Reacting to the Hall of Fame Results

For the first time since 1999, a Hall of Fame class will feature three first-ballot selections. Compared to last year's lackluster results, this 2014 election cycle was a heartening development. But a closer examination of the percentages reveals some puzzling issues and inconsistencies.

Greg Maddux (97.2%): So we won't have a unanimous Hall of Fame selection until Mike Trout.

Tom Glavine (91.9%): He obviously deserves this honor, but hypothetically, if Glavine, Curt Schilling, and Mike Mussina had all played for the same team, Glavine would have been the third-best pitcher in that rotation.

Frank Thomas (83.7%): He spent more than half of his career games as a designated hitter and he's a first-ballot Hall of Famer. Edgar Martinez is confused.

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Craig Biggio (74.8%): Agonizingly, he fell just two votes short of making it. His induction is, and always has been, an inevitability -- so what is being accomplished by forcing him to wait another twelve months?

Mike Piazza (62.2%): He and Biggio were the only two holdover candidates to actually see their vote totals increase, so Piazza is headed in the right direction. He's the only player on this ballot besides the three inductees who actually got good news.

Jack Morris (61.5%): He falls off the ballot after exhausting his 15 years of eligibility. To some extent, this is just delaying the inevitable -- Morris is basically a lock to be inducted by the Veteran's Committee in a few years. But this way, the BBWAA's high standards.haven't been compromised. It's a win-win result: Morris will get his plaque without lowering the bar for future candidates.

Jeff Bagwell (54.3%): Ridiculously, support for Bagwell dropped by five percent. There is no proof that he ever used a banned substance. He never failed a drug test and wasn't mentioned in the Mitchell Report. So nearly half of the baseball writers appear willing to exclude a player from the Hall of Fame based on nothing but speculation and rumor. That's the most significant (and disappointing) takeaway from this year's voting.

Tim Raines (46.1%): Fell back under 50%, but he has eight more years of eligibility. Raines' case is gathering momentum.

Roger Clemens (35.4%): Even fewer votes than last year. So the people in charge of honoring the best players in the history of baseball are just flat-out refusing to honor two of the best players in the history of baseball.

Barry Bonds (34.7%): Apparently Barry Bonds did more to "damage the integrity of the sport" than  Hall of Fame racists like Ty Cobb and Cap Anson, who helped perpetuate the segregationist policies that denied Satchel Paige and Oscar Charleston and Josh Gibson the right to play major league baseball.

Lee Smith (29.9%): Relief pitchers have the easiest job in baseball, so the Hall's standard at the position should be extremely high. Smith doesn't meet that standard.

Curt Schilling (29.2%): Twice the pitcher Jack Morris was; half the votes Jack Morris got.

Edgar Martinez (25.2%): The year Frank Thomas was elected on the first ballot, Martinez's support dropped by ten percentage points. Figure that one out.

Alan Trammell (20.8%): He deserves more than this. Trammell had a higher career on-base percentage than Cal Ripken Jr., Ernie Banks, and Robin Yount; he had eight excellent offensive seasons and was the league's best position player in 1987. He should be one of the most-debated candidates on the ballot. Instead, he's just a footnote.

Mike Mussina (20.3%): This result was the one most disconnected from reality. Why will it take Mussina a decade longer to reach Cooperstown than Glavine? There's no good answer to that question.

Jeff Kent (15.2%): Like Trammell, Kent was almost completely overlooked in this crowded field. He has a solid case, but those calling him the best offensive second baseman ever are incorrectly placing him ahead of Rogers Hornsby, Jackie Robinson, Nap Lajoie, and maybe even a few others.

Fred McGriff (11.7%): Very close, but only one season with an OPS over 1.000 during this hitter-friendly era? Not going to cut it at the first base position.

Mark McGwire (11.0%): He's the only notable name from the Steroid Era to openly admit the truth about his drug use. And he's being completely ignored by a voting bloc that claims to care about morality and character. What kind of message does that send?

Larry Walker (10.2%): His ludicrous 1997 season alone is worth 10.2% of the vote. The writers aren't doing their homework on Walker.

Don Mattingly (8.2%): On this stacked ballot, even 8.2% for Mattingly is too much.

Sammy Sosa (7.2%): Among the voters, his connections to performance-enhancing drugs render his 609 career homers irrelevant. But Sosa's exile isn't nearly the same as Bonds' or Clemens'. Though his peak was incredible, his cumulative performance was borderline at best for the Hall of Fame. His career OBP (.344), OPS (.878), and OPS+ (128) weren't elite for a corner outfielder in the Steroid Era who didn't provide much value away from the plate. Larry Walker, for example, easily bests Sosa in each of those three categories (.400, .965, 141) with a similar peak and better defense and baserunning. Sosa wouldn't be a slam-dunk candidate even if he had been clean.

Rafael Palmeiro (4.4%): Despite being one of only four players with at least 3,000 hits and 500 homers, Palmeiro has now fallen off the ballot entirely by receiving less than 5% of the vote, thanks to an infamous failed drug test. But like Sosa, Palmeiro might not be worthy of the Hall just based on performance alone. He never had a significant peak -- like McGriff, he only had one season with an OPS over 1.000. He played his entire career in hitter-friendly home ballparks. And his career OPS (.885) and OPS+ (132) aren't impressive relative to his contemporaries, especially at his position. It's too easy to name other first basemen and DHs from his era who were significantly better: Frank Thomas, Albert Pujols, Jeff Bagwell, Jim Thome, Edgar Martinez, and Mark McGwire, for instance. Palmeiro is the perfect example of why arbitrary milestones like 3,000 hits and 500 homers should not be treated like magic numbers when it comes to the Hall of Fame.

Cooperstown Candidates: The Best of the Rest

The Hall of Fame's voting process has numerous problems, but perhaps the most pressing one is the growing number of deserving names on an increasingly-crowded ballot. There are at least 15 candidates that warrant discussion this year, but the baseball writers are limited to voting for a maximum of just ten. Because of that restricting rule, there will inevitably be a handful of worthy players at the bottom of the ballot who won't get the support they deserve. The following four players, for instance, will all fall significantly short of election to the Hall of Fame in 2014 -- but each of them has a strong case for induction.

Tim Raines

Raines had two elite skills that made him one of the best players of the 1980s and a productive player into the 1990s. The first was his ability to get on base, which he did at a career .385 rate, better than some of his more notable peers at his position (including Carl Yastrzemski, Willie Stargell, and Jim Rice). The second was his baserunning ability: he stole at least 70 bases six different times and led the league in that category four of those times. He has the fifth-most career steals ever (808), and perhaps more impressively, he was only caught 146 times. That 84.7% success rate ranks as the second-best ever among all base-stealers with at least 300 attempts.

And though he was a historically-good baserunner, Raines was not a stereotypical slap hitter. He hit 430 career doubles, more than Willie Stargell or Mike Schmidt. With a career OPS+ of 123, his offensive production was comparable to that of Ernie Banks and Paul Molitor. From 1981 to 1987, he hit .310/.396/.448 while averaging 72 steals, 79 walks, and 103 runs scored per season. The result of all this production: a career worth almost 70 Wins Above Replacement. The only left fielders with significantly more WAR than Tim Raines are Barry Bonds, Ted Williams, Rickey Henderson, and Carl Yastrzemski.

Perhaps the best way to visualize the value of Raines' career is a straight-up comparison to another corner outfielder who was elected to the Hall of Fame on the first ballot: Tony Gwynn. Unlike Raines, Gwynn earned glory with a .338 batting average, eight batting titles, and over 3,000 hits. But their total production is eerily similar. Gwynn had a career .388 OBP and reached base 3,955 times; Raines had a .385 OBP and reached base 3,977 times in a similar number of games. Gwynn had a seemingly large edge in total bases, but that statistic does not include walks, hit by pitches, or net stolen bases. If you factor in those numbers, Raines actually gained more bases in his career (5,805) than Gwynn (5,267).

Raines is the second-best leadoff hitter of all time and one of the best left fielders and base-stealers ever. He can be reasonably compared to Tony Gwynn, a first-ballot Hall of Famer. But only half of the BBWAA electorate voted for him last year. That needs to change.

Edgar Martinez

There are only 18 players in baseball history with a career batting average over .300, career on-base percentage over .400, and career slugging percentage over .500 (in a minimum of 8,000 plate appearances). Edgar Martinez is one of them, thanks to his .312/.418/.515 line. Additionally: among all hitters in baseball history with at least 2,000 games played, Edgar Martinez has the 12th-best on-base percentage. Of the 11 players with a higher OBP, nine are already in the Hall of Fame and the other two (Barry Bonds and Frank Thomas) should be headed there. Martinez ranks ahead of hitters like Stan Musial, Mel Ott, Manny Ramirez, and Albert Pujols in this category.

He was also one of the best hitters in baseball for over a decade. Between 1990 and 2003, the only players who got on base at a higher rate than Martinez were Barry Bonds and Frank Thomas. He had eleven seasons with an OBP over .400, leading the league in that category three times. His career OPS of .933 is tied for the 33rd-best mark ever, higher than Hank Aaron's and Frank Robinson's. His career OPS+ of 147 is equal to Mike Schmidt's and Willie McCovey's. Martinez was indisputably one of the best hitters of his era and one of the 30 or 40 best hitters of all time.

Yet support for his Hall of Fame candidacy hasn't budged upwards since his debut on the ballot four years ago. The reason is both singular and obvious: he was a designated hitter. He provided no defensive (or baserunning) value, and was therefore a "one-dimensional" player. While this is a valid counter-argument, it's just not enough to keep Martinez out of the Hall. First of all: his "one-dimensional" career still produced 68 Wins Above Replacement, roughly the same value provided by Eddie Murray and Ernie Banks. Second: Paul Molitor is already in the Hall despite having spent almost half of his career at DH, and Frank Thomas is about to get in despite having spent over half of his career at DH; those precedents should help Martinez's case. And third: the Hall has already inducted five relief pitchers, which are even more specialized and "one-dimensional" than designated hitters. A hitter as good as Martinez just belongs in the Hall, regardless of what position he did or didn't play.

Larry Walker

Like Edgar Martinez, Larry Walker is one of the 18 members of the career .300/.400/.500 club. The proud owner of a .313/.400/.565 batting line, Walker also owns the 16th-best OPS of all time, just a shade behind Frank Thomas and Stan Musial. He has the 11th-most WAR among all right fielders and the top ten are all in the Hall of Fame. He was a complete all-around player with 230 career stolen bases at a 75% success rate, seven Gold Gloves in right field, and an elite throwing arm. During his extended peak between 1994 and 2004, his OPS was 1.036 and he won three batting titles. In 1997, he earned the MVP award by hitting a ridiculous .366/.452/.720 with 49 homers, 33 steals, 130 RBIs, 143 runs scored, 409 total bases, and a league-leading 9.8 WAR. Despite all these remarkable achievements, he is unlikely to ever make the Hall of Fame.

