hall of fame

Why hasn’t there been a unanimous Hall of Famer? (And 20 players who should have been)

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Every time an undeniably great baseball player retires — the latest being Mariano Rivera — there will be a handful of people who will wonder: Is he finally the one? Will he become the first unanimous Hall of Famer?

In a way, it’s a bizarre concept. How could there have never been a unanimous Hall of Famer? I don’t know a single person who does not consider Mariano Rivera a Hall of Famer. You could invent cockamamie arguments against Rivera if you want — he wasn’t effective as a start briefly at the start of his career, one inning closers are vastly overrated, whatever — but that’s just a like a thought exercise. Everybody willing to look at his career with even the slightest bit of objectivity thinks Mariano Rivera should get elected into the Hall of Fame.

But Rivera is not the greatest player in baseball history. There have been significantly better players than Rivera who have not gotten in unanimously. By my best guess, there should have been 20 unanimous Hall of Famers already. Actually, it’s more than 20 when you consider Babe Ruth and Walter Johnson and Honus Wagner and other players before World War II, but I the Hall of Fame was a different thing in their time. Well, it didn’t even exist in their time. So that’s a different thing.

The Baseball Writers of America have been voting more or less the same way since 1962. And I think, since 1962, there have been 20 players who should have been voted in unanimously.

This actually leaves out quite a few legendary players. They are players I personally would have voted for without hesitation, but there is a REASONABLE baseball argument against them. Take Brooks Robinson. I’m a huge Brooks Robinson fan — he was one of my father’s two favorite players (the other being Frank Howard). I grew up wanting to be Brooks Robinson. But if someone said: “Look, he was more or less a league average hitter for all those years, his great defense doesn’t quite make him a Hall of Famer for me” — I’d disagree but I’d respect the argument.

Same goes with Ozzie Smith. Same goes with Nolan Ryan. Of course I think Ryan is a Hall of Famer. But someone could legitimately argue that because he walked almost 1,000 more batters than anyone in baseball history, he gave up a lot of runs and falls short. Disagree. But see the point.

And there’s no point in rehashing Roger Clemens and Barry Bonds.

There are, however, 20 players who I think there is no legitimate argument against. Well, there are 19 plus 1 — you’ll see below. I list them by the number of people who did not vote for them:

* * *

Tom Seaver, 98.8% of vote, 5 people did not vote for him.

Seaver, you probably know, has the highest percentage in the history of Hall of Fame voting. Well, that might not be entirely right. Lou Gehrig and Roberto Clemente were both elected in secret special elections and it is possible — especially in Gehrig’s case — that those elections were unanimous. Seaver received all but five votes in an open election which has granted him a special place in Hall of Fame history. A lot of people have found it curious that it was Seaver — not Willie Mays or Hank Aaron or someone like that — who holds the record.

But to me the better question is this: Why would anybody NOT vote for Tom Seaver? He seemed to have everything Hall of Fame voters crave: Amazing peak, 300 career victories, more than 3,600 strikeouts, represented the game well and so on. He has a viable case as the best pitcher ever. Who the heck looked at Tom Seaver’s name on the ballot and thought, “Nah.”

Theory: Five people did not vote for Seaver because they wanted to prevent him from being a unanimous pick. There are people — sort of like the Brotherhood that protects the Holy Grail in the Indiana Jones movie — who think it is their duty to make sure no one gets in unblemished. This will be a recurring theme.

* * *

Cal Ripken, 98.5%, 8 people did not vote for him.

He seemed lined up for unanimous selection. Everybody knows he was a truly great player (the greatest shortstop, I think, since Honus Wagner). He won MVPs, Gold Gloves, he was a 19-time All-Star, he got 3,000 hits, he got 400 home runs. And, of course, he set the iron man record that exhilarated America in the aftermath of the 1994 World Series cancellation. He was everything anyone wants a baseball player to be.

Theory: Eight people did not vote for Ripken because they wanted to prevent him from being a unanimous pick and because he hit .276 for his career. Batting average, too, seems to be a good excuse to not vote for someone who is clearly a Hall of Famer.

* * *

Henry Aaron, 97.8%, 9 people did not vote for him.

What’s left to be said about the great Henry Aaron? Class. Consistency. Brilliance. Dignity. The essence of the game. He broke Babe Ruth’s home run record under the most intense racial pressure, and he collected 700 more total bases than any player in the history of the game. If I had to pick one player, above all others, who most certainly should have been selected unanimously, it would be Henry Aaron.

