2010 MLB Hall of Fame

The results are in for this year's 2010 Major League Baseball Hall of Fame, and Andre Dawson will be the lone inductee from this ballot, much to the surprise of many who believed that at least Roberto Alomar would and should be there.

As I did last year, I'm posting whom I would vote for if I had a vote for the Hall of Fame. As I mentioned last year, I tend to be pretty inclusive in my voting. Here goes, by category:

Unequivocally, I'd vote for them (6 players): Roberto Alomar, Andre Dawson, Barry Larkin, Fred McGriff, Mark McGwire, and Tim Raines. I offered explanation on Dawson, McGwire, and Raines last year. Alomar is, in all likelihood, one of the best second basemen ever and, thus, belongs here as the biggest no-brainer of this year's ballot. Larkin's performance impressed me throughout the 1990s and, while perhaps in some areas his final career statistics are not as gaudy as some other players', Larkin seemed to me to be among the best players in the game throughout much of his career. I think the same can be said for Fred McGriff, who maintained a high level of consistency from the late 1980s through early 2000s.

Not quite completely unequivocal, but pretty close (2 players): Bert Blyleven and Jack Morris. In both cases, I don't automatically think of them as in the way I do the 6 players above. I do at least think about it once again before putting them on the list. However, it doesn't take me much consideration to put them down. For more explanation, see last year's post.

Vying for slots 9-10 (8 players): Harold Baines, Andres Galarraga, Edgar Martinez, Don Mattingly, Dale Murphy, Dave Parker, Lee Smith, and Alan Trammell. First of all, let me say that anyone who wonders how someone can leave a player off a ballot one year and then vote for the player the next needs a refresher course in how fundamental mathematics works. For instance, check out the third factor guiding his ballot offered by Stan McNeal of The Sporting News in this column from January 4: "If I didn't vote for a player the first time he was eligible, I would not vote for him at all. Talking with Eric Davis reinforced this thinking. He told me that Pete Rose told him, "You're either a Hall of Famer or you're not." As Davis pointed out, "There's nothing you can do after you stop playing to move the elevator up." The problem with this kind of logic (well, besides taking tips on logical explanation from the likes of Pete Rose and Eric Davis ...) is that when the ballot limits someone to only 10 players, you could have situations in which someone you feel is worthy gets left off your ballot. Mathematically, it's impossible to vote for 11 or 12 players when you're only allowed to vote for up to 10. Of course, McNeal's saving grace is that few sportswriters have as inclusive of standards as I do, so when they only vote for 4, 5, 6, 7, or so players, they have not maximized their ballot slots and, thus, might be subject to this critique (though, I think there's a misguided error of perceived omniscience embedded in McNeal's supposition, as if humans should make decisions and stick to them without being willing to be self-reflexive and reconsider how they went about making those decisions and judgments, when, indeed, none of us can really claim to know everything and, thus, be able to make decisions and judgments without possibility for further reconsideration down the road).

With that in mind, because of the ways the ballot goes, I had 3 slots at the bottom of my ballot last year after the sure or nearly-sure things, but this year I only have 2? The reasons? Last year, Rickey Henderson and Jim Rice made the Hall of Fame, which means two slots are open from my ballot from last year; however, with the additions of Roberto Alomar, Barry Larkin, and Fred McGriff, three slots are now taken that weren't last year, leaving me with a net loss of one spot on my ballot. Thus, one person I would have voted for last year would not be able to make it this year. And, indeed, it's one of my bottom three from last year who wouldn't make it this year. Last year, the final three slots went to Harold Baines, Dale Murphy, and Lee Smith, in roughly that order, though, as I said last year, who makes my final slots can vary from day to day. This year, as I'm writing this post, I know slots 9 and 10 on my ballot would come from this group of three players, but which two of the three get in is changing literally as I write each sentence. I think, in the final analysis, I'd go with Harold Baines at slot 9 and Lee Smith at slot 10 (though, by the end of this blog, maybe Smith would be replaced by Murphy ...). If I could vote for an unlimited number of players, then I'd vote for 16, with the other 5 players listed here added to those I've already discussed. Galarraga would be the last one in and would be the only one among this group who might not make it. Still, when I look at his numbers, he's comparable in a number of ways to Murphy and seems to belong in a tighly-packed bunch that also includes Martinez, Mattingly, and Parker. I'd put Trammell in, but with the thought that he doesn't belong there without Lou Whitaker, who I think got screwed years ago on his first time on the ballot (and, hopefully, I'll write more on that in a blog entry in the next week or so, if time permits ...)

Would not make my ballot (10 players): Kevin Appier, Ellis Burks, Pat Hentgen, Mike Jackson, Eric Karros, Ray Lankford, Shane Reynolds, David Segui, Robin Ventura, Todd Zeile. I actually looked at the career statistics for each of these players and was able to count all but one out of my ballot rather easily. The only one even close is Ellis Burks. I wouldn't have thought that initially (I would have figured Ventura as the closest to consideration among this group), but a look at his numbers shows that Burks actually might even belong in that group with Murphy, Galarraga, and company. In fact, even as I write this, I'm thinking he might go there. Still, though, I think, like Jay Bell last year, Ellis Burks this year is my cutoff point, but he's really close.