Tom Glavine

My imaginary Hall of Fame ballot


I don’t have a Hall of Fame ballot, of course, but most people don’t and they pick their hypothetical ballot, so I’ll pick mine.

Note: this is not my assessment of who I think will get in. I’ll get to that later. These are just my thoughts on the guys and my selections. And, in case you’re new around here, I (a) do not disqualify guys who have been linked to or accused of performance-enhancing drug use for a host of reasons I’ve expained numerous times before, though I may discount their accomplishments somewhat as a result of drug use; and (b) I don’t limit myself to ten choices because the ten-vote rule real Hall of Fame voters have to abide by is dumb.

So, without further ado, here is my take on everyone on this year’s ballot, with my choices bolded:

  • Moises Alou: Very good for a long time, never great, though. I usually prefer to see a Hall of Fame peak and a long valuable career. Not seeing the peak here.
  • Jeff Bagwell: Yep.Been making this case for two years. For about a decade he was the third best hitter in baseball, behind only Barry Bonds and Frank Thomas.
  • Armando Benitez: Hahaha, no. Though he did once have a Hall of Fame-level quote, telling reporters “I did MY job” after he blew a save because of a defensive miscue behind him. Armando always had your back.
  • Craig Biggio: Crazy underrated. Was not just some guy who limped to 3,000 hits. Plus defense, did everything well, played in bad hitting ballparks for many years. No argument for Ryne Sandberg excludes Biggio and Sandberg is in the Hall.
  • Barry Bonds: If you have to ask.
  • Sean Casey: Great guy. Aesthetically speaking, I love first basemen like him. More fun than the fat guys who hit 50 homers. But my aesthetic preferences don’t a Hall of Famer make.
  • Roger Clemens: If you have to ask.
  • Ray Durham: Looking back, he’s better than I remembered him. Enjoy your one year on the ballot, though, Ray.
  • Eric Gagne: Really looking forward to someone saying “hey, he may have been ‘roided up to his eyeballs, but the ninth inning IS THAT TOUGH. Closers have an excuse because they have the most difficult job this side of hostage negotiators and powder monkeys!” OK, maybe they won’t, but it is fun to think of PED-hysteria clashing head-on with Closer Fixation Syndrome.
  • Tom Glavine: He’s what Jack Morris supporters like to pretend Jack Morris was, even though he wasn’t. A workhorse who just knew how to win and all of that. Except Glavine was, actually, among the best pitchers in baseball for most of his prime and has contemporary awards and accolades to back up the retrospective praise.
  • Luis Gonzalez: He hit 26 more homers in 2001 than he ever did in any other year. But he didn’t break any records doing it, so no one gives him any crap about it. I guess the key to a 90s-2000s player securing his legacy was to be just short of truly great.
  • Jacque Jones: The anti-Ray Durham. I feel like people talked about him as way better than he was, mostly because he hit 27 homers a couple of times and 27 is sort of a magic homer number in a lot of people’s minds. If you hit 27 homers, you’re a “power hitter.” If you hit 26, you’re a “20 homer guy.” And those things aren’t the same.
  • Todd Jones: Points for a mustache and closing down old Tiger Stadium I guess.
  • Jeff Kent:  .290/.356/.500 while playing a pretty darn solid second base for 17 years? Yes, please. If you’re going with Biggio and went with Sandberg as I did, I’m not sure how you go against Kent. I suppose if he gets less support it’s because he didn’t really fit the mold and expectations of a second baseman as a pesky little guy with gap power and because he switched teams several times. For those reasons I feel like he’s going to be a good example of how crazy and subjective Hall of Fame voting can be.
  • Paul Lo Duca: Guy should get a sympathy vote for paying for his PEDs with a personal check, as described in the Mitchell Report.
  • Greg Maddux: I tend not to get too wound up about the actual vote totals guys get, but I’m really looking forward to seeing the explanation of the folks who leave Maddux off the ballot and keep him from being unanimous. As someone surely will. Maybe because he got LASIK surgery that time? A character objection based on that story about him peeing on guys’ feet in the shower? Can’t wait.
