The Hall of Fame ballot for 2014 has been released, in much the way hounds are released in a wild goose hunt, with 17 legitimate candidates on the list. With only 10 lines on the ballot, voters are going to be doing some triage.
Players on the ballot fall into five categories. The easy two are those who have earned shoo-in status to the Hall and those who merely played with guys who earned shoo-in status. (That's not to say that anyone actually is a shoo-ins; there's no accounting for taste and the ignorance of baseball writers.) We'll call them the "Lou Gehrig" division and the "Chico Ruiz" division. Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina, Kurt Schilling, Jeff Bagwell, Mike Piazza, Frank Thomas, Tim Raines and Craig Biggio comprise the former group, about which no further discussion is really necessary. They're Famers.
Names such as Armando Benitez, J.T. Snow, Eric Gagne, Mike Timlin, Jacque Jones and Richie Sexson populate the list of merely good Major Leaguers. They will have to console themselves with fame, fortune and a boatload of frequent flyer miles.
Next we have the "Pete Rose" division: players whose membership in the Gehrig clan has been revoked because of drug use. Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Rafael Palmeiro and Mark McGwire could almost create their own wing in Cooperstown along with Rose and Shoeless Joe Jackson. I would vote for all of these except Palmeiro, who failed a drug test. The rest were so unquestionably spectacular that our suspicions (not to mention a fair bit of evidence) might be overwhelmed the heft of their greatness. It's understandable that voters would exclude all or some of these, though it's not clear what the point of a Hall of Fame without Bonds and Clemens would be.
Then there's the "Sammy Sosa" division, whose members are: Sammy Sosa. Sosa probably took steroids, definitely corked his back and not withstanding all that might be a Hall of Famer. Mix up that witches' brew and there probably won't be much support for his candidacy.
The most taxing decisions concern those players whose numbers don't reflect how we felt about them. This is the "Bobby Grich" division. The advanced stats testify that Alan Trammel was a great-fielding shortstop with a highly respectable .285/.352/.415 slash line, 1200+ runs scored and an MVP season, worth 64 wins against replacement over a 20-year career. Certainly he was a good hitter for a shortstop but most of his career value grades out on the field, about which it's very hard not to be dubious.
Larry Walker hit .313/.400/.525 with 383 home runs and 1311 RBI. He also won Gold Gloves, though the number crunchers can't find any justification for them. On paper, that's a walk-through, but in Coors, there are a lot of questions. In Montreal, Walker was Clark Kent, climbing the corporate ladder slowly but surely with smart reporting and solid management skills. In the thin air of Denver, Walker became Superman, saving the world with his super-strength, flying cape and x-ray vision. In the six years between 1997 and 2002, he posted five amazing seasons, averaging .351/.439/.639. He's credited with 69 wins against replacement, which ordinarily is enough to buy real estate in Cooperstown. It's just that Coors turned Andres Galarraga and Dante Bichette into stars.
By any second-base standards, Jeff Kent was a great hitter. He also wasn't a second baseman. But by first base standards, he was just another guy, posting a .290/.356/.500 line and smacking 377 home runs, including a string of 11 years with 20+ home runs. He knew that his only ticket to the Hall was remaining at the keystone even if his defense was handcuffing his teams. So Kent finished with 57 wins against replacement and a strong argument for inclusion. He makes my ballot with reservations.
On the flip side, Don Mattingly was an awesome hitter until his back began biting into his power. He finished with numbers insufficient for a first baseman to win election, tallying just 41 wins against replacement. Fred McGriff's 493 homers, .377 on base percentage and cool nickname should be enough to vault him to baseball immortality. He smacked 30+ big flies 10 different times. He also DH'd, did nothing on the bases and changed teams six times. The seamheads peg him at 57 wins against replacement, and that might have felt like enough if he'd played most of his career for one or two teams.
So here's my ballot, ignoring the 10-candidate limit, in roughly the order of their greatness:
Barry Bonds
Greg Maddux
Roger Clemens
Mike Piazza
Tim Raines
Frank Thomas
Mike Mussina
Curt Schilling
Tom Glavine
Jeff Bagwell
Craig Biggio
Jeff Kent*
Alan Trammel**
Fred McGriff**
Larry Walker**
Jack Morris***
*probably
**not now but I could be persuaded
***shut up
Showing posts with label Sammy Sosa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sammy Sosa. Show all posts
30 November 2013
04 December 2012
Hall of Flameouts, Writer Edition
The day Boom Boom Mancini climbed into the ring with Duk Koo Kim, he could hardly have known that he was about to make history, and not the kind he'd want to write home to Youngstown about.
Nor did Greg Norman know, entering the final round of the 1996 Masters, the thrashing that history would bestow upon him.
Likewise, Wally Pipp probably never considered how a day off would turn into a headache that would linger thereafter in the record books. (For the record, the whole headache story is a myth.)
In the coming weeks, members of the Baseball Writers Association of America will very likely thrust themselves into the trash bin of history, possibly without realizing the folly with which future generations will view their decisions. Sometime before January 9, the writers will almost certainly reject the Hall of Fame candidacies of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa.
In case you're not keeping score at home, that would be MLB's greatest power/speed combination and home run king, the most fearsome pitcher of his generation, the 10th all-time home run hitter who retired with a .982 OPS, the greatest hitting catcher ever, and the only player in the game's 140 years to hit 60+ home runs in three different seasons. The history books are already warming up a good guffaw.
