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Deck the Hall Breaking down my Cooperstown ballotPosted: Thursday January 02, 2003 2:52 PMUpdated: Friday January 03, 2003 12:55 AM
I set a personal record last month for the latest date having submitted my Hall of Fame ballot. Staring at the usual Dec. 31 deadline, I used nearly all the allotted time and wished for more. Blame it on Ryne Sandberg; I don't think I've struggled more over one player than I did over the former Cubs second baseman. Sandberg is one of 17 new names on the ballot. I'll take a pass on detailing the nuances of the candidacies of Mickey Tettleton, Danny Tartabull, Tony Peña and the like. In revealing my ballot, though, I'll separate my selections into two categories: the holdovers who still get my vote and, as usual, the best of the first-year candidates. For no extra charge, I'll throw in my prediction for what the electorate will do. Feel free, of course, to disagree. The Baseball Hall of Fame is the finest, most-hallowed institution of greatness in American sports. One reason for its enduring grandeur is the high standards for admission. With few exceptions, and virtually none by the Baseball Writers' Association of America electorate, the unworthy don't get to Cooperstown. You can argue with conviction that more should be in, for the population of the nearly great and the briefly great is enormous, full of names to enliven bar-room discussions well past closing time. Such chatter cannot be found in other sports, and isn't the Hall all the richer for it?
The HoldoversThe NewcomersI consider his inclusion, however, something of a Lifetime Achievement Oscar. Murray is the respected actor who appeared in dozens of well-received films but never was good enough to win an Oscar. So one day the Hollywood folks realize, "You know what? This guy deserves something for all that work." That's Murray. Here is a guy who never had 200 hits or 35 home runs, who hit .258 in the postseason (.169 in the World Series), never won the MVP, and posted fewer 100-RBI seasons than not only Rice, but also Gil Hodges. (Hodges, by the way, also posted better on-base and slugging percentages than Murray.) Murray, though, was durable and consistently played at a high level. That's why he's a Hall of Famer. And, no, his surly attitude toward the media is not a factor here (see also: Rice, Jim). Every person I talked to who played with Murray said he was a great teammate. That's more important to me for Hall of Fame purposes than being a great quote. Smith is also a guy who holds the all-time record for saves, who saved 30 games 10 times, who made seven All-Star teams and who finished first or second in his league in saves eight times. So how come he's not on my ballot? Let's begin by understanding that Smith's career benefited from one of the great changes in how relievers are used. Call it the Eck Effect -- when Oakland manager Tony La Russa turned Dennis Eckersley into a pampered, one-inning specialist, sparking copycats across dugouts. Smith saved 33 games in both 1984 and 1994: He threw 101 innings to get 33 saves before the Eck Effect; he threw only 38 1/3 innings to get 33 saves after the Eck Effect. That's one reason why I have a built-in bias against closers. Yes, their work is important. But their workload is extremely light. It's as close as a pitcher gets to DHing. (OK, but maybe not as close as berspecialist Jesse Orosco.) The save, by itself, is an empty statistic. Too many three-out saves with a three-run lead water down the number. More telling for a reliever, did he change the game? Was he consistently regarded as one of the best, if not the best? Was he valued as a rare commodity? Smith doesn't measure up to those questions. I never regarded him as the best in the business. And this nags at me, too: After pitching for the Cubs for eight years, Smith bounced among seven teams in 10 years after he turned 30, never becoming the kind of foundation for a team that you associate with a Hall of Famer. That's why Smith comes up just short. That doesn't make voting for Sandberg impossible. It's just that extra caution should be used when setting a new standard. I set out thinking Sandberg would be on my ballot. After all, he did hit more homers than any second baseman. (Every other non-pitcher to lead his position in homers is in the Hall or will be.) He did win nine Gold Gloves and did make 10 All-Star teams. He was a well-regarded baserunner. However, his raw numbers (except for the homers) look eerily similar to another middle infielder, Alan Trammell, who made only 16 percent of the ballots last year.
Hold the phone, you say. Didn't Sandberg have several Hall of Fame-type seasons? I thought so. It turns out he finished among the top 10 in MVP voting only three times, the same as Trammell and a surprisingly low number. (Sandberg did win one MVP.) Among the players on this year's ballot with more top-10 finishes than Sandberg: Murray, Carter, Rice, Steve Garvey, Keith Hernandez, Don Mattingly, Dale Murphy and Dave Parker. And those 10 All-Star seasons? Sandberg failed to drive in 80 runs in half of them, a testament to his popularity as well as his ability. What about the home runs? Something several Mets told me when I covered that team in the 1980s stuck with me: Sandberg made a career of putting balls into the basket in left-center field at Wrigley. Their point was that his stroke was made for hitting the shortest possible homer in his home park. It turns out that Sandberg hit 164 homers at Wrigley and 118 on the road, including a 25/15 split while winning the home run title in 1990. Further, Sandberg batted .300 at home and .269 on the road. Well, what about his stellar defense? It may be (as Gold Gloves go) overstated. Respected sabermetrician Bill James, for instance, in his book Win Shares, gives 22 post-War second basemen a grade of A- or better. Sandberg is not among them. (He was assigned a B+.) James gives more than 40 all-time second basemen a better rate of Win Shares per 1,000 innings than he does Sandberg. Sandberg was pretty much done as an elite player after 1992, when he turned 32. A .289 career hitter at the time, he batted .266 in four seasons thereafter (with his odd 18-month retirement mixed in). His prime was surprisingly short. So I've decided to leave Sandberg off this ballot, an extremely tough decision because, like Mattingly and Murphy, he represented himself and his sport with class and dignity. Sandberg, though, is such the definitive borderline Hall of Famer that I'm not closing the book on him forever. That's one reason why a player gets 15 cracks at the ballot. Carter, for instance, hasn't tacked on any great seasons over the past five years, but he does gain votes. A voter should consider all evidence and opinion, whenever it is presented. I'll keep Sandberg in mind. The PredictionMurray gets in easily, with Carter joining him by a slim margin. Sandberg comes close enough to suggest he'll get in someday. Rice, in his ninth year on the ballot, doesn't improve much on his 55 percent showing of last year. Sports Illustrated senior writer Tom Verducci covers baseball for the magazine and is a regular contributor to CNNSI.com.
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