Theory: The nine people who did not vote for Henry Aaron should be ashamed of themselves. There can be no viable reason.

* * *

George Brett: 98.2%, 9 people did not vote for him.

Brett’s career is particularly notable for the lack of good arguments against it. What didn’t George Brett do well? He hit, hit for power, ran well and aggressively, developed into an outstanding third baseman and hit .373/.439/.529 in the World Series. He has as many memorable moments as any player of his time, and he was the heart of an expansion Kansas City baseball team that became a powerhouse. He also had the lifetime .300 batting average (.305) and 3,000 hits that bedazzle the Hall of Fame voters.

Theory: Nine people did not vote for George Brett because, great as he was, he wasn’t Ted Williams or Stan Musial, and they did not get voted unanimously. As you will see, this absurd cycle feeds on itself.

* * *

Bob Feller: 93.8%, 9 people did not vote for him.

Feller should have had a real shot at unanimity. Not only was he a legendary pitcher, he was also a very prominent person in the game who had relationships with lots of reporters. Heck, he was a syndicated writer himself. Feller missed three full seasons and most of a fourth while serving in the Navy during World War II — he volunteered the day after Pearl Harbor was bombed. Those four seasons were at the very height of his career.That prevented him from winning 300 games or getting 3,000 strikeouts, two Hall of Fame standards. With those four seasons he might have won 350 games and collected 3,500 strikeouts. He was the pitcher of his time, and everyone voting knew it.

Theory: Nine people did not vote for Bob Feller, I think, because there was a tremendous negative energy among the BBWAA at the time. Before that year, the writers voted every other year, but they had not voted in a single player in 1960 or 1958. So it had been six year since the BBWAA had voted anyone in. I think there was a growing “nobody is good enough for the Hall of Fame” vibe growing, and while Feller and some others would get a high percentage of the vote over the next 15 or so years, nobody had a real shot at getting in unanimously.

* * *

Johnny Bench: 96.4%, 16 people did not vote for him.

Bench was widely viewed as the greatest catcher in baseball history when his time for vote came up. He was a two-time MVP, a 10-time Gold Glove winner, a pioneer in catch-and-throw brilliance, the National League’s starting All-Star catcher every year from 1969 to 1977. He was the greatest collection of defensive skill and offensive power in Major League history — Josh Gibson is another category.

Theory: Sixteen people did not vote for Bench, I think, because of his relatively low career batting average (.267) and because, like just about all catchers, he wasn’t a great player after age 30. I can only guess that some of the voters still associated Bench with the guy he was at the end of his career. LIke I say, it’s a guess. I have no real idea why people would not vote for the greatest catcher in MLB history. Then again, Yogi Berra — who many others, including Bill James, considers the greatest catcher in MLB history — did not even get ELECTED on his first ballot.

* * *

Mike Schmidt: 96.5%, 16 people did not vote for him.

Schmidt, like Bench, was widely viewed as the best ever at his position when he came up for the Hall of Fame. The achievements are so obvious as to be blinding. Schmidt won three MVPs, eight home run titles and 10 Gold Gloves. He hit 500 career home runs. He stole 174 bases and was one stolen base short of a 30-30 season in 1975 — people forget just how good an athlete Schmidt was. I’ve long thought that Schmidt — as celebrated as he was — was still underrated because people never credited him for his high on-base percentages. Three times he led the league in OBP.

Theory: Sixteen people did not vote for Schmidt, I think because of his relatively low career batting average (.267) and because there was always this theory that there was some insubstantial about him, perhaps best symbolized by his .220 career World Series batting average. I’ve always thought the charge was spurious — there has never been a better third baseman.

* * *

Ted Williams: 93.4%, 19 people did not vote for him.

Neck and neck with Babe Ruth as the greatest hitter in the history of the game.

Theory: Nineteen people did not vote for Ted Williams because they did not like him. I think it’s that simple. Williams had many famous clashes with sportswriters, and he held grudges, and they held grudges. Through the years sportswriters charged him with being an indifferent fielder (at least partly true), a terrible teammate (at least mostly false), a selfish player (a ridiculous charge) and a failure in the clutch (absurd). The absurdity of 19 people leaving out Williams leads to the next bizarre injustice.

* * *

Stan Musial, 93.2%, 22 people did not vote for him.

