Player Narratives, and the Hall of Fame

Do me a favor.  Take a look at these final career numbers, and tell me if you think the player who compiled these numbers is probably in the Hall of Fame or not.  Do not try to guess who the player is, because we’ll come back to that later.  Please allow the numbers to speak for themselves:

2,460 Games

2,490 Hits

441 Doubles

493 Home Runs  (27th)

1,550 RBI  (42nd)

1,349 Runs

1,305 Walks

4,458 Total Bases (50th)

1,704 Runs Created (49th)

Triple Slash Line:  .284 / .377 / .509

OPS+    134

1,447 Assists (10th at his position)

1,775 Double Plays Turned (5th at his position)

I’m choosing not to include this player’s WAR because it has become too easy to simply go directly to that one statistic and form one’s judgment based on that stat alone.  I will tell you that it is better than some HOF’ers, and not as good as some others.

At this point, you are probably withholding your final judgment based on who the player is.  I would probably do the same.  But why do we do that?  Why does the player’s identity matter so much in our final evaluation as to whether or not he belongs in The Hall?  Shouldn’t the numbers speak for themselves?

The truth is, we tend to place a great deal of weight on the player’s particular narrative.  Did he play for one team his entire career?  Was he beloved by millions, or was he a surly jackass who alienated press and public alike.

Certainly, we want to know, too, in which era the player performed.  Were his numbers special for their time, or were they more representative of a good but not necessarily a great player?

What about intangibles such as playoff performance, overcoming significant personal or professional handicaps, being a suspected cheater, or suffering a tragic, career-ending injury at a relatively young age?

What position did he play?  Historically, more offense has always been expected from outfielders and first basemen than from middle infielders or catchers.

If I told you the numbers listed above belonged to Duke Snider, (they do not, but they plausibly could have), you, too, would probably choose to enshrine the well-respected slugger from the legendary Boys of Summer.  The Brooklyn narrative and the lure of baseball’s so-called Golden Era would be too strong to resist.  Mickey, Willie and The Duke, and all that.

Similarly, if I told you those are Willie Stargell’s numbers, (again, they are not), once again, you would allow that those statistics are sufficient to make the case that “Pop” Stargell, the lifelong Pirate and spiritual leader of the 1979 We Are Family championship ball-club, belongs in the Hall of Fame.

On the other hand, if I told you that these numbers belonged to Dick Allen, Jose Canseco, Carlos Delgado, or Joe Carter, for various reasons, you might very well come to an opposite conclusion regarding their HOF-worthiness.

The truth is, when it comes to whom we deem to be HOF-worthy, we love our narratives.  We tend to work backwards, I think, and use statistics to rationalize our preconceived prejudices regarding who does or does not belong in The Hall.

Certainly, there are a handful of players who obviously belong in The Hall, are there not?  Lou Gehrig comes to mind.  Gehrig slugged 493 home runs, (as many as the player whose stats are listed above.)  He died young and tragically, and was a fabled member of the ’27 Yankees.

Mike Schmidt also comes to mind.  A dominant player in his era, Schmidt compiled 54 fewer total bases than did the mystery player joining us today.

No one I’ve ever heard of has ever argued that Willie “Stretch” McCovey doesn’t belong in The Hall.  A tremendous run producer, McCovey drove in just five more runs in his career than did our soon-to-be revealed player.  McCovey topped 30 homers seven times.  Our Mystery Player accomplished that feat ten times in his career.

Here’s another example.  When I was a kid growing up in the 1970’s, it was clear and obvious to all of the neighborhood boys that Catfish Hunter was a Hall of Famer long before he became eligible, while Bert Blyleven was merely a fine pitcher, but not a particularly interesting one.

For those of us now in our early 50’s, that narrative remains powerful to this day.  While more recent stats point to Blyleven being far more valuable than Hunter, all I remember about Blyleven is that he pitched in Minnesota for lots of bad Twins ball clubs.  It wasn’t until later that I became aware of his reputation as a great prankster, though I doubt even that information would have been enough to sway my opinion of his worthiness for the Hall of Fame.

I now see that as far as his numbers are concerned, Bert Blyleven does belong in the Hall of Fame.  Yet, although I recognize that Hunter’s numbers may ultimately appear to be lacking, his narrative remains superior.  He was the mustachioed ace of first the great A’s clubs of the early ’70’s, then the ace of the fine Yankees teams of the later ’70’s.  He had a great nickname, was always good for a quote, won at least 20 games five consecutive seasons, and died relatively young at age 53.

Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that there’s room for both pitchers in the Hall of Fame.  Sometimes, if we remain open-minded enough, life can be a win-win.

O.K., enough of that.  Who is our Mystery Player?

He is none other than Fred “Crime Dog” McGriff.

Fred McGriff was well-respected, and generally well-liked, and his numbers appear to be worthy of HOF induction, but there are a few problems with his narrative.

For one thing, unlike Schmidt, McCovey, Gehrig, Gwynn, Ripkin, Kaline, Clemente and so many other Hall of Famers, it is difficult to associate McGriff with any one team.  He started out as an extremely productive Toronto Blue Jay, became a highly productive Padre, then moved on to become a reliably productive Brave.  Once he left Atlanta, he moved on to Tampa Bay, where, now in his mid-30’s, he provided solid punch in their batting order.

At age 38, clearly his best years behind him, all he did was slam 30 homers, drive in 103 runs and slug .505 with the Cubs.  He hit his 490th home run as a Dodger, then retired as a Devil Ray at age 40 in 2004.

McGriff also had the misfortune to have his best seasons in the first half of his career (pre-1994), when hitting 35 homers per season still meant something.  By the time he got the opportunity to play before a national audience on TBS with the Braves, every third player seemed to be enjoying 30 homer seasons.  His production began to be viewed by that point as ordinary, the norm of what a first baseman should be producing.

That McGriff finished in the top ten in MVP voting six times, that he reached an OPS+ of at least 140 in ten seasons, and that the first time he went on the Disabled List was in his 18th season at age 39 (talk about an Iron Man) is apparently no match for the overall lack of gripping drama, personal tragedy, or single-uniform predictability that sports fans love.

Fred McGriff has now been on the HOF ballot five years.  Last year, he was named on just 11.7% of all votes cast.  At this point, it seems unlikely that McGriff will be voted into the HOF anytime soon.  You, too, may believe that McGriff just doesn’t quite belong in the Hall of Fame.

But if that’s the way you feel, ask yourself this.  Is it the numbers or is it the narrative that prevents you from considering him to be a worthy Hall of Famer?

