I'm a couple of days late on this, but here are a couple of links for watching the induction speeches to the Hall of Fame:
Rickey Henderson
Jim Rice
Judy Gordon, daughter of Joe Gordon
Enjoy!
Showing posts with label hall of fame. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hall of fame. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
Mark Buehrle, Hall of Famer?
No, I'm not advocating or even predicting that Mark Buehrle will one day make the Hall of Fame. But with yesterday's perfect game, it's the perfect time to point out that he is on a Hall of Fame track.
Yes, he is on a Hall of Fame track, even though he's never really been an ace and has never struck fear into the hearts of opposing batters and managers.
So how is it possible? Because there are two ways to get into the Hall as a pitcher:
1. Dominate in your 20s, like Sandy Koufax, Dizzy Dean, Don Drysdale, and many others.
2. Be a workhorse in your 30s and 40s, like Early Wynn, Don Sutton, Phil Niekro, and many others.
Rare pitchers do both: Roger Clemens, Tom Seaver, Greg Maddux, etc. Those are the true greats of the game, the inner-circle Hall of Famers. The other guys are mostly outer-circle Hall of Famers (not Koufax and Dean, but the other guys).
Buehrle clearly did not dominate in his 20s, but he did win 122 games before turning 30. And he did it without missing time due to a major injury. From age 22 on, he has started at least 30 games per season every year. He's solid, dependable, and good.
And because he has good command of his pitches, he's the kind of player who could continue as an effective pitcher for a very long time. If he does that--if he wins 12-17 games per year for the next decade, he'll probably end up with 300 victories, or close to it. And that will make him a strong Hall of Fame candidate.
Will he? I have no idea. An errant line drive could end things suddenly. Or he could blow up like Barry Zito. But if the Mark Buehrle of the next decade pitches anything like the Mark Buehrle of the last decade, he can start preparing his induction speech.
(I'm not the only person to think of this. After writing this, I Googled "Mark Buehrle Hall of Fame" and found these others making the argument here and here and probably elsewhere.)
Yes, he is on a Hall of Fame track, even though he's never really been an ace and has never struck fear into the hearts of opposing batters and managers.
So how is it possible? Because there are two ways to get into the Hall as a pitcher:
1. Dominate in your 20s, like Sandy Koufax, Dizzy Dean, Don Drysdale, and many others.
2. Be a workhorse in your 30s and 40s, like Early Wynn, Don Sutton, Phil Niekro, and many others.
Rare pitchers do both: Roger Clemens, Tom Seaver, Greg Maddux, etc. Those are the true greats of the game, the inner-circle Hall of Famers. The other guys are mostly outer-circle Hall of Famers (not Koufax and Dean, but the other guys).
Buehrle clearly did not dominate in his 20s, but he did win 122 games before turning 30. And he did it without missing time due to a major injury. From age 22 on, he has started at least 30 games per season every year. He's solid, dependable, and good.
And because he has good command of his pitches, he's the kind of player who could continue as an effective pitcher for a very long time. If he does that--if he wins 12-17 games per year for the next decade, he'll probably end up with 300 victories, or close to it. And that will make him a strong Hall of Fame candidate.
Will he? I have no idea. An errant line drive could end things suddenly. Or he could blow up like Barry Zito. But if the Mark Buehrle of the next decade pitches anything like the Mark Buehrle of the last decade, he can start preparing his induction speech.
(I'm not the only person to think of this. After writing this, I Googled "Mark Buehrle Hall of Fame" and found these others making the argument here and here and probably elsewhere.)
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Tom Glavine and the Hall
The word "unceremoniously" seems to apply to this situation:
Unless some other team takes a chance on him, it appears that Glavine's next stop is Cooperstown. With 305 career victories and two Cy Young Awards, he's a lock to get in on the first ballot.
Thinking back on it, I'm trying to recall other Hall of Fame players who received such apparently ignominious treatment by their longtime clubs. I mean, most great players get the opportunity to retire on their own terms, but not all. Here's what I've come up with off the top of my head (by no means an exhaustive list):
- Babe Ruth, who was released by the Yankees abruptly after he thought he'd get a chance to manage the team. (To the Yankees' credit, they obviously recognized that Ruth would not have been a good manager.)
- Steve Carlton, who was released by the Phillies in the middle of the 1986 season. He then signed with the Giants, who kept him for about a month then released him. Of course, Carlton had pitched horribly for both teams and should have retired on his own, so it's hard to blame the teams.
- Honus Wagner, who at the end of his career feuded with Pirates owner Barney Dreyfuss so badly that Wagner had nothing to do with the Pirates club for two decades.
- Juan Marichal, who was sold by the Giants to the Red Sox after 14 seasons in San Francisco.
- Tom Seaver, who was accidentally placed on waivers by the Mets.
- Casey Stengel, whose departure from the Yankees after the 1959 season practically redefined "unceremonious." Stengel was basically fired for being too old.
Now, to be fair, in Glavine's case (and probably in the case of others on this list) what may have happened is that the team encouraged him to retire and he just didn't want to. (There is a complicating factor that Glavine would have earned a $1 million bonus if had made the club's active roster, so it looks like the Braves were just trying to save a buck, whether that's true or not.)
Whatever the circumstances, it's never fun when the business of baseball smacks a future Hall of Famer in the face so hard.
Tom Glavine's second go-round with Atlanta ended in abrupt, businesslike fashion, which is perhaps appropriate for a player who, as the Braves' player representative during the acrimonious negotiations that led to the 1994 strike, knows better than most the business side of the game.
Unless some other team takes a chance on him, it appears that Glavine's next stop is Cooperstown. With 305 career victories and two Cy Young Awards, he's a lock to get in on the first ballot.
Thinking back on it, I'm trying to recall other Hall of Fame players who received such apparently ignominious treatment by their longtime clubs. I mean, most great players get the opportunity to retire on their own terms, but not all. Here's what I've come up with off the top of my head (by no means an exhaustive list):
- Babe Ruth, who was released by the Yankees abruptly after he thought he'd get a chance to manage the team. (To the Yankees' credit, they obviously recognized that Ruth would not have been a good manager.)
- Steve Carlton, who was released by the Phillies in the middle of the 1986 season. He then signed with the Giants, who kept him for about a month then released him. Of course, Carlton had pitched horribly for both teams and should have retired on his own, so it's hard to blame the teams.
- Honus Wagner, who at the end of his career feuded with Pirates owner Barney Dreyfuss so badly that Wagner had nothing to do with the Pirates club for two decades.
- Juan Marichal, who was sold by the Giants to the Red Sox after 14 seasons in San Francisco.
- Tom Seaver, who was accidentally placed on waivers by the Mets.
- Casey Stengel, whose departure from the Yankees after the 1959 season practically redefined "unceremonious." Stengel was basically fired for being too old.
Now, to be fair, in Glavine's case (and probably in the case of others on this list) what may have happened is that the team encouraged him to retire and he just didn't want to. (There is a complicating factor that Glavine would have earned a $1 million bonus if had made the club's active roster, so it looks like the Braves were just trying to save a buck, whether that's true or not.)
Whatever the circumstances, it's never fun when the business of baseball smacks a future Hall of Famer in the face so hard.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A-Rod. Uh oh.
