Let’s roll the clock back a few weeks. It’s Oct. 30 all over again and Game Five of the World Series is tied in the bottom of the sixth inning. Juan Soto and Aaron Judge draw walks. A force out leaves runners at first and third before Giancarlo Stanton’s sacrifice fly breaks the tie. A walk to Mike Rizzo causes Dodgers manager Dave Roberts to change pitchers and bring Blake Treinen on to pitch to Anthony Volpe. Oh, wait … Treinen won’t be pitching to Volpe. Yankees manager Aaron Boone has decided to send Judge to the plate for the second time in the inning. Preposterous? Hell, yes. At least that would be preposterous under the rules of any baseball game that’s ever been played. But it might not be preposterous sometime in the near future. Last week Commissioner Rob Manfred advanced an idea that he admits originated with a comedy act called the Savannah Bananas. It would allow each manager to, once per game, replace the scheduled hitter with whichever player he chooses from his lineup. A nice name for this proposal might have been the Banana Split, but Manfred chose to call it the “Golden At Bat Rule.” He said there is considerable “buzz” among the owners about the suggestion. If nothing else, Manfred should be commended for his verbal alchemy. In one sentence he appears to have turned a banana peel into gold and a few stunned gasps into a buzz. He didn’t tell us which owners he heard buzzing or if head scratching is what sets off a buzzing sound in his ears. He didn’t claim that any of the owners have expressed approval of this notion. Just that some of them are buzzing. A few of the players have condemned the thought, including one relief pitcher who seemed horrified at the thought that he might have to retire the opposing team’s best hitter twice to secure a save. The guy who got most of the attention, however, was former Rays and Cubs manager Joe Maddon. Maddon said this rule would “bastardize” the game. Oh, really? Maddon probably doesn’t realize that a previous generation of wrench jockeys already did that. Baseball was compromised 51 years ago when the designated hitter became a reality and it hasn’t been the same since. There used to be clever pitchers who knew how to bunt. There used to be clever number-eight hitters who knew how to keep an inning rolling long enough to get the pitcher’s at bat out of the way before the next inning started. There used to be clever leadoff hitters who knew how to slow the game down and give a pitcher time to rest between his at bat and his return to the mound. There used to be clever managers who knew how to juggle a lineup when bringing in a relief pitcher. There used to be clever veteran players who could no longer play every day but were dangerous pinch hitters. Clever, clever, clever, clever and clever — and now gone, gone, gone, gone and gone. The DH took all of it away. Manfred’s banana peel gimmick couldn’t possibly do that much damage. Tell you what. I’d like to see baseball utilize this rule — but do it in a way that reduces the impact of the DH rule. Here’s my suggestion: Managers should be required to fill out lineup cards the way their forebearers did back when baseball was America’s pastime. That means nine players in nine positions, including pitcher. He could then add a tenth player as the designated hitter. The DH would be permitted two Golden At Bats. The only restriction would be that both could not come in the same inning. That might put some strategy and intrigue back into a game that is becoming increasingly stagnant. However, since the DH would be part of only two innings, there might be room for some old-fashioned cleverness in the rest of the game.  *** Dick Allen’s name appeared on the baseball writers’ Hall of Fame ballot every year from 1983 to 1997. He got 19 percent of the vote in 1966 and even less than that in the other years. Since a player must be named on 75 percent of the ballots to gain enshrinement, it is clear that Allen missed by a very wide margin. He was the very definition of a reject. I voted in every one of those elections and never cast a vote for Allen. I thought he had as much natural batting talent as anyone I’d ever seen, except for Willie Mays. He could take the heaviest bat in the bat rack and whip it through the strike zone with lightning speed. I was awe-struck by his ability and turned off by the fact that he didn’t come close to producing the numbers I thought he should have produced. That’s why I refused to vote for him. I was wrong. Inclusion in the Hall of Fame should not be based on a player’s perceived potential, but on his accomplishments. In Allen’s case, that’s a substantial list. He was National League Rookie of the Year in 1964 and American League Most Valuable Player in 1972. He batted .300 or better seven times and drove in 90 runs or more six times. He led the majors in OPS four times. As I reflect on that today, I realize that’s a pretty good Hall of Fame resume. The fact that I think he should have done even better is irrelevant. Perhaps the members of the Classic Era Committee thought so too. Earlier this week that body announced it had elected Allen (posthumously) and outfielder Dave Parker, to the Hall of Fame. Bravo. Former Hall of Fame voter Jay Dunn has written baseball for The Trentonian for 56 years. Contact him at [email protected]