Walker's candidacy -- and entire career -- is compromised in the eyes of some because he spent the heart of his playing days in mile-high Coors Field before the humidor was installed. Like most other Colorado Rockies of the era, Walker's numbers were therefore inflated by the hyper-friendly offensive environment in which he played. Roughly 31% of his career plate appearances came at Coors, and his cumulative numbers there look like they belong in a video game: a .381 batting average, .462 on-base percentage, and .710 slugging percentage. That's Babe Ruth with a higher batting average. Because those numbers look so utterly cartoonish, many Hall voters can't take Walker's case seriously.But that's not really fair, for a number of reasons:

1. Walker's career numbers away from Coors are still very good (.282/.372/.501, equivalent to or better than the overall numbers of right fielders like Reggie Jackson and Al Kaline).
2. Walker had seasons in which his stats away from Coors were just as good as his home stats (in his 1997 MVP campaign, for example, his home OPS was 1.169 and his road OPS was 1.176).
3. Walker played two full seasons in Coors after the humidor was installed, and his numbers there were still elite even after the change: a 1.124 home OPS in 2002 and a 1.021 home OPS in 2003.
4. Walker's context-neutral statistics, which adjust for the inflation caused by Coors, are still excellent. His 141 OPS+ is in the same neighborhood as Vladimir Guerrero (140) and Reggie Jackson (139). Baseball Reference's neutralized batting line for Walker (putting his numbers into the context of an average offensive environment) is .294/.378/.530. Still Hall of Fame numbers, especially for a five-tool right fielder.
5. Perhaps most importantly, the Hall has never used home-road splits as an excuse to keep players out. Hitters like Jim Rice, Carl Yastrzemski, Billy Williams, and Chuck Klein all benefited from their friendly home ballparks, but all have plaques in Cooperstown. Excluding Walker from Cooperstown because of Coors Field would be inconsistent. He should be in.

Mark McGwire

Only nine players in baseball history have a higher career OPS (.982) than Mark McGwire. Only ten players have a higher career OPS+ (163). Only seven have a higher career slugging percentage (.588). Only nine hit more home runs (583). And no one has ever hit home runs at a higher rate (one per 10.6 at-bats). It's easy to marginalize McGwire's career because he has admitted using performance-enhancing drugs, and he may be in risk of falling off the ballot this year entirely. But his achievements cannot be overlooked.

As a 23-year-old rookie in 1987, he led the league in home runs (49) and slugging percentage (.618) along with a .987 OPS. From 1988 to 1991, he only hit .233 but still managed to be valuable by averaging 32 homers and 90 walks per season. In 1992, he led the league in slugging percentage and OPS+, but two injury-plagued years followed. Then, from 1995 to 2000, he was unstoppable. His cumulative line across those six seasons was .289/.442/.706 with a 192 OPS+ and an average of 53 homers and 113 walks per season. He broke Roger Maris' single-season record for home runs, with 70; he also hit 65, and 58, and 52. Then he abruptly fell off a cliff in 2001, and retired. The career was short -- not even 2,000 games or 8,000 plate appearances. However, he achieved a degree of offensive dominance that has hardly ever been matched in the history of the sport. He will never be in the Hall of Fame, but like Tim Raines, Edgar Martinez, and Larry Walker, his on-the-field record suggests he belongs regardless of whether or not the baseball writers actually put him there.

Cooperstown Candidates: Craig Biggio and Mike Piazza

Compared to some of the other hitters on the Hall of Fame ballot, Craig Biggio and Mike Piazza don't exactly have overwhelming offensive numbers. The two of them combined for exactly zero MVP awards, zero batting crowns, and zero home run titles. Neither of them led their league in WAR in any season. A whopping 17 players on this ballot have a higher career OPS than Biggio, and 15 have a higher career WAR than Piazza. And yet you'd still be hard-pressed to find a reason to keep either of them out of the Hall of Fame.

Biggio's offense isn't impressive in a vacuum: a career .281/.363/.433 hitter with an OPS just below .800. But for a player who spent almost 2,000 games at second base (plus another 800 combined at catcher and the outfield), that production was elite. His .796 OPS and 112 OPS+ are comparable to the career marks of Ryne Sandberg (.795 and 114) and Roberto Alomar (.814 and 116), both of whom were recently inducted into the Hall as second basemen. Biggio also played more games than any other second baseman in history, an impressive feat considering that position's notoriously detrimental impact on career length.

It was this longevity that helped Biggio reach the fabled 3,000-hit milestone, a number attained by only three other second basemen ever (and just 28 players total). And it's not as though he reached that mark by beating out singles for 20 years. Biggio ranks 32nd all-time in career extra-base hits with 1,014, the most by any second baseman. Comparatively, that's only 27 fewer than Pete Rose, who had the benefit of 1,200 additional hits and 3,000 additional plate appearances. Biggio's career home run total of 291 isn't mind-boggling, but it's the third-highest home run total among all second basemen. Most notably of all, he ranks fifth all-time in career doubles among all players ever, trailing only Tris Speaker, Pete Rose, Stan Musial, and Ty Cobb in that category. For a middle infielder who derived much of his value from longevity, he produced excellent power numbers.

Along with extra-base hits, Biggio offered a wide array of skills that have traditionally been overlooked. He scored 1,844 career runs, most among all second basemen and the 15th-highest total among all players ever. He stole 414 bases at a solid 77% success rate. He was bizarrely good at avoiding double plays; once, in 1997, he came to the plate 744 times and didn't ground into a single one. And he perfected the art of reaching base by the hit-by-pitch -- he accumulated the second-most HBPs ever, and led the league in that category five times.

It's misleading to suggest that Biggio was merely a good-but-never-elite player whose performance never rose to Hall of Fame standards. Across the nine seasons between 1991 and 1999, he hit .299/.391/.451 and was one of the five most valuable players in baseball. In both 1997 and 1998, he posted an OPS over .900, stole at least 47 bases, hit at least 20 homers, and was a top-five MVP candidate. He played key defensive positions for two decades and accumulated over 3,000 hits, a third of which went for extra bases. As one of the best up-the-middle players of the last two decades, Craig Biggio is a fairly obvious selection for the Hall of Fame.

And using that same logic, so is Mike Piazza. Like Biggio, Piazza was a valuable player because of the excellent offense he produced at a position typically occupied by poor hitters (in this case, catcher). But unlike Biggio, Piazza is actually the best offensive player that his position has ever seen. No catcher can match his career home run total of 427, or his .545 slugging percentage, or his .922 OPS, or his 143 OPS+. Those are all records among catchers, all held by Piazza, most by a fairly wide margin. His 1997 season ranks as the single best offensive campaign any catcher has ever had. His career line of .308/.377/.545 would make him elite at any position; at catcher, it makes him a god.

At his peak, Piazza was not merely the best-hitting catcher in baseball -- he was one of the league's best hitters, period. During the ten-year period from 1993 to 2002, Piazza ranked as the third-most valuable player in baseball (behind only Barry Bonds and Jeff Bagwell) because of a cumulative .322/.389/.579 line and an average of 35 homers per season. Not once during that decade did his OPS slip below .900. In 1995, he was the best offensive player in the league (he hit .346/.400/.606 with 32 homers and led the league in OPS+). The same was true in 1997 (he hit .362/.431/.638 with 40 homers and led the league in OPS+ again). He finished in the top four in MVP voting four different times, including two second-place finishes.

Piazza's candidacy is far from flawless, thanks to defensive shortcomings and a shorter career that failed to last 2,000 games. But thanks to his incredible bat, Piazza still ranks as the fifth-best catcher of all time according to WAR, in a virtual tie with Yogi Berra. He trails only Johnny Bench, Gary Carter, Ivan Rodriguez, and Carlton Fisk, all of whom had the benefit of several hundred additional games. And not one of those four had a career OPS within 100 points of Piazza's. When you redefine expectations for offense at your position, you should be a Hall of Famer. Piazza's Cooperstown credentials should not be in question.

Both Biggio and Piazza were among the best players in the league during their era and among the best players at their positions historically. That is literally the definition of a Hall of Famer. Yet somehow, neither one was elected to the Hall of Fame last year. That's a wrong that needs to be corrected in 2014. Second basemen aren't supposed to thrive as long as Biggio did. Catchers aren't supposed to hit as well as Piazza did. Greatness of that caliber deserves to be recognized, and better late than never.

My Ballot:
1. Barry Bonds
2. Roger Clemens
3. Greg Maddux
4. Jeff Bagwell
5. Frank Thomas
6. Mike Mussina
7. Tom Glavine
8. Curt Schilling
9. Mike Piazza
10. Craig Biggio

Cooperstown Candidate: Curt Schilling

Curt Schilling is in serious danger of being lost in the shuffle on an increasingly-crowded Hall of Fame ballot. After a disappointing debut last year (he was supported by fewer than 40% of the writers), he now has to contend for votes with newcomers Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, and Mike Mussina, with Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, and John Smoltz all set to join the field next year, and Roger Clemens still hanging around. Schilling's low career win total (216) may force him to wait for years at the back of this growing queue for induction. But even among this distinguished company, he still clearly stands out as a pitcher worthy of a plaque in Cooperstown.

What Schilling lacked in quantity (only 216 wins and 3,261 innings), he made up for in quality. Few Hall of Famers can match the efficiency of his production. His career WHIP of 1.14 ranks 47th all-time, ahead of all the other greats on this year's ballot (Clemens, Maddux, Glavine, and Mussina). His strikeout rate of 8.6 per nine innings ranks as the 12th-best mark among all non-active pitchers. And because he walked fewer than two batters per nine innings for his career, he retired with the best strikeout-to-walk ratio in modern baseball history (4.38). This ability to maximize strikeouts while limiting baserunners helped Schilling post a career 3.46 ERA and 127 ERA+ (both of which are better than the career marks of Glavine and Mussina) across 20 seasons that spanned the entirety of the Steroid Era.

Schilling also enjoyed one of the most impressive peaks of any pitcher in recent memory. During the full decade between 1995 and 2004, he posted a 3.25 ERA and 1.07 WHIP in about 212 innings per season. He threw 64 complete games during this stretch, the most in baseball, and struck out more than 300 hitters three times, a feat equaled only by Randy Johnson, Nolan Ryan, and Sandy Koufax. He didn't win a Cy Young but finished as the runner-up in the voting three times, losing to teammate Randy Johnson (twice) and Johan Santana. These ten seasons were worth a total of about 60 Wins Above Replacement, roughly the value of Andy Pettitte's entire 18-year career.

Schilling's stellar regular season production is augmented by his work in the postseason, which is almost unmatched in baseball history. He made a total of 19 playoff starts (133.1 innings) and allowed two runs or fewer in 16 of them (with a 2.33 ERA overall). Five times, Schilling started a postseason elimination game; his ERA in those starts was 1.37 and his team won all five of them. That includes his outing in Game 7 of the 2001 World Series, as well as his famous "bloody sock" performance in Game 6 of the 2004 ALCS. Schilling won three titles, earned a World Series MVP award, and saw virtually all of his numbers improve drastically in the playoffs relative to the regular season. If anyone's Hall of Fame candidacy deserves a boost from glory won in October, it's Schilling.

Ultimately, the only way to nitpick his career is to point out that it wasn't as good as Greg Maddux's or Roger Clemens'. But that's not exactly fair, because nobody besides Maddux and Clemens can meet that impossible standard. Schilling comfortably belongs to the elite tier occupied by the likes of Mike Mussina and Tom Glavine -- not historically dominant, yet still markedly better than the average Hall of Famer. Schilling accumulated 80 WAR in his career, a total achieved by only 20 pitchers in the Hall of Fame. He had a decade-long run of excellence at the height of the most hitter-friendly era in history. He is one of only 16 pitchers with at least 3,000 career strikeouts. And few players can claim to match his impact on the outcomes of multiple playoff series and championships. If that isn't a Hall of Fame career, then really, what is?