Of course the big news over the past few days is about Alex Rodriguez and his positive steroids test from 2003. I guess the only thing worse would be if Albert Pujols got caught. Pujols is about the last clean big superstar left.
I think we can all agree that almost every ballplayer, past or present, does whatever he has to do to succeed. In previous generations, it meant taking "greenies," or methamphetamines. Or OD'ing on caffeine to stay alert. Or corking the bat. Or stealing signs. Or spiking opposing players. Or grabbing a baserunner by the belt to slow him down. Or throwing a spitball. Or whatever.
It's called cheating, and it's wrong, and it happens all the time. A-Rod didn't invent it. He won't be the last. The only thing A-Rod has going for him is that when he cheated, he wasn't breaking any of baseball's rules, and he never lied about it to a grand jury (though he did lie to reporters and the public).
A lot of people -- like this guy -- are saying now A-Rod won't make it to the Hall of Fame. That's nonsense. I think that there will be an amnesty for the guys of this era who juiced up, and that superstars like A-Rod, Clemens, Bonds, even McGwire, will eventually get in. Cheaters like Palmeiro, who are on the bubble, may have a harder time, but he was on the bubble as a HOFer even before the steroids taint.
My feeling is that we either need to have an amnesty like that, in which everyone gets a pass and players are judged on their merits compared to other players of that era. Or else we shouldn't induct anyone who starred from 1990 to 2004. Those seem like the two best options. And I favor the former.
I think we can all agree that almost every ballplayer, past or present, does whatever he has to do to succeed. In previous generations, it meant taking "greenies," or methamphetamines. Or OD'ing on caffeine to stay alert. Or corking the bat. Or stealing signs. Or spiking opposing players. Or grabbing a baserunner by the belt to slow him down. Or throwing a spitball. Or whatever.
It's called cheating, and it's wrong, and it happens all the time. A-Rod didn't invent it. He won't be the last. The only thing A-Rod has going for him is that when he cheated, he wasn't breaking any of baseball's rules, and he never lied about it to a grand jury (though he did lie to reporters and the public).
A lot of people -- like this guy -- are saying now A-Rod won't make it to the Hall of Fame. That's nonsense. I think that there will be an amnesty for the guys of this era who juiced up, and that superstars like A-Rod, Clemens, Bonds, even McGwire, will eventually get in. Cheaters like Palmeiro, who are on the bubble, may have a harder time, but he was on the bubble as a HOFer even before the steroids taint.
My feeling is that we either need to have an amnesty like that, in which everyone gets a pass and players are judged on their merits compared to other players of that era. Or else we shouldn't induct anyone who starred from 1990 to 2004. Those seem like the two best options. And I favor the former.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Farewell, Jeff Kent
Jeff Kent is announcing his retirement tomorrow after 17 years in the big leagues. Last June, I assessed his Hall of Fame credentials. I predicted that eventually he'd get in to the Hall in the class of 2024, but that was just a guess without knowing when he'd retire. Now that he's retiring and will be eligible for the Hall in 2015, I'm going to change my prediction to say that he'll be enshrined in 2020.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Congrats to Rice and Henderson
Jim Rice and Rickey Henderson were just elected to the Hall of Fame, so they deserve congratulations. Here are some random thoughts:
- It's a travesty that Henderson received not quite 95% of the vote. If he's not a guaranteed unanimous selection, then no one is. Those 5% of voters who didn't include Henderson should be ashamed of themselves.
- Rice was a very good player, even great for a couple of seasons. But his induction opens the floodgates for outfielders/DHs with solid but flawed credentials. I mean, how can you say yes to Rice (.298 BA, .352 OBP, .502 SLG, 128 OPS+, 382 HR) but no to these guys:
* Dale Murphy (121 OPS+, 398 HR)
* Andre Dawson (119 OPS+, 438 HR)
* Dave Parker (121 OPS+, 339 HR)
* Fred Lynn (129 OPS+, 306 HR)
* Albert Belle (143 OPS+, 381 HR)
* Dick Allen (156 OPS+, 351 HR)
* Reggie Smith (137 OPS+, 314 HR)
And when these guys come up for the honor, how can you say no:
* Andres Galarraga (118 OPS+, 399 HR)
* Ellis Burks (126 OPS+, 352 HR)
* Fred McGriff (134 OPS+, 493 HR)
* Juan Gonzalez (132 OPS+, 434 HR)
Will they all make it? No, but they all have a solid case now that that Rice is in. Of course, Hall voting is totally inconsistent and unpredictable. For borderline cases like these, it usually requires some passionate advocates in the media to beat the drums for them. Rice has the powerful Boston media behind him, so that really helped. These other guys don't seem to have the advocacy. Check out Joe Posnanski's post about Dale Murphy for his take.
- Bert Blyleven and Tommy John got screwed again this year. Blyleven still has a few years left on the writers' ballot, but now it's up to the Veterans Committee to take up John's cause. Talk about inconsistent voting patterns. If they follow their usual brilliant timing, they'll wait until after John is dead before realizing he should be inducted.
- Mark McGwire. When he retired, he was talked about as a first-ballot Hall of Famer. Now he struggles to get 25% of the vote. I wonder what he has to do to rehabilitate his image. Maybe if he admits taking steroids, explains why, and starts campaigning against steroid use, that might do it. But so far, he seems content to keep quiet and let the cloud hang above him. Maybe the Hall of Fame just doesn't mean much to him, which is fine by me. But it is interesting to watch.
- Tim Raines. I loved watching him play and I hope he makes the Hall someday. He was a great player and deserves it.
- It's a travesty that Henderson received not quite 95% of the vote. If he's not a guaranteed unanimous selection, then no one is. Those 5% of voters who didn't include Henderson should be ashamed of themselves.
- Rice was a very good player, even great for a couple of seasons. But his induction opens the floodgates for outfielders/DHs with solid but flawed credentials. I mean, how can you say yes to Rice (.298 BA, .352 OBP, .502 SLG, 128 OPS+, 382 HR) but no to these guys:
* Dale Murphy (121 OPS+, 398 HR)
* Andre Dawson (119 OPS+, 438 HR)
* Dave Parker (121 OPS+, 339 HR)
* Fred Lynn (129 OPS+, 306 HR)
* Albert Belle (143 OPS+, 381 HR)
* Dick Allen (156 OPS+, 351 HR)
* Reggie Smith (137 OPS+, 314 HR)
And when these guys come up for the honor, how can you say no:
* Andres Galarraga (118 OPS+, 399 HR)
* Ellis Burks (126 OPS+, 352 HR)
* Fred McGriff (134 OPS+, 493 HR)
* Juan Gonzalez (132 OPS+, 434 HR)
Will they all make it? No, but they all have a solid case now that that Rice is in. Of course, Hall voting is totally inconsistent and unpredictable. For borderline cases like these, it usually requires some passionate advocates in the media to beat the drums for them. Rice has the powerful Boston media behind him, so that really helped. These other guys don't seem to have the advocacy. Check out Joe Posnanski's post about Dale Murphy for his take.
- Bert Blyleven and Tommy John got screwed again this year. Blyleven still has a few years left on the writers' ballot, but now it's up to the Veterans Committee to take up John's cause. Talk about inconsistent voting patterns. If they follow their usual brilliant timing, they'll wait until after John is dead before realizing he should be inducted.
