Each year I look forward with great anticipation to what Tony Grossi describes as his “annual peek inside the [Pro Football] Hall of Fame voting room.” This year was no exception. In fact, given my opinion about and feelings for Hall of Fame finalist Clay Matthews what happened behind the curtain was of more than casual interest.

Though Grossi and 47 fellow selectors are not allowed to divulge the particular rigors associated with their lengthy discussions of 15 finalists and the recommended nominees of the Hall of Fame’s Coach (Tom Flores, Oakland’s two-time Super Bowl winner and the league’s first Hispanic starting quarterback and then coach), Contributor (Bill Nunn, Pittsburgh scout and assistant director of personnel who helped to build the Steelers’ 1970s dynasty), and Senior (Dallas receiver Drew Pearson) Committees, he does provide clues to an outcome that is a mystery wrapped in this mysterious time.

Crack the case if you can but be warned: This year contains new twists. [To read fully the Grossi report, you need a subscription to The Land on Demand website.]

The selectors usually meet in a hotel conference room the day before the Super Bowl. Not this time, not in the 2020-21 season of the coronavirus pandemic that has altered all manner of things football. The extremely socially-distanced selectors met on Zoom. I’m sure the Hall of Fame considered the possibility of hacking and protected against it, but even in saner days, as Grossi noted, “leaks inevitably occur.”

To scale the walls of Hall of Fame secrecy might be equated with trying to run through the Steel Curtain defense that Nunn built and which should get him a Bronze Bust and Gold Coach, even if his name might be unfamiliar. Not only do the selectors not know who was chosen but, in procedural change, they “did not even know who made it past the cutdown from 10 to five,” according to Grossi.

As a reminder, this, from the Hall of Fame website, about the process: “While there is no set number for any class of enshrinees, the Bylaws for the Selection Committee provide that between four and eight new members will be selected. The Coach Finalist, Contributor Finalist and Senior Finalist are voted ‘yes” or ‘no” for election . . . and must receive at least 80% support from the Committee to be elected. The Modern-Era Finalists will be trimmed . . . from 15 to 10, then from 10 to five. The remaining five finalists will be voted on individually, ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and must receive the same 80% positive vote . . . to earn election to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.”

Usually, after the Selection Committee meeting the day before Super Bowl, Hall of Fame President David Baker visits the hotel room of each person elected to give them the good news. This year, however, finalists will not attend the Super Bowl in Tampa, Florida. Baker will inform the inductees before the “NFL Honors” show on February 6, the night before the Super Bowl. “Everyone wants to keep the new class a secret until then,” Grossi wrote, “and we selectors are bound by confidentiality rules of protocol.”

Grossi did not violate those rules. He did, however, time the discussions of each candidate, as he usually does, and from those numbers and the short synopsis he provides, a person can draw his, her, or their own conclusions. I certainly did.

Even before the Zoom call, it was obvious that among four first-time eligible players— Detroit receiver Calvin Johnson, Oakland/Green Bay cornerback/safety Charles Woodson, Kansas City/Minnesota defensive end Jared Allen, and Indianapolis/Denver quarterback Peyton Manning—Manning was most certain lock. Discussion, according to Grossi’s timing, lasted 13 seconds, and he thought that “10 seconds too long.”

Examine the length of discussions, from Johnson’s longest of 39 minutes, 19 seconds, to Manning’s shortest, and, without amplification, the times alone can be revealing. Long discussions generally mean the person is a serious consideration or there is a controversy. In Johnson’s case, it was both. Shorter presentations and discussions can mean, as in the case of Manning, there is nothing to discuss because the person is such an obvious choice—or, other candidates are simply more compelling.

Grossi identified two themes that developed—“first-ballot” Hall of Famers and short v. long careers. Johnson, who was the last candidate vetted, could serve as something of an example of both. His brilliance came so close to dominance that they called him Megatron, after a fictional character and, frankly, because his receiving numbers over nine seasons seemed almost fictional, too good for anyone but a superhero. When he retired after the 2015 season, citing health concerns, it seemed premature. Could that be held against him? Surely not. So the question, as Grossi constructed it, is whether or not sure-fire Hall of Famers should be elected immediately at the expense of deserving players who have been waiting for years? There is a backlog of such players.

A better example of the second theme/issue, as Grossi suggested, was Tony Boselli, Jacksonville tackle. A fifth-time finalist, Boselli, as an offensive lineman can be harder to judge, than a player whose excellence occurs in more open space and with the camera focused on him. Compounding that is the fact that injury shortened Boselli’s career to 91 games. Compare that with the 278 games Matthews played at such a high level at linebacker, mostly for the Browns. Yet Matthews had not been a finalist until this year, his twentieth and last for consideration before falling into the crowded senior category.

“In my presentation,” Grossi explained, “I sought to explain how Matthews’ versatility and selflessness cost him Pro Bowl honors over an amazing 19-year career—16 with the Browns.” Cleveland is fortunate to have not only Grossi but also Mary Kay Cabot of Cleveland.com, another longtime Browns writer, as members of the Selection Committee. Cabot and six others added support for Matthews’ candidacy. Because they know the game so well, are so articulate and respected in NFL circles, Grossi and Cabot carry weight and give me hope, though not assurance, of Matthews selection.

“I felt good,” Grossi wrote, “that one of the three greatest defensive players in Browns history—behind Hall of Famers Bill Willis and Len Ford—had received a thorough review of his Hall of Fame-worthy career.” The review lasted 20 minutes, 32 seconds—about the amount of game time that it took Matthews to lay such a Hall-of-Fame beating on opponents. They just  may be remembering the administrant in this his spotlight moment and hoping that it grows even brighter.