My Ballot So Far:
1. Barry Bonds
2. Roger Clemens
3. Greg Maddux
4. Jeff Bagwell
5. Frank Thomas
6. Mike Mussina
7. Tom Glavine
8. Curt Schilling

Cooperstown Candidates: Tom Glavine and Mike Mussina

Though he didn't achieve historical dominance, Tom Glavine is universally accepted as a Hall of Fame pitcher. He won 305 games in a career that spanned over two decades and almost 4,500 innings. He had a 3.30 ERA in 35 postseason starts. He was a two-time Cy Young Award winner and the 1995 World Series MVP. He was an excellent pitcher for a long time, and chances are he's about to become a first-ballot Hall of Famer, inducted alongside former teammate Greg Maddux and former manager Bobby Cox.

Objectively, Mike Mussina was just as good as Tom Glavine. He may have been even better. And yet, it will be years before Mussina makes it to Cooperstown, if he ever gets there at all.

There are three likely reasons for this discrepancy in perception between these two pitchers, and not one is satisfactory:

Career Wins
Glavine: 305
Mussina: 270

Cy Young Awards
Glavine: 2
Mussina: 0

World Series Titles
Glavine: 1
Mussina: 0

First of all: the wins. Glavine having more of them doesn't make him the better pitcher. Glavine has 35 more wins because he pitched almost 1,000 more innings than Mussina. And those innings have value. But the higher win total reflects a longer career, not a better career. Consider the fact that Mussina's winning percentage (.638) was better than Glavine's (.600), and better than most Hall of Fame pitchers, too.

Similarly, Glavine had five seasons in which he won at least 20 games; Mussina only had one such year. Again, this would seem to imply that Glavine was better, when actually, Mussina was just terribly unlucky. In the two strike-shortened seasons ('94 and '95), Mussina won 16 and 19 games. Had those been full seasons, he almost certainly would have reached the arbitrary plateau of 20. He won at least 18 games in four other seasons. A few breaks here and there, and Mussina could've easily had as many 20-win seasons as Glavine.

Then there's the Cy Young issue. Glavine won twice, and Mussina never won. There are a couple of problems here. One: Glavine only deserved one of those Cy Youngs (1991). In 1998, he only ranked fifth in the league in pitching WAR, and fourth in ERA. Along the same lines, Mussina probably should have won the Cy Young in 2001, when he led the league in pitching WAR and ranked second in ERA. Instead, Roger Clemens got the award because he won 20 games. So had the Cy Young Awards been doled out fairly, Glavine and Mussina would have each won one.

And lastly: the postseason. Glavine boasts an illustrious playoff career, including a 3.30 ERA in 35 postseason starts and the 1995 World Series MVP. Mussina's October record is mostly ignored. But it exists, and it's worth discussion. His 1997 playoff performance, for instance, was legendary. In four starts for the Orioles, he gave up a total of just four runs across 29 innings pitched, striking out 41 hitters. Those four starts came against the Seattle Mariners (their lineup included Ken Griffey Jr., Edgar Martinez, and Alex Rodriguez) and the Cleveland Indians (their lineup included Manny Ramirez and Jim Thome). The Orioles somehow lost both of Mussina's starts in the ALCS -- even though he surrendered just one run total across 15 innings -- so the impressive streak could not continue into the World Series.

With the Yankees, Mussina quietly enabled two of the most memorable postseason moments in baseball history. Derek Jeter's famous flip play, which preserved a 1-0 lead in Game 3 of the 2001 ALDS, would have had no meaning without Mussina's seven scoreless innings. And Aaron Boone's walk-off home run in Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS might have never happened without Mussina, who threw three scoreless innings out of the bullpen in the first relief appearance of his career. Altogether, he had a 3.42 ERA in 21 playoff starts (23 appearances) -- a better postseason ERA than the likes of Andy Pettitte and Jack Morris.

Glavine's only legitimate edge over Mussina is career length. He threw about 900 more innings. But Mussina's innings were of a higher quality. He struck out 7.1 batters per nine innings; Glavine only struck out 5.3. So despite Glavine's large innings advantage, Mussina actually had more career strikeouts (2,813 to 2,607). Mussina also had the better walk rate (2.0 to 3.1) and the better WHIP (1.19 to 1.31).

Even though Mussina was clearly better at notching strikeouts and preventing baserunners, Glavine's ERA (3.54) was nominally better than Mussina's (3.68). That's not unexpected, given the contexts in which they pitched. Mussina spent his entire career in the brutal AL East; Glavine had the benefit of facing the pitcher every time through the order, and Andruw Jones was his center fielder for over a decade. Unsurprisingly, Mussina had the slightly-better ERA+ (123 to 118), confirming the idea that he was likely the better pitcher.

That 3.68 career ERA may not look Hall of Fame-worthy at first. But for a pitcher who spent his entire career in the AL East during the Steroid Era, it's an excellent number. In 2000, for example, Mussina's ERA was 3.79 -- not a spectacular figure by normal standards. But in 2000, that was the third-best ERA in the league; the average ERA in the AL that year was close to 5.00. Mussina's ERA ranked in the top five in the league seven different times; Glavine, five times. Mussina's ERA ranked in the top ten in the league 11 different times; Glavine, eight times.

After factoring in everything, Baseball Reference prefers Mussina's career:

Career WAR
Mussina: 82.7
Glavine: 74

Mike Mussina is the pitching version of Jeff Bagwell on this Hall of Fame ballot. He's vastly underrated, mostly because he was plagued by terrible luck. He spent his entire career pitching against good offenses in small ballparks during the most hitter-friendly era in history. He didn't win the Cy Young he deserved. He finished tantalizingly short of 20-win seasons on multiple occasions, partly because of the untimely strike. He had a historically good winning percentage, yet never won a World Series. The year he pitched well enough to carry his team to a championship, his offense forgot to score runs for him. The Yankees won titles in 2000 and 2009 but Mussina was a Yankee from 2001 to 2008. Once, he even came within one strike of finishing a perfect game at Fenway Park -- until Carl Everett's last-second single:



Mussina and Glavine were both consistent, durable, and excellent pitchers throughout an era dominated by hitters. They should both be inducted into the Hall of Fame as soon as possible. But knowing Mussina's luck, he probably shouldn't hold his breath.

My Ballot So Far:
1. Barry Bonds
2. Roger Clemens
3. Greg Maddux
4. Jeff Bagwell
5. Frank Thomas
6. Mike Mussina
7. Tom Glavine

Cooperstown Candidates: Jeff Bagwell and Frank Thomas

Frank Thomas deserves to be in the Hall of Fame based solely on his first seven full seasons in the majors and nothing else. From 1991 to 1997, he was one of the three best players in baseball despite offering no defensive or baserunning value -- because he literally hit like Lou Gehrig:

Thomas, 1991-97: .330/.452/.604, 182 OPS+
Lou Gehrig, career: .340/.447/.632, 179 OPS+

In those seven seasons, Thomas was worth 44.5 Wins Above Replacement, roughly equivalent to the value of David Ortiz's entire career. He hit 250 home runs, won back-to-back MVPs in '93 and '94, and led the league in OPS, OBP, and walks four times each. His worst OPS during this stretch was .975, and that figure still led the league in 1992. Much like Sandy Koufax, it's possible that Thomas could have retired after 1997 and still been elected to the Hall of Fame anyway, given the absurd dominance he achieved immediately upon reaching the major leagues.

Unfortunately, Thomas could not maintain this torrid pace beyond those seven years (or we'd obviously be talking about him as one of the greatest players of all time). Over the final 11 seasons of his career, he never again led the league in a major statistical category, and he only had one more MVP-caliber year (he finished 2nd in the voting in 2000). During this injury-plagued decade, he hit like a mere mortal: .276/.389/.515 cumulatively, essentially matching Fred McGriff's career line. He spent most of this part of his career as a DH, continuing to offer no defensive value. He did at least last long enough to hit 521 home runs, thus surpassing that critical milestone.

So Thomas' case is ultimately very simple. For the first 1,000 games of his career, he hit like Lou Gehrig; for the final 1,200 games, he hit like Fred McGriff. That's more than enough to warrant a plaque in the Hall. It doesn't matter that he didn't provide any defensive or baserunning value along the way; his bat alone fueled a career worth over 70 WAR, a total that 13 of the 18 Hall of Fame first basemen did not reach. His final batting line was an exceptional .301/.419/.555 and his .974 OPS ranks 14th among all hitters ever (in a virtual tie with Stan Musial). Thomas was one of the best hitters in a generation of great hitters. Even though this is his first appearance on the ballot, he's got an excellent shot at being elected to Cooperstown a month from now. Especially considering his outspoken comments against steroid use during his playing days, which will appeal to the moral arbiters within the voting body. Like Greg Maddux, Thomas is a slam-dunk statistical case who also boasts a clean personal reputation.

If Thomas does in fact get his plaque this year, the voters will be passing over another first baseman on the ballot who has been patiently waiting his turn: Jeff Bagwell. He's already been voted on and rejected three times, and this year won't produce a better result. He's bound to be leapfrogged by Thomas. Based on this clear-cut gap in perception between Thomas (perhaps a first-ballot guy) and Bagwell (languishing in Cooperstown purgatory), one might assume that there's a corresponding gap between the respective quality of their careers. That's actually not the case -- in fact, it was Bagwell who had the more valuable career. He's just criminally underrated.

While Thomas generated all of his value with his bat, Bagwell was a far more well-rounded player. We don't have to pretend that he was a defensive whiz at first base, but he did play over 18,000 innings there in his career. Thomas, on the other hand, played just over 8,000 innings at first, with the rest of his time coming at DH. It's difficult to quantify, but there's significant value in the extra 10,000 innings that Bagwell spent on the field over Thomas.

Bagwell also had a huge edge on the basepaths. Thomas, not a small man, was one of the worst baserunners of all time. But Bagwell stole 202 bases in his career and had two 30-steal seasons. He led the league in runs scored three times.

And Bagwell was the more durable player. He was a healthy, above-average hitter in 14 of his 15 seasons, the lone exception being his injury-plagued 2005 in which he was diagnosed with an arthritic shoulder that forced his retirement. Bagwell was worth at least 3 WAR in 14 different seasons; Thomas only managed 11 such seasons despite a longer career. Yes, Bagwell's baseball life span was relatively short, but that fact is mitigated by how hyper-productive he was throughout his playing days.

Thomas was better offensively, but Bagwell wasn't far behind: a .297/.408/.540 hitter with a .948 OPS that ranks 21st all-time, just ahead of Mel Ott. Bagwell more than compensates for Thomas' small edge in offense with his added value in the field and on the basepaths. Their respective career WAR totals reflect this fact:

Bagwell: 79.5 WAR in 2,150 games
Thomas: 73.6 WAR in 2,322 games

Possibly the most common criticism of Bagwell is the claim that he was merely a consistently good player who failed to achieve the kind of "greatness" that Frank Thomas did. Well, Bagwell actually had a dominant seven-year stretch of his own that was literally just as good as Thomas' legendary run:

Thomas, 1991-97: 44.5 WAR
Bagwell, 1994-2000: 44.6 WAR

Furthermore, Bagwell's best season was eerily similar to Thomas' best season (both came in the strike-shortened 1994 season, when they each won their league's MVP award):

Thomas, 1994: .353/.487/.729, 212 OPS+, 38 HRs
Bagwell, 1994: .368/.451/.750, 213 OPS+, 39 HRs

So yes, both Thomas and Bagwell achieved greatness. They just went about it in different ways. And they're both no-brainer Hall of Famers.