I’ve written again and again about Stan the Man — a legendary player, a wonderful teammate, a symbol of excellence and a profoundly decent man. Everybody loved him. Everybody admired him. You can talk about all the hits (3,630 — 1,815 at home and on the road), all the batting titles (six), all the doubles and triples (more combined than any man ever — no one ever turned at first base with as much speed and ambition as Stan the Man). You can talk about the remarkable consistency, the 52 times he led the league in a major offensive category, the countless people who were inspired, directly or indirectly, by his play. Stan Musial lifted the game. I really didn’t believe you could find 22 people in AMERICA who did not see Stan Musial as a Hall of Famer.

Theory: Twenty-two people did not vote for Stan Musial, I believe, because 19 did not vote for Ted Williams. Musial, great as he was, was not quite as good a hitter as Ted Williams. So the 19 who did not vote for Williams certainly did not vote for Musial. This is what I mean by this kind of voting foolishness rolling downhill. You do something stupid like not vote for Ted Williams, then you use that as a REASON to do something stupid like not vote for Stan Musial. Or our next player.

* * *

Willie Mays: 94.7%, 22 people did not vote for him.

I imagine none of the people who did not vote for Willie Mays would ever admit it.

Theory: What theory could possibly explain how 22 people who allegedly have watched a baseball game in their lives did not vote for Willie Mays?

* * *

Carl Yastrzemski, 94.6%, 23 people did not vote for him.

Let’s see here. Three thousand hits. A triple crown. An MVP award (and should have won a second the next year — I mistakenly wrote back-to-back in first edition). Three batting titles. Seven gold gloves. One of the greatest one-man shows in the history of baseball in 1967. Beloved figure. Represented everything good about the game. Yep, not sure there are many good arguments against Yaz.

Theory: Like Bench — and they went in the same year — Yaz was not the same great player the last five or so years of his career that he had been before. Also he was at his best when pitching utterly dominated the game so his excellence from 1965 to 1970 — he hit .299/.404/.530 — doesn’t look as excellent as it really was.

* * *

Rickey Henderson, 94.8%, 27 people did not vote for him.

Hmm. Scored more runs than any player in baseball history? Check. Stole more bases than any player in baseball history? Check. Posted a career .401 on-base percentage, walked more than any man other than Barry Bonds, managed 3,000 hits on top of that, was just three shy of 300 career home runs? Check, check, check, check on the sanity of the 27 people who did not vote for him.

Theory: Some people have not appreciated the baseball genius of Rickey Henderson partly because some of the things he did (walk a lot, score runs) are generally under appreciated, and partly because he has been a bit of a space cadet who refers to himself in the third person. Nobody has to explain their Hall of Fame vote if they don’t want to, which is kind of a shame. I’d love to hear someone give a viable reason why they did not vote for Rickey Henderson.

 

* * *

Jackie Robinson, 77.5%, 28 people did not vote for him.

Did you SEE Jackie Robinson hit that ball?

Theory: It’s easy to suggest that Robinson only got 77.5% of the vote because of some, er, let’s call them outdated racial views of some voters. And I suspect that was part of it. But there was also the relative shortness of Robinson’s Major League career (he had 1,518 career hits), which — when viewed without any context at all — might give someone an excuse to not vote for the most important baseball player in the game’s history.

Then again, if you look at it with some context — such as the fact that he was not ALLOWED to play Major League Baseball until he was 28 and then played under the most intense pressure the game has ever known — then you wonder how anyone who used that “short career” excuse could look themselves in the mirror.

* * *

Mickey Mantle, 88.2%, 38 people did not vote for him.

Mantle — like a few others in the game’s history — was both blessed and cursed with the power of unlimited potential. It is what made him the hero of millions. It is why people who met him later in life would sometimes break down in tears. It is what made Bob Costas carry a Mantle baseball card with him wherever he went.

That power of unlimited potential also led people to believe that, somehow, his career was disappointing or, at the very least, less than it might have been. Mickey Mantle hit 536 home runs, won a triple crown, won three MVP awards, led the league in runs five times and homers four, had a career .300 batting average going into his final season and hit 18 World Series home runs, with his team winning six World Series titles. He’s one of the 15 best everyday players in the history of the game, and unquestionably a Hall of Famer. But, alas, peole could not help but believe it wasn’t as fantastic as it might have been without the knee injuries and late nights.

Theory: I think Mantle is at the end of the Ted Williams-Stan Musial chain. Musial wasn’t quite as good as Williams. Mantle wasn’t quite as accomplished as Musial. And the dominoes fell.

* * *

Al Kaline, 88.3%, 40 people did not vote for him.

Three thousand hits. Ten Gold Gloves. A gentleman. An icon.