Tampa Bay Devil Rays first base coach Fred McGriff during a Devil Rays/New York Mets spring training game at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, Florida. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

Pitchers Who Lost the Most Games in the 1980’s

As you know if you’ve been following the Hall of Fame discussions recently, a certain starting pitcher has been touted as a deserving Hall of Fame player because he won more games in “his decade” than any other pitcher in the Major Leagues. Setting aside the obvious arbitrariness of how one decides the parameters of a particular decade (isn’t 1978-87, inclusive, also a decade?), how seriously should we take this argument?

Suppose, for example, that this allegedly Hall of Fame-worthy candidate also led his decade in a much less impressive statistic?  Would that take some of the sheen off the glow of a vaguely flickering candidacy?

First, let’s define the decade of the 1980’s, which, of course, is the decade that fans of Jack Morris claim he dominated because he won the most games.  It’s common to find that people will define the decade as 1980-1989 because, well, each of those numbers have an 8 in them.  It just sounds correct.  Except that it isn’t.

A true decade (if we must refer to decades at all) begins with a 1 and ends with a number divisible by ten.  Thus, my oldest son turned ten last July, meaning he completed his tenth year of life on his tenth birthday.  You don’t end a decade with a 9 (as in 1989), you end it with a ten (as in 1990.)  Therefore, the decade of the 1980’s mathematically occurred from 1981 to 1990.  These are the years which we will analyze in this post.

Specifically, which I’m sure you’ve gathered from the title of this post,  we will be taking a look at which pitchers lost the most games during the 1980’s (as I’ve defined that decade.)

Question:  If you are the “best” pitcher if you win the most games (Morris won 161 games from 1981-90) in an arbitrary ten-year time-frame, can you simultaneously be the worst pitcher if you have also accumulated the most losses over that same period of time?

Most Losses in Major League Baseball, 1981-1990:  (Minimum – 90 Losses)

Kevin Gross – 90

Tommy John – 90

Bob Welch – 90

Dennis Martinez – 91

Neal Heaton – 92

Bruce Hurst – 93

Mark Langston – 93

Shane Rawley – 93

Mike Boddicker – 94

Dennis Martinez – 94

Bill Gullickson – 95

Rick Rhoden – 95

Floyd Bannister – 96

Jose Deleon – 96

Bert Blyleven – 97

Dave Stieb – 100

Walt Terrell – 100

Richard Dotson – 103

Nolan Ryan – 103

Mike Scott – 104

Bob Knepper – 105

Frank Viola – 110

Mike Witt – 113

Fernando Valenzuela – 116

Jim Clancy – 118

Frank Tanana – 118

Charlie Hough – 121

Mike Moore -122

Jack Morris – 122

It should be pointed out that Mike Moore generally pitched for teams far inferior to the teams for which Jack Morris toiled.

So, if being the leading winner of the decade is one of the primary arguments for Jack Morris’s Hall of Fame candidacy, then shouldn’t his decade-leading loss total perhaps negate some (if not all) of that line of reasoning?

I’ll leave it to you, oh gentle reader, to decide for yourself.

The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: The Final Chapter

The final choice was the hardest.

I’d already established 4/5th’s of my all-time, under-appreciated Hall of Fame rotation, and had just the one slot left.  I considered, and rejected, about half a dozen other pitchers.  The one I chose may not come as a surprise to you, but it was a bit of a surprise to me.

But before we move on, allow me to list the other members of my entire under-appreciated HOF roster.  Each one is highlighted so you can go back and read each of my prior posts in this series.  (Note:  Some of the earlier posts in this series featured two players.)

1B  Roger Connor

2B  Joe Gordon

3B  Eddie Mathews

SS  Arky Vaughan

C  Gary Carter

LF  Jesse Burkett

CF  Richie Ashburn

RF  Harry Heilmann

SP  Kid Nichols

SP  Hal Newhouser

SP  Eddie Plank

SP  Dazzy Vance

Not a  lot of household names, and that was exactly the point of this series.

So, without further digression, let me introduce to you the final member of my team.  You may remember him as Knucksie, usually the best player on lots of bad Braves teams in the 1970’s.

English: Phil Niekro signing an autograph in 1982. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Philip Henry Niekro, of Bridgeport, OH, was better than you might think.

First, let me list the reasons why I wasn’t excited about choosing Niekro in the first place:

1)  He never won a Cy Young award.

2)  I don’t remember him ever being in the conversation regarding the best pitchers of his era while he was active.

3)  He threw a goofy, trick-pitch, the knuckle-ball.  Real men throw fastballs, hard sliders and power curves.  Niekro was more a horticulturist than a warrior.

4)  He led his league in losses four times, losing twenty games in two of those years.  Also, his career winning percentage was a mediocre .537.

5)  He played for the Braves, one of the most boring teams in mid-to-late ’70’s America.

6)  Did I mention he gave up more hits (5,044) than any other pitcher in the 20th century?

So, what’s to like?  Well, upon closer examination, there is the impressive career WAR of 91.7, tenth best all-time among pitchers.

Moreover, Phil Niekro is also fourth all-time in innings pitched (5,404), and eleventh in strikeouts (3,342.)  In addition, Niekro’s 716 career starts ranks 5th in baseball history.

Niekro also won 318 games in his career while pitching for mostly bad or mediocre teams.  He led the N.L. in wins twice, and posted three 20-win seasons and a 19-win campaign as well.  His career win total ranks 16th on the all-time list.

Addressing the issue of his lack of Cy Young awards, Niekro was (using WAR as a measurement) the most valuable pitcher in the N.L. in both 1978-79.  Yet he finished just sixth in Cy Young voting in each of those two seasons.  He did finish as high as second in Cy Young voting in 1969, and he finished 3rd in 1974.

Niekro led his league in ERA once, ERA+ once, strikeouts once, win-loss percentage once, and in complete games, starts, and innings pitched four times each.

Perhaps the best illustration of Niekro’s true value to his team is to compare his own record to the annual  win-loss records of his teams.

In his career, over a period of 20 consecutive seasons (1967-86), Niekro posted a win-loss record of 305-255, fifty games over .500.  That works out to a .544 winning percentage.

Meanwhile, his teams, over that same period, finished with a cumulative record of 1,552-1,636, 84 more losses than wins, which works out to a .487 winning percentage.

Niekro, then, was .057 percent better than the teams for which he pitched, not an insignificant amount.