My Ballot So Far:
1. Barry Bonds
2. Roger Clemens
3. Greg Maddux
4. Jeff Bagwell
5. Frank Thomas

Cooperstown Candidates: Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux

As is the case with Barry Bonds, the candidacies of Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux require almost no critical thinking. Their Hall of Fame credentials aren't in question: they dominated the mound for two decades despite pitching in the most hitter-friendly period in the sport's history. No matter which yardstick you use to evaluate their careers -- traditional numbers or modern sabermetrics, peak value or longevity -- the ultimate conclusion is the same regardless: they are the two best pitchers of the post-integration era.

First, some key milestones. Most notably, both Maddux and Clemens are top-ten pitchers all-time in terms of career wins and career strikeouts. Both won more than 350 games, joining Warren Spahn as the only pitchers to surpass that win total in the post-World War Two era. And both easily surpassed the 3,000-strikeout benchmark: Clemens had 4,672, the third-most ever, and Maddux had 3,371, the 10th-most ever. The only other pitcher in baseball history who ranks in the top ten in both wins and strikeouts is Walter Johnson, who obviously pitched well before integration.

Their long-term excellence is also reflected by their career Wins Above Replacement totals. According to Baseball Reference, Clemens owns the third-most career WAR among all pitchers, and Maddux owns the eighth-most. The only other post-World War Two pitcher in the top eight is Tom Seaver. Fangraphs.com views the duo even more favorably: there, Clemens ranks first in career WAR, and Maddux is fourth. Either way, Clemens and Maddux appear to be the two best pitchers since integration.

That might seem like a disputable claim at first, mostly because it doesn't appear to be supported by plain old Earned Run Average. The career ERAs of Clemens (3.12) and Maddux (3.16) don't exactly stand out when compared to other dominant pitchers of the last half-century:

Tom Seaver: 2.86
Bob Gibson: 2.91
Warren Spahn: 3.09
Gaylord Perry: 3.11
Clemens: 3.12
Maddux: 3.16
Nolan Ryan: 3.19
Steve Carlton: 3.22

So why were Clemens and Maddux demonstrably better than these guys? Because of the context in which they pitched. The conditions for pitchers during the 1990s and 2000s were more unfavorable than they have been at any other point in baseball history. In 1964, for example, the league-average ERA was 3.58. In 1974, it was 3.63. But in 1984, the year Clemens made his first career start, the average was up to 3.81. In 1994, it was 4.51. And it reached its nadir in 2000, when the average ERA was 4.77. The average ERA! 4.77! That season, Clemens' ERA was 3.70, which doesn't look great by our standards -- but it was the second-best ERA in the league. Context is everything. A combination of different factors -- including steroids, better strength programs, expansion, and some smaller ballparks -- drastically tipped the competitive scales in favor of hitters during that generation. Taking that into account, the excellence sustained by Clemens and Maddux across the so-called Steroid Era is all the more impressive.

This is where ERA+ comes in handy, which adjusts for context and compares pitchers to their contemporaries. Here are the same names listed above, but this time ranked by ERA+ rather than raw ERA:

Clemens: 143
Maddux: 132
Tom Seaver: 127
Bob Gibson: 127
Warren Spahn: 119
Gaylord Perry: 117
Steve Carlton: 115
Nolan Ryan: 112

Clemens and Maddux are clearly superior. In fact, only three Hall of Famers have a better ERA+ than Clemens, and only twelve rank ahead of Maddux. The great majority of those pitchers did not play after World War Two. So yes, when factoring in excellence, longevity, and context, Clemens and Maddux had the two best pitching careers in the post-integration era.

What really proves this point is their peak performances, which were extraordinary. Maddux's peak is easier to pinpoint because his best years were conveniently bunched together. Across the seven seasons between 1992 and 1998, he posted a 2.15 ERA, 190 ERA+, and 0.97 WHIP. He won four consecutive Cy Young awards (a feat equaled only by Randy Johnson) and four ERA titles. About a quarter of his starts were complete games. Contained within this seven-year peak was a two-year uber-peak in 1994 and 1995, in which his ERAs were, astoundingly, 1.56 and 1.63. According to ERA+, those were two of the five best pitching seasons ever.

Clemens' exact peak is more difficult to identify-- probably because he peaked three different times with three different teams, scattering his best seasons throughout his long career. From 1986 to 1992, Clemens had a seven-year stretch of Maddux-like dominance with the Red Sox; he averaged about 260 innings and 240 strikeouts per year with a 2.66 ERA, along with three Cy Young awards and an MVP. A few years later he had a brief, epic run with the Blue Jays, when in 1996 and 1997 he threw a combined 500 innings with a 2.33 ERA, winning the Cy Young in both seasons. And in three years with the Astros at the end of his career, he posted a cumulative ERA of 2.40, set a personal best in regular-season ERA (1.87), and won his final Cy Young -- all of which he did after his 40th birthday. His "worst" stretch as a pitcher was his stint with the Yankees, and he still won a Cy Young and a World Series with them. It all adds up to five strikeout titles, seven ERA titles, and a record seven Cy Young awards. He probably should have won ten.

Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux are the kind of Hall of Famers that make other Hall of Famers look bad. Both should be inducted unanimously. Unfortunately, only Maddux will be elected to Cooperstown this time around. Clemens will be ignored by the sanctimonious voting bloc for the second consecutive year, as some kind of punishment for whatever drugs he probably took. When the voters induct the "clean" guy (Maddux) while exiling the "dirty" one (Clemens), they'll likely frame it as a triumphant "statement" about the Hall of Fame's integrity. But ironically, they'll only be undermining the credibility of their institution. What's the point of a Baseball Hall of Fame that doesn't include Roger Clemens? And why should Greg Maddux value his membership in an organization that refuses to recognize his greatest contemporary?

My Ballot So Far:
1. Barry Bonds
2. Roger Clemens
3. Greg Maddux

Cooperstown Candidate: Barry Lamar Bonds

Barry Bonds' statistical record is mostly ignored when it comes to his Hall of Fame case. The debate over his candidacy has devolved into an argument about morality, not merit. As a result of this distracting steroids narrative, the baseball world is failing to appreciate Bonds' tremendous career and its place in history. Judging only by his on-the-field production, he's more than just a Hall of Famer -- he belongs in the pantheon reserved only for a handful of the sport's most dominant players. And here are the basic arguments for why that's true.

1. Bonds accumulated the second-most career Wins Above Replacement among all position players in baseball history, trailing only Babe Ruth. According to WAR, he was the best position player in his league in 11 different seasons. He reached base more times in his career than any other player in baseball history (5,599) except for Pete Rose, who had the benefit of more than 3,000 additional plate appearances. He has the third-most career runs scored (2,227). He has the fourth-most career runs batted in (1,996). And he has the fourth-most total bases (5,976).

2. Bonds is perhaps most (in)famous for hitting home runs. Lots of them. His holds the career record (762) and the single-season record (73 in 2001) for home runs. He hit 30 or more of them 14 times, and he hit 40 or more eight times. On average, he hit a home run once every 12.9 at-bats, the third-best rate all-time.

3. Bonds owns the 6th-best career on-base percentage (.444) in baseball history. He had the highest single-season OBP ever (.609 in 2004), as well as the second-highest (.581 in 2002). It bears repeating -- maybe you missed this statistic, because it was hidden within parentheses in the previous sentence -- that Bonds once had a single-season OBP of .609. As in, he got on base more than 60% of the time for an entire season. He also led the league in OBP ten times.

4. Bonds owns the 5th-best career slugging percentage (.607) in baseball history. He had the highest single-season slugging percentage ever (.863 in 2001), as well as the fourth-highest (.812 in 2004) and the fifth-highest (.800 in 2002). He also led the league in slugging seven times.

5. Bonds owns the 4th-best career on-base-plus-slugging percentage (1.051) in baseball history. In this category, he trails only the three best hitters to ever live: Babe Ruth, Ted Williams, and Lou Gehrig. He had the highest single-season OPS ever (1.421 in 2004), as well as the second-highest (1.381 in 2002), the fourth-highest (1.379 in 2004), and the eighth-highest (1.278 in 2003).

6. The significance of the last sentence in the previous paragraph is this: from 2001 to 2004, Bonds produced four of the eight best offensive seasons of all time (according to OPS). His cumulative triple-slash line for those four seasons was .349/.559/.809. In that four-year stretch, he won more MVP awards (four) than any player has ever won in his entire career. Bonds' ages during those four seasons: 36, 37, 38, 39.

7. Bonds' career adjusted-OPS (OPS+) is 182, meaning he was 82% better than the average hitter during his career. That figure ranks third-best all-time, behind only Babe Ruth and Ted Williams. He also had the best single-season OPS+ ever (268 in 2002), as well as the second-best (263 in 2004) and the third-best (259 in 2001). So according to OPS+, Bonds produced the three best offensive seasons of all time.

8. Bonds has more career walks than any player in baseball history (2,558, almost 400 more than anyone else). He owns the single-season record for walks (232 in 2004), as well as the record for second-most (198 in 2002) and third-most (177 in 2001). So Bonds produced the three most prolific walk seasons of all time. He also led the league in walks twelve times.

9. Bonds has more career intentional walks than any player in baseball history by a country mile (688, far ahead of Hank Aaron's 293 in second place). He owns the single-season record for intentional walks (120 in 2004), as well as the record for second-most (68 in 2002) and the record for third-most (61 in 2003). The most times any non-Bonds player has been intentionally walked in a season is just 45. He also led the league in intentional walks twelve times. Once, he was intentionally walked in the bottom of the ninth -- with the bases loaded.

10. Bonds is sometimes thought of exclusively as a San Francisco Giant. But his seven-year stint with the Pittsburgh Pirates was worth 50 WAR, roughly equal to the value of Orlando Cepeda's entire career.

11. Bonds is sometimes thought of exclusively as a slow, plodding, "one-dimensional" power hitter. That couldn't be further from the truth. His career batting average was .298 and he finished his career with 2,935 hits. He won two batting titles by hitting .370 and .362. He stole 514 bases in his career (the 33rd-most all-time, ahead of Ichiro Suzuki and Roberto Alomar) at a pretty good 78% success rate. He won seven Gold Gloves in the outfield and he led the league in assists by a left fielder six different times.

12. In 1996, Bonds joined the single-season 40-40 club by hitting 42 home runs and stealing 40 bases, a feat matched by only three other players. He's also a member of the career 300-homer/300-steal club, along with only seven other players. He's the only member of the 400-400 club. And he's the only member of the 500-500 club.

13. In the 2002 playoffs, Bonds set the record for most home runs in a single postseason with eight (which has since been tied by Carlos Beltran and Nelson Cruz), including four in the World Series. He hit so well that opposing teams just refused to pitch to him, so he also set the record for most walks in a single postseason with 27. His OBP in those playoffs was .608. His OPS in that World Series was 1.994.

14. In his final season in 2007, in which he turned 43 years old, Bonds led the league in OBP (.480), walks (132), and intentional walks (43), with an OPS of 1.045. Bonds never declined -- he just stopped playing.