- Mark McGwire. When he retired, he was talked about as a first-ballot Hall of Famer. Now he struggles to get 25% of the vote. I wonder what he has to do to rehabilitate his image. Maybe if he admits taking steroids, explains why, and starts campaigning against steroid use, that might do it. But so far, he seems content to keep quiet and let the cloud hang above him. Maybe the Hall of Fame just doesn't mean much to him, which is fine by me. But it is interesting to watch.
- Tim Raines. I loved watching him play and I hope he makes the Hall someday. He was a great player and deserves it.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Hall of Fame, Part 2: Blyleven
Reader Steven makes some good points about the Hall of Fame in his comment about my last post on Rickey Henderson, which is totally worth reading.
Choosing to make the case for Henderson in the Hall of Fame wasn't exactly a controversial stand. Steven is right that Henderson should be a unanimous selection, but I'm sure some sportswriters -- who (a) stupidly don't believe a player should be inducted on his first try, and/or (b) were slighted or offended by Henderson sometime during his career -- will conspire to keep Henderson from achieving the magical 100% mark. Bill James once said that you could split Henderson in half and each half would be worthy of induction to the Hall of Fame.
I want to tackle a more controversial subject: Bert Blyleven. The hard-core baseball historian community really wants him to finally get the recognition he deserves. Joe Posnanski has a very good explanation of why Blyleven belongs, and I can't argue with any of it. Based on the numbers, Blyleven certainly belongs. The guy was excellent. I will add that his curveball is routinely named as one of the best of all time.
Here's the opposite argument. Blyleven played when I was growing up a baseball fan, and I can't recall anyone ever touting him as a future Hall of Famer when he was toiling for the Indians and Twins. Was he ever truly great? And do non-greats belong?
Lots of people say no. And I might have said no, too, at least before I really took a look at the people in the Hall of Fame. When lots of people think of the Hall of Fame, they think of the inner circle: Mays, Mantle, Ruth, DiMaggio, and so on. But that's not the standard for the Hall. The standard is more like Gabby Hartnett and Dazzy Vance, Duke Snider and Al Kaline. Players who excelled at their positions for many years. To believe in the first standard would mean the Hall would have about 30 members. It actually has over 280.
Does Bert Blyleven belong among those 250+ players? Of course he does.
Choosing to make the case for Henderson in the Hall of Fame wasn't exactly a controversial stand. Steven is right that Henderson should be a unanimous selection, but I'm sure some sportswriters -- who (a) stupidly don't believe a player should be inducted on his first try, and/or (b) were slighted or offended by Henderson sometime during his career -- will conspire to keep Henderson from achieving the magical 100% mark. Bill James once said that you could split Henderson in half and each half would be worthy of induction to the Hall of Fame.
I want to tackle a more controversial subject: Bert Blyleven. The hard-core baseball historian community really wants him to finally get the recognition he deserves. Joe Posnanski has a very good explanation of why Blyleven belongs, and I can't argue with any of it. Based on the numbers, Blyleven certainly belongs. The guy was excellent. I will add that his curveball is routinely named as one of the best of all time.
Here's the opposite argument. Blyleven played when I was growing up a baseball fan, and I can't recall anyone ever touting him as a future Hall of Famer when he was toiling for the Indians and Twins. Was he ever truly great? And do non-greats belong?
Lots of people say no. And I might have said no, too, at least before I really took a look at the people in the Hall of Fame. When lots of people think of the Hall of Fame, they think of the inner circle: Mays, Mantle, Ruth, DiMaggio, and so on. But that's not the standard for the Hall. The standard is more like Gabby Hartnett and Dazzy Vance, Duke Snider and Al Kaline. Players who excelled at their positions for many years. To believe in the first standard would mean the Hall would have about 30 members. It actually has over 280.
Does Bert Blyleven belong among those 250+ players? Of course he does.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Hall of Fame ballot: Rickey Henderson
The Hall of Fame will announce its new inductees, if any, on Jan. 12. One of the best evaluations of the players on the ballot comes from superblogger Joe Posnanski, and I suggest you check out his HOF post.
As for me, I'm going to take a few moments to talk about the top players on the ballot. Today we'll focus on the sure-thing lock for the Hall, Rickey Henderson.
Henderson combined power, speed, strike zone judgment, and high-average hitting like no player in history, easily earning him the title of greatest leadoff hitter in baseball history. In his prime during the 1980s, he could steal 80 to 100 bases, smack 10 to 20 homers, score 100+ runs, and draw enough walks to give him an on-base percentage over .400. He’s one of the few lead-off hitters to win an MVP Award, and he holds career records for both runs and steals.
He was a great player, a first-ballot Hall of Famer who probably deserves even more accolades than he gets. But he was almost equally famous for me-first escapades such as playing cards in the clubhouse while his Mets teammates lost in extra innings during the playoffs, or holding out in spring training for a bigger salary with the A's.
So how do we factor in that extra stuff in our evaluation of him as a player? In the case of an unparalleled talent like Henderson, we don’t. Sure, he made good copy for sportswriters, and he created a few headaches for management. But his antics never seemed to distract his teams from winning. And win they did. He played in the post-season eight times and won two World Series. Even with the baggage, you’d be crazy not to want Henderson on your team.
I'm very eager to hear his Hall of Fame induction speech.
As for me, I'm going to take a few moments to talk about the top players on the ballot. Today we'll focus on the sure-thing lock for the Hall, Rickey Henderson.
Henderson combined power, speed, strike zone judgment, and high-average hitting like no player in history, easily earning him the title of greatest leadoff hitter in baseball history. In his prime during the 1980s, he could steal 80 to 100 bases, smack 10 to 20 homers, score 100+ runs, and draw enough walks to give him an on-base percentage over .400. He’s one of the few lead-off hitters to win an MVP Award, and he holds career records for both runs and steals.
He was a great player, a first-ballot Hall of Famer who probably deserves even more accolades than he gets. But he was almost equally famous for me-first escapades such as playing cards in the clubhouse while his Mets teammates lost in extra innings during the playoffs, or holding out in spring training for a bigger salary with the A's.
So how do we factor in that extra stuff in our evaluation of him as a player? In the case of an unparalleled talent like Henderson, we don’t. Sure, he made good copy for sportswriters, and he created a few headaches for management. But his antics never seemed to distract his teams from winning. And win they did. He played in the post-season eight times and won two World Series. Even with the baggage, you’d be crazy not to want Henderson on your team.
I'm very eager to hear his Hall of Fame induction speech.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
HOF gets Gordon, snubs Santo
The Veterans Committee of the Hall of Fame has reviewed the qualifications of a couple dozen candidates and decided to elect Joe Gordon, while snubbing the likes of Joe Torre and, most significantly, Ron Santo.
A couple of months ago, when the lists first came out, I reviewed the qualifications of the candidates. You can read my old posts here: Joe Gordon, Vern Stephens, Wes Ferrell, Sherry Magee, Bucky Walters, Carl Mays, Deacon White, and others.
I would have voted for Joe Gordon from the old-timers ballot and Torre, Santo, and Kaat from the new ballot.
I'm very surprised Torre didn't make it, but I suspect Torre will get in once he's retired completely. They waited to induct Tommy Lasorda until after he retired, too.