Here’s another way to look at it.  Let’s break down those 20 seasons by looking at how many times Niekro finished with a record over .500, right at .500, or below .500:

1)  Over .500 – 14 times

2)  Exactly .500 – 2 times

3)  Under .500 – 4 times

Now let’s compare that to what his teams accomplished overall during those same 20 years:

1)  Over .500 – 9 times

2)  Exactly .500 – 1 time

3)  Under .500 – 10 times

So Niekro accumulated five more winning seasons than his teams did, and he posted six fewer seasons with a losing record than did his teams.

Clearly, Niekro’s overall career win-loss mark was hampered to a certain extent by the teams for which he toiled.  If he had been lucky enough to pitch for Don Sutton’s Dodgers during that same period of time, it is highly likely that Niekro’s overall career win-loss percentage would have been higher than the .537 mark he ultimately posted.

In fact, if you were to add just one win per season for those twenty seasons, which seems on the low side of fair, he would have finished his career with 338 wins.  That total would have placed Niekro just outside of the top ten all-time in career victories, just four behind 19th century star Tim Keefe.

Phil Niekro finally called it quits at age 48 in 1987.  A five-time All Star selection, Niekro also won five Gold Gloves in his career.  The BBWAA elected Niekro to the Hall of Fame in his fourth year on the ballot, in 1997.

Obviously, then, Phil Niekro was a warrior after all, albeit a quiet one.

And those are the ones whom we should hold in the highest regard.

Regardless of whether you agree with my choices for my all-time under-appreciated HOF team, I hope you have enjoyed this series.  I have already begun work on my next series, which I will launch next week.

Once again, thank you for reading.

Bill

Related articles

• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 1 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 2 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 3 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 4 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 5 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 6 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 7 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 8 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• Phil Niekro makes his pitch for R.A. Dickey (knoxnews.com)
• 30th anniversary: Phil Niekro’s great clutch game (hardballtimes.com)

The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 5

To this point, we have filled in each of the slots in our batting order.  Here is what my proposed batting order looks like:

1)  CF  Richie Ashburn

2)  LF  Jesse Burkett

3)  RF  Harry Heilmann

4)  3B  Eddie Mathews

5)  1B  Roger Connor

6)  SS  Arky Vaughan

7)   C  Gary Carter

8)  2B  Joe Gordon

9)  Pitcher Hits 9th  (at least in the leagues that matter.)

Not a bad lineup when nine-time All Star Joe Gordon bats eighth.

Now, let’s build a pitching staff.

Briefly, allow me to submit that, especially pre-1920, there are a great many worthy pitching candidates who could reasonably make this list.  But I will limit my pitching staff to just four pitchers (one of whom I’ll be writing about today.)  It won’t surprise me a bit if your four pitching candidates for the HOF’s under-appreciated team are each different from my own, nor will I be greatly offended.

Now, please allow me introduce to you my staff ace:

Kid Nichols (pictured) is tied with Charles Radbourn for the most earned runs allowed in a single season. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Starting Pitcher – Kid Nichols:  Only seven pitchers (Greg Maddux just missed being the eighth) finished their careers with a WAR of 100 or better.  Charles Augustus (Kid) Nichols, born in Madison, WI and raised in British Columbia, Canada, ranks fifth.

Nichols’ 111.6 WAR was surpassed only by Cy Young, Walter Johnson, Roger Clemens, and Grover Cleveland (Pete) Alexander.  His career WAR is about twice as high as fellow HOF pitcher Jim Bunning, and more than three times that accumulated by Catfish Hunter.  Or, to belabor the point, his WAR is about the same as HOF pitchers Lefty Gomez, Herb Pennock and Jesse Haines combined.

Nichols, a moderately small right-handed pitcher (5′ 10″), broke in with the N.L.’s Boston Beaneaters in 1890, age 20.  He was an immediate success, posting a record of 27-19, while leading the league in shutouts (7), and finishing as the first runner-up in ERA+ to the Reds’ Billy Rhines.

Nichols’ 2-1 strikeout to walk ratio was also the best in the league, one of four times Nichols would lead the N.L. in that category.

1890 was also the first of five consecutive seasons Nichols would toss over 400 innings, and the first of six consecutive years in which he’d complete at least 40 of his starts.  In fact, in his rookie year, he completed every one of his 47 starts, logging 424 innings while posting a 2.23 ERA.

Nichols then went on to win at least 30 games in seven of the next eight seasons, leading the league in wins three consecutive years, 1896-98.

Kid Nichols reached 300 career wins faster than any pitcher in baseball history.  Through his age 30 season, he had already accumulated 310 career wins, against just 167 losses.

English: The 1890 Boston Beaneaters team photo. Top row: L-R: James “Chippy” McGarr (IF), Harry Staley (P), Patsy Donovan (CF), Charles Ganzel (utility), William Joyce (3B), William Daley (P), Tommy Tucker (1B). Middle row: L-R: Kid Nichols (P), Herman Long (SS), Charles Bennett (C), Frank Selee (Mgr.), John Clarkson (P), Jim Whitney (P), Steve Brodie (RF). Bottom Row: L-F: Bobby Lowe (SS/CF/3B), Paul Revere Radford (utility), Tom Brown (OF). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Eleven times in his career, Nichols won at least 21 games.  That’s more times than HOF pitchers Don Sutton, Gaylord Perry, Phil Niekro and Bert Blyleven won at least 20 games in a season combined.

Nichols can also claim the dubious achievement of allowing the most earned runs (215 in 1894) in a season.  His 4.75 ERA that year was by far the highest in his career.  So he had an off-year, right?  Well, not exactly.  His ERA+ was a highly respectable 124, meaning that he was nearly 25% better than a typical replacement level pitcher.

Moreover, he finished the season with a 32-13 record.  So how does one account for all those earned runs and that apparently high ERA?

In 1894, the cumulative batting average for the entire N.L., including the pitchers, was an astronomically high .309.  In this 12 team league, each franchise played around 130 games in ’94.  Yet the league averaged nearly a thousand runs scored per team, with Nichols’ own Boston Beaneaters leading the way with 1,220 runs scored.  That’s an average of over 9 runs scored per game.

Consider that Lesson #1 in why context is so important when attempting to evaluate raw statistics.

As for Nichols, after 1901, his 12th year in Boston, there just wasn’t much left in the gas tank.  In fact, he did not pitch in either 1902 or ’03, but returned in ’04 for one final excellent season, this time with the St. Louis Cardinals.  Nichols enjoyed his last 20-win season in ’04, while also posting an excellent 2.02 ERA at age 34.