Theory: With Kaline, you can see a few cracks in the career if you want to see them. He was injured a lot and so played fewer than 140 games in half of his seasons. And his brilliance was in his consistency — and consistency is almost always undervalued. He never hit 30 home runs in a season, but hit between 25 and 29 seven times. He hit .340 as a 20 year old, and never again matched that but hit .300 or better either other times in a pitch-dominated era. His career did not scream out to the voters the way, say, Roberto Clemente’s career might have. But Kaline was almost exactly as valuable a player as Clemente over the whole career.

* * *

Frank Robinson, 89.2%, 40 people did not vote for him.

I’m actually stunned that 40 people did not vote for Frank Robinson. He had 586 home runs, won a triple crown, won MVP awards in each league, He was also the first African American manager in the game. Forty people thought he wasn’t a Hall of Famer? What? Baffling.

Theory: I admit that I don’t really want to try and get into the minds of 40 people who did not vote for Frank Robinson.

* * *

Sandy Koufax, 86.9%, 45 people did not vote for him.

The left arm of God.

Theory: Well, here’s the “plus one” i mentioned earlier. There is a reasonable argument to be made against Koufax. His career was very short. He was a dominant pitcher for five or six seasons at most — you could argue that he was truly dominant only from 1963-66. He retired at 30. He won “just” 165 games — and wins have long swayed Hall of Fame voters. But I put him on this list anyway because, despite all of this just justification, I simply cannot imagine that any of the 45 people really and truly believed that Sandy Koufax does not belong in the Hall of Fame. What would happen if you said to this to the 45 people: “Look, we’ll leave it up to you, should Koufax be in the Hall of Fame? If you say no, he will not go in.” I think all 45 would have said yes. I would hope so, anyway. But the 45 wanted to make some sort of statement or something. And Koufax’s shooting-star-across-the-sky career gave them an opportunity to make that statement.

* * *

Warren Spahn, 83.2%, 53 people did not vote for him.

I don’t care about wins, but Hall of Fame voters historically have cared A LOT and Spahn led the league in wins eight times, he won 363 career games, and all this despite not pitching his first full season until he was 26 (he served in the military during World War II).

Theory: I’ve always been a bit baffled by the relative lack of support for Spahn. My only guess it that the Hall of Fame voters were particularly judgmental and hypercritical and exacting for about a 10-year period from 1966 to 1976. During that time, they did not vote Yogi Berra on first ballot. Whitey Ford did not get in on first ballot. Early Wynn, a 300-game winner, got 27.9% of the vote his first year. Duke Snider could not even get 20% his first year. Eddie Mathews with his 500 home runs could not even garner one-third of the vote. Robin Roberts had to wait until his fourth year. I think Spahn just got locked up in all the crazy negativity.

* * *

Bob Gibson, 84%, 54 people did not vote for him.

As I’ve written before, 54 people did not vote for Gibby, and I’d bet all 54 would be afraid to admit it in public. They SHOULD be afraid to admit it in public.

* * *

Joe Morgan, 81.8%, 66 people did not vote for him.

The ultimate sabermetric player, even if he was not exactly the ultimate sabermetric analyst.

Theory: This one is perfectly easy to explain. Morgan was a .271 career hitter, and he did not come particularly close to any of the benchmark Hall of Fame numbers (3,000 hits, 500 homers, etc). I suspect had it been even 10 years earlier, Morgan would not have made it at all first ballot. Looking back now at Morgan’s remarkable career — his career .392 on-base percentage, his astounding seven-season peak from 1971 to 1977, his unappreciated ability for getting on base, for stealing bases at a spectacularly high rate, his surprising power — it seems obvious that there no legitimate argument against his Hall of Fame worthiness.

* * *

So there are 20 players who I think absolutely should have been voted in unanimously. I think there are good arguments too for others, but those 20 seem to me an absolutely lock. Coming up this year, I feel the same way about Greg Maddux. There’s no argument against Maddux. None. And yet, someone will almost certainly not vote for Greg Maddux. I have no idea what reasoning they will use. I suspect they will say that if Bob Feller, Ted Williams, WIllie Mays and Hank Aaron weren’t unanimous, then Greg Maddux should not be either. And that argument is every bit as bad as it sounds.

Reds hire Lou Pinella as a senior advisor to baseball operations

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The Reds announced on Twitter that the club has hired former manager Lou Pinella in a consultant capacity as a senior advisor to baseball operations. John Fay of the Cincinnati Enquirer adds that Pinella will also spend time with the team at spring training.

