This is the first time I’ve had the honor of casting a Hall of Fame ballot. I thought the choices would be easy. But, well, they weren’t.
Going in, I knew for certain that four players would get my vote, and that a fifth was likely to get it. But in the end, I voted for eight players. And the whole process was mildly agonizing.
Before I get to the names, bear with me as I explain some things. But go ahead and scroll down if you don’t need to know my process.
I’m not really a “Big Hall” guy. I don’t want to fill Cooperstown with a slew of Hall of Very Good players. But my definition of what constitutes a Hall of Famer has evolved. That doesn’t mean I’ve lowered my standards, just that the modern definition of “Hall of Famer” isn’t identical to what it was 20, 30 or 40 years ago, when 3,000 hits, 500 homers or 300 wins were seen as the primary milestones that signified baseball immortality.
The game has changed. It’s harder than ever. The competition is the best it’s ever been. While consistent success has always been elusive in the big leagues, the challenges players have faced in the past two decades are greater than at any other time in the sport’s history. Careers don’t last as long as they did decades ago, which means stat totals aren’t as eye-popping on first glance and “Cooperstown bound” isn’t always as obvious as it once was. Because of all this, I tend to value a player’s peak — both the length and the production — rather than focus solely on his career totals.
In other words, I believe there are certain players who are worthy of induction because their performance was far above that of most peers in the era in which they played, even without some of the traditionally coveted milestone numbers.
Also, a check beside a player’s name doesn’t necessarily mean I think he’s a slam-dunk Hall of Famer. In some cases, it means I think he has an interesting case that’s worth more study and discussion. So, in those cases, I cast a strategic vote to help keep him above the necessary 5 percent to stay on the ballot for another year. For others who didn’t get my vote this time — most notably Mark Buehrle, Cole Hamels, Dustin Pedroia, Andy Pettitte and Jimmy Rollins — I’m willing to be persuaded in the future.
With all this in mind, here are the eight players who earned my Hall of Fame vote.
Players listed alphabetically
I’ve gained major appreciation for Abreu’s career the past few years, and I think he’s one of the more underrated players ever. He played parts of 18 seasons with the Astros, Phillies, Yankees, Angels, Dodgers and Mets, but his legacy was built during his time in Philadelphia. From 1998-2006 as a member of the Phillies (and briefly the Yankees), Abreu had a nine-year peak in which he hit .305 with a .928 OPS and a 139 OPS+. He’s one of just 12 primary outfielders ever to play at least 2,425 games, have a career average of .291 or better and have a career OPS of .870 or better. The others: Hank Aaron, Barry Bonds, Ty Cobb, Willie Mays, Stan Musial, Mel Ott, Frank Robinson, Babe Ruth, Gary Sheffield, Tris Speaker and Paul Waner.
You know how many center fielders in baseball history have collected 2,700 or more hits, 400 or more home runs and 300 or more stolen bases? Just two: Willie Mays and Carlos Beltrán. You know how many played at least 2,500 games and had a career OPS of .837 or better? Just five: Mays, Ken Griffey Jr., Cobb, Speaker and Carlos Beltrán. You know how many had a career bWAR of 70.0 or better? Just eight: all those Hall of Famers above, plus Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle, Mike Trout and … nine-time All-Star Carlos Beltrán. And that doesn’t even count his outstanding postseason career: 15 series, .307 average, 16 homers, 1.021 OPS.
My first strategic vote. Hernández played for 15 seasons, and for roughly half he was among the best pitchers in the game. From 2009-15, he went 104-65 with a 2.83 ERA and an average of about 221 strikeouts per season. Within that stretch, he was a six-time All-Star, two-time ERA champ, the 2009 MLB leader in wins (19), the 2010 AL Cy Young winner, a top-five Cy Young Award finisher three other times and a two-time shutout leader. Though his 49.9 bWAR would be among the lowest total of any primary starter enshrined in Cooperstown, it’s just 3.2 below Sandy Koufax. We can’t just ignore that.
Jones was perhaps the best defensive outfielder in the Majors for a decade and an all-around exceptional talent for nearly all of that time. The center fielder won 10 straight Gold Gloves for the Braves with elite range that allowed him to get to balls that had no business being caught. By Total Zone Runs, a metric that measures the number of runs above or below average a player is worth based on the number of plays made, Jones’ 253 rank second all time among all position players, trailing only Brooks Robinson’s 293. Jones averaged 35 homers and 104 RBIs per season from 1998-2006, and his 62.7 career bWAR is higher than Hall of Fame outfielders including Willie Stargell, Vladimir Guerrero and Ichiro Suzuki.
By any objective statistical measure, Ramirez is a clear Hall of Famer: 12-time All-Star, nine-time Silver Slugger, .312 career average, 555 homers, 1,831 RBIs and a .996 OPS. During a 14-year stretch from 1995-2008, Ramirez hit .317 with a 1.013 OPS and averaged 36 homers and 118 RBIs per season. That’s elite, elite production. Though he was suspended twice for PED use late in his career (2009 and 2011), there’s no hard evidence that Ramirez used PEDs during his prime. But even if he had, my feelings on PEDs have evolved over time. So …
Like Ramirez, A-Rod is an obvious Hall of Famer by any statistical measure: 3,115 hits, 696 homers, 14-time All-Star, 10-time Silver Slugger and three-time MVP. But, also like Ramirez, Rodriguez has major PED baggage. He was suspended for the entire 2014 season as a Yankee, several years after he admitted to using PEDs for three seasons of his prime while with the Rangers. He was brazen and arrogant in breaking the rules around these substances, which turns lots of voters off. I get it. But, as I said, my PED opinion has evolved. It’s basically this: There’s no way to know how many existing Hall of Famers used PEDs, but some almost certainly did, given the era in which they played. So, it seems pointless to try to police that piece of the past, especially if it keeps some of the greatest players of all time from enshrinement.
For the first 12 seasons of Utley’s career, he averaged 5.2 bWAR overall and 6.8 bWAR per 162 games played. That’s exceptional value from a second baseman. But his peak was even more impressive. From 2005-10, he averaged — averaged! — 7.6 bWAR overall and 8.5 bWAR per 162 games played. During that span, he also averaged 27 homers, 95 RBIs and a slash line of .298/.388/.523. That’s elite production from a second baseman. Utley, a six-time All-Star, finished with 1,937 games played, a .275 average and an .823 OPS. The seven primary second basemen to exceed those numbers are either already in the Hall of Fame or will have a strong case when eligible (Jose Altuve, Robinson Canó). Meanwhile, only six second basemen have ever finished with more homers than Utley’s 259. Four are in Cooperstown. A fifth (Jeff Kent) will be inducted in July. Canó is the sixth.
Another strategic vote. Injuries limited Wright’s career to 1,585 games across parts of 14 seasons, but that included a 10-season stretch of Hall of Fame-level play. From his debut in late July 2004 through 2013, a span of 1,374 games, Wright hit .301 with an .888 OPS. He was a seven-time All-Star and a two-time Silver Slugger who had five seasons with at least 26 homers and at least 100 RBIs, the same number as Hall of Fame third basemen Adrian Beltre and Eddie Mathews, and more than Hall of Fame third basemen George Brett, Harmon Killebrew, Ron Santo and Scott Rolen. There have been four primary third basemen in MLB history to play at least 1,585 games and carry an OPS of .867 or higher. Wright is one of them. The others are Chipper Jones, Mike Schmidt and Mathews.
