So I was talking with Kevin Cooney the other day about a whole bunch of things. Kevin, as we all know, is a bit of a talker, and if you don't cut him off quickly, you're in for the night. Think I'm kidding? Try it sometime. If you really want to know why Kevin has his podcast, it's because he likes to listen to himself talk.[1] I kid Kevin because I can. Truth is, I can make fun of Kevin because I like him and he's my friend. Also, his podcast is pretty good. The latest episode with Robert Costa might be the best one yet.
This time I listened to Kevin talk, and somehow we came around to the Baseball Hall of Fame. Kevin is a voter for the Hall of Fame as a 10-year veteran of the Baseball Writers Association of America. I am not a voter. I've been out of the BBWAA since the 2017 season, so no Hall of Fame vote for me.
Anyway, it's my theory that almost everyone that deserves to get into the Hall of Fame gets in. Eventually, of course. There are plenty of players who had to wait and wait and wait until they got the call. Ron Santo comes to mind. He was always worthy of enshrinement in Cooperstown, but for some dumb reason, his induction never happened during his lifetime. For Philadelphia fans, Richie Ashburn is another player who had to wait a long time before he got his due.
There are others, of course. Some obvious and not so apparent. So here's a list of players I believe should be Hall of Famers. Some might not be eligible for voting yet, but as I wrote, eventually, every worthy candidate gets in. Some unworthy ones, too.
The list of players who should be in the Hall of Fame:
Dick Allen — This one is sentimental because Allen is a Pennsylvania and Phillies legend. But a closer look at his statistics shows a player who is right there. Twice he led the league in home runs, he made the All-Star team seven times and finished in the top 10 of MVP voting three times. He was an MVP with the White Sox in 1972 and the Rookie of the Year with the Phillies in 1964. On the advanced metrics front, he led the league in OPS four times and had an OPS better than .900 six times. What's missing from his resume is the postseason appearances. He was on the infamous 1964 Phillies and just missed out with the 1971 Dodgers, and 1972 White Sox. His only playoff appearance came in 1976 with the Phillies at the end of his career. He played just 54 games with Oakland in 1977 before hanging them up.
Allen also gave one of the best/funniest answers to a question I ever heard one day at Citizens Bank Park when he was on hand to talk about a young Ryan Howard and his place amongst the all-time great home run hitters. When asked if he had ever seen a player with as much opposite-field power as Howard, Allen replied, "Yeah. Willie Mays, Willie McCovey, Willie Stargell, Hank Aaron, Frank Robinson, Frank Howard, Billy Williams." Then Allen stopped, looked over the top of his glasses at the questioner, and asked, "Should I keep going?"
I wish he would have, but by that point, I was already on the floor in hysterics.
Fred McGriff — McGriff is another one like Allen in that he ticks off all the proper boxes. Plus, he was ridiculously consistent, belting at least 30 homers in seven straight seasons. It would have been eight straight if the 1995 season had not been cut short because of the strike. How consistent was McGriff? In his first full season in the big leagues in 1988 when he was 24, McGriff hit 34 homers with 100 runs, 82 RBIs and a slash line of .282/.376/.552. In his last full season, when he was 38 in 2002, McGriff hit 30 homers with 103 RBIs and a .273/.353/.505 line.
Where McGriff has it over Allen is the postseason (yes, the postseason matters, folks. After all, winning in the playoffs is the whole point of the regular season), where he made it five times, winning the World Series with the Braves in 1995. Counting the playoffs, McGriff has over 500 career homers and nearly 1,600 RBIs. Like Allen, he was often the most feared hitter in every lineup he appeared in with San Diego, Toronto, and Atlanta (sorry, there wasn't much to fear with those Tampa Bay teams in the late 1990s and early 2000s). He also hit the hardest home run I ever witnessed in Game 2 of the 1993 NLCS when he smoked a line drive so hard and fast that the crack of the bat and the smash against the façade in right field at the Vet sounded at the same time. It was the closest a human ever might have gotten to reproducing thunder and lightning organically.
Ron Guidry — I give extra points for postseason performances (it's really what matters most) and for dominant stretches. In Guidry's case, he has both. He pitched the Yankees to the World Series in 1976, 1977, 1978, and 1981 and he emerged as the most dominant pitcher in the American League in 1978 when he went 25-3 with a 1.74 ERA. With breaking pitches and a fastball that had many thinking he was the next Sandy Koufax, Guidry finished in the top 5 of Cy Young Award voting four times (winning it once). Add in the World Series and his two rings, and Guidry posts a 3-1 record with a 1.69 ERA with zero games where he allowed more than two runs.
