So Here’s The Likely Reason Somebody Didn’t Vote For Derek Jeter

It wasn’t me!

Here we are, three days since Derek Jeter came one vote shy of joining former New York Yankees teammate Mariano Rivera as the only other unanimous choice for the Baseball Hall of Fame, and we still don’t know the culprit.

We’ll know.

Until then, this omission looks crazy.

Before Jeter became the CEO of the Miami Marlins three years ago, making $5 million per year with the possibilities of millions more through bonuses by turning yearly profits with the franchise, he was the model baseball player on and off the field.

He became the game’s most marketable player during a career that spanned from 1995 through 2014, and the Yankees watched their revenue go from $200 million to $7 billion, including the team, a TV network and concessions business.

Through it all, he made $269 million with the Yankees, which is why he had more than enough in the fall of 2017 to invest $25 million into becoming a partial owner of the Marlins as well as their primary boss.

This guy was so beloved by America that he hosted Saturday Night Live while still performing miracles for the Yankees with his bat, his glove and his arm. In addition, as an active player in any sport, only Peyton Manning ranked higher than Jeter's Q score that gauges favorability.

But Jeter wasn’t unanimous for Cooperstown.

Why? I mean, why would somebody embarrass themselves by voting against a player who went to the All-Star Game 14 of his 20 years in the Major Leagues and made five his magic number regarding Gold Gloves, Silver Sluggers and world championship rings?

I’ve got three possibilities.

Only one of them makes sense.

(1) Personal feud

Some players were more cooperative with the media through the years than others, and reporters are elephants.

Let’s just say Baseball Hall of Fame voters remember which of those former players trying to get into Cooperstown were naughty or nice in the clubhouse when deadlines were approaching.

Derek Jeter? The Captain? Less than accommodating to folks carrying a camera or a notebook and a pen?

As they say around the Bronx, Fughetaboutit.

I was up close and personal to Jeter at a slew of postseason games, All-Star Games and regular-season games, and he ranked in Pete Rose/Tony Gwynn territory among great baseball players who treated the media with respect on a consistent basis.

No matter how Jeter or his Yankees performed on a particular day, he was always at his locker, and he was always giving answers with his eyes focused on the questioner, and he was always making each person in his universe feel significant, whether they worked for the New York Times or an obscure Internet site.

That’s not what happened here.

(2) The Babe Ruth thing

Since Hank Aaron, Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, Willie Mays and all of those other legendary players weren’t unanimous choices for the Baseball Hall of Fame, why should (fill in the blank) get such an honor?

Believe it or not, you’ve had many Baseball Hall of Fame voters over the decades refuse to vote for a player on the first ballot to emphasize that point.

Whatever.

That 20th-century thinking began to fade four years ago when Ken Griffey Jr. fell three votes shy (437 out of 440) of becoming the first unanimous pick.

Then came Rivera, the greatest closer of all-time, who got all 425 votes last year from those with Baseball Hall of Fame ballots, and he earned the same five rings as Jeter through the Yankees’ run of world championships from 1996 through 2009.

It’s doubtful that the non-Jeter voter had somebody like the Bambino, Lou Gehrig or Bob Gibson in mind.

Before we get to No. 3, that non-Jeter voter will leave the shadows sooner rather than later. For one, many of us who vote for Baseball Hall of Famers as members of the Baseball Writers Association of America checked the box on our ballots that allows the public to see our votes 14 days after the results are released.

Which means we could discover that non-Jeter voter on Tuesday, February 4.

Regardless, that non-Jeter voter will surface due to commonsense. You don’t put yourself in the position of becoming the only person not to vote for such an obvious Hall of Famer in any sport without having the desire someday to scream your reasoning to the world.

Well, unless it’s No. 3.

As somebody who just finished his 29th year of voting for Baseball Hall of Famers, I’ll confess: I once did my version of No. 3.

(3) Homer Simpson (as in DOH!)

Maybe that non-Jeter voter forgot to check the box.