Pinella, 72, was last seen with the Giants in 2011, also in a consultant capacity, but he spent only the one season there. He has 23 seasons of experience as a manager, with his most recent four coming with the Cubs between 2007-10.

Stick to Sports? NEVER! The Intersectionalist Manifesto

Fans wait for autographs from Atlanta Braves players during a spring training baseball workout Friday, Feb. 15, 2013, in Kissimmee, Fla. (AP Photo/David J. Phillip)
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At Baseball Prospectus on Friday, Rian Watt wrote something which opened my eyes. The article was entitled “What Comes After Sabermetrics.” It was not really about sabermetrics as such. It was about what we do here at HardballTalk and have done for a few years now. And what some others writers I admire have been doing as well. I had no idea until reading Watt’s article, however, that that’s what we were all doing, but we are and I think it’s worth talking explicitly about what that is and why it’s important.

But let me start at the beginning.

Watt starts off talking about what a lot of people have said in the past few years: sabermetrics has gotten stale. Or, since so many great analysts have been hired by teams and since most of the bleeding-edge stuff has moved in-house with clubs, maybe it’s just that sabermetric writing has gotten stale. There’s a sense that all of the big discoveries and insights have been made and that most of what happens in that realm now is niggling around the edges in ways that don’t lend themselves to big, broad engaging writing like Bill James used to do. Or, maybe, to written eviscerations of non-believers like Fire Joe Morgan or Joe Sheehan specialized in back in the day. Which, no matter what you thought of them on the substance, were entertaining reads.

I can’t really opine on the “all the big insights have been made” part. I’m no stathead. I also know well enough about how science and analysis works that to say that there won’t be something groundbreaking tomorrow or next year with any sort of certainty is a fool’s game. Someone with a database may very well revolutionize statistical analysis of baseball tomorrow. No one saw DIPS coming, for example. Voros McCracken is sneaky like that. There might be a major breakthrough on defensive metrics. There probably will be. But it is safe to say, I think, that sabermetrics is now a mature area of study and mature areas of study are in a lot of ways less exciting to lay people. When that big breakthrough on defense happens it will be great, but when people are merely refining established areas of any science, it’s mostly of interest only to the scientists.

So Watt asks: what’s next? What’s the next area of baseball writing that might be vital and might give us new insights or different things to talk about that haven’t been talked about at length — or with serious depth — before? The answer:

I think that a second major paradigm shift is already well underway. It’s being missed, however, and taken for something other than it is, because it’s not about sabermetrics, and it’s not about statistics at all. (How could it be, if those things form the bedrock of the existing paradigm?) It is, instead, about sports within the context of the broader society, and about the renewed humanity of the game.

The best baseball writing I’ve read this year has been about more than baseball. It’s been about politics, and race, and gender, and sexuality, and money, and power, and how they all come together in this game we love. It’s placed the game in its social context, and used it as a lens to talk about ideas that are bigger than the nuts and bolts of a box score or a daily recap. It’s engaged with difficult questions about how to be a fan when players you love are disappointingly flawed and human, and how to be a human being living in an often unjust world.

Watt calls those who do this sort of writing “Intersectionalists.” People who write and talk about the places where the sport and the lives of its participants, its fans and society at large intersect. About the business of baseball, labor relations, the culture of fandom and allegiance, the enjoyment of sports as entertainment and the prioritization of sports in people’s lives. Off-the-field things too.

This is exactly the sort of thing I have found the most interesting and about which I have written most passionately in the past several years. I had no inkling that it was part of any kind of paradigm shift — I have always simply written about what interests me — but having thought about it for the past 24 hours or so, and having thought about all of the baseball writing that I read and the writers I most admire, I think it’s safe to say that it is.

Since Friday, there has been a lot of discussion, some of it angry discussion, about Watt’s article. He has taken to social media to try to clarify what he meant and make clear what he was not saying. I and others have likewise had conversations about it and, not surprisingly, some of them have turned into arguments. That’s sort of inevitable with Big Insights like Watt’s, I suppose.

It’s the sort of thing that calls for some sort of declaration of principles. A manifesto or three. Some carrying on of the conversation beyond its introduction. So let’s do that, shall we? I think Q&A format is the best way to handle it.