Two years later, in 1906, Kid Nichols called it quits for good.  He had started 562 games in his career, of which he’d completed 532.  He recorded 361 wins against 208 losses, good for a .634 win-loss percentage.  His career ERA+ of 140 ranks 14th best all-time, a couple of percentage points better than Cy Young.

In four seasons, 1890, 1893, 1897 and 1898, Nichols was the best pitcher in the league.  Obviously, there was no Cy Young award yet in those days.  In fact, Cy Young was a contemporary of Nichols, and outlasted Nichols by just a few seasons.

Strange, then, that while Cy Young was voted into the Hall of Fame as part of the class of 1937, it took Nichols an extra dozen years (1949) to make it into The Hall.  In fact, before ’49, Nichols never topped 4% of the votes cast for HOF induction.  Such are the vagaries, then as now, of HOF voting.

Nichols still ranks 4th all-time in complete games, 7th in victories, and 11th in innings pitched,

Perhaps surprisingly, Nichols did live long enough to experience his own HOF induction.  He passed away at age 83 in 1953.

Next time, in Part 6 of this series, I’ll introduce my #2 all-time, under-appreciated Hall of Fame pitcher.  Thanks for reading.

Related articles

• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 2 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 3 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)
• The Hall of Fame’s Most Under-Appreciated Players: Part 4 (ondeckcircle.wordpress.com)

Hall of Fame Voting at the Neighborhood Diner

Originally, this was going to be one part of a much larger post on Hall of Fame voting by the Veteran’s Committee in 1970, but it took on a life of its own.  So I decided to turn it into a stand-alone blog-post.  It’s my version of what Hall of Fame voting must look like when the Veteran’s Committee is assembled and comes together for discussion.

Imagine, if you will, several members of the Veteran’s Committee having lunch together in a diner somewhere in up-state New York one late fall day in 1970, the day their final Hall of Fame ballots are due.

V.C. #1:  Anyone remember to bring the list?

V.C. #2:  I thought you were bringing it?

V.C.  #3:  Jesus, how we supposed to vote if nobody brought the list?

V.C.  #4:  I got the list, at least part of it.  I wrote it down on a napkin before we left ’cause I knew you boneheads would forget.

V.C.  #2:  Nice going.  Let’s see it.  (#4 hands over the list.)  Jesus, what were you eating when you wrote the list, spaghetti?  This is disgusting.

V.C. #1:  Come on, just read us the names, if you can make them out.

V.C. #2:  All right, all right, calm down.  I’m getting to it.

(Waitress come over, pours coffee into ceramic mugs, and takes their orders.)

V.C. #5:  What kind of pie you got here?

Waitress:  Chocolate cream, lemon merengue, apple, banana cream-

V.C. #5 (Cuts her off) I’ll have the banana cream.

V.C. #3:  I thought you was on a diet?

V.C. #5:  I am.  I’m just getting pie, no meat or potatoes or nothing else.  Just pie and coffee.  And anyways, bananas are healthy.

(The rest of the committee members order.  Waitress sticks her pencil behind her right ear, frowns, and leaves.)

V.C. #1:  So anyone gonna read the list, or are we just going to eat pie all day?

V.C. #2:  O.K., here we go:  There’s Hafey, Bancroft, Beckley, Marquard, Hooper, and Kelley.

(Blank stares all around.  V.C. #5 pours a thimble of coffee creamer into his black coffee, and begins to stir it with a dirty tea-spoon.)

V.C. #5:  Any of these guys got first names?

V.C. #6:  Marquard, didn’t he used to pitch?  (They all look up in surprise.  They’d forgotten he was there.)

V.C. #1:  Yeah, I think so.  And Hooper played outfield for the Red Sox back when my dad was a kid.  Dad said he was real good.  Played next to Speaker before The Babe left for New York.

V.C. #3:  Did you say Bancroft?  Who the hell was Bancroft?

V.C. #5:  Doesn’t he own that used car parts place over in Haverstraw?

V.C. #2:  That’s Bruntkoff, and I’m guessing this Bancroft guy must be dead by now.  These guys all played 60 or 80 years ago.  That’s why we’re called the freakin’ Veteran’s Committee, moron.

V.C. #4:  So anyone know anything else about Marquard other than he used to pitch?

(Waitress comes over with their lunch orders.  Passes around an arm full of dishes.  She looks over at V.C. #4.)

Waitress:  You mean Rube Marquard, the old-time baseball player?

(They all stop chewing their food and look up at her as if she’d just grown a third breast.)

V.C. #4:  Yeah, I guess.

Waitress:  Pitched for the Giants back before W.W.I.  (They continue to stare at her in anticipation of some reasonable explanation.)  My great-uncle used to pal around with him.  Got his autograph and one of his old gloves.  He used to say that in his prime, Marquard was every bit as good as Mathewson.

(She pours some more coffee and walks away.)

V.C. #1:  Well how the hell you like that?

V.C. #3:  I like it a lot.  See if I can get her phone number.

V.C.  #5:  Mathewson.  Who’s Mathewson?

V.C.  #4:  Jesus, ya donut-hole.  Maybe she should replace you on this committee.

V.C.  #6:  Mathewson was one of the greatest pitchers of all time.  He’s already in The Hall.

(Pause all around.)

V.C.  #2:  Well, that’s good enough for me.  Everyone in favor of putting Marquard in The Hall say aye.

(Ayes all around.  It’s unanimous.)

V.C.  #3:  (Looking down at his plate.  A mass of tangled reddish meat drowns slowly in something white.)  Oh my God, I didn’t order this!

V.C. #4:  That’s creamed chipped beef.

V.C. #3:  I ordered Corned beef.  Not this mess of crap.

V.C. #6:  I think you told her chipped beef.

V.C. #3:  No way I’d say that.  Look at this shit.  I mean, what the hell is it, anyway?

V.C. #1:  All in favor of putting Hooper in The Hall, say aye.

V.C. #2:  Wait a minute.  Who said he was really great?

V.C.  #1: My dad. (Looks at V.C. #2 challengingly.)

V.C. #2:  (Stares back for a long moment.)  O.K., what the hell.  No use arguing about it.

V.C. #1:  As I said, all in favor of Hooper, say aye.  (Ayes all around.)

V.C. #4: Look guys, this can take all day.  I have an idea.
(Looks of relief and hopefulness all around.)

V.C. #4:  Do any of us really have any reason NOT to put these six guys in The Hall?  I mean, do we really know enough about any of them to say that they weren’t good enough?  I mean, hell, Rabbit Freakin’ Maranville is in The Hall.