If all goes as threatened, the Hall of Fame will be absent the group above in addition to the all-time hits leader (Pete Rose), the third greatest hitter for average of all-time (Joe Jackson) and the man who transformed players from chattel to multimillionaires (Marvin Miller). It will, however, include an empty suit (Bowie Kuhn) and a long list of mediocrities, most of whose HOF cases, if you could call them that, rested on high batting averages in an era of high batting averages (Lloyd Waner, Rick Ferrell and Freddie Lindstrom among others). While the writers pass on the list above, they seem poised to coronate a pitcher (Jack Morris) with a 3.90 lifetime ERA and about as much value to his teams as, say, Lon Werneke. Yes, the Arkansas Hummingbird himself.
It makes you wonder why they don't just roll up the sidewalks of Cooperstown and forget it ever existed. A Baseball Hall of Fame without Pete Rose, Marvin Miller, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens is the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame without the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bill Graham.
And yet, I don't blame the writers. They have the awesome responsibility of dissecting krill from the baleen of blue whales. No one will ever know for sure if, when and how much the needle contributed to the resumes of the aforementioned, nor if, when and how much it contributed to those whose reputations have yet been sullied. They must distinguish greatness in a swirl of uncertainty through the haze of impropriety.
If history's derision doesn't move the writers to admit a few of the behemoths perhaps a logistical problem will. A major front is brewing over the next two years that threatens ballot mayhem by 2014. This year's selections include legitimate candidates Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Edgar Martinez. (Also aboard: Alan Trammel, Larry Walker and Kenny Lofton, who come up short, in my view.) Entering the ballot the following year will be Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina and Frank Thomas -- again, all worthy. With Clemens, Bonds, McGwire and Piazza, that's 13 candidates -- 14 with Sosa -- and only 10 votes per ballot. The logjam could cause serious gridlock for years. A writer with a multi-year time horizon would be well-served admitting a gaggle of those eligible.
Whatever the writers decide today will be fodder for their 2062 brethren, who are likely to sniff the dominance of Bonds, Clemens and their ilk and wonder what their progenitors were smoking. BBWAA, you've had your warning, which is more than Ray Mancini got.
Nor did Greg Norman know, entering the final round of the 1996 Masters, the thrashing that history would bestow upon him.
Likewise, Wally Pipp probably never considered how a day off would turn into a headache that would linger thereafter in the record books. (For the record, the whole headache story is a myth.)
In the coming weeks, members of the Baseball Writers Association of America will very likely thrust themselves into the trash bin of history, possibly without realizing the folly with which future generations will view their decisions. Sometime before January 9, the writers will almost certainly reject the Hall of Fame candidacies of Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Mark McGwire, Mike Piazza and Sammy Sosa.
In case you're not keeping score at home, that would be MLB's greatest power/speed combination and home run king, the most fearsome pitcher of his generation, the 10th all-time home run hitter who retired with a .982 OPS, the greatest hitting catcher ever, and the only player in the game's 140 years to hit 60+ home runs in three different seasons. The history books are already warming up a good guffaw.
If all goes as threatened, the Hall of Fame will be absent the group above in addition to the all-time hits leader (Pete Rose), the third greatest hitter for average of all-time (Joe Jackson) and the man who transformed players from chattel to multimillionaires (Marvin Miller). It will, however, include an empty suit (Bowie Kuhn) and a long list of mediocrities, most of whose HOF cases, if you could call them that, rested on high batting averages in an era of high batting averages (Lloyd Waner, Rick Ferrell and Freddie Lindstrom among others). While the writers pass on the list above, they seem poised to coronate a pitcher (Jack Morris) with a 3.90 lifetime ERA and about as much value to his teams as, say, Lon Werneke. Yes, the Arkansas Hummingbird himself.
It makes you wonder why they don't just roll up the sidewalks of Cooperstown and forget it ever existed. A Baseball Hall of Fame without Pete Rose, Marvin Miller, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens is the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame without the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Bill Graham.
And yet, I don't blame the writers. They have the awesome responsibility of dissecting krill from the baleen of blue whales. No one will ever know for sure if, when and how much the needle contributed to the resumes of the aforementioned, nor if, when and how much it contributed to those whose reputations have yet been sullied. They must distinguish greatness in a swirl of uncertainty through the haze of impropriety.
If history's derision doesn't move the writers to admit a few of the behemoths perhaps a logistical problem will. A major front is brewing over the next two years that threatens ballot mayhem by 2014. This year's selections include legitimate candidates Craig Biggio, Jeff Bagwell, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Edgar Martinez. (Also aboard: Alan Trammel, Larry Walker and Kenny Lofton, who come up short, in my view.) Entering the ballot the following year will be Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Mike Mussina and Frank Thomas -- again, all worthy. With Clemens, Bonds, McGwire and Piazza, that's 13 candidates -- 14 with Sosa -- and only 10 votes per ballot. The logjam could cause serious gridlock for years. A writer with a multi-year time horizon would be well-served admitting a gaggle of those eligible.
Whatever the writers decide today will be fodder for their 2062 brethren, who are likely to sniff the dominance of Bonds, Clemens and their ilk and wonder what their progenitors were smoking. BBWAA, you've had your warning, which is more than Ray Mancini got.
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