Baseball's Hall of Fame ballot came to the house last week, a little late due to a new online registering system that I at first resisted becoming part of, but acquiesced eventually because, well, I wasn't quite ready yet to completely drop out of the conversation.

But I'm getting close and I'll tell you a few reasons why.

Because while I would bet my house that John Smoltz’s statistics were not aided by performance enhancing drugs, and while I feel almost as comfortable saying that about Randy Johnson and Pedro Martinez as well, I don’t know that definitively. I don’t know whether Tim Raines or Fred McGriff ever dabbled in the days when many ignorantly or innocently grouped steroids with vitamins and protein shakes, the days when we believed baseball’s biggest deceptions were in the manufacture of golf-ball performance baseballs, and undetected cork in bats. 

I don’t know how to judge any of these guys and I don’t like the position Hall of Fame voters have been put in. If you don’t know for a fact who did and who didn’t, how can you reasonably judge the statistics and – more importantly to me – memories they left behind? 

I'd like to think that Jeff Bagwell and Craig Biggio never dabbled because they seemed like good guys who seemed to work hard. I would love to believe Mike Piazza's rags to riches story as a late-round draft favor to Tommy Lasorda who made good – no, great – and thus dismiss suspicions about how that story might have been aided by what apparently was a common practice of his day.

And what of that practice, a practice that Major League Baseball seemed to wink at when guys like Lenny Dykstra and Kevin Mitchell and Dave Hollins suddenly found power in their swings that had never existed before? There are so many players from the 1980s and 1990s who escape our scrutiny because their careers were less than Hall of Fame caliber, players who have found their way into coaching, managing and even media jobs at the Major and Minor League level?

They escape our scrutiny for the most part. But the names up for the Hall of Fame? With each passing year, the debate gets as dirty as the uniforms they played in. And the sanctimony of at least some voters who see themselves as Holy Sees becomes, at times, unbearable.

And frankly, silly. The older I get, the more the ballot becomes an exercise in innuendo, accusation and opinion. Someone at the Hall, or in baseball’s front offices, needs to make a call on these people, decide, if they can, who gets cleared of the scrutiny and who does not. Just not those asked to vote. Too much ignorance, and too much bias. 

Do I think Roger Clemens would be a Hall of Famer without any help? Absolutely? Barry Bonds? Probably. Sammy Sosa? Probably not. Should I simply vote that way, since their names are on the same sheet of paper that John Smoltz's is?

That's what I don't know. What I do know is that, either way, it doesn't feel right. The only thing I know for sure is that I wouldn't want to be admitted -- or kept out of -- the Hall this way.