(Appreciative looks all around.  V.C. #5 balancing his fork carefully, still manages to drop his last piece of pie onto the floor.)

V.C. #1:  You know, boys, he may have a point.
(Conspiratorial looks all around.)

V.C. #2:  All in favor of electing all six of these guys into The Hall, say aye, or otherwise state your objections.

(Ayes all around.  Relief flashes across each of their faces.  Waitress stops by to drop off their check.)

V.C. #3:  Waitress, I didn’t order this.  I asked for corned beef.

Waitress:  We’re out of corned beef.  (She turns and strides off to the next table.)

V.C. #3:  Well, I still ain’t eating this crap.

V.C.#2:  Anyone want to phone in our decision?

V.C. #1:  I’ll do it.  He gets up and walks over to the pay phone.

V.C. #4:  Jesus, he forgot the list again.  (Picks up the napkin to bring over to V.C. #1.)

V.C. #6:  So, who has the road map to get the rest of the way up to Cooperstown?

Blank looks all around.  V.C. #5 tries to hold in a fart, but fails loudly.  The rest get up, toss a few dollars each on the table, and begin putting on their jackets.  It’s a cold afternoon outside.  Too cold for baseball.

Image via Wikipedia

Related articles

• Keller’s Deli Bakery Cafe – Corned Beef Nirvana – Downtown Des Moines (distilledopinion.wordpress.com)

Baseball Bloggers Alliance Hall of Fame Voting: 2012 Edition

January 3, 2012
	BBA RECOMMENDS LARKIN, BAGWELL FOR HALL OF FAME In the annual polling of members of the Baseball Bloggers Alliance, former Cincinnati Reds shortstop Barry Larkin and former Houston Astros first baseman Jeff Bagwell were recommended for induction to the Baseball Hall of Fame.  This is the third year the organization has conducted this survey of the membership. Larkin, a 12-time All-Star who fashioned an .815 OPS over 19 seasons, received the largest percentage of votes, being named on 84.25% of the 148 ballots cast.  This is the highest percentage garnered by any player in the three years of BBA voting. Bagwell, who hit 449 HR and had a .948 OPS in his 15 seasons in Houston, was selected on 115 ballots for a 78.77% rate.  As with the official voting done by the Baseball Writers of America, a player must be named on 75% of the ballots to be recommended by the alliance. Last year, the BBA recommended second baseman Roberto Alomar and pitcher Bert Blyleven, both of whom were inducted into Cooperstown during the summer.  In 2010, no player reached the 75% mark in BBA balloting, the year that outfielder Andre Dawson was selected for the Hall by the baseball writers. The Baseball Bloggers Alliance’s vote has no impact on the official vote taken by the Baseball Writers of America.  However, the BBA has often been a predictor of major awards granted by the writers. The final voting results are as follows: Barry Larkin 84.25% Jeff Bagwell 78.77% Edgar Martinez 60.27% Tim Raines 57.53% Alan Trammell 44.52% Mark McGwire 41.10% Larry Walker 35.62% Lee Smith 33.56% Jack Morris 32.19% Don Mattingly 29.45% Rafael Palmerio 28.77% Fred McGriff 28.08% Dale Murphy 16.44% Bernie Williams 11.64% Juan Gonzalez 6.16% Javy Lopez 2.74% Brad Radke 2.05% Tim Salmon 1.37% Bill Mueller 0.68% Phil Nevin 0.68% Ruben Sierra 0.68% Tony Womack 0.68% Jeromy Burnitz 0.00% Vinny Castilla 0.00% Brian Jordan 0.00% Terry Mulholland 0.00% Eric Young 0.00% The Baseball Bloggers Alliance was established in the fall of 2009 for the purpose of fostering collaboration and communication among bloggers from across baseball.  The BBA has quickly grown to its current membership of 347 blogs, including some of the most prominent blogs on the Internet, spanning all major league teams and various other general aspects of the game. More information about the BBA can be found at their website, baseballbloggersalliance.wordpress.com, or by contacting the founder and administrator of the organization, Daniel Shoptaw, at founder@baseballbloggersalliance.com. Image via Wikipedia

Related articles

• Jeff Bagwell Hall Of Fame Debate: The ‘War On Stupidity’ Rages On (houston.sbnation.com)
• Hall announcement show set for Monday (mlb.mlb.com)
• Next week’s Cooperstown election results today (hardballtimes.com)
• The Cooperstown case for Jeff Bagwell (hardballtimes.com)

Who Belongs in the Hall of Fame: Player A, or Player B?

There is a popular game among those of us who like to compare players who may or may not belong in the Hall of Fame.  You simply take the statistics of two or more players, place them side by side, and remove the players’ names.

The reason you take away their names is that with names come memories, emotions and biases.  These subjective “inputs” then cloud one’s judgment when attempting to objectively compare two or more players.

O.K., so it’s not much of a game.  But it does serve to illustrate that sometimes, what we think we know about a particular player may actually be at best just a pale shadow of who that player actually was.

On the other hand, as you shall soon see, the data that one chooses to use may also have its limitations.

Case in point:  Here are the career statistics of two pitchers, one right-handed and the other a southpaw.  Using only the data I have listed below, I will allow you to decide which pitcher you would rather have leading your hypothetical rotation.  I have chosen ten categories to use as a basis of comparison.

Pitcher A:

Career ERA+  105

Career WAR:  39.3

WHIP:  1.296

Strikeouts / 9 innings:  5.8

Strikeouts / Walk:  1.8

Career Shutouts:  28

Career ERA:   3.90

Peak WAR:  5.9

Seasons with ERA less than 3.oo:  0

Career Post-Season:   7-4, 3.80

Pitcher B:

Career ERA+   114

Career WAR:   38.7

WHIP:   1.233

Strikeouts / 9 Innings:   5.8

Strikeouts / Walk:   2.38

Career Shutouts:  30

Career ERA:  3.18

Peak WAR:  8.6

Seasons with ERA less than 3.00 – 4

Career Post-Season:   2-2, 1.40

As you can see, Pitcher A wins only one category, Career WAR, 39.3, just barely beating Pitcher B by 0.6 percentage points.  Pitcher A also ties Pitcher B in Strikeouts / 9 Innings at 5.8.

Pitcher B wins the other eight categories, and even seems to be the better pitcher in the post-season.

Both pitchers, by the way, pitched well over 2,000 innings in their respective careers, and neither of them won a Cy Young award.  One pitcher was named an All-Star game MVP, and the other won a World Series MVP award.  Both pitchers began their careers after 1970.

