The Baseball Hall of Fame, my ballot, and what went into it

As of this moment, 20,532 men have played major league baseball, whether the “MLB” was capitalized or not.

Of those, 346 have been voted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame, 139 of those by voting members of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America. The latest of those, Adrián Beltré, Joe Mauer and Todd Helton, were announced Tuesday afternoon as members of Cooperstown’s Class of 2024.

In other words, it should be incredibly hard to get into the Hall.

And yet the conversation every year at this time, leading up to the release of the annual vote by eligible BBWAA members, always seems to be one of entitlement toward one’s favorite player(s), naturally spurred by the accessibility and egalitarianism of social media. “This guy absolutely needs to get in” … “It’s a travesty if this guy isn’t elected” … “You should lose your vote if you didn’t vote for Player XYZ.”

Have the standards changed? Sure, given the additional tools we have available as voters. When I first qualified for a Hall of Fame ballot in 1989 as a 10-year member of the BBWAA, Wins Above Replacement didn’t exist, nor the OPS+ statistic that takes into account the effects of a player’s home park. The game was played and managed differently, and the counting stats – 3,000 hits, 500 home runs, 300 pitching victories – were still the magic numbers that opened the portal.

There are more factors now, and a plethora of legitimate arguments for a player’s candidacy. But the specifics are the same: It takes 75% of the vote to get in, this year 289 of the 385 ballots cast. And the electorate, even with the additional resources available to us, remains famously cantankerous and opinionated, each of us with a personal interpretation of what defines an immortal. (Think about the yearly debate of what defines a Most Valuable Player and multiply it by 10.)

Should the Hall be more inclusive, or exclusive? (In other words, is it the “Hall of Fame” or merely the “Hall of Very Good?”) How much to still value the counting stats? Does the eye test still matter?

Layered atop all of that is the 10-player limit on the ballot – which the BBWAA has sought to remove or at least liberalize but met with resistance from the Hall’s administration – and the rule that a player polling at less than 5% is eliminated from the ballot. I’ve voted for players to simply keep them on the ballot on a couple of occasions – and in one case I left off a guy who I was sure would get in anyway, and as it turned out did – to stratregically keep another guy alive. I heard about it, believe me, and the guy I voted for didn’t get the 5% anyway.

Ah, yes, public opinion. I remain convinced the only reason – the only reason – that Mariano Rivera was checked on all 425 ballots in 2019, even as the dominant closer of the New York Yankees and a yearly presence in the postseason, was the threat of social media ballot shaming. Derek Jeter missed by one vote the following year because of an anonymous voter, and not even anonymity prevented the backlash.

But maybe that lone vote was for the best. After all, one of the arguments we hear so frequently now is that if that guy is in, this guy should be as well, but let’s flip that on its head. If Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and Willie Mays weren’t unanimous, why should anyone be?

That said, Beltré cleared 95% of the vote, 366 of the 385 ballots. That is a statement.

In filling out my ballot, I’ve had a few guiding principles beyond the numbers and metrics.

Is the player historically significant (i.e., could the history of the game be told without mentioning him)? Did he change the game in some way? Was he among the best players at his position during his prime? Was he a player who significantly contributed to winning, and was he one that an opposing manager would have to specifically mention in the pre-series meeting to go over the scouting report?

My ballot this time: Beltré, Helton, Mauer, Manny Ramirez, Alex Rodriguez, Gary Sheffield and Billy Wagner.

Beltré’s numbers (3,166 hits, 477 home runs in 21 seasons), and the eye test dating to his time with the Dodgers, speak for themselves. Sheffield, Ramirez and Rodriguez also had eloquent numbers – and my position has been consistent when it comes to PEDs, that it’s not our job as writers/voters to judge. Plenty of others disagree, which is why Rodriguez (34.8%) and Ramirez (32.5%) continue to fall way short. Sheffield (63.9% in his 10th year) obviously wasn’t harmed as much by the PED issue, but his status is now in the hands of one of the special committees.

(An aside on Ramirez: He’s one of two players I can think of, Hall of Famer Vladimir Guerrero Sr. being the other, whose bat-to-ball contact elicited a distinctive sound, almost like a cannon blast. And his 2008 production after the Dodgers acquired him from the Boston Red Sox represents the only time I can remember where a two-month sample size merited legitimate MVP consideration. That’s how good he could be.)

Beltré showed us what to expect at the start of his career in Los Angeles, and not re-signing him following the 2004 season was a huge mistake – but remember, these were the Frank McCourt Dodgers. Mauer was arguably the game’s best catcher during his prime with the Minnesota Twins, a seven-time All-Star, an MVP and a three-time batting champ.