When my Hall of Fame ballot arrives each year, sometime around the first week in December, my initial reaction generally goes something like this:
“Oh, gawd, don’t make me do it! Not again! Why this torture, year after year? What did I do to deserve this agony? Why me, Lord? Why me?”
After my wife calms me down with a bucket of ice water and after I’ve mopped up the floor, I settle down at my desk with the ballot, start my research at baseballreference.com and wrestle with each name.
Larry Walker or Todd Helton? Or both?
Michael Young? Always a Hall of Famer in the Rangers’ clubhouse and a very good player on the field for most of his career, but a Hall of Famer? Hmmm. Not really sure.
What about Fred “The Crime Dog” McGriff? Mike Mussina? Curt Schilling? And Roy “Doc” Halladay….only 203 wins, but for a 10-year period, the most dominant pitcher of his era.
So many questions, so few clear answers.
Mariano Rivera is a no-brainer, of course. Never saw anything like him as a closer and I saw the greatest pitch: Lee Smith, Trevor Hoffman, Dennis Eckersley. None quite measured up to Rivera.
Edgar Martinez, you betcha. One of the best hitters I ever saw in over three decades of covering major league baseball. It’s his 10th (and last) year on the ballot and this time he’s going in, guaranteed.
Oh, yeah, always have to check my own personal resolve on the steroid cheaters. Has my philosophy there changed over the last year? With no clear-cut guidance from the Hall of Fame or Baseball Writers Association of America, it comes down to respecting the Hall too much to put them in there with those who tried to play the game the right way.
And yes, I know there are others already there who trampled all over the morals clause in their own special ways. But I didn’t put them there. So, no, as good as their numbers are, no Bonds, no Clemens, no Sosa. Not on my ballot.
The second, not quite as violent, reaction comes the day after I put the ballot in the mailbox, all filled out and ready to be counted.
The second-guessing.
This is serious stuff. Did I do the right thing? Did I study the numbers close enough? Did I shortchange someone? Was my thinking too generous with someone else? Did personalities come into play? With a maximum of 10 boxes available on the ballot, I marked only six; did I leave someone out, someone deserving?
Of course, once it’s in that mailbox, it’s gone. Done. Let the second-guessing begin.
So here they are, the six who made my cut:
Mariano Rivera:
An almost-guaranteed first-ballot Hall of Famer, Rivera had a transcendent career, first as a dominant set-up man for John Wetteland with the Yankees, then taking his one-pitch show to the ninth-inning for the Bronx Bombers.
Everyone knew he was going to throw his infamous cutter on virtually every pitch. Few had any chance of actually hitting it. Six hundred and fifty-two saves later, he’s going to Cooperstown. Enough said.
Edgar Martinez:
One player who had no fear of Rivera, who literally owned him in his career, was Martinez, by Mariano’s own admission, the toughest hitter he ever faced.
“Oh, my God, I think every pitcher will say this because this man was tough,” Rivera said. “Great man, though – respected the game, did what he had to do for his team. That’s what you appreciate about players, when a player comes and does what is right for the game of baseball, for his team and teammates.”
Consider this: In 23 plate appearances against arguably the toughest closer in the history of baseball, with games on the line, Martinez posted a .579 batting average with a 1.053 OPS. In his first 15 plate appearances against Rivera, Martinez’s line was .833/.867/1.583/2.450 (batting average/on-base-percentage/slugging percentage/OPS.
Go ahead, rub your eyes and read those numbers again.
Martinez finished with a .312 career average, hit over .300 10 times, was a seven-time All-Star and won two batting titles. He is one of just nine players to hit 300 homers, 500 doubles, 1,000 walks while posting a batting average of .300 or better and an OBP of .400 or better. The other eight are in the Hall of Fame.
There’s a reason they named the annual award for best designated hitter after him.
Larry Walker:
It’s a numbers thing, and don’t give me the Coors Field effect. I don’t care.
Walker hit .313 in a 17-year career and won three National League batting titles. He hit over .350 four times, over .300 nine times and five times posted an OPS of 1.075 or higher. His 72.6 career WAR is better than Hall of Famers Tony Gwynn, Duke Snider, Andre Dawson, Dave Winfield, Willie Stargell, Kirby Puckett and Jim Rice.
Fans outside of Montreal and Colorado likely never realized what a dual threat he was with his power and speed, hitting 383 home runs and stealing 230 bases, including an incredible 1997 season when he batted .366, hit 49 homers, drove in 130 runs, stole 33 bases and was the runaway NL MVP.
Forget Coors, the man could play.
Fred McGriff:
Lots of debate here, because McGriff never had one of those ’97 seasons like Walker had. He never hit 40 homers, yet finished his career with 493 dingers, putting him ahead of Stan Musial, Stargell, Chipper Jones, Winfield, Carl Yastrzemski, Jeff Bagwell and Vlad Guerrero, all enshrined in the Hall.
McGriff’s best trait was his consistency. He had 10 seasons with 30 or more home runs. Eddie Matthews and Mike Schmidt had nine, Babe Ruth just eight.
McGriff was also at his best when it mattered most, hitting .303 with 10 home runs in 50 postseason games. His 1,550 career RBIs are more than a couple of guys named DiMaggio and Mantle had.
I understand the debate. Is it a Hall for transcendent players, the crème de la crème, or for very good players? The voters wrestle with that fine line every year and it’s a constantly moving target.
Mike Mussina:
I’ve been arguing for years that HOF voters must evolve to a different perspective on what it takes for a pitcher to make the Hall of Fame. At one point, 300 wins, or close to it, was an almost required qualification. Not today. With the increased emphasis on relief pitching and specialists, we’ll never see another 300-game winner.
Mussina posted a 270-153 record in his career. He had a 3.68 ERA and a 1.19 WHIP. His 82.9 WAR (wins above replacement) ranks better than two-thirds of the pitchers already in the Hall.
He won at least 15 games 11 times and every other pitcher who has accomplished that feat has a plaque in Cooperstown. He finished in the top six in Cy Young Award voting nine times, without ever winning it.
But those are just numbers. I can tell you that when the Rangers played the Orioles, or later the Yankees, the one starter they didn’t want to see in either place was Mussina.
Roy Halladay:
This one is a tough one because Halladay only won 206 games. Yet he was an eight-time All-Star, a two-time Cy Young winner (one in each league) and a three-time 20-game winner.
Halladay was a throwback to an earlier era, when starters actually finished what they started. During a 10-year run at the peak of his career, he completed 63 games. Next closest in that time period: C.C. Sabathia with 33. In those 10 years, Halladay went seven or more innings in 73 percent of his starts.
“Doc” Halladay was the dominant pitcher of his era. Only four other pitchers have won Cy Young Awards in both leagues. Their names are Gaylord Perry, Pedro Martinez, Roger Clemens and Max Scherzer. Two are in the Hall, one would be if he hadn’t cheated and the other is headed that way.
The “Doc” should be waiting when (if) he gets there.
That’s it. That’s my ballot. It will change next year, it always does. More thought, more studying and research, maybe Helton makes the cut. Maybe I give in to my admiration for Young, who meant so much to the Rangers.
Who knows, maybe I even have a change of heart on the cheaters.
But I wouldn’t count on it.