15. Bonds won seven MVP awards in his career. Nobody else has ever won more than three.

The sport has never seen a player like Barry Bonds. He hit for average, hit for power, and got on base. He hit more home runs than anybody else and walked more than anybody else. He was a strong defensive outfielder and an efficient base-stealer. At his peak, he was the most dominant player the sport has ever seen -- but his career also lasted for 22 seasons and he accumulated strong longevity numbers without ever becoming a below-average player. He was so good that his opponents conceded first base to him at an unprecedented rate. He had a transcendent postseason run. He won more than twice as many MVP awards as anyone else ever did.

Bonds is not "just" a Hall of Famer. He's easily the best baseball player since Willie Mays. Conservatively, he's one of the top five players of all time. It's not at all crazy to suggest that he might be the best player ever, period.

He also won't make the Hall of Fame this year because he may have taken some drugs. Cool story.

If I could submit my own Hall of Fame ballot, here's what it might look like:

1. Barry Bonds
2. B. Bonds
3. Bobby Bonds' son
4. Barry
5. Bartholomew Lamar Bonds
6. The all-time leader in home runs
7. The all-time leader in walks
8. The only member of the 400-400 and 500-500 clubs
9. The only seven-time MVP
10. BARRY BONDS

The Three Problems With Hall of Fame Voting

The 2014 Hall of Fame ballot was revealed last week, setting the stage for the next month of baseball discourse. Unfortunately, what should be a stimulating debate about the relative strength of some phenomenal careers is going to be undermined by three critical flaws in the voting process.

1. The "first-ballot" distinction. Some Hall of Fame voters (tenured members of the Baseball Writers' Association of America) will acknowledge that a player is eventually worthy of induction into the Hall, but somehow not worthy of being inducted on their first year of eligibility. This is a dumb idea that somebody just made up one day, and it's caught on, to the detriment of the process. The forty-something first-ballot Hall of Famers don't actually represent an 'upper echelon' of talent like some people believe (the group includes Kirby Puckett, Dave Winfield, and Eddie Murray, but excludes Jimmie Foxx, Yogi Berra, and Cy MotherEffing Young). This false distinction probably has its origins in the 1950s, when great players like Joe DiMaggio and Rogers Hornsby didn't make the Hall on the first try because there was a ton of backlog on the ballot. Some writers didn't vote for Craig Biggio last year, because, they apparently reasoned, "if Joe DiMaggio wasn't a first-ballot Hall of Famer, then Biggio isn't!" Of all the stupid reasons to withhold your vote from a player, this is among the stupidest.

The whole point of the Hall of Fame is that once you're in, you're on equal footing with everybody. Regardless of what ballot you came in on. All inductees have the same plaque in the same gallery. Willie Mays enjoys the same status as Jim Rice. Ralph Kiner probably said it best:

"It's not like the guys who get elected in their first year get Cadillacs and the rest of us get Chevys."

Refusing to vote in deserving candidates on the first ballot only contributes to the second problem:

2. Backlog, thanks to the 10-man limit. For some reason, writers still aren't allowed to vote for more than ten players in a single election cycle. For a long time, this hasn't been an issue, because it's rare for more than ten Hall of Famers to accumulate on the ballot at the same time. But now it's suddenly a huge problem. The writers' stubborn selectivity when it comes to voting in players on their first ballots, coupled with a new wave of eligible players from the talent-rich 1990s, has stacked this year's ballot with at least twenty players who deserve to have their Hall of Fame credentials debated:

Barry Bonds
Roger Clemens
Greg Maddux
Jeff Bagwell
Frank Thomas
Curt Schilling
Mike Mussina
Tom Glavine
Mike Piazza
Tim Raines
Craig Biggio
Rafael Palmeiro
Mark McGwire
Sammy Sosa
Edgar Martinez
Larry Walker
Alan Trammell
Fred McGriff
Jack Morris
Jeff Kent
Lee Smith

There are undoubtedly many writers out there who would vote for more than ten of these players if they were allowed to. But the 10-man limit prevents them from doing so. As a result, those writers suddenly have to make strategic decisions on which ten players to vote for. Choose the ten most deserving names strictly based on merit? Or cleverly leave off someone who's a cinch to get elected anyway (like Greg Maddux) in favor of a player who desperately needs the support (like Edgar Martinez)? Either way, genuinely worthy players are going to be left off of ballots -- not by voter choice, but because of the mandated 10-man limit. Those players will end up with artificially-low vote totals, keeping them on the ballot for the foreseeable future ... and exacerbating the backlog even more.

This problem isn't going away by itself. In fact, without a change to this restriction, the ballot is about to become even more clogged than it already is. Next year, Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, John Smoltz, and Gary Sheffield will join the field. The following year: Ken Griffey Jr. and Jim Edmonds. After that: Ivan Rodriguez, Manny Ramirez, and Vladimir Guerrero. Great players are becoming eligible for the Hall faster than the writers can induct them.

The rule limiting voters to ten names per ballot was dreamed up all the way back in 1936 when the Hall of Fame was first established. Since then, the number of teams has doubled and the pool of eligible players has expanded to include more racial groups and nationalities. It's just logical to expect more Hall of Famers now. The 10-man restriction is a relic of an earlier time, and it needs to go if the ballot is going to be unclogged anytime soon.

3. The obsession with performance-enhancing drugs. Arguably the best position player and the best pitcher in baseball history were both eligible for Hall of Fame induction last year. Yet only about a third of the writers voted for them, leaving them astoundingly short of the 75% threshold needed for enshrinement.

The only reason why Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens aren't in the Hall of Fame right now is their connections to performance-enhancing drugs. The same can be said of Jeff Bagwell, Mike Piazza, and perhaps even the Mark McGwire/Sammy Sosa/Rafael Palmeiro trio. This is an understandable emotional response to their assumed cheating, but ultimately it's a misguided and unprecedented reason to exclude these players from the Hall. Logically speaking, there are three possible justifications for keeping suspected drug users out, and none of them hold up to serious scrutiny.

Justification #1: PEDs violate the character clause.
Here are the official criteria that the baseball writers are instructed to consider when filling out their ballots:

Voting shall be based upon the player's record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character, and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.

The integrity, sportsmanship, and character requirements are usually bundled up and referred to generally as the "character clause." The argument goes, then, that players who took steroids and other PEDs exhibited a lack of character that therefore disqualifies them from Hall of Fame consideration.

This is the weakest of all the logical justifications -- because the baseball writers have never used the character clause to exclude a player from the Hall until, conveniently, right now. In fact, they've never hesitated to induct players whose crimes were far more immoral than drug use. Ty Cobb, the classic example, was a well-known racist whose off-the-field altercations with African-Americans ultimately led to a an attempted murder charge. It has been speculated that Cobb, perhaps along with Tris Speaker and Rogers Hornsby, were members of the Ku Klux Klan. Cap Anson helped perpetuate racial segregation within baseball by refusing to take the field with African-American players. So did Kenesaw Mountain Landis, the first commissioner of baseball. All of these people are enshrined in the Hall of Fame. So too are countless drunks, addicts, abusive spouses, and petty criminals. The sudden interest in judging the 'integrity' of Cooperstown candidates rings hollow given the current moral state of the institution's membership.

Justification #2: PEDs represent a violation of sportsmanship and a mockery of baseball rules.
This argument rests on a more nuanced interpretation of the character clause. Some writers claim that the transgressions of racists and criminals aren't relevant to Hall of Fame voting because they took place off the field. Instead, they would argue that the character clause only applies to conduct and integrity on the field -- in a word, sportsmanship. By this logic, a writer could withhold his support for cheaters like Bonds and Clemens strictly because of their violations of baseball rules, thus keeping their crimes separate from those committed by racists and criminals (which might be morally worse in a vacuum but did not affect baseball's level playing field).

But this justification doesn't work either, because there are already confirmed cheaters and drug users in the Hall of Fame. Gaylord Perry, a member of the 300-win and 3,000 strikeout clubs, admitted that he doctored baseballs during his career (with substances ranging from saliva and dirt to Vaseline and fishing line wax). Don Sutton and Whitey Ford cut and scuffed baseballs. The George Brett pine-tar incident is remembered fondly, but technically represents another instance of cheating. Dozens of hitters have corked their bats (including, allegedly, Babe Ruth). The 1951 Giants won the pennant thanks to an elaborate sign-stealing system.

The cheating extends to drug use, too. It dates all the way back to Hall of Famer Pud Galvin, whose drug of choice in the 1880s was monkey testosterone. More relevantly, legends like Mike Schmidt, Hank Aaron, Willie Mays, and Mickey Mantle all used amphetamines, or "greenies." Willie Stargell allegedly passed them out to his Pittsburgh Pirates teammates. It is naive to believe that steroids in the 1990s was the first instance of widespread performance-enhancing drug use in baseball.

Clearly the writers have never cared about cheating in baseball when it comes to the Hall of Fame, until now. The only difference between a player using amphetamines in 1970 and using steroids in 2000 is that steroids were probably more effective. Both substances provide a boost to performance, both were illegal without prescription in the United States, both were simply part of baseball culture, and both were eventually banned by the commissioner's office. Condoning amphetamines while condemning steroids is a logically inconsistent position. Any writer who does that is basically saying that certain degrees of cheating are acceptable while others are not. Who draws the line? And where is it?

It's not like baseball players in the 1990s were more corruptible or more nefarious than their counterparts in the 1970s. Earlier players just didn't have access to the really good drugs. The realities of human nature suggest that if stars in the 1970s knew about steroids, they would have taken them, too. Here's what Bob Gibson said about that hypothetical:

"I'm just glad they didn't have steroids when I was playing. You know, I don't know what I would have done."

Let's stop pretending that steroid users were the first cheaters or drug users in baseball history. The Hall of Fame has never policed against that stuff, and there's no reason why it should start now.

And finally -- what happens if a player currently in the Hall is revealed to be a steroid user? Is that player expelled from Cooperstown? Or is he allowed to stay while other cheaters are kept out? Neither of those scenarios are particularly compelling.

Justification #3: PEDs make it impossible to objectively judge a player's career.
This is the most nuanced position on PED users, and one that doesn't rely on crutches like character or morality. Basically, some writers don't have an ethical issue with players who used steroids. But they assume that the huge impact of steroids on the statistics of those players makes it impossible to know whether or not that player deserves to be a Hall of Famer. How many home runs would Mark McGwire have hit without the help of drugs? Because the answer to that question is unknown, some writers withhold their votes from PED users just because their true talent level is impossible to discern.

Here's the thing -- we don't know enough about steroids, scientifically, to assume that they had the huge impact everyone assumes they had. Did steroids help McGwire more than the spitball helped Gaylord Perry? Are steroids the only thing responsible for Barry Bonds' transformation from "All-Time Great" into "Maybe The Best Player Ever"? If steroids are an instant talent-giving elixir, then why did so many mediocre-to-bad players see little-to-no boost in their performance after taking them? Because the extent to which PEDs actually enhance performance is unknown, it's unfair to just assume without any evidence that Bonds or Clemens or McGwire could not have achieved their Hall of Fame credentials without artificial assistance.

There are seven players on this year's ballot with varying connections to PEDs: Bonds, Clemens, McGwire, Sammy Sosa, Rafael Palmeiro, Mike Piazza, and Jeff Bagwell. Not voting for McGwire, Sosa, or Palmeiro because of steroids is understandable, because statistically they aren't slam-dunk Hall of Famers anyway -- McGwire wasn't very durable, Sosa had a crazy-high peak but little else, and Palmeiro had no real peak to speak of. But there is no excuse for any writer to withhold a vote from Bonds, Clemens, Piazza, or Bagwell. They were simply too damn good at baseball to be chemical mirages created by magical drugs. And a Hall of Fame that excludes four all-time greats because of some flawed notion of morality or purity will become an institution without any credibility or relevance.

