This column originally ran in The Standard-Times on Jan. 8, 2006.

By Nick Tavares

It's every baseball geek's favorite time of year, folks. That's right, it's time to argue over who should be in baseball's Hall of Fame. And being a baseball geek myself, I'm just about giddy.

That's right, the credits of Bruce Sutter, Bert Blyleven and Goose Gossage will be, and have been, bandied about Web sites, other newspapers, television, etc., by writers across the country.

This year's inductees, if any, will be announced Tuesday. With no clear-cut first-ballot choices among this year's class of players eligible for the first time, which includes Rick Aguilera, Albert Belle and Will Clark, the timing seems perfect for one player who just happened to put on his Sox in Boston.

Jim Ed Rice, come on down.

His case has been made several times, but since he's not yet an owner of a shiny bronze plaque, his case hasn't been made enough.

Awards are important to voters, and in 1978 Rice won the American League's MVP, finishing well ahead of New York's Ron Guidry. He bashed out 46 home runs and 139 RBI with an OPS of .970. He also managed to play in 163 games that season, thanks to the one-game playoff with the Yankees.

From 1975 to 1986, there was not a more consistent hitter in the American League. An average season from that time reads like this 151 games, 183 hits, 28 doubles, 30 home runs, 108 RBI, .305 batting average.

That kind of season, year in, year out, was unparalleled in the AL at the time, and few players league wide (Mike Schmidt comes to mind) could match his production at the time.

He was a key part of two pennant-winning Red Sox teams, the first coming in a rookie season when he lost out both the MVP and Rookie of the Year trophies to deserving teammate Fred Lynn. The second came in 1986 when he had his last great season, batting .324 with 20 home runs and 110 RBI in the last of eight seasons as an All-Star.

He finished third in the MVP voting that season, behind winner and teammate Roger Clemens and the Yankees' Don Mattingly.

And to look at his final stats -- 382 home runs, 1,451 RBI, 2,452 hits -- would reveal that he compares favorably, and often bests, Hall of Famers Willie Stargel (475, 1,540, 2,232 in eight more seasons) and Tony Perez (379, 1,652, 2,732 in nine more seasons).

If he had avoided injuries, he would've reached the 400 home run plateau and been a shoe-in, given that he first became eligible when 400 home runs meant something.

He didn't reach 400 home runs, but he didn't cheat in order to stretch out his career. He played his final game on Aug. 3, 1989, at the age of 36. If you're keeping score at home, Barry Bonds was 36 the year he hit 73 home runs on the strength of his own super-human knees.

Another factor that hopefully hasn't been the issue is Rice's noted surliness in the clubhouse to reporters. Baseball writers are given the responsibility of voting on Hall of Fame candidates, and the possibility that Rice has been excluded all these years because of his candor to reporters exists. It shouldn't, obviously, be a factor to voters, but he did himself no favors all those years in the Boston clubhouse.

But other players with tepid media relations have made it in. Pitcher Steve Carlton outright refused to address any reporter during the bulk of his career, but the lefty's 329 wins spoke louder than his silence to the media.

If nothing else, Jim Rice's career is a testament to the excellence the human body can achieve on the strength of one's own will, determination and talent. Like Hall of Famer Cam Neely in the NHL, Rice had an outstanding career rendered brief by injuries

Baseball's Hall would be wise to honor such a career, and quickly, before the parade of 500 home run monsters begins in a few years.

Nick Tavares is a columnist for The Standard-Times. E-mail him at ntavares@s-t.com

This story appeared on Page E1 of The Standard-Times on January 8, 2006.