It's a shame about Kaat and Santo. They were truly great players and they really belong in there.
But anyway, congratulations to Joe Gordon's family.
A couple of months ago, when the lists first came out, I reviewed the qualifications of the candidates. You can read my old posts here: Joe Gordon, Vern Stephens, Wes Ferrell, Sherry Magee, Bucky Walters, Carl Mays, Deacon White, and others.
I would have voted for Joe Gordon from the old-timers ballot and Torre, Santo, and Kaat from the new ballot.
I'm very surprised Torre didn't make it, but I suspect Torre will get in once he's retired completely. They waited to induct Tommy Lasorda until after he retired, too.
It's a shame about Kaat and Santo. They were truly great players and they really belong in there.
But anyway, congratulations to Joe Gordon's family.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
New Veterans Committee Ballot
A few weeks ago, the Baseball Hall of Fame announced finalists for consideration by the Veterans Committee. I covered each finalist ad nauseam here, here, here, here, and here.
That ballot covers players and managers of the pre-1942 period. This week, they announced a similar list for the post-1942 era.
Here's who made the cut: Dick Allen, Gil Hodges, Jim Kaat, Tony Oliva, Al Oliver, Vada Pinson, Ron Santo, Luis Tiant, Joe Torre and Maury Wills.
I could milk this news for about 2 weeks worth of blog posts, but Joe Posnanski today did a great evaluation of each candidate, and honestly I don't have much to add.
My bottom-line take on each candidate is this:
Dick Allen: Great player, too short a career. No.
Gil Hodges: Borderline case, but no.
Jim Kaat: Yes, I would vote for him.
Tony Oliva: No.
Al Oliver: Definitely not.
Vada Pinson: No.
Ron Santo: Yes. He's probably the best eligible player not currently in the Hall.
Luis Tiant: No.
Joe Torre: Pretty much a lock to get in. I would probably vote for him.
Maury Wills: No.
That ballot covers players and managers of the pre-1942 period. This week, they announced a similar list for the post-1942 era.
Here's who made the cut: Dick Allen, Gil Hodges, Jim Kaat, Tony Oliva, Al Oliver, Vada Pinson, Ron Santo, Luis Tiant, Joe Torre and Maury Wills.
I could milk this news for about 2 weeks worth of blog posts, but Joe Posnanski today did a great evaluation of each candidate, and honestly I don't have much to add.
My bottom-line take on each candidate is this:
Dick Allen: Great player, too short a career. No.
Gil Hodges: Borderline case, but no.
Jim Kaat: Yes, I would vote for him.
Tony Oliva: No.
Al Oliver: Definitely not.
Vada Pinson: No.
Ron Santo: Yes. He's probably the best eligible player not currently in the Hall.
Luis Tiant: No.
Joe Torre: Pretty much a lock to get in. I would probably vote for him.
Maury Wills: No.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
HOF: Deacon White
Who?
That's what most baseball fans are probably saying when the name Deacon White is brought up in relation to possible Hall of Fame induction. Here's what I wrote about Deacon White in the first edition of "The Book of Baseball Literacy":
He was clearly a very interesting person and player. I had a lot of admiration for him until I read this quote on White's Wikipedia page:
Yikes.
Anyway, the question is, does he belong in the Hall of Fame alongside the other great players of his era: John Montgomery Ward, Cap Anson (I know, I know, Anson was a despicable human being who helped solidify the color line, but, first, he wasn't the only person responsible, and second, he was a great baseball player), Harry and George Wright, and so on?
I say no. He's an interesting player, a very good player, but he wasn't necessarily the best player of his era, and he's not the best eligible player not currently in the Hall. Back in the 1940s, when men who saw baseball during White's era were still alive, White wasn't selected for the Hall. Why is he more worthy now, in 2008, when he wasn't worthy in 1948 or 1939?
That's what most baseball fans are probably saying when the name Deacon White is brought up in relation to possible Hall of Fame induction. Here's what I wrote about Deacon White in the first edition of "The Book of Baseball Literacy":
A remarkable player and man, White was one of professional baseball’s first great stars. He could play anywhere in the field, and he could hit—twice leading his league in batting and three times in RBIs. Respected and admired by just about everybody, White earned his nickname because he reputedly never smoked, drank, caroused, or cursed, and he carried his Bible on road trips.
A visionary, he was among the first players to complain about their shoddy treatment by owners; he threatened to test the reserve clause in the courts, and he helped in the Players League revolt of 1890.
When White was sold from Buffalo to Pittsburgh, he refused to report unless he received some payment; Pittsburgh ownership relented and handed over about $1,500. In explaining his bold action, White spoke for all ballplayers who have ever been treated like property: “No man can sell my carcass,” he declared, “unless I get at least half.”
He was clearly a very interesting person and player. I had a lot of admiration for him until I read this quote on White's Wikipedia page:
According to Lee Allen in The National League Story (1961), White was one of the last people to believe that the earth is flat. He tried and failed to convince his teammates that they were living on a flat plane and not a globe; they ridiculed him. Then one asked to be convinced, and the Deacon gave him an argument suited to the hypothesis that the earth is not really turning. He convinced the teammate but the argument would not prove that the earth is not a sphere.
Yikes.
Anyway, the question is, does he belong in the Hall of Fame alongside the other great players of his era: John Montgomery Ward, Cap Anson (I know, I know, Anson was a despicable human being who helped solidify the color line, but, first, he wasn't the only person responsible, and second, he was a great baseball player), Harry and George Wright, and so on?
I say no. He's an interesting player, a very good player, but he wasn't necessarily the best player of his era, and he's not the best eligible player not currently in the Hall. Back in the 1940s, when men who saw baseball during White's era were still alive, White wasn't selected for the Hall. Why is he more worthy now, in 2008, when he wasn't worthy in 1948 or 1939?
Monday, September 8, 2008
HOF: Carl Mays?
Carl Mays is another of the short-list candidates for the Hall of Fame's Veterans Committee. They're going to decide this fall whether he should be inducted posthumously for baseball's ultimate honor.
A lot of people, including the pitcher himself, have said that if it were not for a fateful afternoon in 1920, Mays would be in the Hall of Fame. He was an outstanding pitcher, a five-time 20-game winner who ranked among the league’s best pitchers for much of his career, mostly with the Red Sox and Yankees. However, he will always be remembered for one thing: throwing the underhand fastball—not a spitball, as some have suggested—that killed Indians shortstop Ray Chapman.
But that’s not the only reason he’s not in the Hall of Fame. Fred Lieb, a former member of the Hall of Fame’s Veterans Committee, said that during discussions of Mays, the Chapman incident never came up. What actually kept him out were the allegations—never proven but convincing to many—that Mays threw a game in the 1921 World Series.
In all, the picture of Mays is not a pretty one. He was a bitter, resentful man who was already one of the least-liked players in the league before the Chapman incident, who angered managers and teammates with a troublemaker attitude that probably curtailed his career, and who, sadly, wished he could make the world forget that one of his pitches accidentally killed a fellow major leaguer.
The fact that the Veterans Committee is re-evaluating Mays after previously rejecting him is curious. Even though he had a number of very good years, he finished with only 207 career victories, very low on the HOF spectrum. Bert Blyleven won 287 games during a time of 5-man rotations, yet he has fallen short. There's no way that Mays belongs in while Blyleven (and others) are shut out.
