Veterans Day

No, not that kind of veteran. I'm talking about what is commonly referred to as the Baseball Hall of Fame Veterans' Committee (this year it has the ungainly title of The Committee to Consider Managers, Umpires, Executives and Long-Retired Players for Hall of Fame Election). The Hall announced this week the twelve men who will be on this year's ballot and, as a nerdy baseball fan, I've been chewing the data. Do any of these men deserve election?

To give some background: The first way to get into the Hall, as a player, is to be elected by the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) after waiting out five years of retirement. The no-brainers, from Babe Ruth to Rickey Henderson, have all been elected this way. If a player receives 75% of the vote, they're in.

Players stay on that ballot for fifteen years, provided they don't dip below 5% of the vote, whereby they are dropped from future consideration, at least by the BBWAA. But, after a player has been retired for 21 years, they can be reconsidered by the "Veterans" committee.

The rules for selection by the Veterans committee has changed many times. There was a time when players who never received five percent in any BBWAA election were barred from election by the Veterans. For many years, a panel of "experts" decided on who got in, and during one particular stretch the committee was dominated by Frankie Frisch, a Hall of Famer who seemed set on getting all of his old teammates in, whether they deserved it or not. Then, for a few years, the panel concept was scratched, and the voters were the living members of the Hall. This was a good idea, except they proved to be taskmasters--no one was elected.

The Hall brass wants to see people elected and inducted. It's good for business. The attendance at induction weekend is a high percentage of the museum's yearly total, besides what it does for the village of Cooperstown's Chamber of Commerce. When popular players are inducted, like the year Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn got in, the place is mobbed. When lesser lights are inducted, the attendance is sparse. I think the Hall worries that one of these years, no one will be inducted.

So we have a new system starting this year. The managers, umpires, executives, and long-retired players have been divided into categories by chronology. This year, the panel of sixteen ex-players, writers, and historians will be considering individuals from the "expansion era," meaning 1973-1989 (why they called it that is curious, as only two teams were added during those years). Twelve names are on the ballot: Vida Blue, Dave Concepcion, Steve Garvey, Pat Gillick, Ron Guidry, Tommy John, Billy Martin, Marvin Miller, Al Oliver, Ted Simmons, Rusty Staub, and George Steinbrenner.

Now, the whole concept of a Veterans committee has always bothered me. For managers, umpires, and executives, or players who played before the Hall began elections in 1936, I'm fine with a blue-ribbon panel deciding. But this year we've got players on the ballot who were resounding rejected by the BBWAA, appearing only once and not getting the mandatory five percent to stay on the ballot. For instance, Ted Simmons got 3.7% in his one and only time on the writers' ballot. For them to be allowed into the Hall with the approval of only twelve voters (75% of the sixteen ballots earns induction), after a voting membership of 500 turned them down, seems entirely bogus. It's like a child being turned down by mommy, only to run to daddy for approval, or getting into a nightclub by sneaking through the back entrance. The plaques in the Hall gallery give no indication of how a person was elected--once you're in there, you're equal to all the others.

The BBWAA system isn't perfect (I'm always disgusted by the writers' bleating about keeping Pete Rose out because of his moral failings--as if a baseball writer was a paragon of virtue), but it's a system that seems to work. Having a backdoor in cheapens the whole thing. I'm all for keeping Cooperstown a busy place, but this, frankly, stinks.

So, do any of the twelve names on the ballot deserve induction? I don't think any of the players do, but I'll go through them and give my thoughts, though I don't have a vote. The statistics are from baseball-reference.com, which is a site I could spend hours on. They have a great feature that breaks down a player's average season, which is illuminating.

It should be noted that I'm old enough to have seen all these players, many of them probably in person. They were all great players, and a team with all of them on the roster would have been a formidable squad during the 1970s. But I don't think any of them are HOF quality.

Vida Blue: My first thought on Blue is that he was a one-year wonder, but I'm way off-base. Yes, he was a wunderkind in 1971, when he won the Cy Young and the MVP, when he was 24-8 with a 1.82 ERA with Oakland. But he had a better career than just that season, and had a decent stretch with the Giants. He won 20 games three times in his career, and 18 twice, ending up with a lifetime record of 209-161 with a 3.27 ERA. But winning 20 games in those days was not almost impossible, like it is now.

Dave Concepcion: Evaluating middle-infielders is tough, because their value is primarily defensive, and there's never been a surefire method of evaluating a player's defensive skills. Concepcion, who was the shortstop for the great Big Red Machine of Cincinnati, is considered a great defensive player, and he was a decent hitter, too, racking up over 2,300 hits and a .267 average. He did win five Gold Gloves and was a nine-time All Star. Certainly he was overshadowed by the big stars on that team: Rose, Bench, Morgan, and Perez, so his candidacy deserves a long, hard look, but ultimately I say no.