Previewing the 2014 Veterans Committee Ballot

This week, the Baseball Hall of Fame revealed the twelve candidates that will be considered for 2014 induction by the Veterans Committee. This year's panel is considering players from the Expansion Era (1973 to the present), a welcome change from last year, when the Committee inducted three men from the pre-integration era (Hank O'Day, Jacob Ruppert, and Deacon White) who have all been dead since the Franklin Roosevelt administration. Some of the twelve names should provoke some interesting debates; others are a bit more questionable.

1. TOMMY JOHN
Few people seriously consider Tommy John to be a Hall of Famer, even if you give him credit for famously undergoing the surgery that now bears his name. But his presence on this ballot does serve a useful comparative purpose:

Tommy John: 3.34 ERA, 111 ERA+, 288 wins, 62.3 WAR in over 4,700 innings
Jack Morris: 3.90 ERA, 105 ERA+, 254 wins, 43.8 WAR in over 3,800 innings

In the year 2000, these two pitchers both appeared on the official writers' ballot. Morris received 22.2% of the vote and John got 27.1%. Since then, Morris has climbed all the way to 67.1% while John dropped off the ballot having peaked at 31.7%. Their career numbers did not change between 2000 and 2013, but the perception of their respective careers obviously did.

John may not be worthy of a Cooperstown plaque, but based on those quick-and-dirty numbers above, he certainly deserves to be slotted ahead of Morris in the hypothetical queue. It will be fairly ironic if, in a few months, Morris gets inducted by the BBWAA and John gets rejected by the Veterans Committee.

2. STEVE GARVEY
Not even close. His shiny .294 career average is undercut by his .329 OBP and .446 slugging percentage, both unacceptable numbers from a first baseman. His career-high in OPS was .852. He fell short of 40 WAR. His career OPS+ of 117 isn't even as good as borderline Hall of Famers like Tony Perez (122) and Orlando Cepeda (133). He's the Michael Young on this ballot.

Here's the problem: if the Hall of Fame wanted a first baseman from this era on the ballot, why not Keith Hernandez? He offers virtually the same batting average (.296) and slugging percentage (.436) as Garvey, but has a massive edge in OBP (.382, better than Willie McCovey and Harmon Killebrew). With 60 WAR, a 128 OPS+, and a reputation as one of the best defensive first basemen in history, Hernandez would've been a much stronger choice than Garvey.

3. DAVE CONCEPCION
Apparently there's a vast conspiracy to get every member of the Big Red Machine into the Hall. If we're not vigilant, Tony Perez may try to sneak Concepcion in by hiding him under his shirt. This paragraph by MLB.com columnist Terrence Moore provides an example of the bizarre things people are willing to claim about Concepcion in favor of his candidacy:

"Before Concepcion's career, Major League shortstops were mostly one dimensional -- all-field, little-hit, not much of anything else. After Concepcion's career, you had Cal Ripken Jr., Barry Larkin, Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter and the rest, because during Concepcion's career, he showed everybody that shortstops could field, hit and run."

If it just so happens that you have been searching for a real-life example of the logical fallacy "post hoc ergo propter hoc," well, check it off your bingo card. Just because Thing X happened after Thing Y does not mean Thing Y caused Thing X. The mere fact that Ripken, Larkin, Rodriguez, and Jeter all came after Concepcion does not mean we can attribute their success to Concepcion. That's ... quite a reach.

Anyway, the claim that Concepcion "showed everybody that shortstops could ... hit" doesn't really stand up to scrutiny. And by "scrutiny" I mean "going to BaseballReference.com and glancing at Concepcion's career OBP (.322), slugging percentage (.357), and OPS (.679)." His OPS+ of 88 tells me that he was actually 12% worse than the average hitter throughout his career. Even his career batting average was just .267. I guess he hit .300 a couple of times? So basically Terrence Moore is claiming that Dave Concepcion hitting .301 in 1978 is what paved the way for Cal Ripken's 431 home runs and Alex Rodriguez's .942 OPS. A real trail-blazer, that Dave Concepcion. Pretty much the slap-hitting version of Rosa Parks.

The verdict here is "no," in case that wasn't abundantly clear already.

4. DAVE PARKER
Similar in some ways to Dale Murphy. Parker enjoyed a short stretch of dominance, but the rest of his career just wasn't good enough. His year-by-year WAR totals bear this out:

Dave Parker's six best seasons: worth a combined 36 WAR
Dave Parker's other fourteen seasons: worth a combined 4 WAR

Parker's peak was outstanding. Yet he was a barely-above-average player for the rest of his career, which leaves his WAR total at just 40 and basically eliminates any chance of induction. Much like with Steve Garvey, the Hall of Fame could have chosen a stronger outfield candidate from this era, like Dwight Evans.

5. DAN QUISENBERRY
Another interesting career, but a reliever who only had ten relevant seasons can't be a serious Hall candidate.

6. TED SIMMONS
The definition of a borderline case. No one's outraged by his exclusion, and no one would be outraged by his induction. The 13 Hall of Fame catchers have an average of about 52 WAR and Simmons has 50. His career numbers compare very favorably to those of Gary Carter and Carlton Fisk, and he played in just as many games as both of them. He also had five excellent offensive seasons in the late 1970s, so it's not like he was all about longevity. Simmons might be the only player on this ballot clearly worth a vote. At the same time, no one's getting bent out of shape if he falls short this year.

7-12. THE NON-PLAYERS
The other six slots on the ballot are reserved for off-the-field contributors: Bobby Cox, Joe Torre, Tony LaRussa, Billy Martin, George Steinbrenner, and Marvin Miller. These are far more difficult to analyze objectively. A quick gut reaction to the names: Cox, Torre, and LaRussa should all be inducted together as the three dominant managers of the last two-plus decades; Miller should posthumously join them for his contributions to the players' union. Billy Martin, however, suffers by comparison to the other managers on the ballot, and Steinbrenner's impact is both tainted and overrated.

A quick note on Torre: the members of the Veterans Committee are allowed to take playing careers into consideration when voting on these off-the-field contributors. That makes Torre's case a no-brainer because his playing career alone might be worthy of induction. With a .297/.365/.452 batting line and a 129 OPS+, he was one of the best offensive catchers in history, comparable to Yogi Berra and Johnny Bench. He also has more WAR (57.4) than any catcher not in the Hall of Fame (not including the still-eligible Mike Piazza and Ivan Rodriguez). The caveat here is that he only spent 903 of his 2,207 career games as a catcher; the rest came as a corner infielder. Perhaps that's why he wasn't inducted as a player. Regardless, Torre is one of the rare few who had two entirely separate careers in baseball that were both excellent enough, independent of each other, to warrant serious Hall of Fame consideration. More than any other figure on this ballot, he deserves recognition from the Veterans Committee for that impressive feat.

David Ortiz and Cooperstown's Double Standard

Based on what's been written in the wake of his third World Series title, it appears as though this latest round of postseason heroics has pushed David Ortiz over the hypothetical Hall of Fame threshold. He's certainly not a bad choice. In almost 2,000 career games, Ortiz has hit .287/.381/.549 with 431 home runs and a 139 OPS+. Remove his unspectacular stint with the Minnesota Twins and those numbers look even better. And in 82 career playoff games, he owns a .939 OPS, two walk-off home runs, and a host of other memorable clutch moments. But what makes Ortiz's case even more engrossing is his connection to performance-enhancing drugs.

Unlike Manny Ramirez and Rafael Palmeiro, Ortiz has never officially tested positive for a banned substance. He falls into the same category as Jeff Bagwell and Mike Piazza (and, technically, Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens), in that the evidence against him is purely circumstantial:

1. A New York Times report in 2009 claimed that Ortiz was one of the 104 players who tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs during "anonymous" survey testing in 2003, before the current testing system was installed. That famous list reportedly also implicates Manny Ramirez, Alex Rodriguez, and Sammy Sosa. Not the best company. It doesn't help that Ortiz was Ramirez's teammate for a number of years.

2. Ortiz's OPS with the Minnesota Twins, from 1997 to 2002, was .809. Since joining the Red Sox in 2003, his OPS has been .962.

3. Ortiz looked like toast in 2009, when he got off to a painfully slow start and hit just .238 for the season. It looked like he might retire at the beginning of 2010, when he hit .143 in April as a 34-year old. In the three years since then, he's recovered in a huge way to hit .311/.401/.571.

These are the indicators that the overly-suspicious baseball community has decided upon as the telltale signs of illicit drug use. They're all there: the unsubstantiated reports, the compromised teammates, the quantum leap in production, the late-30s career renaissance. There's far more "evidence" implicating Ortiz than there is against, say, Mike Piazza, and Piazza was rejected by the Hall of Fame voters last year purely based on skepticism and suspicion. For the sake of intellectual consistency, shouldn't Ortiz get the same treatment?

Spoiler alert: he won't. Ortiz isn't subject to the same level of scrutiny as other Hall candidates. And that tells you everything you need to know about how twisted this process has become.

The best illustration of this double standard comes from Jon Heyman, a CBS Sports analyst with a Hall of Fame vote. His Friday column covered Ortiz's case for Cooperstown, and performance-enhancing drugs was one of the key points he addressed. In the past, Heyman has proudly announced his refusal to vote for players even tangentially connected to steroids (not just Bonds and Clemens, but Jeff Bagwell and Mike Piazza too). So it was good to see the following paragraph, which suggested he would hold Ortiz to the same tough standard to which he has held others:

"Ortiz is no A-Rod, as anyone reasonably can conclude. But that doesn't mean he gets a free pass, either, not without a serious consideration of the facts. With even more accomplished players than Ortiz such as Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens and others omitted from Cooperstown to date, it wouldn't be right not to at least consider the case against Ortiz. A great nickname, way with words and penchant for maximizing the moment doesn't win Big Papi a free pass. So the case against must be considered."

Very reasonable. Heyman isn't letting Ortiz's narrative affect his broader evaluative method. He then goes on to acknowledge a few of the links between Ortiz and drugs:

"Ortiz was one of 104 players to fail MLB's 2003 steroid survey test ... Ortiz was a marginal player until he got [to] the Red Sox in his late 20s, then took a giant leap to become Manny Ramirez's co-equal runningmate, and he has remained great even into his late 30s after looking like he might be nearing the end at least a couple different times a half-decade ago ... A giant bear of a man, he once seemed like the nicest guy in the world, but more recently has shown occasional signs of surliness and one classic fit of temper ... He knows Manny well."

It's important to note at this juncture that these are all ridiculous reasons to exclude Ortiz from the Hall. One unconfirmed report, some statistical fluctuation, and "signs of surliness" aren't evidence of drug use. That's not the point here. The point is that Heyman -- a Hall of Fame voter -- has a well-established history of withholding his vote from players who have been loosely connected to drugs. Here, he appears to be willing to apply that tough standard to the eminently-lovable Ortiz. That's what's important -- intellectual consistency. Even if I don't agree with Heyman's Hall standard, at least he's got a philosophy that he wields fairly across the board. In his own words:

"... it isn't necessarily unreasonable to omit Ortiz based on this one serious mistake. Players who took steroids or even laced supplements gained an unfair advantage, and I have never voted for anyone linked to steroids."

