As the Internet teaches us, it’s Hall-of-Fame voting season, which means a bounty of carefully nursed grudges and logic tortured to the brink of demise. The actual, bricks-and-mortar Hall of Fame is a lovely place that is worth your time and U.S. currency. Those charged with populating the Hall of Fame, however, are in not small part bloated, slappy harlequins with no sense of proper mission or context. Thus, Dick Allen’s — Mister Dick Allen’s — criminal absence from Cooperstown.
The good news, however, is that Mr. Dick Allen, despite the chronic neglect, is as healthy and confident as something unimaginably confident and healthy. And that leads us to this enduring truth …
Mr. Dick Allen — he’s just fine, thanks.
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