Major League Baseball Executive Vice President of Baseball Operations Joe Torre, center, testifies on Capitol Hill in Washington, Tuesday, Dec. 2, 2014, before the Senate Commerce Committee hearing on domestic violence in professional sports. Sen. Jay Rockefeller, the West Virginia Democrat who chairs the panel, says he called for Tuesday's hearing because "until very recently, the leagues' records have not been very good" on the issue. Torre is flanked by Deputy Managing Director for the?National Football League Players' Association Teri Patterson, left, and Counsel for the Major League Baseball Players Association Virginia Seitz. (AP Photo/Susan Walsh)

Q: So, is this some sort of repudiation of sabermetrics? Do the statheads and the intersectionalists have to fight now?

A: NO! As Watt notes, intersectionalist writing is not a rejection of sabermetrics, it’s an evolution that builds on what came before. Sabermetrics was a total game-changer that made people fundamentally reevaluate how we look at baseball. To reject old orthodoxy and take a fresh look at what was really going on in the game. Without that splash of cold water snapping us out of a century of baseball cliche and often-faulty conventional wisdom, intersectionalists would never even be able to ask the questions or to discuss the topics we discuss. Instead of taking a fresh look at, say, hitting, intersectionalism takes a fresh look at the athlete as role model. Or the allegedly hard and fast pillars of the culture of the game. Bill James asked “why are RBI so important?” An intersectionalist might ask “why should I care if the batter flipped his bat?” or “why should fans root for a guy just because he plays for their favorite team?” or “should the fact that a player committed a crime change the way we or his team look at him?”

Maybe the best way to think about it is through a somewhat old term: “The Liberal Arts Wing” of sabermetrics.” Former Baseball Prospectus editors Steve Goldman and Christina Kahrl coined that term to talk about the writers at BP as opposed to the number crunchers. I think it has wider applicability to describe people, like me, whose baseball fandom was energized or reenergized by sabermetrics and whose brains are wired that way but who aim our brains at other questions instead of analytics. I’ve often used the phrase “fellow traveller” of sabermetrics. Liberal arts works too.

 

Q: STICK TO SPORTS!

A: NO! That’s exactly what we will not do. And what we have never done here at HBT. The entire point of it is to understand and appreciate that sports are part of the real world, impact the real world and that the real world impacts sports as well. Why not talk about how they do so and what it means, both for sports and the real world? If you really want to be that dude who keeps their sports fandom hermetically sealed and, within their world of sports fandom, sports are everything, go ahead and be that dude. Just know that you’re boring. You’re David Puddy from “Seinfeld,” unironically painting your face at the game and making your friends uncomfortable. You’re the guy who calls in to talk radio and angrily rants about how some player is “stealing money” because he didn’t hit as well as you had hoped. You’re that guy Fox catches on the camera crying at the ballpark when your boys lose. Don’t be that guy. Even if you follow sports for escapism, understand that sports don’t take place in a vacuum. Understand that it is just a ballgame, that you can LOVE the ballgame with every ounce of your being and that we do too, but that the ballgame is not your entire life nor should it really be and that the players are themselves human beings with human failings. Understand that, once you make that realization, it’s interesting to talk about what sports means for life and what life means for sports.

 

Q: But I don’t want politics in my sports writing!

A: First of all, it’s not just politics. It’s sports culture.  It’s players’ lives off the field. It’s uniform upgrades and new ballparks. It’s TV deals and the business of the game. It’s drugs and addiction and punishment. It’s a team’s role in the community and a player’s status as a role model. It’s Billy Bean’s outreach for diversity in the game, Major League Baseball’s antitrust exemption, Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities initiatives and the treatment of women as fans by teams in promotions and marketing. Politics comes up sometimes too, but intersectionalism relates to any conceivable aspect of the game, as it in turn relates to the real world in which its participants and its fans actually live.

But you also have to face facts: politics impact sports and sports impact politics. I write about that stuff sometimes. But with all of these issues, it’s still baseball that is the starting point. Baseball and what’s going on with the game that may invoke some political or cultural discussion is the driver, not the shoehorning of politics and culture into a baseball context or using baseball as a pretext for our political hobby horses. But the fact remains: baseball has a labor union and labor politics are relevant. Major League Baseball has a lobbying apparatus with direct contact with Capitol Hill. Major League Baseball is, by its own admission, concerned and interested with expanding outreach to minorities and women. Sometimes, quite often actually, legal and political stuff touches on the game too. The people who run the game contend with that on a daily basis and it directly impacts the product with which you the fan are presented. It’d be foolish for us not to talk about that.

 

Q: Great. So the future of sports writing is political rants, political correctness and Social Justice Warriors telling me that I can’t enjoy anything?

