Designated Twitter: Verifying the Game’s Greats

Pete Rose is familiar with the scorn that accompanies being jilted.

The sting of exclusion is still certainly fresh for Jim Rice — despite the backing of 6,521 people.

Think less Cooperstown and more Twitter-verse.

It’s here where a player such as Los Angeles Angels’ sophomore third baseman Mark Trumbo — with his 6,498 fewer career hits than Rice and Rose combined — has something to lord over the two baseball legends:

He’s been verified by Twitter.

If being elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame is the ultimate long-term validation of a career, then being verified by Twitter is the new ultimate “status” symbol in this new information-now, social media era.

Consider this the age of the Designated Twitter.

The act of Twitter verification (Twittification, if you would) in layman’s terms is the confirmation that you are who you say you are.

It should be noted that former NFL coach Dennis Green (@UFLDennisGreen), who famously coined a version of the aforementioned “who you say you are” phrase is not Twittified.

According to Twitter legalese:

Twitter proactively verifies accounts on an ongoing basis to make it easier for users to find who they’re looking for. We concentrate on highly sought users in music, acting, fashion, government, politics, religion, journalism, media, advertising, business, and other key interest areas. We verify business partners from time to time and individuals at high risk of impersonation.

We do not accept requests for verification from the general public. If you fall under one of the above categories and your Twitter account meets our qualifications for verification, we may reach out to you in the future.

So despite the Hall of Fame numbers, Rose — who unlike Rice who was finally enshrined in Cooperstown— finds himself, yet again, at the mercy of a committee.

He shouldn’t lose too much sleep over the Twitter snub — that is, if @PeteRose_14 is the actually Charlie Hustle. He’s not alone.

Of the 14 members of the Baseball Hall of Fame with what appears to be legitimate Twitter handles, only six are verified:

Johnny Bench, Bert Blyleven, Wade Boggs,OrlandoCepeda, Tommy Lasorda and Ozzie Smith.

That leaves Roberto Alomar, Luis Aparicio, George Brett, Dennis Eckersley, Cal Ripken, Ryne Sandberg, Dave Winfield and Rice in the same dugout at Rose.

That list doesn’t include the Twitter accounts of Sparky Anderson’smemorial golf tournament, the Yogi Berra and Bob Feller museums orMickey Mantle’s Restaurant (@mickey’s_steaks).

Nor does it consist of Rollie Fingers’ mustache (@Rollies_Stache), Babe Ruth’s ghost (@RealBabesGhost), Ted Williams’ severed head or Pete Rose’s Haircut (@PeteRoseHaircut).

It’s sometimes impossible to decipher who is real and who exists solely in the tubes of the Internet.

A search for Cy Young suggestsArizona Diamondbacks’ outfielderChris Young.

Is Connie Mack the formerPhiladelphia Athletics’ manager or a politician representing Florida’s 14th District in Congress?

Am I searching Robin Roberts the 286-win pitcher or the Good Morning America co-host?

Would Willie Mays, arguably the greatest player ever, have 150 less followers than fictional centerfielder Willie Mays Hayes?

Would Ernie Banks really use the term “swag?”

Would Hall of Fame Cubs’ catcher Gabby Hartnett Tweet under the guise of@DancerBabe739?

Why is Tony Gwynn Jr. verified and not his Hall of Fame father?

This is why verification comes in handy.

Of course, not being verified certainly isn’t the final out in the ninth inning of the game that is the social media lives of Baseball’s Hall of Famers.

After all, we live in an age where even death doesn’t spell the end for celebrities. See the recent rebirth of the Tupac and Michael Jackson in hologram form as a prime example.

That’s Michael Jackson the musician, not the namesake who wracked up 142 saves with eight teams in 17 Big League seasons — the former which has a verified Twitter handle, the latter which does not.

For those who can’t afford to come back in hologram form, Twitter is their zombie land.

Those Tweeting from beyond the corn in Iowa are Lou Bourdeau, Johnny Evers, Buck Ewing, Ralph Kiner, Nap Lajoie and Freddie Lindstrom.  Amos “The Hoosier Thunderbolt” Rusie, who retired in 1901, even has a Twitter handle, for Cuckoo Christensen sake.

Just about all of them have a comedic flare to them, because every former ballplayer resurrects as a smart-ass comedian.

It’s unfortunate the Twitter era has arrived so late. We’ll never know the caliber of Tweets from HOFers Elmer Flick, Mule Suttles or Heinie Manush would match the hilarity of their names.

Think of the quips Yogi Berra could’ve delivered in 140 characters.

“No 1 goes there anymore, it’s 2 crowded.”

“U shud go to other peep’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come 2 URs.”

One has to wonder if Phil Rizzuto would’ve ended each Tweet with the #HolyCow hashtag.

How long would it take volatile former Baltimore Orioles manager Earl Weaver to get fined via Twitter?

You get the feeling that Twitter was created with the likes of promoter extraordinaire Bill Veeck in mind. First 50 to Tweet wins free ice cream!

Perhaps he’d lead an online cavalry to get Pete Rose into the Baseball Hall. If so, he’s going to have to wrest the handle @FreePeteRoseHOF from some guy named Josh.

Then, just maybe, the all-time career hit leader can get verified.