Steve Garvey: He was a huge star during the late 70s and early 80s, but his totals don't justify election. He had 2599 hits, 272 home runs, and a lifetime batting average of .294, and he was also a tough out in the post-season, hitting .338 lifetime. From 1973 to 1980 he hit over .300 every year but one, and that one he hit .297. He had over 100 RBI five times. So why don't I think he deserves election? It's hard to pinpoint, but I think his power numbers are too low for a first-baseman. If he had had over 3,000 hits, and a higher lifetime batting average, that would have made up for it. It's close, and I wouldn't strenuously object to his election (he was on the writers' ballot for several tries).

Pat Gillick: This is the kind of person the Veterans committee is good for, a general manager. Very few nonowner GMs have been elected, and they include big names like Branch Rickey, Ed Barrow, and George Weiss. Gillick won wherever he went, winning World Series in Toronto and Philadelphia and getting to the post-season in Baltimore and Seattle. His candidacy is intriguing, and I could be persuaded to vote for him.

Ron Guidry: For one magic season Ron Guidry was the best pitcher in baseball. In 1978, he went 25-3 with a 1.74 ERA for the Yankees. He won twenty only two other times, and though his won-loss percentage is a fantastic .651, he only won 170 games in his career. He had an average season of 17-9, but I don't think his career lasted long enough to deserve enshrinement.

Tommy John: His most lasting legacy will probably be the surgery that is named after him, when a tendon from the leg is inserted into the arm, which resurrected his career, a long one, that lasted 26 seasons. His 288 lifetime victories are the most for any pitcher who is not in the Hall. But he also lost 231 games, and his average season was a mediocre 13-11. John never won a Cy Young Award, and only won 20 games three times. Another close call, but I say no.

Billy Martin: Those old enough remember when Billy Martin dominated the sports pages. He had five different stints as Yankee manager, and his tortured relationship with George Steinbrenner was the stuff of fiction (it would be a delicious irony if they were elected together). Martin managed five teams in his career, taking four of them to first-place finishes. He won only two pennants, though, and only one World Series title (in 1977). He won over 1200 games as a manager, with a .553 winning percentage, but he burned out a bit too soon to get into the Hall.

Marvin Miller: Here's a man who should be elected, no doubt about it. He was the first director of the player's union, and it was his leadership that changed the face of baseball. Every player now drawing a multimillion dollar salary should worship at his feet. Miller, now in his nineties, has come tantalizingly close in previous elections, and has asked that his name with be withdrawn from consideration. Here it is again, though. It is said that players always vote for him, but owners do not. Let's hope sanity prevails this year.

Al Oliver: If I were to vote for a player, it would be Oliver, though he is probably the least known of the eight players on this year's ballot. He played most of his career for the Pirates in the shadow of Roberto Clemente and Willie Stargell, but racked up over 2700 hits and a .303 lifetime batting average (which, in the age he played, is considerable--consider that Pete Rose had the same lifetime average). He also knocked 219 home runs. He only had two 200-hit seasons, though. In his one year on the writers' ballot, he garnered a paltry 4.3%. I'd be tempted to vote for him, as in this case it would highlight the writers' ignorance.

Ted Simmons: He was a good catcher for the Cardinals during much of the 1970s, always in the shadow of Johnny Bench. On his baseball-reference page a writer asks, "More RBIs than Bench, more runs that Carter, more hits than Berra or Fisk. When will the Hall call THIS catcher?" Well, good points, but Simmons was never the best catcher in the game at the time like those players were. I just don't consider him an all-time great.

Rusty Staub: His numbers just don't justify my memory of him. He was a great hitter, but has only had a .279 lifetime average, which would be a low for a guy who has less than 300 home runs (292). He also could be a disaster in the outfield. I have fond memories of him, though, as during his stint with the Tigers he was one of the few good players they had, and he was a long-time fan favorite while with the Mets, many of these years as a slow-footed pinch-hitter.

George Steinbrenner: Certainly he was an owner who changed the game, and probably deserves induction, but as a certified Yankee-hater allow me to express my reservations. Steinbrenner revolutionized the sport, but was it for the better? Do we really like the game when a few teams dominate year after year because they have huge television deals? On the other hand, there have been ten different teams winning the World Series in the last 11 years, so if you can buy a contender, you can't necessarily buy a champion. That he was a convicted felon and an egomaniac also count against him. I was amazed by the bouquets thrown around the time of his death this past summer, and not surprised by the size of the plaque with his image at Yankee Stadium, several times larger than Babe Ruth's. I wouldn't vote for him, but can't argue with those who would.

The results will be announced December 6th.