A: Of course not. I’m a liberal dude so you usually know what to expect from me, but there is nothing stopping someone from writing about, say, the value of conservatism in baseball. Indeed, baseball is one of the most conservative institutions there is in many ways and, to the extent it has changed or evolved over the years culturally, that change has been led by commissioners, owners and players, the VAST majority of whom are conservative people. Oh, and they’ve made these changes,  in almost all cases, without intervention of the government. For example, there’s a great case to be made that, for all of Bud Selig’s detractors, he perfectly balanced tradition with “progress” however one wishes to define it and presided over the game as it slowly and deliberately evolved pursuant to a consensus which was built up in the community. That’s kind of the textbook definition of small-c conservatism. There’s also a good argument that, if he had done what more progressive types had demanded of him and made changes just to make changes, it would’ve been a bad thing. Anyone writing about that? Oh wait, this pinko liberal did, but others can too.

Yes, I will grant that many of the most prominent voices in intersectionalist baseball writing are liberal. But they don’t have to be. Social and political issues within the sport, as long as they present themselves organically and aren’t shoehorned in, are open for discussion by everyone. At the moment, yes, there is a good bit of writing out there which comes off as “Freshman social science student has SOMETHING TO SAY!” That discourse is improved and liberal doofuses like me will become less complacent if met with reasoned and respectful pushback from people who don’t share our assumptions. That’s how ALL good discourse works. Indeed, it seems to me that there is a great need for dissenting voices to weigh in NOW lest a certain sort of homogeneousness of opinion sets in and calcifies as the only acceptable form of discourse. In short: if I’m wrong, tell me why! Or, better yet, write a response of your own to it and explain why I’m full of crap. I really am full of crap sometimes.

 

Q: So it’s just now gonna be hot takes and opinion writing? Is actual baseball reporting going to continue to be denigrated the way it has been by some sabermetric types?

A: Not at all. Indeed, there is probably a greater need for good reporting than ever before. Reporting, like opinion, is undergoing its own evolution, after all. Off-the-field stories about players used to be used to explain baseball stuff (i.e. he’s a good guy, so he’s a good player). Such reporting was marginalized or denigrated by some after the rise of sabermetrics, thought of as irrelevant or as mere source-greasing (“The analytics can explain baseball. Why are we talking to Shlabotnik? He doesn’t know what makes him good!”). And to some extent there is some legitimate criticism to be made along those lines. There has also been a well-deserved backlash to it.

If anything, intersectionalism needs more reporting. Maybe fewer game stories and scoops — we’ve gone on at length about the diminished value of such things — but more off-the-field stuff about the athletes as people as opposed to gladiators. Maybe more about the business of the game and things like that. There’s a lot of that in existence already, of course. For starters, good traditional baseball reporters — and off the top of my head I’ll cite Tyler Kepner, Derrick Goold, Andy McCullough, Nick Piecoro, Bill Shaikin, Geoff Baker and many, many others — have always made a point to write stories that go beyond just the Xs and Os. They’re not just checking in with baseball bits, dashed off. Good baseball writing like theirs places baseball in context, describes players as human beings and makes the readers care about the game as it fits in their lives. It’s probably also worth noting that The Players Tribune is doing a lot of this too, delivering to us fresh looks at athletes as human beings. It’s probably the case — and you’ll be shocked to hear me say it — that Murray Chass was doing exactly the sort of reporting I’m talking about here with respect to the business of baseball before most of you were born. Yes, dammit, Murray Chass was an intersectionalist. A lot of old school baseball writers were, even if they were often considered oddballs for being so.

So yes, there have always been people doing this work and doing it well. But we could certainly do with more of it. And, perhaps, from some different sorts of reporters and commentators than those who have done it in the past. More reporters and commentators who question the assumptions of fans, owners, players and league officials rather than defer to them as much as they tend to. More reporters and commentators whose background isn’t necessarily just sports, whose work doesn’t just appear on the sports page and who aren’t necessarily beholden, implicitly or otherwise, to Major League Baseball and the clubs via their access or merely their familiarity and subconscious biases.

Also — and perhaps most importantly — reporters who aren’t so heavily members of the same demographic. There’s no escaping it: there are a lot of white men between the ages of 40 and 60 covering baseball. People with different backgrounds have different perspectives and the entire purpose of intersectionalism in baseball writing is to give us new perspectives. A lot of the sabermetric people were from business and math backgrounds, after all. It took that new look to bring us fresh content. We should strive for greater diversity in baseball writing, not for its own sake, but for the sake of new, interesting work that asks questions which haven’t been asked before and which challenge the assumptions people who look like me or people who see the game only from a press box don’t even realize that they harbor. And, of course, us old white guys can stick around too as long as we appreciate that we do not have anything close to a monopoly on the cultural experience and realize that there is a lot which we try to talk about that, really, we know jack crap about and probably should leave to others who know better.