Again, I disagree with this position, but it's hard not to respect Heyman for sticking to his ideological guns, even when faced with an appealing baseball character like Ortiz.

Except at the very end of this column, Heyman does a complete about-face that highlights the Ortiz double standard:

"Some Hall of Fame voters will exclude players with any link to steroids, no matter how strong that link is, but in this case it fairly boils down to one un-sourced report involving a test for survey purposes.

Is that enough to exclude? Not here it isn't.

Cooperstown it is."

I mean ... what? After all that, Heyman is endorsing Ortiz for the Hall? Here's how the logic of this column breaks down:

1. I, Jon Heyman, have never voted for anyone linked to steroids.
2. Here is a bunch of evidence linking David Ortiz to steroids.
3. I support David Ortiz for Cooperstown!

So much for a reasonably-applied standard. Heyman's voting principles are now completely compromised. Just a year ago, his official Hall of Fame ballot did not include Jeff Bagwell. It did not include Mike Piazza. Both of those players had twice the careers that Ortiz had, but Heyman did not vote for them because of unconfirmed reports and rumors about their drug use. Yet in Ortiz's case, Heyman is suddenly willing to acknowledge nuance and look past the unconfirmed reports and rumors. This confirms exactly what we have come to expect -- baseball writers aren't making Hall of Fame decisions based on reason and logic and sound criteria. They're voting on narratives and personal biases. Bagwell and Piazza? They never won a championship, did anything memorable, or played for great teams, so they probably used drugs. They're out. Ortiz? He's a fun dude with a cool nickname, some clutch moments, and three titles for a historic franchise, so he probably didn't use drugs. He's in.

This is not David Ortiz's fault. He may very well be a Hall of Famer, and his tenuous connection to drugs should not be a factor when the time comes to make that decision. It is encouraging to see an actual voter like Jon Heyman promoting that view. It would just be great if Heyman could provide other suspected users like Bagwell and Piazza with the same benefit of the doubt that Ortiz has apparently earned.

------------

There's a second aspect of the Ortiz double standard that isn't drug-related. It has to do with another designated hitter: Edgar Martinez. Martinez has been on the Hall of Fame ballot for four years now, and hasn't yet crossed the 40% threshold, suggesting that his chances of induction aren't good at all. But if Ortiz is now being considered a Hall of Famer, then the voters had better take a second look at Martinez, because the gap between these players is striking.

Martinez had the better slash line (.312/.418/.515), his on-base advantage trumping Ortiz's edge in power (.287/.381/.549). Martinez has the better OPS+ (147 to 138). They have similar career games played and plate appearance totals, yet Baseball Reference has Ortiz's career value at 44.2 WAR and Martinez's at 68.3, thanks in part to Ortiz's forgettable stint with Twins. Both were DHs, but Martinez actually spent less of his time there (74%) than Ortiz (86%). Fangraphs.com grades Ortiz as the inferior baserunner and defender. Martinez actually played some third base, which Ortiz probably can't even do in his own imagination. Granted, Ortiz has the postseason accomplishments, but ... what am I missing here? Until he tacks on a few more seasons of elite production, he can't be considered Martinez's equal.

So how can Jon Heyman support Ortiz for the Hall when he didn't vote for Martinez last year? Well, this is what he wrote about Edgar last January:

"Had that pretty slash line of .312/.418/.515. But since he was mostly a DH, I would have liked a bit more power, longevity or speed. Great, but pretty one-dimensional."

Reading that blurb now is devastatingly ironic considering Heyman's more recent endorsement of Ortiz. If he didn't vote for Martinez because he was a slow and one-dimensional DH without enough longevity, how can he possibly justify a future vote for Ortiz, who's an even-slower and even-more-one-dimensional DH with an even shorter career? Again, it's the same illogical approach discussed above. It clearly doesn't have anything to do with merit. It's because Martinez didn't have an outgoing personality or a badass nickname like "Big Papi" or the good fortune to play for great teams in three World Series. It's about narrative. Baseball writers love narrative -- they write it and promote it for a living -- so it's no surprise that narrative has become the most important means of judging a player's ultimate career value. This is not the objective analysis that baseball -- more rooted in statistics than any other sport -- deserves.

Based on Heyman's voting record with respect to Jeff Bagwell, Mike Piazza, and Edgar Martinez, there was absolutely no rational reason to expect him to support David Ortiz's candidacy as a one-dimensional DH with connections to performance-enhancing drugs. And yet he still wrote that column endorsing Ortiz. It's just another example of how broken Cooperstown's voting process really is. As long as narrative, not merit, determines its membership, the Hall of Fame's relevance as a record of baseball greatness will be undermined.

Todd Helton and Context

It's hard to think of a more overlooked baseball player from the past decade than Todd Helton of the Colorado Rockies. Even his recent retirement announcement was completely overshadowed in the media, thanks to the hubbub surrounding Mariano Rivera's farewell. But there's one way Helton can grab your full attention almost immediately: by instructing you to visit BaseballReference.com, find the career leaders for OPS, and scroll down past the top 15 names or so. Doing so reveals some surprising information:
...
18 Johnny Mize: .959
19. Jim Thome: .956
20. Todd Helton: .954
21. Jeff Bagwell: .948
22. Mel Ott: .9471
...
The constantly-marginalized Helton sneaks into the top twenty all-time in OPS, his name mingling with some of the most prolific sluggers ever. Now compare Helton against a few Hall of Fame first basemen from recent decades:

Todd Helton: .954
Willie McCovey: .889
Willie Stargell: .889
Harmon Killebrew: .884

So: Helton's OPS ranks in the top 20 among all hitters ever, and he's in a different stratosphere compared to the recent great players at his position. His career line of .317/.414/.540 is nothing short of sensational. That has to be a Hall of Fame career, right?

Not exactly. By just using raw OPS, we're ignoring the most important word when it comes to Helton's candidacy: context. No batting line can be evaluated in a vacuum. And Helton played the bulk of his career in the most hitter-friendly environment in baseball history: Coors Field in the early-2000s. Playing in an era when hitting stats were inflated, playing in a ballpark where hitting stats were comically inflated, Helton's offense just wasn't as valuable as it would have been in a different time or place. Taking that context into consideration, his bat just doesn't stand out like a Hall of Famer's should. There are a few statistical ways to demonstrate this assertion, and some are much better than others.

One possible route is to use home/road splits. This is a bad idea. Inevitably, future baseball writers will discredit Helton's career accomplishments just by looking at these two statistical lines:

Helton's career at home: .345/.425/.576 (OPS of 1.048)
Helton's career on the road: .287/.386/.470 (OPS of .856)

As if this somehow proves that Helton was entirely a creation of Coors Field. No. This isn't smart. Don't use home/road splits. Why? For a lot of reasons. Namely: these splits tell me that Todd Helton hit way better at Coors Field than he did elsewhere, which is true of EVERY PLAYER WHO HAS EVER HIT AT COORS FIELD. Plus, the Hall of Fame has already enshrined players with large home/road splits (see: anyone who played in Fenway Park), so precedents exist. These splits don't provide any insight.

Instead, adjusted-OPS (OPS+) is far more telling. Raw OPS doesn't say anything about how a player performed relative to the players around him, which is one of the most important factors of Hall of Fame voting. OPS+, on the other hand, tells us how much better (or worse) a player's OPS was relative to the league average at the time. Because it uses a universal scale (with 100 being the average), it also provides a more accurate way to compare players across eras.

Helton's career OPS+ is 133 (his offense was 33% above average). That's certainly very good. But now let's re-do a previous comparison, pitting Helton against three notable first basemen in the Hall of Fame, this time using OPS+ instead of plain OPS:

1. Willie McCovey: 147
2. Willie Stargell: 147
3. Harmon Killebrew: 143
4. Todd Helton: 133

Now there's a significant gap. This reveals a crucial point. Helton might have better raw numbers than any of these players -- a higher batting average, on-base percentage, and slugging percentage. But comparing those numbers across eras is a flawed apples-and-oranges argument. The Hall of Fame cares about players' numbers relative to their peers. And based on OPS+, it's clear that McCovey, Stargell, and Killebrew were more dominant hitters within their eras than Helton was in his.

That makes a lot of sense when you think about it -- especially considering how much more prevalent offense was in the 2000s compared to other eras. To illustrate that point, here's the average number of runs that teams scored per game in six different seasons. See if you can spot the outlier:

In 1960, teams scored an average of 4.31 runs per game.
In 1970: 4.34.
In 1980: 4.29.
In 1990: 4.26.
In 2000: 5.14.
In 2010: 4.38.

One of these things is not like the other. From about the mid-1990s to the mid-2000s, the number of runs scored per game took a huge spike relative to historical norms, culminating in that ridiculous 2000 season (over five runs per game!!!). Of course, the bulk of Helton's career came during that offensive explosion. So the value of the offense he provided was significantly devalued. That effect is compounded by Helton's home park during all those years, Coors Field, where offense was even more prevalent than it was everywhere else. In 2000, for instance, teams playing in Coors Field averaged over six runs per game. Six! In such an inflated run-scoring environment, the value of Helton's bat was severely diminished.

With that handicap in play, Helton's numbers aren't really "better" than those of past inductees like McCovey, Stargell, and Killebrew. But how does he compare to his contemporaries? The news isn't good on that front, either. Here's an OPS+ leader-board for some select first basemen and DHs during Helton's era:

Albert Pujols: 165
Mark McGwire: 163
Frank Thomas: 156
Jeff Bagwell: 149
Edgar Martinez: 147
Jim Thome: 147
Lance Berkman: 144
Jason Giambi: 140
David Ortiz: 139
Carlos Delgado: 138
Fred McGriff: 134
Todd Helton: 133
Rafael Palmeiro: 132

Helton's just too far down the totem pole.

On a final note: BaseballReference.com offers a pretty cool feature where they convert a player's stats into a "neutral" setting (a universe where 4.42 runs are scored per game). Helton's neutralized career batting line is .292/.387/.496, a fair step back from his actual career line of .317/.414/.540. The computer docks about 70 points from his OPS, from .954 down to .883. That's basically the difference between Jeff Bagwell and Fred McGriff.

Ultimately, it's fair to say that Helton's career looks a lot more like McGriff's than it does Bagwell's. Both were underrated, overlooked, upstanding baseball players. But they weren't among the very best at their position during their era, which is why Helton will fall short in his bid for the Hall of Fame.

Andy Pettitte: The New Jack Morris

2014 will be the fifteenth and final time Jack Morris will be eligible for the Hall of Fame; Andy Pettitte won't even make his first appearance on the ballot until 2019. But despite the time lapse between their careers, they have remarkably similar Cooperstown candidacies. Both pitched for a long time; both had the good fortune of pitching for good teams; and both have essentially two statistics working in their favor:

1. Wins.
2. Playoff wins.

Morris had the most wins in baseball between 1980 and 1989; Pettitte had the most between 2000 and 2009. Both pitched in high-profile playoff games and won multiple championships. Both won more than 250 career games (but not 300) and both struck out more than 2,400 hitters (but not 3,000). Given the parallels, Morris could serve as a something of a trial balloon for Pettitte's Hall of Fame chances. And because Morris accumulated 67.7% of the vote last year (tantalizingly close to the required 75% mark with one more year of balloting to come), Pettitte's odds might be better than you think.

