When the 39 members of the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s selection committee elected Harry Carson on Saturday, they bestowed an exciting moment to the former Giants inside linebacker, to Giants fans, and to the many coaches and teammates who have championed Carson’s case for Canton. Unfortunately, they made the wrong decision. Carson was a very good football player, a nine-time Pro-Bowler in fact, but the Hall of Fame should be reserved for the truly great, and Carson falls just short.

Carson’s selection this year, his 13th of eligibility, demonstrates the fickle nature of Hall of Fame voting – one that Carson himself has criticized.

Carson, who became eligible for selection in 1994 (five years after he retired), didn’t even appear on the annual list of 15 finalists until 2000. Nothing about his credentials has changed since then, but his level of support has steadily increased.

Although most Hall of Fame voters (one sportswriter representing each of the 32 NFL teams, plus seven national writers) decline to make their votes or the reasons behind them public, a large part of the shift in Carson’s favor likely came from two former coaches attempting to sway voters’ opinions. Cowboys head coach Bill Parcells and Patriots head coach Bill Belichick, the head coach and defensive coordinator of the Giants for much of Carson’s career, have both cited his intense work ethic and intelligence in endorsing him for the Hall. Having two of the most respected coaches NFL history arguing on Carson’s behalf might have persuaded some voters. But if those voters didn’t think Carson was worthy in his first 12 years of eligibility, no amount of lobbying, especially by two biased coaches, should have changed their minds.

Voters struggle to judge inside linebackers because few statistics exist to quantify their contributions. Carson’s job was neither to rush the quarterback nor to cover receivers, so sacks and interceptions don’t measure his role for the Giants. He played an important part in the Giants’ run defense by tackling running backs, but tackles are an unofficial statistic and often inaccurate. He was known as a fierce linebacker on goal-line stands, but no statistics exist to prove how well the Giants stopped opponents in goal-to-go situations.

During his career, Carson was considered very good but not great. Those who supported putting him in the Hall of Fame have cited his nine Pro Bowl selections, but 10 linebackers make the Pro Bowl each year. Being one of the 10 best players at any position is not enough to merit a spot in the Hall of Fame. A much more significant accomplishment than the Pro Bowl is making the Associated Press all-pro team, which includes only four linebackers each year. Carson was never chosen for that honor.

When the Hall of Fame selection committee chose the all-decade team for the 1980s, it didn’t see fit to include Carson (who played for the Giants from 1976 to 1988) among the seven linebackers on the roster. In fact, three of the linebackers who did make the all-decade team – Carson’s teammate Carl Banks, New England’s Andre Tippett, and Green Bay’s John Anderson – have never even been finalists for the Hall of Fame. Three of the other four – the Giants’ Lawrence Taylor, Pittsburgh’s Jack Lambert, and Chicago’s Mike Singletary – were easy first-ballot selections, and the fourth – Oakland’s Ted Hendricks was elected in his second year of eligibility.

Carson wasn’t in Detroit this weekend to join Reggie White’s widow and the other new Hall of Famers – Troy Aikman, John Madden, Warren Moon, and Rayfield Wright. So frustrated was he by past rejections that he boycotted the proceedings. Last year, he asked the Hall of Fame to exclude him from future consideration. The Hall of Fame refused.

Carson explained his unprecedented request by saying he was tired of hoisting the hopes of friends and family only to have them dashed when he was rejected. “I wish not to continue to subject my loved ones to the pain and disappointment I’ve witnessed year after year,” he said at the time. But on Saturday he confirmed that he will attend the induction ceremonies in August.

“Every finalist deserves a place in Canton,” Carson proclaimed last year. That’s a nice sentiment, but putting every finalist in the Hall of Fame would dilute the field and diminish the achievements of the truly great players who have been enshrined. To recall Carson’s two world championships, to recount the dominance of the defense which he helped make the best in football in its day, to listen to his former coaches, it’s easy to say Carson belongs in the Hall. Alas, it becomes much harder when marking a ballot with a limited number of names. Carson has said that he thinks former players rather than journalists should select Hall of Famers, but it’s unclear what makes him think he would have fared better if his peers were choosing. As long as the Hall of Fame limits the number of inductees (by rule, the Hall adds between three and six members each year), former players couldn’t be any more charitable than writers.

Carson’s frustration with the process notwithstanding, it’s unsurprising the voters chose him. This was Carson’s seventh year as a finalist, and the voters have eventually selected every player who has been a finalist more than seven times – with one exception, former Green Bay Packers lineman Jerry Kramer.

Giants fans will remember Carson as a solid player, a great teammate, and the inventor of the post-game Gatorade shower, which was once his special way of celebrating a big win with Parcells and is now a celebratory staple all over sports. But a bust in Canton is the wrong way to remember a player who was very good but not great. The Hall of Fame voters, who got it right in voting against Carson for the last 12 years, got it wrong this time.

Mr. Smith is a regular writer for FootballOutsiders.com.