Children reach to high-five Seattle Mariners' Felix Hernandez after the pitcher participated an instructional clinic that included a game of wiffle ball at the Rainier Vista Boys & Girls Club, Monday, Nov. 16, 2015, in Seattle. Earlier at the club, Hernandez presented $100,000 in total grants to five Seattle area nonprofits as part of the Major League Baseball Players Association/Major League Baseball Joint Youth Initiative Players Going Home program. (AP Photo/Elaine Thompson)

While I didn’t know it had a name before the other day, baseball intersectionalism is very much the sort of thing which has interested me and animated my writing for many years now. Indeed, I find that the topics which truly inspire me are exactly the things Rian Watt spoke about on Friday and constitute the subject matter of the baseball writing I most admire. Likewise, the negative reaction Watt refers too — the “stick to sports” refrains — are exactly the sort of response I have received from detractors when I write about these topics, a response I’ve never truly understood and which constitutes a request I will not honor. Ever.

We need more of this sort of writing. We need more people asking the questions about sports that only a few of us have been asking and we need different sorts of people from different backgrounds and with different worldviews asking them.

More baseball fans and readers of baseball writing should ask why things are the way they are and whether or not the way things are are the way they should be.

We should be asking what we expect from baseball players and why we expect it in the first place.

We should be asking what role sports should play in our lives and in society as a whole.

We should look at sports through the lens of our real world experiences and real world realities and see if, through the lens of sports, we can’t make some insights about the real world in return.

I love baseball. My life always has been and always will be better for its presence. We must realize, however, that it’s a strong, strong institution that isn’t going anywhere. Our questioning it and its foundations and assumptions will not damage it too greatly. We should not be afraid to challenge it and its leaders and its participants and its fans to examine what, exactly, we talk about when we talk about baseball and what it is we enjoy about it and why. And perhaps, if enough people ask enough questions about the world baseball inhabits, it can even be improved a bit. Even if it’s just around the edges.

Fernando Rodney left a Caribbean Series game with leg tightness

Seattle Mariners closer Fernando Rodney celebrates after defeating the Toronto Blue Jays in AL baseball action in Toronto on Saturday May 23, 2015.  (Frank Gunn/The Canadian Press via AP) MANDATORY CREDIT
Frank Gunn/The Canadian Press via AP
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Per MLB.com’s Jesse Sanchez, new Padres reliever Fernando Rodney was taken out of a Caribbean Series game on Thursday due to tightness in his leg. It’s unfortunate timing, as the club’s one-year, $1.6 million contract with the right-hander was also finalized on Thursday.

According to MLB.com, Rodney has logged 2 2/3 innings for the Dominican Republic, allowing three runs (one earned) on three hits and a walk with five strikeouts.

Rodney, who turns 39 in March, posted a combined 4.74 ERA with 58 strikeouts and 29 walks across 62 2/3 innings with the Mariners and Cubs this past season. Most of his struggles came with the Mariners, as he compiled a minuscule 0.75 ERA in 12 innings with the Cubs, but pitched in mostly lower-leverage situations.

Diamondbacks have been in touch with Tyler Clippard

New York Mets pitcher Tyler Clippard throws during the eighth inning of Game 2 of the National League baseball championship series against the Chicago Cubs Sunday, Oct. 18, 2015, in New York. (AP Photo/Julie Jacobson)
AP Photo/Julie Jacobson
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Diamondbacks general manager Dave Stewart said on Thursday that while he hadn’t spoken with the representatives for free agent reliever Tyler Clippard, he would likely check in. It didn’t take long for him to act, as Jack Magruder of Fanragsports.com reports that the two sides have been in touch.

Despite his long track record of success as a late-inning reliever, Clippard’s market has been rather quiet this offseason. The soon-to-be 31-year-old posted a 2.92 ERA over 69 appearances last season between the Athletics and Mets, but he was shaky as the year moved along and saw his strikeout percentage fall by over eight percent from 2014. His velocity also continues to decline. Considering those warning signs and the late stage of the offseason, a multi-year deal is likely a stretch.

It was reported on Friday that the Rays are considering Clippard among other free agent relievers.