When the Monroe Doctrine was resuscitated from its flatline status last year after a brief 16 year break, I harped on the morons in baseball’s fan-base that voiced their opinions on ESPN.com for Hall of Fame selection.
We now come full circle with the morons that actually do the voting. Just before this year’s election results were made public, the Tribune dedicated a page to their writers that had a vote for The Hall. While you could argue with their picks (Fred Mitchell voting for Tommy John; Dan McGrath voting for Alan Trammell; Phil Hersh voting for Don Mattingly;) at least these guys had a logic for their ballot. Then we come to Mark Gonzales. He voted only for Rich Gossage and Jim Rice. OK, fair enough. Personally I think Dawson should have been voted for as well, but that’s my opinion. The problem I have is with the article that Gonzales wrote explaining his selection.
“Someday, Tim Raines may be voted into the Hall of Fame. But not this year, at least not on this ballot. . . . I’m grateful I’ll have more chances to vote for Raines in the future. But after three days of crunching numbers and weighing other considerations, I wasn’t ready to vote for Raines – yet.”
What sense does this make? I can understand the person that won’t vote for a player and then over the years has his mind changed by further number crunching or insightful discourse with his colleagues. But Gonzales freely admits that he most likely will end up voting for Raines, but just can’t do it on this ballot. Why? He didn’t exceed his limit. He only voted for two guys.
This gets to the age old argument of how a guy can be Hall worthy after being eligible for nine years (Gossage, et al.) How did Gossage become better 14 years after he retired or how was he somehow worse only seven years after he retired? Either a player is worthy of the Hall of Fame or he isn’t. I suppose if the rules were changed and the player was only eligible for one ballot, there wouldn’t be as much drama each year. Baseball is steeped in tradition and one of those traditions is each year seeing if a player has risen up the percentage ladder to the magic 75% that grants him immortality. If you go to the Hall of Fame’s website you can see the election results of every election. In a sense it’s fascinating to see who made it and who didn’t each year and to see the progression of the eventual electees.
But from a practical standpoint you have to wonder why it is important to keep a player eligible to 15 years. That just contributes to the problem of the writers being allowed to not vote for a guy who is worthy. “I won’t vote for him this year because I can vote for him anytime over the next fourteen years.”
As with anything in life, it is better to talk about the solution than complain about the problem. I don’t see a clear cut solution. There has been talk that the fans should have a say. Dear god, please don’t. The All-Star game is already enough of a popularity contest.
There has been talk that select Baseball People should only vote (guys like Ernie Harwell, Bob Costas, etc. Gentlemen that actually watch the game and know who the great players are.) I don’t mind this too much, but I would hate to see Costas or any other individual turn into Joe Morgan (former Red/Astro/Phillie/A) and not vote for anyone.
Barring a major change in who casts votes, I think a step in the right direction is that anyone who doesn’t return their ballot or returns their ballot empty should lose their voting rights.
In a way baseball has continued the success ratio. You can bat ten times and reach base safely three times for a .300 batting average and be considered an All-Star. You can also vote ten times for the Hall of Fame, have logic or a certain rationale in your voting and logic three times and still be viewed as enough of a Baseball Know It All that you are allowed to have control over the history of baseball.
Monday, February 25, 2008
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1 comment:
Welcome to the wonderful world of cyberpublishing, Rich!
I share much of your frustration with the HOF voting process - or at least the twisted logic (or lack of it) some of the writers apply when filling out their ballots.
As you ask, though, what's a better solution? I agree that it shouldn't be a fan vote, and I think it would be dangerous to limit it to a select Board who become the gatekeepers for the Hall. I think the one change I'd make is to open the voting up to more than just the print media. I understand that there was some movement in that direction for the first time this year, which is encouraging. I think there's got to be room for historians and other writers who have devoted their lives to researching, or at least following, baseball. There's no reason people like Bill James, etc. shouldn't have a voice.
Clearly there needs to be a balance between the people who would base their votes on a statistical foundation (or at least understand the proper way to use/interpret statistics) and those who base their votes on their own observation of the players under consideration in relation to their peers.
The problem, though, becomes what is the benchmark used to award a voice in the voting -- number of books published, number of readers subscribed to your newsletter or blog? There'd have to be some governing body that decided who votes and who doesn't.
In terms of the 15 years of eligibilty, I'd tend to agree with you that if a guy is a Hall of Famer in his 12th year, he ought to be in his 1st year. I think that's where some voters start to get catty with their votes -- "I think this guy's good enough to be in the Hall, but he was a jerk to the media when he played, so I'll make him wait a few years before voting for him."
There can be benefits to having that extended eligibility period, though. Sometimes it takes more that the 5 post-retirement years to gain the proper perspective on a player's accomplishments. Whether it's the impact of park effects on a player's counting stats or learning more about the actual value of a stolen base towards a team's chances to win, or simply more information about the environment in which the player played, our perception of what makes a great player can change.
Five-ten years ago, accomplishments of players who played in the 60s, 70s, and even into the mid-80s were being dwarfed by the superstars of the 90s. I think voters looked at guys like Dawson and said, yeah, he was ok, but he's no Sosa. Now as more information's coming to light about how some of the achievements of the 90s were accomplished, we can look at those earlier performers in a different light.
Ok - I think this has probably gone beyond "comment" length and is probably enough for a Monroe Doctrine on it's own, so I'll stop. Wanted to get you off to a smash start, though...
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