I've been here before.

I voted for Michael Young for MVP. And the vote was roundly ridiculed nationally.

That was a little more than seven years ago. Young, after being moved off a position for the second time in three years and nearly traded, to boot, hit .338, drove in 106 runs, posted

OPS and was the most consistent hitter in the best lineup in the league. There were talented players in the lineup -- Adrian Beltre and Josh Hamilton come to mind -- but each missed at least six weeks of the season with an injury while Young kept legging out hits and pushing the Rangers to the playoffs.

Justin Verlander, second on my ballot, ended up winning by nearly unanimous acclaim. Verlander had a truly dominant year as a pitcher. And that should have been the prevailing story. But on social media, at times of

election, it's not just about

a

but also tarring those whose votes didn't line up with theirs.

But his WAR, they said. But his OPS, they said. He was a DH, they said.

And if I had it do all over again, I'd probably vote for Young, again.

Instead, I incurred the wrath of the social media monster by including Young as the 10th name on my 10-man Hall of Fame ballot. In full alphabetical

my ballot read: Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Roy Halladay, Edgar Martinez, Mike Mussina, Mariano Rivera, Curt Schilling, Gary Sheffield, Larry Walker

Young.

And then they came again.

But his WAR, they said. But his OPS, they said. But, what about (insert

who spent most of his career in the town from which the tweet originated), they said.

The last one, I'll admit, is an argument that resonates the most with me.

In fact, it's a big part of what led to me to vote for Young in the first place. For more than a decade -- and perhaps the greatest in Rangers history -- Young was the standard-bearer for the franchise. He played more games (1,823) and amassed more hits (2,230) than any player in the team's history and was the unquestioned captain of the only two Rangers teams to advance to the World Series. And he did it while hitting .301 for his Rangers career, and, yes, batting average still does matter, even if OPS matters more.

To put this into context in the free agent era of transiency, let's just consider this trio of stats: At least 1,620 games (the equivalent of 10 full 162-game seasons), 2,000 hits and a .300 batting average all with one club. The list since 1977 is 15 players long, including Young. Of the remaining 14 players, seven are Hall of Famers (Chipper Jones, Wade Boggs, Frank Thomas, George Brett, Paul Molitor, Kirby Puckett

Tony Gwynn), three others are not yet eligible (Derek Jeter, Ichiro Suzuki and Albert Pujols), another will likely be elected Tuesday (Edgar Martinez), another will almost certainly remain on the ballot for 2020 (Todd Helton).

That leaves Don Mattingly, who managed to gain enough votes to remain on the ballot for all of the 15 years he was eligible (the rules have since changed to a maximum of 10 years, so long as the player is named on at least 5 percent of the ballots cast), and Mark Grace.

For me, all of this matters. Longevity -- or loyalty -- are tangible.

I'll also add that Young did it while never making a trip to the disabled list and with

versatility. He played at least 100 games at all four infield positions, something only 11 players have ever done and played at least 400 games each at second, short and third. Only Buck Herzog, who had a name made for a manager if there ever was one, ever did that, and he played most of his games more than 100 years ago.

In the end, I realize that for numbers crunchers, the case may not hold up. They will say he was a very good hitter who did what was asked of him and had the luck not to be traded. They will make logical and rational arguments about the performance of other players on this ballot for other reasons. They will argue: "It's not the Hall of Very Good."

To which my counter would be: "It's also not the Hall of WAR or the Hall of OPS."

It is the Hall of Fame, which is as nebulous a title as you can get. It is what you want it to be. There is no single, absolute qualifier and, aside from betting on baseball, no automatic disqualifier, either.

In actually, it is a single, cold room full of nothing but bronze plaques which try to sum up the indelible marks players, executives and pioneers have made to baseball in 100 words or less. It is, if you ask me, physically the least impressive element of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. And, yet, I don't think anybody walks out of it saying: "Well, can you believe that? Pie Traynor? My day is just ruined. What a waste of time."

The Hall of Fame is a state of mind more than anything else, the qualifiers the things that make a player special in each individual fan and voter's mind.

In mine, Michael Young left an indelible mark on a franchise and the game.

And if you want to laugh at me for that, it's OK.

I've been here before.

Twitter: @Evan_P_Grant

One uniform, many accomplishments

Since 1977, when baseball expanded to 26 teams, there have been 15 players to play the equivalent of 10 full seasons (1,620 games), pick up at least 2,000 hits and bat .300 all for a single club. The full list:

*Hall of Famer

^Not yet eligible

SportsDay's Hall of Fame ballots

+Currently on ballot