A lot of people, including the pitcher himself, have said that if it were not for a fateful afternoon in 1920, Mays would be in the Hall of Fame. He was an outstanding pitcher, a five-time 20-game winner who ranked among the league’s best pitchers for much of his career, mostly with the Red Sox and Yankees. However, he will always be remembered for one thing: throwing the underhand fastball—not a spitball, as some have suggested—that killed Indians shortstop Ray Chapman.
But that’s not the only reason he’s not in the Hall of Fame. Fred Lieb, a former member of the Hall of Fame’s Veterans Committee, said that during discussions of Mays, the Chapman incident never came up. What actually kept him out were the allegations—never proven but convincing to many—that Mays threw a game in the 1921 World Series.
In all, the picture of Mays is not a pretty one. He was a bitter, resentful man who was already one of the least-liked players in the league before the Chapman incident, who angered managers and teammates with a troublemaker attitude that probably curtailed his career, and who, sadly, wished he could make the world forget that one of his pitches accidentally killed a fellow major leaguer.
The fact that the Veterans Committee is re-evaluating Mays after previously rejecting him is curious. Even though he had a number of very good years, he finished with only 207 career victories, very low on the HOF spectrum. Bert Blyleven won 287 games during a time of 5-man rotations, yet he has fallen short. There's no way that Mays belongs in while Blyleven (and others) are shut out.
Friday, September 5, 2008
More HOF evaluations
Continuing the discussion of Hall of Fame candidates currently being considered by the Veterans Committee... I've talked at length about Joe Gordon and Vern Stephens. Those are two borderline candidates: I support Gordon's inclusion and reject Stephens. Today I'll quickly cover some of the other guys:
Wes Ferrell: A six-time 20-game winner with the Indians and Red Sox. If selected, Wes would join his brother Rick in the Hall, the only brother combination that I can think of. However, there's no way that Wes belongs (it's questionable that Rick belongs, but that's another matter). Wes was a great pitcher in his 20s, winning 190 games from age 21 to 30 with a .600 winning percentage. In 1938, however, according to Wikipedia, he suffered an arm injury that required surgery, and he never pitched effectively again. Like a lot of players from the era before modern medicine, a Wes Ferrell of today would probably have taken a year off to rehab his arm and pitched another 8 years, ensuring his selection to the Hall. But unfortunately for him, he didn't. Based on his actual career (not his hypothetical career), he does not belong in the Hall of Fame.
Sherry Magee: A very good dead-ball era hitter, Magee posted big numbers from 1905 through 1918. He didn't hit a lot of homers because no one did in that era, but he had excellent power for his time. His OPS+ is 136, meaning he was 36% better than the league average even after adjusting for park effects (which, in Magee's case, is important since he played in the Baker Bowl). The only problem with Magee is longevity. He finished his career with 2,169 hits, which would be on the very low end of the HOF spectrum. Three or four more good years -- especially with the lively ball era just around the corner -- would have given him a key to the Hall, but the reality is that he just doesn't belong.
Mickey Vernon: A good hitter for a long time with the lowly Washington Senators. He never posted huge numbers, partly because of his home ballpark, which was terrible for hitters. His career stats are good, but not great: 2495 hits, 116 OPS+. The problem with letting in Mickey Vernon is that it sets the bar for Hall of Fame entry so low that you'll have to let in a bunch of other good but not great first basemen: Steve Garvey, Norm Cash, Mark Grace, Al Oliver, Bill Buckner... The line has to be drawn somewhere, and I draw it at Mickey Vernon. No to him.
Bucky Walters: A pretty good pitcher in the 1930s and 1940s. Much less qualified than Wes Ferrell, in my opinion. If you think Dave Stieb belongs in the Hall of Fame, then you might think Walters does, too. I don't think either belong, unfortunately.
In a future post (probably next week), I'll take on the case of Carl Mays, which is fascinating in its own right, and Deacon White.
Wes Ferrell: A six-time 20-game winner with the Indians and Red Sox. If selected, Wes would join his brother Rick in the Hall, the only brother combination that I can think of. However, there's no way that Wes belongs (it's questionable that Rick belongs, but that's another matter). Wes was a great pitcher in his 20s, winning 190 games from age 21 to 30 with a .600 winning percentage. In 1938, however, according to Wikipedia, he suffered an arm injury that required surgery, and he never pitched effectively again. Like a lot of players from the era before modern medicine, a Wes Ferrell of today would probably have taken a year off to rehab his arm and pitched another 8 years, ensuring his selection to the Hall. But unfortunately for him, he didn't. Based on his actual career (not his hypothetical career), he does not belong in the Hall of Fame.
Sherry Magee: A very good dead-ball era hitter, Magee posted big numbers from 1905 through 1918. He didn't hit a lot of homers because no one did in that era, but he had excellent power for his time. His OPS+ is 136, meaning he was 36% better than the league average even after adjusting for park effects (which, in Magee's case, is important since he played in the Baker Bowl). The only problem with Magee is longevity. He finished his career with 2,169 hits, which would be on the very low end of the HOF spectrum. Three or four more good years -- especially with the lively ball era just around the corner -- would have given him a key to the Hall, but the reality is that he just doesn't belong.
Mickey Vernon: A good hitter for a long time with the lowly Washington Senators. He never posted huge numbers, partly because of his home ballpark, which was terrible for hitters. His career stats are good, but not great: 2495 hits, 116 OPS+. The problem with letting in Mickey Vernon is that it sets the bar for Hall of Fame entry so low that you'll have to let in a bunch of other good but not great first basemen: Steve Garvey, Norm Cash, Mark Grace, Al Oliver, Bill Buckner... The line has to be drawn somewhere, and I draw it at Mickey Vernon. No to him.
Bucky Walters: A pretty good pitcher in the 1930s and 1940s. Much less qualified than Wes Ferrell, in my opinion. If you think Dave Stieb belongs in the Hall of Fame, then you might think Walters does, too. I don't think either belong, unfortunately.
In a future post (probably next week), I'll take on the case of Carl Mays, which is fascinating in its own right, and Deacon White.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Vern Stephens
Yesterday I talked about Joe Gordon, who is on the short list for Hall of Fame induction by the Veterans Committee. Today I'll take on the case of Vern Stephens.
Vern Stephens
When I first became aware of Vern Stephens, I was shocked that I hadn't heard of him before. He doesn't appear in many history books, but his statistics are eye-popping. I invite you to visit his page on Baseball-Reference.com for a taste. If you thought Ernie Banks was the first slugging shortstop, you've completely missed out on Vern "Junior" Stephens. From age 21 through 29, he was about as good as it gets: a middle infielder who hits for power, has a pretty good batting eye, and drives in runs. He took his talents to an entirely new level after being traded in November 1947 to the Red Sox, where he drove in 137, 159, and 144 runs his first three years in Boston.
Of course, there's a reason he could drive in that many runs: he had baseball's greatest on-base machine, Ted Williams, batting in front of him. In fact, in 1949, both Stephens and Williams drove in 159 runs (teammate Bobby Doerr picked up the scraps with 109 RBIs himself).
