Before we begin: some background. I’ve submitted a Baseball Hall of Fame ballot ever year for a while now. If I’m not mistaken, this is the 21st year in which I have cast a vote. My election patterns have probably changed without me even knowing. If you look hard enough, you’ll undoubtedly find inconsistencies with me as you would anyone else.
So let me get this out of the way so we can have a half-decent discussion: on those matters, I’m guilty as charged. OK?
Now, that said, let allow me to make some general things clear with regard to my Hall of Fame voting. First, I’m a “small Hall” believer, which means I believe that the Hall of Fame should be for the one percent of the one percent of the one percent. I’m not interested in All-Stars. I’m interested in All-Timers. Generally speaking, that requires high peak performance and some measure of longevity. I don’t go by WAR. (If we’re just going to do that, why even have an election?) In addition to the numbers, I rely significantly on my eyes. The reason I have a vote is because I watched a lot of baseball and talked to a lot of people in and around the game. The eyes and ears are supposed to count for something significant, too. That’s the whole point of a vote.
Finally, I don’t penalize for steroid use based solely on ethics. We all know that there are already guys in the Hall of Fame who used steroids. The entire era was tainted. Numbers were grossly inflated to the point where players with at least 3,000 career hits and/or at least 500 career home runs (Rafael Palmeiro, Sammy Sosa, Mark McGwire) have been denied. Through all the mud of the last 20-25 years, this has all became one big judgment call.
So here’s my judgment:
Manny Ramirez and Alex Rodriguez.
First, Manny
BOSTON – JULY 30: Manny Ramirez #24 of the Boston Red Sox heads out to left field for the last time as a member of the Red Sox against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim at Fenway Park on July 30, 2008 in Boston, Massachusetts. (Photo by Jim Rogash/Getty Images)
Was he a great teammate? No. Was he a great outfielder? No. Was he a great base runner? Hell no. But his skills in the batter’s box were so downright prolific that everyone repeatedly put up with all his deficiencies. In the 15 years from 1995-2009, Ramirez’ teams made the playoffs 11 times. He appeared in 23 playoff series. He was a career Triple Crown winner, which is to say he won a batting title, RBI title and home run title. He was a World Series MVP (2007) and a centerpiece on the the 2004 Red Sox, one of the most historic teams of all-time. Personally, I think there are a lot of similarities between Ramirez and Miguel Cabrera, who will be voted into the Hall of Fame in five years. Manny could hit whether he was on steroids on acid. If you watched him, you knew that. Case closed.
Now, about Alex Rodriguez …
BOSTON, MA – AUGUST 11: Alex Rodriguez #13 of the New York Yankees looks on before the game against the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park on August 11, 2016 in Boston, Massachusetts. (Photo by Adam Glanzman/Getty Images)
Tell you what: in your mind, draw up the perfect ballplayer. Me? I’d want an athletic shortstop with speed and quickness – but with the size to hit the ball out of the Grand Canyon. Ideally, I’d prefer someone who showed up in October like David Ortiz – and Rodriguez did not – but, again, his overall body of work is so eye-popping that there is simply no way of denying his greatness. Like Ramirez, he got suspended for steroid use. Does this make him any dirtier than anyone else from that era? Love him or hate him – and there are reasons for both – A-Rod wasn’t just one of the game’s best players. He is one of the game’s true titans. That he, Ramirez, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are not in the Hall of Fame is an embarrassment, especially when (ahem) many others are. (Use your brain.) The steroid era turned this all into a political argument. Some players performed at an indisputably high level before, during and after the steroid epidemic. Maybe they used throughout. But I’m going with my eyeballs.
Adrian Beltre, Joe Mauer, Todd Helton et al
NEW YORK – SEPTEMBER 26: Adrian Beltre #29 of the Boston Red Sox looks on during warm-ups prior to the start of the game against the New York Yankees on September 26, 2010 at Yankee Stadium in the Bronx borough of New York City. (Photo by Mike Stobe/Getty Images)
As we all know, this year’s class will include Adrian Beltre, Joe Mauer and Todd Helton, all of whom were elected yesterday. So that leaves me as one of the relatively few who had zero inductees on his Hall of Fame ballot this year. Does that make me an idiot? Probably. (This hardly qualifies as news.) But it’s also proof that the system works. Over the last 21 years, I’ve been on the right side of the vote many, many times. I was bound to end up on the wrong side sooner or later.
Now the specifics: in my mind, there has rarely (if ever) been a ballot as deep as this one, with as many legitimate, bona fide candidates. I may regret omitting Carlos Beltran, who was one the best, most complete and dangerous players (look up his October numbers) I have ever seen. (I may commit the sin of adding him going forward after omitting him thus far. I am preparing for the firing squad.) Gary Sheffield is another toughie, but he spiked late in his career and was a poor defender. Bobby Abreu, to me, was a knock-off of Juan Soto, but his peak years were great enough and he didn’t last long enough. The list goes on.
So, who a not on Beltre, Helton and Mauer? Frankly, I liked them all as players, but I never considered them true all-timers. Certainly Beltre finished with more then 3,000 career hits – just like Craig Biggio, whom I also voted no on. Serious question: how many times was Beltre even the best player on his team? Helton’s career OPS outside of Colorado was roughly .200 lower than his numbers on the road, where his batting average was .287. (I didn’t vote for Larry Walker, either.) And as for Mauer, well, he certainly was skilled as a hitter. He also spent the final half of his career as a first baseman and designated hitter and hit more than 13 home runs only once. That’s right. Once. (He was listed at 6-foot-5 and 225 pounds.) Frankly, I’m more inclined to vote for Buster Posey.
Does that mean any of those suck? No.
But again, the majority has spoken.
I’m just not among them.