  • Edgar Martinez: I think he belongs. I also wonder if I’d include him if I was limited to ten slots like real Hall of Fame voters are. He’s not a slam dunk, but as the best or, by the time Ortiz is done, maybe second base full-time DH ever, I think he’s deserving.
  • Don Mattingly: Close but no cigar. He had the peak, but not the staying power. “But … injuries!” is no excuse. They kept him from providing value to his teams. Not fair, not his fault, but no one said fair or fault had anything to do with it.
  • Fred McGriff: I’ve wavered on him for years. I used to say no, then I started saying yes once I looked at just how different the pre-1993 era and post-1993 eras were for offense. McGriff’s pre-1993 numbers were really damn good for the time and he, unfortunately, straddled both eras in a way that made his overall stats look less impressive than they were. A yes for these purposes, but if I only had ten he falls off.
  • Mark McGwire: Yes. He hit for power and walked like crazy and was simply fantastic.
  • Jack Morris: He’s a no for me — just not good enough — but I’ve put down my pitchfork.
  • Mike Mussina: 270 wins, 123 ERA+, durability, a lot of good postseason work. Yeah, I think he makes it, even if there wasn’t a peak where he was clearly the best pitcher in baseball. He’s like Jeff Kent in a lot of ways. People didn’t routinely talk about him as a Hall of Famer during his career, but when you look at the value he provided he was way better than a lot of guys people do tout as shoe-ins. He was better than Pettitte. Better than Catfish Hunter. Better than Jim Bunning, Early Wynn and, depending on how you measure things, Whitey Ford.
  • Hideo Nomo: He is a first-ballot crazy windup Hall of Famer.
  • Rafael Palmeiro: A closer call than his raw numbers would suggest — 500 homers and 3000 hits still turns heads —but he looks less impressive when you adjust for the parks he played in and the era in which he played. I’d lean yes, however, if I had room on the ballot.
  • Mike Piazza: Best hitting catcher ever. A travesty that he wasn’t in last year.
  • Tim Raines: Was baseball’s best player for several years in the mid-80s. Suffers because his most similar player was Rickey Henderson and they were contemporaries. He was way closer to Rickey than, say, Omar Vizquel was to Ozzie Smith, so let’s watch how those kind of comps work one day. He shoulda been in long ago.
  • Kenny Rogers: Can’t wait for the re-hashed “he couldn’t handle New York” columns from some bored New York columnist this holiday season.
  • Curt Schilling: Better than Morris. Similar to Mussina. Dominant in peak seasons, but strangely had peak years more scattered over his career than many. Killer in the playoffs. I think he’s a Hall of Famer.
  • Richie Sexson: The phrase “tall drink of water” always pops into my head when I think of him.
  • Lee Smith: He gets a lot of support, but nah. I’m a tougher grader on closers than a lot of people are. Too much hoodoo and mythology surrounds the concept if you ask me.
  • J.T. Snow: Really loving the “guys I watched play minor league ball when I was in college make the Hall of Fame ballot” era. Really not making me feel old or anything.
  • Sammy Sosa:  Crazy peak. I know people like to discount the steroids guys, but people discount him too much. One cannot be a mere PED-creation and still dominate like Sosa did. There was real baseball talent there. More than folks want to admit now, probably because Sosa was weird and has seemed to have gotten weirder since he retired.
  • Frank Thomas: No-brainer. He was a beast. One of the rare guys everyone will admit was among the best hitters ever yet still winds up underrated.
  • Mike Timlin: Four World Series rings. That’s four more than Barry Bonds has, suckers.
  • Alan Trammell: Criminally underrated. The guy who makes me still want to argue about MVP awards, because if he won it like he deserved to in 1987, I feel like the perception of him would be totally different among a certain class of Hall of Fame voter. He did everything well at a premium defensive position on a championship-caliber team for a decade.
  • Larry Walker: I’ve always leaned no, mostly because of Coors. A lot of people tell me I’m wrong to do that. I may be. He was good on the road too. A five-time All-Star, seven-time Gold Glove winner in right, an MVP and three batting titles? Power and speed? You know, I think I may have been wrong about him. Changing my mind.

