My first Baseball Hall of Fame ballot: The who and the why
Manny Ramirez of the Boston Red Sox talks to Alex Rodriguez of the New York Yankees at Fenway Park on May 1, 2006. Credit: Getty Images
Baseball is the slow sport, played over 162 games, where narratives shift and tumble from one month to the next.
It’s dependable and comforting and, despite all the rule changes we’ve seen in recent years, it often doesn’t feel too different from the thing we grew up watching.
Which is why it was jarring to get this year’s Hall of Fame ballot and make the choices I did. Having just completed my 10th year covering Major League Baseball full-time as a member of the Baseball Writers Association of America, I earned the honor of casting my first votes for Cooperstown.
And there were those names I grew up with: Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez – two of the most dynamic players I’ve ever seen. Their superstardom transcended a generation and they are, by far, among the best ever to play this sport. They defined my childhood, and that of so many who fell in love with baseball, and back in the early 2000s, I couldn’t envision a world where they weren’t enshrined in Cooperstown.
But I left the boxes by their names unchecked. Instead, I opted for Ichiro Suzuki, CC Sabathia, Carlos Beltran and Billy Wagner. After more research, I surprised myself with my last two votes – Andruw Jones and Chase Utley. Every voter can select up to 10 players, but six were enough for me.
Writers have voted for Rodriguez and Ramirez every year, and I can’t blame them. I can’t even fully guarantee I won’t change my mind one day – after all, I’ve used this very space to argue that Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens should be in the Hall, and just cast a vote for Beltran, who was part of the Astros' sign-stealing scandal.
But Rodriguez's and Ramirez’s sins leave a more bitter taste. Sure, Bonds and Clemens are widely suspected to have used steroids, but that was at a time when MLB tacitly condoned the use of PEDs by its inaction, and profited greatly as a result. The doyen of the steroid era, ex-commissioner Bud Selig, is even enshrined in the Hall.
But Rodriguez and Ramirez come from a different age – impossibly talented and impossibly tainted, and PED users in a time when baseball was trying to clean up its act. Their level of subterfuge -- specifically in the era of drug tests and lengthy suspensions -- and the alleged scope of Rodriguez's alleged cheating, in particular, puts them in another category.
A lot of people can look at this and say that, as voters, it’s not our job to be moral arbiters of the sport, even if the Hall of Fame criteria includes a character clause.
To some extent, I agree. But I also love this sport and appreciate how it's given me some of the greatest joys of my life. It’s a privilege to vote and it’s a privilege to be inducted, and Rodriguez and Ramirez, in my mind, haven’t earned that privilege. I came to that conclusion when I saw their names on the ballot and deeply regretted not being able to tick off their names. They created a lot of incredible moments, yes, but they also left a trail of destruction and disillusionment in the wake of their betrayals.
As for the rest, my reasoning was systematic. Suzuki, for most, will be a no-brainer. Wagner is one of the best relievers of all time, and I’ve written extensively about how the Hall undervalues relief pitchers.
Sabathia is an interesting case. Here’s a power lefty who rebranded himself as age took its toll. He bravely sought help for alcohol addiction in the public eye, and mentored so many young players – a lot of them black and brown, knowing that African-Americans are routinely being shut out of baseball’s highest levels for a bevy of complex reasons. His career fWAR of 62.3 is lower than that of the average Hall of Fame pitcher, as is his JAWS, FanGraphs' Jay Jaffe’s sabermetric measure of Hall of Fame worthiness. Sabathia is, however, firmly in the ballpark of those enshrined.
But in addition to his excellent character, he has the counting numbers that might soon become extinct as trends move toward super-powered bullpens and elite starting arms that, for all their talent and power, don’t have the durability and longevity of those who came before them. He is a six-time All-Star, a Cy Young award winner and totaled 3,093 strikeouts over 3,577 1/3 innings pitched. He’s only the third lefty to amass more than 3,000 strikeouts.
He has 251 wins (remember that old stat?) and a 116 ERA+ over his lengthy career. He was a workhorse, a World Series champion, and often, the heartbeat of the Yankees.
Beltran’s stats, for me, made him a no-brainer, and his inclusion despite his involvement in the Astros' sign-stealing scandal comes from a fairly common belief that he was mostly used as a scapegoat. Despite his involvement, he earned 57.1% of the necessary 75% of the vote last year, leading me to believe that he was being given a wrist slap for what he did. But why wait? If you believe a person is a Hall of Famer, there shouldn’t be a probationary period to let him think about what he’s done.
Finally, there is Utley and Jones – bubble players who ultimately convinced me with a longer look at their careers.
Utley had a late start in MLB, meaning his fWAR, which is cumulative over the course of a career, is just 64.5 (the average fWAR for a Hall of Fame second baseman is 69.7). But at his peak he was one of the most dynamic players in baseball – an elite defender who got on base, had an uncanny feel for the game, stole bases and hit for power.
His 17.3 defensive WAR is 11th among second basemen. He is a six-time All Star, a four-time Silver Slugger and was integral in the Phillies' 2008 World Series win. He has 122 defensive runs saved at second base, and averaged 19 runs saved from 2005 to 2010. According to FanGraphs, he’s just one of 21 players to accumulate more than 100 runs saved at any defensive position.
He hit plenty, too: Utley has a career .275/.358/.465 slash line with four seasons of over 100 runs and 100 RBIs. Relative to Hall of Famers, he had a short career – 16 seasons, with significant decline the last four years – which means he didn’t get to many of the traditional benchmark. But, he still amassed a lot of big numbers: 259 home runs and 1,885 hits. He is, I admit, a borderline case, but his defense and baseball IQ put him over the edge.
Then there’s Jones, whom I included primarily because he was the greatest defensive centerfielder of my lifetime, and possibly ever. He saved 235 runs in his career, according to Baseball Reference – the most of any player at that position. His first step, his range, his routes, and his ability to make the miraculous appear mundane made center field at Atlanta's Turner Field like nothing more than a black hole.
His career fWAR is almost 10 wins lower than the average Hall of Fame centerfielder, mostly due to a precipitous decline in his 30s, but like Utley, his peak was astounding. In 16 seasons, he amassed 10 Gold Gloves, five All-Star nods, was the 2005 NL home run leader and RBI leader. He has a modest .254/.337/.486 slash line, but with 1,933 hits and 434 homers.
He routinely made you say, “wow.” And that, at the heart of it, is what makes a Hall of Famer – even if players like Rodriguez and Ramirez show that certain restrictions apply.
Laura Albanese is a reporter, feature writer and columnist covering local professional sports teams; she began at Newsday in 2007 as an intern.
