Introducing the Official 'Larry Walker Hall of Fame 2020' Campaign

With every year that goes by, the exclusion of Larry Walker from the hallowed halls of Cooperstown becomes increasingly egregious.

And now, with his 10th and final circulation on the ballot ahead of us this coming winter, it's time to drop the niceties. This is the last chance that we, the people on the right side of history, have to make our voices heard.

Allow me to say it in the plainest terms: If you're saying Walker isn't a Hall of Famer, you're saying the Colorado Rockies, one of 30 franchises in Major League Baseball, don't deserve to have a Hall of Famer.

Walker was, in no particular order: one of the most fearsome hitters in the game for 16 years, an on-base machine both pre- and post-Coors Field, a seven-time Gold Glover with an absolute hose, a Canadian superstar who cut his teeth in baseball leading the Expos under tremendous pressure, and the quintessential Rockie.

But, even removing sentimentality over the fairness of representation for all baseball fans, it's a pretty airtight case.

Before arriving in Colorado, Walker was a two-time Top 11 MVP finisher, and had posted lines of .301/.353/.506 with 23 homers and 93 RBI, and .322/.394/.587 with 19 homers and 86 knocked in. Of course, when he hit his age-30 season in Denver, he went supernova, winning an MVP in 1997 by OBP'ing .452, and posting consecutive seasons from '97-'99 that featured averages of .366, .363, and .379.

Let's talk about Coors Field for a second, shall we? The rare elephant in the room that should be ignored, accepted as a rogue elephant, and sent on its way. The fact that Walker was sent to play in a hitter's haven (not his choice) is inaccurately clouding the fact that he was the most complete player in the National League for nearly a decade. Coors and its altitude monster turns doubles into home runs, and that much is evident from looking at Walker's power numbers. However, hitting .365 and above takes marked skill. The mountain air doesn't imbue talent upon you.

At home during his MVP season of 1997, Walker hit .384 with 20 homers. On the road? .346 with 29 homers? The majority of his homers came on the road, you say? OOPS!

In 1999, things got out of hand, but Walker still maintained All-Star numbers on the road (.286/.375/.519). It's just that -- how can I put this -- he hit an unconscionable .461/.539/.897 at home. He was on base 54% of the time at Coors. This is not a pockmark on his resume. This is a story of someone who saw the environment laid out ahead of him, and laid waste to it at a historic pace.

And, loudly for the people in the back: THIS IS ONE OF THE STADIUMS AND LOCALES MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL HAS CHOSEN! You don't get to sanction baseball in Denver, then informally ban all Denver players from the Hall of Fame. You created this.

Don't believe me? Ask a pretty savvy hitter: Tony Gwynn.

Per Hall of Fame tests and metrics, Walker ranks as firmly above-average when compared with the rest of the inductees. Per the Hall of Fame Monitor, an all-encompassing stat rating positioning relative to the rest of the field, Walker's mark is 148; an average Hall of Famer scores 100. On the Hall of Fame Standards, he's a 58; an average honoree is a 50. He falls just below the threshold on the Black Ink Test, rating a 24 (Hall of Fame average is 27). Worst case, he's just below the "average" fold.

Of his 10 most comparable players, half are in the Hall, including slam dunk candidates like the man who grabbed the torch from him as the last Expos superstar, Vladimir Guerrero, and untouchable legend of the game Joe DiMaggio, the Yankee Clipper. The numbers tell the tale of a man who went above and beyond. The narrative tells the story of a man who deserves to be excluded because one of MLB's ballparks doesn't meet MLB standards.

Let's change that narrative.