Cripes, that’s 19 dudes. Oh well, blame the voters who haven’t voted in the multiple guys who should have been elected years ago for allowing the ballot to get all clogged up like this.

If I had to drop it to ten, I’d cut off Walker, Sosa, Palmeiro, McGriff, Martinez, McGwire, Schilling, Mussina and Kent. But I wouldn’t be happy about most of those guys. As for who I think makes it? If I had to guess I’d say Maddux, Glavine, Biggio, Thomas and Jack Morris. That’s it. And I may be wrong about Morris.

Anyway, that’s mine. What’s yours?

Champagne after a loss? Why not?

Astros Wild Card
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There was some hockey person last week arguing about how it was silly or untoward for baseball teams to celebrate clinching wild cards or other, less-than-championship-level accomplishments. Calling it bush league or lacking in act-like-you’ve-been-thereness or what have you. I can only imagine what he’d say about the Astros celebrating with champagne following (a) winning a wild card; and (b) losing the game which immediately preceded the celebration.

But screw him. Seriously.

I used to think that way. Indeed, if you search the HBT archives I’m sure there’s a post or two in which I disapprove of teams engaging in multiple champagne celebrations. But I was wrong about that and I’ve changed my mind on the matter over the past year or too. And on some other matters as well, all for the same reason: athletes are people just like us, not some avatars for our machismo and our fantasies. They’re people who have spent their entire lives devoted to their calling and do it under a lot of pressure and in the face of a lot of criticism and expectations from others. Why on Earth would anyone deny them their happiness upon the realization of an accomplishment?

This is even more true if you’re one of those misguided souls who erroneously believe that sports actually is separate from real life and believe them to be supremely and impossibly important. Even if you’re right — and you’re not — wouldn’t that give the athletes an even greater incentive to celebrate accomplishments? Funny how those people who who act as if sports is life and death would deny athletes their joy for defying death, as it were.

My view on the matter now is that if a guy hits a homer he should be able to celebrate it. If a pitcher strikes a guy out, he should be able to celebrate it. If a team makes the playoffs, no matter how low their seed and no matter the manner in which the accomplishment is achieved short of their competitors going down in a plane crash, they should be able to celebrate if they so choose.

So enjoy your hangovers this morning, Houston Astros.

And That Happened: Sunday’s scores and highlights


Diamondbacks 5, Astros 3: The Astros lost but, in the course of the loss, they learned the Rangers won and that was all Houston needed to clinch the wild card. No better way to evade beat writers’ questions about what went wrong out there than to be in the process of getting roaring drunk and thinking about playoff baseball, right? And come back in a bit, as I’m going to have a post up later in which I explain why it’s totally cool for a team to have a champagne celebration after clinching a mere wild card. Which some people think is lame.

Rangers 9, Angels 2: Cole Hamels was supposed to be a pickup for 2016 but, in his final start of 2015, he pitched the Rangers to the division title with a complete game. Adrian Beltre‘s homer and three RBI and the Angels’ craptastic bullpen, which uncorked a six-run seventh inning, didn’t help.

Orioles 9, Yankees 4: Joe Girardi whined a bit about having to start this game at 3pm, saying that an all-important game 162 shouldn’t be decided in long shadows. Hey Joe: if you had won either Game 160 or 161 on Saturday this game wouldn’t have mattered to you. Or if you had used your roster in a manner that suggested some manner of urgency, which you didn’t do in any of the games in this series against Baltimore, it wouldn’t have mattered either. And, of course, it ultimately didn’t matter thanks to the Astros’ loss. Wild Card game in the Bronx tomorrow. Viva long shadows.

Dodgers 6, Padres 3: Clayton Kershaw faced 13 batters in his final tuneup before the playoffs. He struck out seven of them. Yeah, gonna say he’s tuned up nicely. That gave him 301 strikeouts for the year. Before yesterday baseball had not had a 300-strikeout pitcher since 2002, when both Randy Johnson and Curt Schilling did it.

