The New Year is almost here, and with it, the pending announcement about which players will be inducted into the Hall of Fame next July.
As always, the right to vote for the Hall is both privilege and chore. A privilege because I get a say in determining which players have their careers honored forever in Cooperstown, a task I couldn't take lightly. A chore because the task can be overwhelming, the amount of information endless, and the resulting debate — especially on social media — so toxic.
Still, it's an honor to be entrusted with such responsibility. As always, I approach the process with great seriousness, while striving never to take myself too seriously.
The large number of honorees of late — most of whom I voted for, some of whom I did not — has resulted in an opportunity for some to redress some past omissions, and coupled with a new class of names which features only one obvious induction candidate, could produce one of the more interesting elections in recent memory.
As I've noted in the past, I was once very much a "Small Hall'' voter — that is, I tended to vote for only the no-questions-asked candidates while resisting some worthy but more borderline candidates. I don't see my change of heart as any relaxing of standards, but rather, a more generous and inclusive view of what constitutes a Hall of Fame-worthy career.
I also relaxed my stance against some players linked to or having confessed to PED use (more on this later), on the grounds that it had become impossible to differentiate who had used what, and to what benefit. After all the discovery and accusations — credible and not — it was simply too hard to sort everything out. And a part of me resented being asked by the Hall of Fame to play judge and jury without any guidance provided.
So, I stopped trying to throw sandbags against an unstoppable current.
What follows is an explanation of the players (six this year) for whom I voted, and also, why I considered a few others but ultimately decided against.
I make no apologies for
adding some players this year who've been eligible in past years — our consideration of players is constantly evolving, gaining context and new information along the way. Some demand to know how a player could not be on a ballot one year, and on it the next, remarking: "His numbers haven't changed.''
But, of course, they have. Not literally, but how we interpret them, especially when contrasted to others from the same era.
NEW TO THE BALLOT THIS YEAR (1)
Derek Jeter
Not even the most diehard Red Sox fan/Yankee hater would deny Jeter's rightful place. He is sixth all-time in hits, a 14-time All-Star and a five-time champion. In 18 full seasons, he scored 100 or more runs 13 times and 99 another time.
Was Jeter a great defender at his position? Hardly. While he perfected the jump-throw play from the hole and authored a handful of career highlights (going into the stands; the relay play in Oakland in 2001), he was, on his best day, adequate.
He has more than enough on his resume to make up for his rather ordinary play in the field. Jeter was the signature player on a signature team which represents the game's last dynasty. He's in, no ifs, ands or buts.
But can we please refrain from having a collective national breakdown if Jeter doesn't somehow follow Mariano Rivera's unanimous selection a year ago? It was long past time to have our first unanimous inductee and Rivera was as good a pioneer in this regard as anyone. To suggest, however, that going forward, every other obvious candidate is being slimed because he "only'' got votes from 97 or 98 percent of the writers is sheer idiocy.
Holdovers from past ballots (4)
BARRY BONDS, ROGER CLEMENS, ANDRUW JONES, CURT SCHILLING
Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens
I group these two together because it's impossible to separate them. They are, respectively, the greatest position player and greatest starting pitcher of their era. What's held them back, naturally, is pretty substantial evidence that both used PEDs to aid their dominance.
Bonds is on record as having used "the clear" and "the cream'' while maintaining he was unaware of their properties, or, for that matter, their illegality — a dubious defense at best. Clemens has more stubbornly — and improbably — clung to his proclamation of innocence.
Bonds is the game's all-time home run hitter, a seven-time MVP (including an unprecedented four straight), eight Gold Gloves and has a career OPS of 1.051.
Clemens won seven Cy Young awards, 354 games and notched 4,672 strikeouts and an ERA+ of 143.
The numbers alone are unmatched and impeccable. Without the PED accusations, both would have been enshrined long ago, and perhaps either one could have beaten Rivera to the punch when it came to unanimity.
Alas, here we are, with time running out. Clemens and Bonds have two years of eligibility after this one and are in a race against the clock to see if enough newer, younger voters can tip the scales in their favor.
Andruw Jones
Annually, this is the vote that causes the most blowback, usually in the form of: "Wait....you voted for Andruw Jones but not (insert slighted player's name here)???''
Yup, and I'd do it again. My ballot, my choice.
Allow me, however, to explain.
To me, Jones was every bit the all-time, elite defender at his position (center field) that, say, Ozzie Smith was at his.
Put another way, Jones was, by use of defensive metrics, a better centerfielder than Omar Vizquel was a shortstop. And when it comes to offense, well, it was no contest: while Vizquel was a below-average offensive player (OPS+: 82, meaning he was 18 percent worse than average), Jones hit 434 career homers and had a career OPS+ of 111.
And then there was his defensive play, which won him 10 straight Gold Gloves in center — a figure topped only by Willie Mays. Using Total Zone Runs above average, Jones is No. 1 among outfielders all-time. He's also second among players at any position, behind only Brooks Robinson.
That's more than good enough for me.
Curt Schilling
Even as wins for starting pitchers take on a smaller and smaller role in depicting someone's career, Schilling hasn't been able to overcome his modest (216) victory total.
Such a calculation neglects to take into consideration his ability to overpower hitters (his 3,116 strikeouts rank 15th overall), his impeccable control (4.38 strikeout-to-walk ratio) and, most of his all, his postseason dominance (11-2, 2.23).
Schilling would like everyone to believe that he's been the victim of some nefarious political conspiracy, held out of Cooperstown for his "controversial'' public statements. In reality, that's just Schilling hiding behind his precious martyrdom.
In fact, there are plenty of voters — this one included — who find Schilling's comments unfortunate at best and repugnant at worst.
Having covered Schilling's career in Boston (and his other World Series appearances with Philadelphia and Arizona), I once viewed him as highly competitive, a most worthy teammate, endlessly complex and, as the numbers suggest, someone you'd love to have on your side in October.
Most of that is still true.
HOLDOVER FOR WHOM I DIDN'T PREVIOUSLY VOTE
Larry Walker
I debated Walker long and hard last time before ultimately not including him on my ballot. This is his last year of eligibility and I've decided to vote for him.
To me, he's somewhat borderline.
But I've been swayed by a number of factors. One is that he's one of just a half-dozen players who can claim a .300 career average, a .400 or better OBP, a .550 or more slugging percentage, at least 350 homers, at least 450 doubles at least 60 triples and at least 1,250 RBI. The others? Stan Musial, Ted Williams, Babe Ruth, Jimmie Foxx and Lou Gehrig, Hall of Famers all.
The chief argument against Walker, it would seem, is that he was a product of hitter-friendly Coors Field, where he played 10 of his 17 seasons. But Walker had a more-than-respectable .865 OPS on the road.
Add in his brilliant outfield play (seven Gold Gloves) and Walker gets my vote, however belatedly.
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