those Sox away games. After so many years waiting around for autographs and seeing the Angles beat our Sox - my pops was finally treated to a surprise on a new level.

 

Brooks instructed me to meet him at the field on our last game of a 7 game set. We arrived an hour before gates opened to the public. He greeted us - shook my dads hand... And walked us into the executive offices. He walked us down under the stadium, by the players locker rooms, and up through the umpire tunnel. We arrived behind home plate.

 

The look on my Dads face was priceless. He had no clue any of this would happen. Standing behind home plate, on the dirt of US Cellular Field... My old man cracked a smile like Frank Thomas always showed and teared up a bit.

 

Bad. Ass.

 

Thanks Frank Thomas for introducing me to the White Sox. Thanks for absolutely crushing baseballs. For inspiring me to play the game. For showing me how to handle success with grace. For affording me the opportunity to know gratitude and show appreciation on a Big Hurt scale. Thanks for leading me to the best organization in all of sports. An organization where everyone from the top down treats each other like a family. Thanks for being a legend of mythic proportion that can now be passed down to a son of my own once he's born this March.

 

He'll be three weeks old when the 2014 season opens this year. He'll be wrapped in his first Sox jersey - watching his first game with Daddy. Here's to hoping that by 2021 - when I go wait around with my boy at first first ball game - that some now unknown player will treat us with so much dignity.

 

I doubt there will ever again be a player of such a Big Hurt magnitude.

But hey, here's to hoping... Right.

 

Frank Thomas is already in the Hall of Fame to me.

Period.

I wish every voter could see this. I am so impressed... you didn't say poop once ! Who are you and what have you done with Hi8is ? Are you going to name your son Frank ? Congrats man !

Edited December 18, 2013 by CaliSoxFanViaSWside

[flavum]

This guy thinks Maddux will be the only one to get in.

 

http://baseballpastandpresent.com/2013/12/...ction-forecast/

 

Personally, Frank is already a Hall of Famer. It's just a matter of time.

 

So I'm hoping this guy is right, just to show how flawed the process is now. If Maddux is the only one to get in, it will force a change. It just has to.

[Baron]

This guy thinks Maddux will be the only one to get in.

 

http://baseballpastandpresent.com/2013/12/...ction-forecast/

 

Personally, Frank is already a Hall of Famer. It's just a matter of time.

 

So I'm hoping this guy is right, just to show how flawed the process is now. If Maddux is the only one to get in, it will force a change. It just has to.

 

Yeah I read that too...pretty ridiculous. Also getting tired of people I talk to trying constantly convince me that Jack Morris should be in the HOF.

[flavum]

Yeah I read that too...pretty ridiculous. Also getting tired of people I talk to trying constantly convince me that Jack Morris should be in the HOF.

 

I'm just glad the debate will be over one way or the other. Too negative.

[Texsox]

I am trying to keep my expectations low. The level of disappointment will already be pretty huge if Frank isn't elected this year. He's really the first player in my lifetime I cared at all about making the HoF.