So which pitcher would you rather have on your team?

Choosing simply by the numbers I have listed, I am confident that most people would choose Pitcher B over Pitcher A.  Pitcher B simply has too great an advantage in too many important stats to ignore.

Therefore, most people would have chosen Jon Matlack over Jack Morris.

Yet, many people believe that Jack Morris belongs in the Hall of Fame, while virtually no one that I’ve ever met (there’s a pun there) would argue that Jon Matlack belongs in that same august association.

So what are we to make of these statistics?  None of the statistics I have chosen is in and of itself misleading, yet can we feel comfortable with the outcome I have presented?

Jack Morris, who spent his entire 18-year career in the American League, finished his career with a record of 254-186.  He led his league in wins twice, posted three 20-win seasons, had three 200 strikeout seasons, was a five time All-Star, and finished in the top five in his league’s Cy Young voting five times.

He was the ace of every staff he led, and, of course, he pitched one of the most famous games in World Series history, Game 7 of the 1991 World Series against the Braves, when he hurled ten shutout innings as the Twins won their second World Series in four years.

Jon Matlack, meanwhile, while pitching for the Mets and the Rangers in the 1970’s and early 80’s, finished with a career record of 125-126, never led his league in wins, won the N.L. Rookie of the Year award in 1972, made three All-Star teams, and led his league in shutouts twice.

Jack Morris won twice as many games as Jon Matlack, pitched about 1,500 more innings in his career, and pitched in an era that was, generally speaking, more favorable to hitters than the era in which Matlack pitched.

So now what?  This is not, as some might argue at this point, an example of how modern sabermetrics have their limitations, because we all “know” that Morris was a better pitcher than Matlack during their  respective careers.

What we do know for sure was that Morris was more durable than Matlack.  We know that Morris pitched for teams that generally won more games (even when he wasn’t pitching) than Matlack. And we know that sometimes, fortune favors one person over another for no particular reason.

On a game by game basis, it is clear that Matlack could have held his own with Morris any day of the week in any era.  But it is also true that Napoleon had it right when (so the story goes) he was asked who his favorite generals are. He replied, “The lucky ones.”

This is not to cast aspersions on the fine career of Jack Morris.  But aside from the obvious conclusion that he really doesn’t belong in the Hall of Fame, it is clear that fortune smiled on him throughout his career.  Matlack’s numbers, as I have shown, clearly indicate that he was clearly an excellent pitcher for over a decade.

But Matlack also doesn’t merit serious Hall consideration.  No matter how you cut, split-up, and regroup the numbers, a pitcher with a career losing record just ain’t never getting into the Hall, nor, in my opinion, should he.

Because when all is said and done, the Hall of Fame isn’t simply about numbers.  It is also about memories, emotions, and personal connections.  Although the Hall of Fame shouldn’t simply be a Hall of Celebrity, it is also not merely a math problem to be solved with modern computer-generated algorithms.

A legitimate Hall of Fame career should be that narrow intersection where the emotional, metaphysical and, if you will, spiritual,  meets the sensible, rational and objective.

If that intersection is hard to find, that standard hard to meet, well, isn’t that the point?

50 Best Players Not in The Baseball Hall of Fame

Image via Wikipedia

Here’s a nod to Graham Womack’s baseball blog, Baseball Past and Present. He is currently putting together a list, based on votes from his readers that he is tabulating, of the 50 best players not currently in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

This project also fits in well with my recent series, “Cleaning Up the Hall of Fame.” 

This is the list I submitted to him for consideration.  I chose not to include either Pete Rose or Shoeless Joe Jackson because everyone knows that both of them would already be in The Hall, if not for their alleged ethical / legal indiscretions.

The first five players on the list would receive my vote for the Hall of Fame.  Some of the other 45 players might ultimately get my vote as well, but I am undecided at this point.  After the first five, they are in no particular order.

1)  Jeff Bagwell

2)  Barry Larkin

3)  Alan Trammell

4)  Ron Santo

5)  Tim Raines

6)  Minnie Minoso

7)  Dale Murphy

8)  Reggie Smith

9)  Dave Parker

10) Gil Hodges

11) Dwight Evans

12) Lance Parrish

13) Al Oliver

14) Graig Nettles

15) Willie Randolph

16) Edgar Martinez

17) Ted Simmons

18)  Eric Davis

19)  Darryl Strawberry

20)  Lee Smith

21)  Sparky Lyle

22)  Dan Quisenberry

23)  Carl Furillo

24)  Jimmy Wynn

25)  J.R. Richard

26)  Boog Powell

27)  Larry Walker

28)  Rusty Staub

29)  Luis Tiant

30)  Thurman Munson

31)  Dick Allen

32)  Jack Clark

33)  Will Clark

34)  Don Mattingly

35)  Roger Maris

36)  Rocky Colavito

37)  Bobby Grich

38)  Tommy John

39)  Jim Kaat

40)  Tony Oliva

41)  Vada Pinson

42)  Bobby Murcer

43)  Fred McGriff

44)  Rick Reuschel

45)  Bobby Bonds

46)  Ron Guidry

47)  Keith Hernandez

48)  Ken Boyer

49)  Kevin Brown

50)  Wes Ferrell

There are, of course, many other players that could have been included on this list.  If I do this again next year, I am sure I will change my mind about certain players.

Who would you add or subtract?  I’m curious to know which of my choices you think are the worst, and which players you would have chosen instead.

Related articles

• For the Hall of Fame: Hodges and Santo (still …) (timesunion.com)
• 2012 Hall of Fame ballot out: Third try for Edgar (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• Third time should be Larkin’s HOF charm (mlb.mlb.com)

Baseball Bloggers Alliance Hall of Fame Vote

Image via Wikipedia

Here are the official results of the BBA membership Hall of Fame vote.  Curious to see what you all think.  Personally, I voted for Alomar, Larkin, Bagwell, Raines, and Larry Walker.  I did not vote for Bert Blyleven.

BBA RECOMMENDS ALOMAR, BLYLEVEN FOR HALL OF FAME

Second baseman Roberto Alomar and starting pitcher Bert Blyleven were named today as the recommended 2011 Hall of Fame class by the Baseball Bloggers Alliance.

Alomar, who is on the ballot for his second year, and Blyleven, looking at his fourteenth time, both finished just shy of the BBA’s recommendation in 2010 at just a fraction under the 75% threshold.  As was the case last year, both Alomar and Blyleven received the same amount of votes from the BBA membership in 2010, but this time it was enough to push them into the recommended status.