At that point, Stephens had built himself a Hall of Fame-caliber career. Then it all fell apart. According to a biographical article about Stephens by Mark Armour published in the SABR Bio Project, Stephens injured his knee in 1951 and never got healthy again. He was only 30 years old, and perhaps today with modern medicine, Stephens could have rehabbed his knee and gotten back to baseball. But alas, he didn't, and his career basically ended, though he hung on for a few futile years.
His life ended the same, sad way: In 1968, he suffered a heart attack while working a construction job and died. He was only 48.
The case for Stephens: He was a powerful hitter who played a key defensive position. He racked up big numbers in his 20s.
The case against Stephens: Injuries curtailed his production before he could post big career numbers. He finished with 247 home runs and 1,147 RBIs, not Hall of Fame-caliber.
My opinion: Not really a close call. Stephens is an interesting player, and if he had continued posting big numbers until age 35 or so, he might belong in the Hall. But he didn't, and he doesn't.
Vern Stephens
When I first became aware of Vern Stephens, I was shocked that I hadn't heard of him before. He doesn't appear in many history books, but his statistics are eye-popping. I invite you to visit his page on Baseball-Reference.com for a taste. If you thought Ernie Banks was the first slugging shortstop, you've completely missed out on Vern "Junior" Stephens. From age 21 through 29, he was about as good as it gets: a middle infielder who hits for power, has a pretty good batting eye, and drives in runs. He took his talents to an entirely new level after being traded in November 1947 to the Red Sox, where he drove in 137, 159, and 144 runs his first three years in Boston.
Of course, there's a reason he could drive in that many runs: he had baseball's greatest on-base machine, Ted Williams, batting in front of him. In fact, in 1949, both Stephens and Williams drove in 159 runs (teammate Bobby Doerr picked up the scraps with 109 RBIs himself).
At that point, Stephens had built himself a Hall of Fame-caliber career. Then it all fell apart. According to a biographical article about Stephens by Mark Armour published in the SABR Bio Project, Stephens injured his knee in 1951 and never got healthy again. He was only 30 years old, and perhaps today with modern medicine, Stephens could have rehabbed his knee and gotten back to baseball. But alas, he didn't, and his career basically ended, though he hung on for a few futile years.
His life ended the same, sad way: In 1968, he suffered a heart attack while working a construction job and died. He was only 48.
The case for Stephens: He was a powerful hitter who played a key defensive position. He racked up big numbers in his 20s.
The case against Stephens: Injuries curtailed his production before he could post big career numbers. He finished with 247 home runs and 1,147 RBIs, not Hall of Fame-caliber.
My opinion: Not really a close call. Stephens is an interesting player, and if he had continued posting big numbers until age 35 or so, he might belong in the Hall. But he didn't, and he doesn't.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Joe Gordon
I've been a little slow to update the blog lately, but I'm back now.
Last week came news that the Baseball Hall of Fame's Veterans Committee was evaluating several potential members from the pre-war era: Allie Reynolds, Joe Gordon, Vern Stephens, Bill Dahlen, Wes Ferrell, Sherry Magee, Carl Mays, Mickey Vernon, Bucky Walters and Deacon White. There's a case to be made for and against each of them, and today I want to talk about Gordon. Does he belong?
Joe Gordon
Gordon played second base for the Yankees and Indians from 1938 through 1950, with a couple of years off while in the army during World War II. In his early years, he was a very good offensive player, good for 20-30 home runs and 100 RBIs per year with above average OBPs. Think Miguel Tejada. Like Tejada, Gordon even won an MVP award, though in all honesty, Gordon was not the best player on his team that year (Charlie Keller or Joe DiMaggio), let alone the league (Ted Williams).
Even after he returned from the war, Gordon continued as an excellent player. The Yankees didn't have any use for him, trading him to Cleveland, where he starred on the 1948 World Series champion team. For that one year at least, the middle infield tandem of Lou Boudreau and Joe Gordon ranks as possibly the greatest ever.
Gordon retired at age 35, even though he was still a good hitter; with the DH today, he probably would have played until 40. The final numbers don't seem all that great: 11 seasons, 1,530 hits, 253 home runs, 975 RBIs, .268/.357/.466. His career OPS+ is 120, which means he was about 20% better than average during his career. By comparison, Joe DiMaggio's career OPS+ is 155 and Ted Williams's is an eye-popping 191. (Tejada's is only 112.)
The case for Gordon: He was a very good hitter playing a tough defensive position. His career numbers are hurt by having to miss two prime years to military service. Give him back those years, and he finishes with about 300 home runs, close to 1,200 RBIs, and about 1,900 hits. He's better than some other second basemen in the Hall, such as Red Schoendienst and Bobby Doerr.
The case against Gordon: Even with that credit, his numbers still aren't worthy of the top-tier of the Hall of Fame. He's no Rogers Hornsby or Nap Lajoie, or even Roberto Alomar. He was a very good player on a lot of great teams. Just because he's better than a couple of other players already in the Hall doesn't necessarily make him worthy on his own.
My opinion: I'm coming around on Joe Gordon. I started out skeptical, but after doing the research, I do think he belongs in the Hall of Fame. If he were still alive to enjoy the honor, I would be rooting for him to make it. The fact that he died 30 years ago, however, dampens my enthusiasm quite a bit. At this stage, I don't really understand the necessity to induct people who can't appreciate the honor, but that's the way it works, I guess.
Ultimately, yes, I would vote for him if I could.
PS. Gordon has a claim to fame that will probably never be equaled: In 1960, while managing the Indians, he was involved the only trade of major-league managers ever when the Indians traded him to the Tigers for their manager, Jimmy Dykes
Last week came news that the Baseball Hall of Fame's Veterans Committee was evaluating several potential members from the pre-war era: Allie Reynolds, Joe Gordon, Vern Stephens, Bill Dahlen, Wes Ferrell, Sherry Magee, Carl Mays, Mickey Vernon, Bucky Walters and Deacon White. There's a case to be made for and against each of them, and today I want to talk about Gordon. Does he belong?
Joe Gordon
Gordon played second base for the Yankees and Indians from 1938 through 1950, with a couple of years off while in the army during World War II. In his early years, he was a very good offensive player, good for 20-30 home runs and 100 RBIs per year with above average OBPs. Think Miguel Tejada. Like Tejada, Gordon even won an MVP award, though in all honesty, Gordon was not the best player on his team that year (Charlie Keller or Joe DiMaggio), let alone the league (Ted Williams).
Even after he returned from the war, Gordon continued as an excellent player. The Yankees didn't have any use for him, trading him to Cleveland, where he starred on the 1948 World Series champion team. For that one year at least, the middle infield tandem of Lou Boudreau and Joe Gordon ranks as possibly the greatest ever.
Gordon retired at age 35, even though he was still a good hitter; with the DH today, he probably would have played until 40. The final numbers don't seem all that great: 11 seasons, 1,530 hits, 253 home runs, 975 RBIs, .268/.357/.466. His career OPS+ is 120, which means he was about 20% better than average during his career. By comparison, Joe DiMaggio's career OPS+ is 155 and Ted Williams's is an eye-popping 191. (Tejada's is only 112.)
