ORLANDO, Fla. — There were a number of ironies surrounding the results of the contemporary baseball era committee’s Hall of Fame ballot, announced Sunday night at MLB’s winter meetings.
Perhaps the most poignant is this: If not for Barry Bonds, Jeff Kent — the only one of the eight players under consideration selected Sunday — might not be bound for Cooperstown. While Kent is the all-time home run hitter among second basemen, he was on the same ballot as Bonds — who hit more homers than anyone, at any position.
During a post-announcement news conference, Kent recalled the way he and Bonds used to push, prod and sometimes annoy each other during their six seasons as teammates on the San Francisco Giants. Those were Kent’s best seasons, a fairly late-career peak that ran from 1997 to 2002, during which Kent posted 31.6 of his 55.4 career bWAR.
The crescendo was 2000, when Kent enjoyed his career season at age 32, hitting .334 with a 1.021 OPS, hammering 33 homers with 125 RBIs and compiling a career-best 7.2 bWAR. Hitting fourth behind Bonds and his .440 OBP, Kent hit .382 with runners on base and .449 with a runner on first base.
During Kent’s six years in San Francisco, he was one of five players in baseball to go to the plate with at least one runner on base at least 2,000 times, and the other four all played at least 48 more games than he did. Turns out, hitting behind Bonds is a pretty good career move.
To be clear, Kent was an outstanding player and the numbers he compiled were his, and his alone. When you see how the news of election impacts players, it’s a special thing. I am happy Jeff Kent is now a Hall of Famer.
But I am less happy with the Hall of Fame itself. While Kent’s overwhelming support — he was named on 14 of the 16 ballots, two more than the minimum needed for induction — caught me more than a little off guard, what didn’t surprise me was the overall voting results. In what amounted to fine print, there was this mention in the Hall’s official news release: “Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, Gary Sheffield and Fernando Valenzuela each received less than five votes.”
By the new guidelines the Hall enacted for its ever-evolving era committee process — guidelines that went into effect with this ballot — Bonds, Clemens, Sheffield and Valenzuela aren’t eligible in 2028, the next time the contemporary era is considered. They can be nominated in 2031, and if they are, that’s probably it. If they don’t get onto at least five ballots then, they are done. And there is no reason to believe they will get more support the next time.
I thought that the makeup of this committee was stacked against the PED-associated players, but that’s a subjective assessment. And who knows what goes on in those deliberations. With so many players from the 1970s and 1980s in the group, it seemed to bode well for Don Mattingly and Dale Murphy. But they were both listed on just six ballots. Carlos Delgado had the second most support, at nine.
Why? Beats me. I’ve given up trying to interpret the veterans committee/era committee processes that have existed over the years. But the latest guidelines seem perfectly designed to ensure that for the next six years, there’s no reason to wail about Bonds and Clemens being excluded. Then in 2031, that’s it.
Meanwhile, the classic era will be up for consideration again in 2027, when Pete Rose can and likely will be nominated. Perhaps Shoeless Joe Jackson as well. What happens then is anybody’s guess, but by the second week of December 2031, we could be looking at a Hall of Fame roster that includes the long ineligible (but no more) Rose and maybe Jackson but permanently excludes the never-ineligible Bonds and Clemens — perhaps the best hitter and pitcher, respectively, who ever played.
If and when it happens, another kind of symbolic banishment will take place: The Hall will have consigned itself, with these revised guidelines, to always being less than it should be. And the considerable shadows of Bonds and Clemens will continue to loom, larger and larger over time, just as they happened with Rose and Jackson.
Ironic, isn’t it?