Both players received 117 votes out of the 154 ballots cast, resulting in a 75.97% approval rate.  Again echoing the vote taken at the end of 2009, shortstop Barry Larkin was the third man in the balloting, missing selection by being named on just 70.78% of the ballots.

The Baseball Bloggers Alliance’s vote has no impact on the official vote taken by the Baseball Writers of America and the members of the Hall of Fame.  However, the BBA has been often a predictor of awards granted by the writers, matching their selection in fourteen of the sixteen major awards in the last two postseasons combined.

The final voting results are as follows:

Roberto Alomar, 75.97%

Bert Blyleven, 75.97%

Barry Larkin, 70.78%

Jeff Bagwell, 62.34%

Edgar Martinez, 59.09%

Tim Raines, 54.55%

Mark McGwire, 44.16%

Lee Smith, 38.96%

Alan Trammell, 35.71%

Don Mattingly, 33.12%

Larry Walker, 31.17%

Fred McGriff, 27.27%

Jack Morris, 25.97%

Rafael Palmerio, 20.78%

Dale Murphy, 16.23%

Dave Parker, 12.34%

Harold Baines, 10.39%

Kevin Brown, 9.09%

John Franco, 7.14%

Tino Martinez, 5.19%

John Olerud, 5.19%

Al Leiter, 4.55%

Bret Boone, 3.90%

Juan Gonzalez, 3.90%

Marquis Grissom, 2.60%

Benito Santiago, 1.30%

Bobby Higginson, 0.65%

Charles Johnson, 0.65%

Kirk Rueter, 0.65%

Carlos Baerga, 0.00%

Raul Mondesi, 0.00%

BJ Surhoff, 0.00%

The Baseball Bloggers Alliance was established in the fall of 2009 for the purpose of fostering collaboration and communication among bloggers from across baseball.  The BBA has quickly grown to its current membership of 256 blogs, including some of the most prominent blogs on the internet, spanning all major league teams and various other general aspects of the game.

More information about the BBA can be found at their website, www.baseballbloggersalliance.com, or by contacting the founder and administrator of the organization, Daniel Shoptaw, at founder@baseballbloggersalliance.com.

Related Articles

• Your vote for the Baseball Hall of Fame (boston.com)
• Few easy answers on ballot questions (boston.com)
• My imaginary Hall of Fame ballot (randombaseballstuff.com)
• Blyleven and Alomar hope to take final Cooperstown step (reuters.com)

Why Larry Walker Deserves to be in the Hall of Fame

‘Tis the Season.

This is the time of year when the Baseball Writers of America (BBWA) submit their final ballots for the players they think are deserving of induction into Major League Baseball’s Hall of Fame.

Among the eligible inductees this year are Bert (haven’t I been here before?) Blyleven, holdovers from last year Roberto Alomar, Barry Larkin and Edgar Martinez (shame on you, BBWA,) and first-time eligibles Jeff Bagwell, Rafael Palmiero, Mark McGwire, Kevin Brown, Juan Gonzalez, John Olerud, Bobby Higginson, and Larry Walker.

If baseball Hall of Fame history provides any lessons, then Blyleven, Alomar and Bagwell are the most likely candidates for Hall enshrinement in 2011.

But an equally deserving candidate for HOF enshrinement is Larry Walker.

Walker was overshadowed in his day (1989-05) by players like Ken Griffey, Jr., Barry Bonds, Frank Thomas, Mark McGwire, and Sammy Sosa.  But, with the tainted exception of Barry Bonds, Walker was arguably a more complete player than any of the others.

In fact, only Barry Bonds and Jeff Bagwell were truly comparable to Walker as  complete Major League players.

One way to go about evaluating a potential Hall of Famer is to start with his weaknesses (or at least his perceived shortcomings.)

Thus, one can argue that Edgar Martinez, for example, was “only” a DH, and therefore, because he seldom played in the field, his Hall credentials are penalized.

As for Sammy Sosa, (aside from the steroid issue,)  he was neither a great base-runner, nor was he a legendary defensive outfielder.  And in many seasons, his batting average wasn’t all that fantastic, either.

Barry Bonds, even before he ever (allegedly) used steroids, was nearly a complete player, but his throwing arm was just average.  If he could really throw, he would have played right field.

Jeff Bagwell was as close to being as complete a player as you could find during this era, but first basemen have to be exceptionally superior around the bag to win a reputation for defensive excellence.  Bagwell won just a single Gold Glove, and his throwing arm was considered average.

Ken Griffey was a sleek, graceful defensive outfielder and an excellent power hitter who won 10 Gold Gloves, had an average arm, and who never led his league in OBP, OPS, OPS+, hits, doubles, or walks.  His base-running skills were considered solid, but not fantastic.

Frank Thomas was a devastating hitter for both power and average, walked a lot, but was a poor defensive player and a below average base-runner.

I’m not arguing that the aforementioned players have questionable Hall of Fame credentials.  If any of them don’t make it into The Hall, it will be due to the taint of steroids.

But suppose you can find a truly flawless player?  Doesn’t it stand to reason that this player, given enough time on the baseball diamond to prove himself, would be a Hall of Fame quality player?

Enter Larry Walker.

Every player has at least one minor shortcoming, right?  I’ve listed the relative shortcomings of several Hall of Famers already.

But as I searched for Larry Walker’s hidden weakness, I kept coming up empty.

Let’s start with a couple of traditional stats: batting average, and its sexy younger sister, on-base percentage.

Batting average is overrated, I know.  But a player with a career .313 batting average who happened to win three batting titles (as many as George Brett,) has certainly demonstrated at least one strength.   And for those of you who snicker at the very mention of batting average, Walker posted an On-Base Percentage in his entire career of exactly .400.

By way of comparison, Derek Jeter, whose specialty is getting on base, has posted an OBP of .400 or better in just four of 16 seasons.  Brett reached that magic number in just three of 21 seasons.  Walker topped .400 in eight consecutive seasons.

Fine.  He got on base a lot.  But what about hitting for power?  Let’s look at homers and RBI’s.  Acknowledging (again with a nod to the sabermetric crowd) that RBI’s are overrated, Walker drove in 1,311 runs, topping 100 RBI five times.  He drove in over 90 runs for the first time, while playing with the Montreal Expos, at the age of 25.  He drove in over 90 runs (104, actually) for the last time, playing for the Rockies, at age 35.  Thus, for a solid decade, he was a serious middle of the order masher.