The case for Gordon: He was a very good hitter playing a tough defensive position. His career numbers are hurt by having to miss two prime years to military service. Give him back those years, and he finishes with about 300 home runs, close to 1,200 RBIs, and about 1,900 hits. He's better than some other second basemen in the Hall, such as Red Schoendienst and Bobby Doerr.
The case against Gordon: Even with that credit, his numbers still aren't worthy of the top-tier of the Hall of Fame. He's no Rogers Hornsby or Nap Lajoie, or even Roberto Alomar. He was a very good player on a lot of great teams. Just because he's better than a couple of other players already in the Hall doesn't necessarily make him worthy on his own.
My opinion: I'm coming around on Joe Gordon. I started out skeptical, but after doing the research, I do think he belongs in the Hall of Fame. If he were still alive to enjoy the honor, I would be rooting for him to make it. The fact that he died 30 years ago, however, dampens my enthusiasm quite a bit. At this stage, I don't really understand the necessity to induct people who can't appreciate the honor, but that's the way it works, I guess.
Ultimately, yes, I would vote for him if I could.
PS. Gordon has a claim to fame that will probably never be equaled: In 1960, while managing the Indians, he was involved the only trade of major-league managers ever when the Indians traded him to the Tigers for their manager, Jimmy Dykes
Monday, August 25, 2008
Next up for Hall of Fame
Sports Illustrated reports on the next steps for the Hall of Fame's Veterans Committee:
In the coming days, I'll address the relative credentials of each of these candidates. My initial take is that none of them are worthy of the Hall, but I need to consider them more closely before rendering the final decision. In particular, I want to look closer at Joe Gordon and Deacon White.
Stay tuned for my analysis this week.
Allie Reynolds, Joe Gordon and Vern Stephens are among 10 players whose careers began before 1943 who will be considered by the Hall of Fame's constituted Veterans Committee when it meets on Dec. 7.
Bill Dahlen, Wes Ferrell, Sherry Magee, Carl Mays, Mickey Vernon, Bucky Walters and Deacon White also will be on the ballot, the Hall said Monday. The 10 finalists were selected by a committee of the Baseball Writers' Association of America that considered pre-1943 players. A 12-member committee of Hall of Famers, media and historians will vote.
In the coming days, I'll address the relative credentials of each of these candidates. My initial take is that none of them are worthy of the Hall, but I need to consider them more closely before rendering the final decision. In particular, I want to look closer at Joe Gordon and Deacon White.
Stay tuned for my analysis this week.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Hall of Fame: Walter O'Malley
Walter O'Mally was inducted into the Hall of Fame last weekend, so I thought it would be worthwhile to profile him for those who may not know his contribution to baseball.
A bankruptcy attorney by trade, he ran the trust that controlled the Dodgers in the 1940s, then purchased a stake in the club with co-owner Branch Rickey. O'Malley took over completely by 1952 after a power struggle forced out Rickey.
He soon became the most hated man in the history of Brooklyn when he airlifted the Dodgers from the New York borough to Los Angeles, a maneuver the Brooklyn faithful have never forgiven.
O’Malley was one of the first owners to recognize the potential of television, making the Dodgers perhaps the most watched team in America in the 1950s. He saw the untapped potential of the West Coast and convinced Giants owner Horace Stoneham to move their clubs to California with him. And he wielded tremendous influence over league officials during a time of a weakened commissioner’s office.
When he came to L. A., he demanded and received a sweet deal that included 300 acres of choice land just a few miles from downtown. There, he built Dodger Stadium using his own money—the better to make a profit from concessions and parking.
The biggest difference between O’Malley and most of the other owners was always the fact that O’Malley made his living from baseball while his brethren treated baseball as a hobby. This put O’Malley a step ahead at all times and helped him cement a huge legacy that included the once-profitable team that plays ball in front of three million paying fans every year.
After O’Malley’s death in 1979, control of the club shifted to his son Peter O’Malley, who continued at the helm until the sale of the club to News Corp. in 1997.
A bankruptcy attorney by trade, he ran the trust that controlled the Dodgers in the 1940s, then purchased a stake in the club with co-owner Branch Rickey. O'Malley took over completely by 1952 after a power struggle forced out Rickey.
He soon became the most hated man in the history of Brooklyn when he airlifted the Dodgers from the New York borough to Los Angeles, a maneuver the Brooklyn faithful have never forgiven.
O’Malley was one of the first owners to recognize the potential of television, making the Dodgers perhaps the most watched team in America in the 1950s. He saw the untapped potential of the West Coast and convinced Giants owner Horace Stoneham to move their clubs to California with him. And he wielded tremendous influence over league officials during a time of a weakened commissioner’s office.
When he came to L. A., he demanded and received a sweet deal that included 300 acres of choice land just a few miles from downtown. There, he built Dodger Stadium using his own money—the better to make a profit from concessions and parking.
The biggest difference between O’Malley and most of the other owners was always the fact that O’Malley made his living from baseball while his brethren treated baseball as a hobby. This put O’Malley a step ahead at all times and helped him cement a huge legacy that included the once-profitable team that plays ball in front of three million paying fans every year.
After O’Malley’s death in 1979, control of the club shifted to his son Peter O’Malley, who continued at the helm until the sale of the club to News Corp. in 1997.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Hall of Fame conspiracy?
The Nation published article you have to read about the snubbing of Marvin Miller from the Hall of Fame. It recounts Miller's rise and accomplishments as the leader of the players union, and it describes the outrageous machinations that not only kept him out of the Hall, but also led to the selections of two of Miller's most frequent adversaries: Bowie Kuhn and Walter O'Malley:
Now Miller says he doesn't want to be inducted to the Hall of Fame. I don't blame him.
In 2007, the veterans committee failed to pick Miller again. This time, however, he received 63 percent, 12 percent short of the magic number. He was the only candidate to earn a majority of the votes. That year, former commissioner Bowie Kuhn received only fourteen votes.
That tally for Miller was obviously too close for comfort for baseball's establishment, concerned that he would probably reach the three-quarters threshold in the next vote. Later that year, the Hall of Fame board carried out a coup. They changed the rules and transformed a democratic voting process into a conspiracy of cronies. They created a twelve-member committee, responsible solely for considering baseball executives, with nine votes required for selection. The much smaller group included seven former executives, two Hall of Fame players, and three writers. When that group met last December, the ballot they considered included ten people, eight of them former team owners or executives as well as Kuhn and Miller. Miller only got three votes. Three people received enough votes to gain entry into the exclusive club. Walter O'Malley, who owned the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers from 1950 to 1979, received nine votes. Barney Dreyfuss, who owned the Pittsburgh Pirates from 1900 to 1932, earned ten votes. Kuhn, baseball commissioner from 1969 to 1984, also received ten votes.
Now Miller says he doesn't want to be inducted to the Hall of Fame. I don't blame him.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Hall of Fame Induction: Bowie Kuhn
Continuing my series of posts on the latest Hall of Fame inductees, today I'll talk about Bowie Kuhn, the one-time commissioner of baseball.
Inducted posthumously over the weekend, Kuhn presided during perhaps baseball’s most dramatic and controversial period: the free agency era. At his election to the post in 1968, Kuhn was working at the New York law firm that served the National League. As commissioner, his legal training would be called upon often.