Braves 6, Cardinals 0; Braves 2, Cardinals 0: After a span of 24 winless starts stretching back to May 17, Shelby Miller finally gets a win. This is exactly the sort of thing which should set him on the right track and really help him in his next few starts.

Oh. Wait. Damn.

Phillies 7, Marlins 2: The game didn’t matter a bit in the standings but it mattered for Dee Gordon, who went 3-for-4 with a homer and a double and ended the season with a .333 average and the batting title thanks to Bryce Harper‘s 1-for-4 in the Mets-Nats game. Gordon bomes the first NL player to lead the league in batting average and stolen bases (.333/58) in the same season since Jackie Robinson did it in 1949. Which, wow.

Pirates 4, Reds 0: 98 wins and the Pirates are still playing a one-and-done game on Wednesday and needed this win just to clinch home field for that game. Man, the NL Central was rough this year.

Rockies 7, Giants 3: Down 3-0 in the ninth, the Rockies rallied for seven. Pretty sure the entire 2015 Rockies highlight reel will just be a quickly-burned DVD of that inning.

Tigers 6, White Sox 0: It was a year to forget for Detroit, but at least it ended with a young pitcher acquired in a mid-season white flag trade pitching a nice game. The pitcher was Daniel Norris who allowed one-hit over five innings. The outing allowed the Tigers to think a bit about the future.

Indians 3, Red Sox 1: And on the last day of the season the Indians move above .500. What a weird year for them. Such a talented team which had so many issues putting it together in the first half and, later, when it mattered most.

Cubs 3, Brewers 1: Chicago ended the regular season with a three-game sweep in Milwaukee and forced the Pirates to win one for home field advantage in the wild card. Regular season momentum doesn’t really mean much in the playoffs, but if it makes the Cubs feel better between now and Wednesday to say they have it, all the better for them.

Royals 6, Twins 1: Like I said: momentum doesn’t much matter, but on the off chance it actually does, Johnny Cueto has to feel OK, having allowed one run over five innings. We’ll forget for a second that it came against a deflated, recently-eliminated, spit squad Twins lineup.

Mariners 3, Athletics 2: After the game Mariners manager Lloyd McClendon tossed his cap into the crowd. Which is fine as it’s highly unlikely that he’ll be needed it next year. Not that I can act all smug given that I was one of those loonies who though the Mariners would make the World Series.

Mets 1, Nationals 0: Like Clayton Kershaw, Jacob deGrom was merely tuning up for the NLDS. He’s running just fine too, having tossed four shutout innings with seven strikeouts. They were no-hit innings too, actually, but it’s not like Terry Collins was going to leave him out there for that sort of thing with the playoffs looming. Curtis Granderson‘s eighth inning solo shot was the only scoring. The Nationals, finally, have been put out of their misery and can go home and wonder about what in the hell happened to them this season.

Rays 12, Blue Jays 3: Mark Buehrle was supposed to come in and pitch two innings to get his 200 for the year and then retire. Which would’ve been a neat thing for him given that he’d tossed 200+ innings for 14 straight years before that. He couldn’t escape the first inning, though, as first the Jays’ defense and then his ability to get dudes out disappeared. Oh well. One crap inning doesn’t negate a first-ballot Hall of Very Good career.

And with that another regular season is in the books. Another season of 8, 12, or (usually) 15-game days. Of flipping TV channels or radio stations or clicking between websites and between games. Games which, compared to the other 2,400 or so that happen during a season, mean nothing. But mean everything. Games which can be enjoyed and savored for a bit if your team won and enjoyed and easily forgotten if your team lost. The easy listening soundtrack of the past six months now fades away and in its place comes a 30-day burst of hardcore intensity.

And it’ll be a lot of fun. The playoffs are the point of it all, right? Assuming, that is, baseball has to have a point. Maybe it does, but it’s an assumption that, the older I get, is less and less necessary for me to hold in order for me to enjoy it.

Thanks for another good season, everyone.