Another interesting aspect of Guidry's career is that he most lines up (statistically) with Koufax, Roy Halladay, and Max Scherzer.
Steve Garvey — My memory of Steve Garvey is of a player who always seemed to get the big hit at the most significant point of the game. He also was a Phillie killer, and he posted monster stats in the playoffs. He was always in the All-Star Game, always in the running for the MVP, seemingly always on the national game of the week (every game was not on TV back then), a masterful fielder, and he never ever took a day off. Before Cal Ripken broke Lou Gehrig's consecutive games streak, Garvey made a healthy attempt at it by appearing in 1,207 games, for the fourth-longest streak in history.
Garvey was the National League MVP in 1974, a two-time All-Star Game MVP, and a two-time NLCS MVP with the Dodgers and the Padres. He collected six 200-hit seasons, made it to the World Series five times, and batted .338 with 11 homers, 22 extra-base hits, and 32 runs in 55 postseason games. His best game might have been Game 4 of the 1984 NLCS, where he went 4 for 5 with 5 RBIs and a walk-off homer against Lee Smith just when it looked like the Cubs were headed to the World Series (they have to wait another two decades because of Garvey).
Perhaps working against Garvey is his squeaky-clean image and one of a clubhouse politician. Who knows? Garvey was a bit before my time. But from talking to players from his era on why Garvey did not get more Hall-of-Fame consideration, the answer was always, "Because he's not a Hall of Famer."
End of conversation.
For whatever reason, that doesn't sound right to me. His numbers and my memories are pretty darn good, but it always has been my policy to take the word of someone who has better first-hand knowledge than me. His peers from his era say he isn't quite there, I guess that's the way it is. Nevertheless, he looked pretty good on TV, and he crushed the Phillies in the 1978 NLCS with four homers in four games.
Omar Vizquel — Way back before the Phillies were dominating the NL East, I asked then up-and-coming shortstop Jimmy Rollins who his guy was at shortstop. Was he a Nomar guy or Jeter? "Neither," Rollins said. "Omar Vizquel. He's the smoothest." No one was close to Vizquel with the glove of any shortstop in the 2000s. That shows with the 11 Gold Glove Awards and the admiration from his peers. And like Ozzie Smith, who Vizquel is probably the most comparable, he turned himself into a solid hitter in a long career. Vizquel played for 24 seasons in the big leagues, retiring after he had turned 45. Yes, that matters. Staying healthy and on the field consistently is probably the most challenging task of any athlete, and there are just a handful of players who did that as well as Vizquel. He also got 2,877 hits, got to the playoffs six times with Cleveland, and to the World Series twice.
Curt Schilling — I remember the time when Curt Schilling was inducted onto the Phillies' Wall of Fame when a team official said the team could not put it off any longer. "We ran out of guys we could put in ahead of him." That pretty much sums up Schilling's endearing qualities. Moreover, he seems to know it. Schilling seems to think he won't get into the Hall of Fame because of his politics. I told anyone who would listen (including Schilling) that I voted for him, and I think he's an absolute douchebag. But forget what I think. I'm nobody. The fact is he wasn't well-liked by his teammates, either. Again, not a big surprise there.
But leaving it to his performances on the mound, Schilling was one of the handful of pitchers from his era that everyone wanted to take the ball. Schilling should get in for two reasons. 1. His postseason performances are incredible. 2. He was pretty damn amazing for the 1997 Phillies, which is one of the worst teams ever to play in Philadelphia.
No, the Hall of Fame is not a personality contest. Ty Cobb and Cap Anson prove that. Schilling will get in eventually, but it might not happen until there are guys they could put in ahead of him.
A few of the players listed above won't get the votes from the writers in the BBWAA (or they are already off the ballot) and will have to wait for the select committees to elect him. That appears to be the way in for a few others, too, like (in no particular order):
Jimmy Rollins
Scott Rolen
Andruw Jones
Bobby Abreu
Jeff Kent
Todd Helton
Matt Holliday
Mark Teixeira
Lou Whitaker
Yes, some of those guys could get in via the BBWAA. For instance, Jimmy Rollins has a pretty good shot, and there is something about Todd Helton that just seems to be the profile for a Hall-of-Fame hitter. But, of course, there are a few elephants in the room. Bonds, Rose, Clemens, Sheffield, etc., etc. Let's just take a big cop-out and leave that one for the BBWAA and the voting committees.
[1] I kid Kevin because I can. Truth is, I can make fun of Kevin because I like him and he’s my friend. Also, his podcast is pretty good. The latest episode with Robert Costa might be the best one yet.