The dismantling of the reserve clause, coming soon after the landmark Supreme Court case Flood v. Kuhn, defined his tenure—as did the 1981 players’ strike that canceled 52 games.
Kuhn made lots of enemies: He suspended Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle from participating in any baseball-related functions because of their associations with Atlantic City casinos; he made several shortsighted decisions that helped facilitate the downfall of the reserve clause; he handed down suspensions to powerful owners George Steinbrenner and Ted Turner; he allowed the TV networks to schedule all World Series games at night; and he created a controversial playoff system for the 1981 strike-torn season that angered fans and owners.
His tenure was, in fact, marked by more losses than victories, and owners ousted him in 1984 when they decided they wanted a businessman-CEO to lead a restructured baseball “corporation” into the future—which led to the selection of Peter Ueberroth as commissioner.
One of his frequent adversaries, Charlie Finley, had this to say when Kuhn resigned: “If Bowie Kuhn had a brain in his head, he’d be an idiot."
Kuhn was the ultimate stuffed shirt, and all you have to do is read Marvin Miller's great memoir, "A Whole New Ballgame," to see that Finley's assessment is close to the mark. In fact, the Veterans Committee needs to be reconstituted again if it thinks it did a good job with this selection. First of all, Kuhn himself is hardly worthy of induction. He pretty much pissed off everyone in baseball, and lost every battle he fought with the players union. He could have reached out to Miller and formed a partnership with the players, but he didn't.
Second, Kuhn died in March 2007. The Veterans Committee waited until months later to announce his selection. If they really felt he belonged, they would have inducted him years earlier. I think it's a joke when the VC waits until AFTER people die to select them. They snubbed Buck O'Neil so often that, now that he's dead, he's almost sure to receive the honor.
And third, the VC chose Kuhn and snubbed the person who really did a lot for baseball from that era: Marvin Miller. I'll blog about Miller at a later date, but suffice it to say that he changed baseball and all of sport -- which to me is the definition of Hall of Famer.
Inducted posthumously over the weekend, Kuhn presided during perhaps baseball’s most dramatic and controversial period: the free agency era. At his election to the post in 1968, Kuhn was working at the New York law firm that served the National League. As commissioner, his legal training would be called upon often.
The dismantling of the reserve clause, coming soon after the landmark Supreme Court case Flood v. Kuhn, defined his tenure—as did the 1981 players’ strike that canceled 52 games.
Kuhn made lots of enemies: He suspended Willie Mays and Mickey Mantle from participating in any baseball-related functions because of their associations with Atlantic City casinos; he made several shortsighted decisions that helped facilitate the downfall of the reserve clause; he handed down suspensions to powerful owners George Steinbrenner and Ted Turner; he allowed the TV networks to schedule all World Series games at night; and he created a controversial playoff system for the 1981 strike-torn season that angered fans and owners.
His tenure was, in fact, marked by more losses than victories, and owners ousted him in 1984 when they decided they wanted a businessman-CEO to lead a restructured baseball “corporation” into the future—which led to the selection of Peter Ueberroth as commissioner.
One of his frequent adversaries, Charlie Finley, had this to say when Kuhn resigned: “If Bowie Kuhn had a brain in his head, he’d be an idiot."
Kuhn was the ultimate stuffed shirt, and all you have to do is read Marvin Miller's great memoir, "A Whole New Ballgame," to see that Finley's assessment is close to the mark. In fact, the Veterans Committee needs to be reconstituted again if it thinks it did a good job with this selection. First of all, Kuhn himself is hardly worthy of induction. He pretty much pissed off everyone in baseball, and lost every battle he fought with the players union. He could have reached out to Miller and formed a partnership with the players, but he didn't.
Second, Kuhn died in March 2007. The Veterans Committee waited until months later to announce his selection. If they really felt he belonged, they would have inducted him years earlier. I think it's a joke when the VC waits until AFTER people die to select them. They snubbed Buck O'Neil so often that, now that he's dead, he's almost sure to receive the honor.
And third, the VC chose Kuhn and snubbed the person who really did a lot for baseball from that era: Marvin Miller. I'll blog about Miller at a later date, but suffice it to say that he changed baseball and all of sport -- which to me is the definition of Hall of Famer.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Hall of Fame Induction: Goose Gossage
This weekend, the Baseball Hall of Fame will induct four new members: pitcher Goose Gossage, manager Dick Williams, Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, manager Billy Southworth and team executives Barney Dreyfuss of the Pirates and Walter O'Malley of the Dodgers.
Today I'm going to start a series of posts evaluating their qualifications for the Hall of Fame. First up, Gossage.
A devastatingly effective relief pitcher, Gossage helped redefine the role of closer in the 1970s and early 1980s with his menacing stare, goofy mustache, and 100-mph fastball. He saved games through pure intimidation, daring hitters to stand in the box against him. Few ever felt comfortable.
With relief specialization a recent phenomenon in baseball, it has been interesting to watch how Gossage was treated by Hall of Fame voters. He totaled 310 saves with nine teams, and at his peak, he was the best in the game; his 1981 strike-shortened season—0.77 ERA, 20 saves in 32 games—is one of the top 10 seasons ever posted by a reliever. But until this year, it wasn't enough to get him into the Hall. In 2005, the Hall select Bruce Sutter, while many historians and analysts believed they should have selected Gossage instead.
This year, I think Gossage was helped by two factors: (1) Sutter's election paving the way and reminding voters that they may have picked the wrong relief ace. And (2) the lack of any super-qualified candidate. Next year, the greatest player on the ballot will be Rickey Henderson, a sure-fire Hall of Famer. If Henderson had been on the ballot this year, he might have taken the spotlight away from Gossage.
In my opinion, Gossage belongs. I think anybody who followed baseball during his career thought of Gossage as one of the greatest ever at his craft, which is the kind of thing that should qualify you for the Hall.
You can read an exhaustive Wikipedia entry about this year's balloting here.
Today I'm going to start a series of posts evaluating their qualifications for the Hall of Fame. First up, Gossage.
A devastatingly effective relief pitcher, Gossage helped redefine the role of closer in the 1970s and early 1980s with his menacing stare, goofy mustache, and 100-mph fastball. He saved games through pure intimidation, daring hitters to stand in the box against him. Few ever felt comfortable.
With relief specialization a recent phenomenon in baseball, it has been interesting to watch how Gossage was treated by Hall of Fame voters. He totaled 310 saves with nine teams, and at his peak, he was the best in the game; his 1981 strike-shortened season—0.77 ERA, 20 saves in 32 games—is one of the top 10 seasons ever posted by a reliever. But until this year, it wasn't enough to get him into the Hall. In 2005, the Hall select Bruce Sutter, while many historians and analysts believed they should have selected Gossage instead.
This year, I think Gossage was helped by two factors: (1) Sutter's election paving the way and reminding voters that they may have picked the wrong relief ace. And (2) the lack of any super-qualified candidate. Next year, the greatest player on the ballot will be Rickey Henderson, a sure-fire Hall of Famer. If Henderson had been on the ballot this year, he might have taken the spotlight away from Gossage.
In my opinion, Gossage belongs. I think anybody who followed baseball during his career thought of Gossage as one of the greatest ever at his craft, which is the kind of thing that should qualify you for the Hall.
You can read an exhaustive Wikipedia entry about this year's balloting here.
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