On top of that, it isn't hard to argue that Pettitte was simply better than Morris. Their career ERAs are almost identical, but Pettitte pitched in a significantly tougher environment, which is why his WAR and ERA+ are both significantly better than Morris'. He also has about the same number of wins and strikeouts as Morris despite 500 fewer innings. As for the postseason: their ERAs are again virtually identical, but Pettitte has a huge lead in innings (276.2 to 92.1). If Morris is on the cusp of induction, and Pettitte was just a better version of Morris, then Pettitte would appear to be on a surefire Hall of Fame trajectory.

That's not how it works, though. This is a perfect example of how letting Jack Morris into the Hall would lower the institution's standards to open the floodgates for good-but-not-great pitchers. Pettitte, like Morris, was one of those good-but-not-great pitchers.

Pettitte will retire with 18 seasons under his belt. Six of those seasons were significantly better than the other twelve. Six times, he had an ERA+ of 129 or better, which is very good. But in his other twelve seasons, his ERA+ was never better than 112. For some perspective, Adam Wainwright's career ERA+ is 129, and Frank Viola's career ERA+ is 112. For a third of his career, Andy Pettitte was Adam Wainwright -- a Cy Young contender. For the other two-thirds, though, he was just Frank Viola -- decent, above average. That shouldn't strike anyone as an obvious Hall of Fame career.

There's another big problem. Of Pettitte's six great seasons, only three were complete and healthy. In 2002, 2010, and 2012, his performance was elite, but he failed to reach even 140 innings in any of them. So, he actually had just three seasons (1996, 1997, 2005) in which he was a Cy Young-caliber pitcher for at least 220 innings. That's simply not enough.

It's not surprising, then, that Pettitte had only three seasons in which he accumulated at least 4 Wins Above Replacement (that's more or less the threshold for an All-Star pitcher). Those three seasons were, again, 1996, 1997, and 2005. To repeat: that's not enough. By comparison, Kevin Brown (who never even sniffed the Hall of Fame) had nine seasons with at least 4 WAR. Mike Mussina had twelve. Pettitte: three. Not enough.

And remember that stat about him having the most wins in baseball between 2000 and 2009? He also had the 50th-best ERA during that span among qualified pitchers, worse than Al Leiter and Mark Buehrle and A.J. Burnett. So, take that with a giant grain of salt.

Then, we come to all the starting pitchers who rank ahead of Pettitte (in terms of Hall of Fame worthiness) from his era. And there's a fairly long line. In no particular order: Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson, Greg Maddux, Pedro Martinez, Curt Schilling, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Mike Mussina, and Roy Halladay. It's clear, to me at least, that Pettitte trails those nine by a margin that's wide enough to justify keeping him off of that Hall of Fame tier. In fact, you could even make a not-crazy argument that he ranks behind the likes of Kevin Brown and David Cone, too. Regardless -- he's far closer to Brown and Cone than he is to Mussina or Glavine.

There is certainly something to be said for his accomplishments in the playoffs. Nobody in baseball history has made more starts, pitched more innings, or won more games in the playoffs than Andy Pettitte. His 3.81 ERA in 276.2 postseason innings is his most impressive career achievement. Maybe if he had done a little more in the regular season, his October records could've served as a tie-breaker to push him over the top. As it stands, his regular season career -- three elite years, three elite-but-incomplete years, and twelve decent years -- doesn't cut it.

Basically, the only way Pettitte can be considered a Hall of Famer is if you place seriously heavy weight on postseason performance, which is something the Hall of Fame voters have virtually never done (at least until they needed to find an excuse to vote for Jack Morris, that is). As for what will actually happen? There are two fascinating variables in play: whether or not Morris gets in this year (he could be a crucial bar-setting precedent), and how the voters will treat Pettitte's dalliance with human growth hormone. Either way, it's important to remember (just as it is with Morris) that there's no need to pretend like Pettitte needs a plaque in Cooperstown or else his career won't be validated. He retires as a five-time World Series champion, the franchise leader in strikeouts for the New York Yankees, and the most prolific postseason pitcher in baseball history. Good stuff.

On Vladimir Guerrero, and Hall of Fame Exclusivity

(This post is operating under the premise that Vladimir Guerrero will eventually be elected to the Hall of Fame by the BBWAA. It's impossible to prove that assumption true, because he won't even be ballot-eligible until 2017. But Sport Illustrated's Hall of Fame guru Jay Jaffe predicted that Guerrero will build up enough support to make the Hall eventually, and most people would probably agree, so we'll go from there.)

Vladimir Guerrero finally retired from baseball last Friday, having gone two years without appearing in a major league game. He's 38 years old with zero healthy knees, so this news didn't exactly come as a surprise. Guerrero's next stop, in all likelihood, will be Cooperstown. And he has the career accomplishments to deserve that honor. But if he does get inducted, it will be just another indictment of the Hall of Fame's comically-inconsistent voting patterns.

First, a quick glance at Vlad's career. Somewhat notably, he was perhaps the last good player that the Montreal Expos ever had. His six full seasons with that now-defunct franchise were phenomenal: he averaged a .995 OPS and .600 slugging percentage between 1998 and 2003. In 2002, he was tantalizingly close to joining the exclusive 40-40 club, when he stole 40 bases and hit 39 home runs. In 2004, he signed with the Angels in free agency. Not coincidentally, the Montreal Expos would cease to exist about a year later.

With his new team, the Los Angeles Angels, Guerrero maintained his torrid offensive pace for four additional seasons. That included an MVP Award in 2004, when he hit .337/.391/.598 with 39 home runs and a league-leading 124 runs scored. After 2007, however, his production finally began to tail off as injuries sapped his playing time. His final four seasons were subpar by his lofty standards -- yet his batting averages in those years were all still above .290. Guerrero is often thought of strictly as a power hitter, but his freakish batting average ability was Tony Gwynn-like.

Guerrero's career was relatively short (only 15 seasons with more than 90 games played), so he isn't making the Hall based on longevity. What he does have, however, is an outstanding ten-year peak between those six years in Montreal and first four in L.A. From 1998 to 2007, Vlad's cumulative line was .327/.394/.586, with a .980 OPS, 151 OPS+, and 52.6 WAR. He averaged 35 homers, 35 doubles, 187 hits, and 16 steals per season. During that stretch, the only outfielders who were better offensively than Guerrero were Barry Bonds and Manny Ramirez. His consistency was remarkable: during that decade, he never hit below .307, slugged below .547, or had an OPS below .934.

And it's not like Vlad lacks for cumulative longevity stats. Despite a career that didn't even reach 10,000 plate appearances, he still had 2,590 hits (top 100 all-time), 4,506 total bases (top 50), and 449 home runs (top 40). He was a nine-time All-Star whose teams were successful basically everywhere he went. He garnered MVP votes in 12 different seasons, winning the award in 2004. If you combine Vlad's ten elite seasons with his solid career numbers, and factor in his uniquely intimidating persona, you understand why he's headed to Cooperstown.

Here's the thing, though. If Vladimir Guerrero is widely accepted as a Hall of Famer, then I have a hard time understanding why Larry Walker, Gary Sheffield, and Bobby Abreu are not.

More specifically, I fail to see how a voter could support only one of those four guys and not the other three. They're so similar statistically that to me, they're a package deal. Either all four of them are in, or they're all out. The notion that Vlad somehow belongs on a higher tier than Walker, Sheffield, and Abreu just isn't supported by facts. For instance, here's how the four players are ranked by career Wins Above Replacement, according to both Baseball Reference and Fangraphs:

Baseball Reference
1. Larry Walker (72.6)
2. Bobby Abreu (60.4)
3. Gary Sheffield (60.4)
4. Vladimir Guerrero (59.9)

Fangraphs
1. Larry Walker (69.0)
2. Gary Sheffield (62.5)
3. Bobby Abreu (58.6)
4. Vladimir Guerrero (58.6) 

I'd imagine that most people would object to how those players are ordered. Quibble with the exact order, sure, but the point is that the careers of Walker, Sheffield, and Abreu are at the very least on par with Guerrero's. Here's a case-by-case examination.

Vlad vs. Larry Walker
Walker's been on the ballot for three years and (spoiler alert) he's not getting into the Hall. Yet he did everything that Vlad did -- hit for average, hit for power, stole bases, had a great arm, won an MVP, and had a nearly identical career OPS+ (141 for Walker, 140 for Vlad). And he even did some things that Vlad didn't -- he drew more walks, won Gold Gloves in right field, and was an excellent baserunner (Guerrero was actually terrible in that regard). Both Baseball Reference and Fangraphs see Walker as having about 13 more WAR than Guerrero, and that's completely believable. How can somebody vote for Guerrero but leave Walker off the ballot?

Vlad vs. Gary Sheffield
Sheffield has reached the 500 home run plateau, but has an uphill climb to get into the Hall thanks to connections to performance-enhancing drugs and a poor personal reputation. Based solely on his performance, however, his career has a lot in common with Guerrero's. The numbers say that Sheffield's defense was horrible, much worse than Guerrero's, but Sheffield made up some of that deficit by accumulating almost two thousand more plate appearances than Guerrero. So it's unclear who had the more valuable career. Who had the better peak? Again, it's very close:

Guerrero, 1998-2007: .327/.394/.586, 151 OPS+
Sheffield, 1996-2005: .303/.417/.552, 154 OPS+

Sheffield has the advantage when it comes to longevity (he tops Guerrero in every meaningful career statistic), and their peaks were similar. Penalize Sheffield for his defense (and connection to performance-enhancing drugs, if that floats your boat), but how big is the gap between these two players, really? Big enough to put one in the Hall of Fame and leave the other one out? Hardly.

Vlad vs. Bobby Abreu
Out of this foursome of late-1990s/early-2000s right fielders, Abreu feels like the one that doesn't belong. The truth is that Abreu is one of the most underrated players of this generation. Remember Guerrero's ten-year peak from 1998 to 2007, in which he hit .327/.394/.586 and produced 52.6 WAR? Well, from 1998 to 2007, Bobby Abreu hit .302/.411/.505 and produced 51.3 WAR. His problem was that his skills -- on-base ability, doubles-hitting, baserunning -- weren't as flashy as Vlad's home runs and bullet throws. Guerrero was likely the better player, but Abreu was much, much closer than anyone thinks. So ushering Guerrero into the Hall while simultaneously dismissing Abreu's case out of hand is wholly unfair.

The point here is not to diminish Guerrero's accomplishments, or claim that he isn't worthy of the Hall of Fame. Quite the opposite. The point is to hold Guerrero up as a Hall of Fame standard, and then apply that standard consistently to honor all of the players who performed at that elite level. Why Guerrero, but not Walker, Sheffield, or Abreu? Drawing an arbitrary line somewhere between those players is the definition of unnecessary nitpicking. Sometimes, baseball's obsession over maintaining an 'exclusive' (and therefore, somehow, more 'meaningful'?) Hall of Fame results in the exclusion of worthy candidates. If the voters maintain the trajectory they're on, then the future Hall will claim that the best right fielders of this generation were Vladimir Guerrero and Ichiro. That version of the Hall of Fame isn't as interesting, as complete, or as accurate as the hypothetical one that also includes Walker, Sheffield, and maybe even Abreu.

I would like to see Vladimir Guerrero in the Hall of Fame. Not only because he deserves it, but also because his induction might open the door for some of his equally worthy peers.