As for home runs, he hit 383 in his career, topping 30 homers four times.  He topped the N.L. in homers with 49 in 1997, and he averaged 31 per 162 games in his career.  Albert Pujols, who, if he quit playing tomorrow, would be a definite inductee into The Hall, also reached 49 homers just once.

In addition to Walker’s 383 homers, he also produced 471 doubles and 62 triples.  His 916 extra base hits are 56th all-time, more than Hall of Famers Paul Waner, Joe DiMaggio, Harmon Killebrew and Duke Snider, and just four fewer than Willie McCovey.

Impressively, Walker’s career slugging percentage is a remarkable .565, good for 14th best all-time.  Virtually every single player ahead of him on this list is either in the Hall of Fame already, or will be elected eventually (Pujols) unless their alleged use of steroids keeps them out (A-Rod, Bonds, Manny Ramirez.)

Likewise, Walker’s OPS (on-base + slugging) of .965 ranks 16th best all-time, just below Stan Musial, and just ahead of Johnny Mize.  He posted an OPS north of 1.000 six times in his career.  By contrast, Hank Aaron reached that level five times in his career.

Enough already, you say.  So he was basically just a big, slow-footed Canadian who could slug the ball.  There have been lots of sluggers.  What else does he bring to the table?

How about seven Gold Gloves?  And how about 150 outfield assists?  Walker led the N.L. in assists three times, and his career total of 150 assists ranks seventh best, just four behind Jesse Barfield, and only five behind the legendary Dwight Evans.

Clearly, Walker was an excellent defensive right fielder with a gun for an arm.

Base-running skills?  Check.  In poll after poll of managers and of his peers, Walker was consistently on the short-list of best base-runners in his league.  Only Jeff Bagwell and a couple of other players were considered comparable to Walker during the entire decade of the ’90’s.

Not only was Walker extremely adept at turning singles into doubles, and reading the ball off the bat so that he knew when to score from second base, but he was an underrated base-stealer, too.

Larry Walker stole a surprising 230 bases in his career, and was caught 76 times.  His career stolen base percentage of 75% was about the same as Lou Brock’s and better than Maury Wills’.  Walker set a career high with 33 stolen bases in 1997, and topped 20 steals in two other seasons.

In his base-running prime, over a seven-year period (1993-99), Walker’s stolen base percentage, in 153 attempts, was an even more impressive 81%.

So Larry Walker could hit for average and for power, he could field his position with the best of them, and he was an excellent base-runner.

Oh, and due to his great base-running and his excellent power, he scored 1,355 runs in his career, topping 100 runs scored four times, and 90+ runs scored in two other seasons.

But I’ll bet he hit into a ton of double-plays, right?  Sluggers like him, even if they are smart on the base-paths, are susceptible to the old 4-6-3 double-play. And hitting into double-plays is an underrated killer of a player’s total value.

Even here, however, Walker’s career numbers are fantastic.  He hit into just 153 double-plays in his career.  Cal Ripkin is the all-time leader, having hit into 350 double-plays.  Jim Rice and Eddie Murray each hit into 315.  Frank Robinson checks in at 270.  Willie Mays hit into 251.  Charlie Hustle himself grounded into 247 twin-killings.  Derek Jeter clocks in at 235.

Walker was about as difficult to double-up as Craig Biggio (150), and Biggio once went an entire season (1997) without grounding into a double-play.

Larry Walker was a five time All-Star.  He won the N.L. MVP award in 1997.  He won three Silver Slugger awards.  He had a 200 hit season.  He won three batting titles, a home run title, and he led his league in OPS twice.

Now this is where you pull out your trump card.  Walker played his home games for nine+ seasons in the most favorable hitters park ever constructed, Coors Field in Denver, Colorado.

There is no doubt  his overall career numbers were given a boost by this ballpark.  But in the last of his five seasons with his first team, the Montreal Expos, (1994) Walker posted an OPS+ of 151, a number he surpassed just four times in nine full seasons in Colorado.

Walker’s career OPS+, which takes into account a players’ home ballpark as well as the era in which he played, sits at 140, the same as Hall of Famer Duke Snider.

Moreover, while in Montreal, he had already established himself as a fine defensive outfielder by winning two Gold Gloves.  He had also already demonstrated fine base-running skills by swiping 29 bases in 36 attempts in 1993, and he led the N.L. in doubles with 44 in ’94.

As for his home-road splits, consider the following.  In Walker’s finest season, 1997, he slugged .709 at home, and .733 on the road.  He belted 20 homers at home, and 29 on the road.  He drove in 68 runs at home; he drove in 62 runs on the road.  His home on-base percentage was .460; his road OBP was .443.  So his numbers, in some cases, were actually better on the road, and even the stats that were better at home were not vastly superior.

Other Hall of Fame ball players certainly benefited tremendously from their home ballparks.  Mel Ott, for example,  hit 323 of his 511 career homers (63%) at the Polo Grounds.  If Jim Rice had played his entire career in Houston, there would have been little difference between him and Jimmy Wynn.

Finally, a few of you may even pull out the “whiff of steroids” excuse to besmirch his reputation.  But no credible evidence exists to suggest that Walker ever used steroids.  Frankly, as intelligent adults, we need to move beyond the perversely gratifying,  sensationalist rumor-mongering on this issue.

Not everyone who hit 25 or more home runs in a season in the ’90’s and early 2000’s used PED’s.  Unless credible evidence has come to light regarding a particular player, we have no choice but to extend to them the benefit of the doubt on this issue.

According to baseball-reference.com, of the ten players whose careers were most similar to Walkers, four of them, (DiMaggio, Snider, Chuck Klein and Johnny Mize) are already in the Hall of Fame.  Another close comp., Vlad Guerrerro, will be once he becomes eligible.

Taken as a whole, then, Larry Walker clearly produced Hall of Fame numbers.  Whether or not the BBWA sees it this way, and I suspect many of them won’t agree with me, Walker deserves enshrinement in the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame.

Yesterday, December 1st, was Larry Walker’s 44th birthday.  Consider this blog-post a birthday present, Larry.  You deserve it.

Related Articles

• Blyleven and Alomar hope to take final Cooperstown step (reuters.com)
• Rafael Palmeiro, Juan Gonzalez on baseball Hall ballot for first time (theglobeandmail.com)
• Blyleven, Alomar overdue for Hall enshrinement (mlb.mlb.com)
• Alomar, Walker head baseball Hall of Fame ballot (cbc.ca)
• Hall history bodes well for Alomar, Blyleven (mlb.mlb.com)