Let me start this debate on what Carlos Beltran’s legacy should be with my favorite player-reporter chat from covering the Yankees the last four seasons as a beat writer.

Years before Beltran would be outed as one of the masterminds to baseball’s sign-stealing scandal and lose a dream job as Mets manager after 10 offseason weeks on the job, we had a fun talk about our common bond prior to a Yankees game in April 2016.

I’m a Pittsburgher and he’s a Puerto Rican, so we both love Roberto Clemente.

Beltran was envious hearing I got to see Clemente play a few games at Forbes Field and Three Rivers Stadium when I was in grade school. Beltran never had that opportunity because he was born 5 ½ years after Clemente perished as a 38-year-old active player on New Year’s Eve 1972 trying to fly supplies from Puerto Rico to earthquake victims in Nicaragua.

Beltran topped my stories telling me about his visit to Roberto’s old home in the winter of 2014. Widow Vera Clemente who recently passed away still was living there, and Beltran asked for and received an invite after phoning her. He wanted to learn more about a man who still is beloved in Puerto Rico, Pittsburgh and a lot of other places because he was as much of a humanitarian as he was an all-time great ballplayer.

Vera not only hadn’t moved, but she virtually left her home the way it was when her legendary husband was there all those tears ago. The rugs, chairs, kitchen and most everything else was untouched, Beltran was told, while he heard story after story for four hours while munching on cheese and crackers.

“I asked her many questions,” Beltran told me during our talk. “She told me about Roberto having insomnia, so they did a lot of things together at nighttime because he’d sleep during the day. She told me how Clemente was like a god in Puerto Rico who had everyone’s respect and what it was like being around him when he was so popular. It was great for me to hear those stories.”

It was great for me, too, hearing stories of the cannon-armed right fielder who finished his career with exactly 3,000 hits, all of them in a Pirates uniform.

Beltran almost caught his hero in hits during his 20 years in the big leagues, as the switch-hitting outfielder piled up 2,725 playing for the Royals, Astros, Mets, Giants, Cardinals, Yankees, Rangers and Astros again from 1998-2017. Beltran finished with more homers, RBI and stolen bases, but Clemente had a much higher career average and, of course, was the better all-around ballplayer.

A case can made though that Beltran deserves to join Clemente in the National Baseball Hall of Fame when he becomes eligible in 2023.

To be honest, I viewed Beltran as a borderline Hall of Famer when he retired in 2017 after being part of the Astros’ championship.

Not anymore.

I’ve been a Hall of Fame voter since 2007, and throughout all my years casting ballots, I’ve never voted for any players that I believed to be proven cheaters. Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Sammy Sosa and Manny Ramirez never received a vote from me because of their links to steroids, and they never will. The same will go for Alex Rodriguez when he’s on the ballot.

As of this week, I’ve already decided that I’ll never vote for Beltran, the only Astros player named by commissioner Rob Manfred in his sign-stealing findings, which led to the end of Beltran’s short-lived managerial career before it even started.

Beltran’s cheating crimes are just as bad and maybe worse than the juicers because of his willingness to be an Astros’ sign-stealing ringleader.

If banned hit king Pete Rose never has been eligible to be a Hall of Famer because he bet on his team to win, how can anyone justify voting for Beltran when his rule-breaking might have changed the outcomes of 2017 playoff games when the Astros beat the Yankees in a seven-game ALCS and the Dodgers in a seven-game World Series?

By the way, like Rose did for years, Beltran lied about what he did in his first public comments on the scandal last month. And like Rose, Beltran now and forever is tainted as a man.

The great Roberto Clemente wouldn’t be proud.

Randy Miller may be reached at rmiller@njadvancemedia.com. Follow him on Twitter @RandyJMiller. Find NJ.com on Facebook.