Sure, it's stinks to be forced to wait another year. When Craig Biggio missed by three votes three years ago, he got in his pickup and drove from his home in Houston to his ranch in South Texas.
"I needed to get away for a couple of days," Biggio said.
That's surely how Hoffman is feeling after being named on 327 of 442 Hall of Fame ballots, yet missing the 75 percent induction requirement by five lousy votes.
"For me, falling short of this class is disappointing," Hoffman said in a statement that was typically gracious. "But I don't take being on the ballot lightly. I'm grateful for every vote, and I am truly humbled to have come so close.
For Hoffman to get 74 percent of the vote -- to become the sixth player to miss by one percentage point -- says plenty about the Baseball Hall of Fame and how difficult it is to get in the door.
That's a good thing. That's how it was set up. As Joe Torre memorably said one year when he missed the cut, "It's the Hall of Fame. It's supposed to be tough to get into."
In other words, the Hall of Fame isn't a borderline deal. To clear the 75 percent threshold tells every inductee he belongs with the best of the best.
In 82 years of voting, the Baseball Writers' Association of America has voted for only 124 players, including this year's trio of Tim Raines, Jeff Bagwell and Ivan Rodriguez.
Various committees have honored another 195, including Negro Leaguers, managers, executives and umpires. By any metric, any club that has admitted 319 members in 82 years is a pretty exclusive little gathering.
I hope to one day soon share a Hall of Fame celebration with my family, friends, teammates and all of San Diego.
Some of us think there's a backlog of qualified candidates and that this generation of players is under-represented in the Hall of Fame.
But that's a discussion for another day. The point is that the doors of Cooperstown will almost certainly open for Hoffman in 2018.
Biggio got in a year after his close call, and the whole waiting thing now seems like a distant memory.
"When it happens, you keep pinching yourself," Biggio said. "You look around on that stage and see the club you're now a member of."
That's how it'll be for Hoffman, hopefully in the summer of 2018. He'll look around and see Hank Aaron and Willie Mays and Sandy Koufax, the best of the best.
At that point, it won't matter that Hoffman had to wait an extra 12 months. He'll grasp the company he's now keeping, and the pain of Wednesday's close call will have given way to a celebration.
Here's the bottom line: Trevor Hoffman belongs in the Hall of Fame. No one in history has gotten this close and not ultimately reached the Hall.
Besides that, Hoffman has the appropriate credentials. Voters have struggled with whether relievers even belong in the Hall of Fame. Regardless, closers are part of the game, and the best of them should be in the Hall.
Hoffman's case is straightforward. His 601 saves are the second most in history, trailing only Mariano Rivera's 652. His 1,035 games are 11th on the all-time list.
Among relievers with at least 1,000 innings, Hoffman's save percentage (88.8) is second best all time. He's fourth in ERA+ (141), second in WHIP (1.06) and first in strikeout rate (25.8).