I'm a self-confessed Small Hall guy. I grin disdainfully when voters complain about the limitations of the 10-man limit and the agony of strategic picks to keep players on the ballot so we can preserve their candidacies for future generations. It's the Baseball Hall of Fame, not a captain's award.
My ballots generally range from four to six players, but something strange happened this year and I'm honestly not sure what to think about it. I checked eight names, including one I had ignored in his first five years on the ballot.
I feel like a traitor to my own cause, and in one case I rightly wonder if I've succumbed to online groupthink, but I reserve the right to change my mind because I still have a year to ponder .
In any case, here's my ballot, and as usual you can leave your objections in the comments, which I wouldn't read even if they weren't deactivated sometime in 2018.
Carlos Beltran
I find it ridiculous that Beltran was denied recognition for his “role” in the Astros cheating scandal, even though it was not unique. Beltran's cardinal sin was his retirement, which meant he could comfortably place a team-wide plan on his shoulders, sparing current All-Stars like Carlos Correa, Jose Altuve and Alex Bregman a suspension.
Beltran was secretly one of the best five-tool players of all time, with a Rookie of the Year, nine All-Star appearances, three Gold Gloves, 400 home runs and 300 steals. He was also a postseason monster. Easy vote for me.
Adrian Beltre
I may be a small Hall guy, but anyone who leaves Beltre off their ballot probably also believes that the last true Hall of Famer was Mickey Mantle. Beltre is one of the best defensive third baseman of all time, he hits for power, and you might think 3,000 hits is an arbitrary number, but I kind of like it, and he hit that mark too.
However, the Hall is not just for numbers and accolades, but also for recognition of personality and style, and Beltre performed both in abundance, from his signature straight-legged, bare-handed throws to his massive hacks while fell on one knee.
I guess I'm also contractually obligated to mention the whole “don't touch my head” thing, but Beltre was one of a kind and Cooperstown should recognize that.
Andrew Jones
I struggled with Jones' candidacy for a few years until there was a moment of clarity. The purpose of the Hall of Fame is to recognize greatness, and that doesn't necessarily mean being the most complete or well-rounded, although Jones certainly exemplifies that with his 400-plus home runs and 10 Gold Gloves.
What matters to me is that Jones is one of the best defenders of all time at a premier position, and that has to count for something.
Add in a 50-homer season, his unforgettable postseason exploits as a teenager in 1996, and his place on all those tough Braves teams, and he may not be an automatic pick (man, that post-30 loss), but he is is one who I am I make myself comfortable.
Joe Mauer
Here's the one vote that honestly makes me wonder if I just didn't want the internet to scream at me. There is little doubt that Mauer was inducted into the Hall of Fame at the top level – the MVP, the three batting titles and the Gold Gloves, the superstar aura at the game's most demanding position – and he also had a great story as the boy from St. Paul, he never left his home team.
Then came concussions, a move to first base and a long career that transitioned into more of a Dustin Pedroia phase – brave and effective, but noticeably weaker.
In the end, I prefer Mauer's relatively short peak to that of someone I didn't consider in my pick, Colorado's Todd Helton, because Mauer packed more greatness into eight years than Helton did in six, and because he did it at a more valuable position has achieved . I reserve the right to change my mind.
Andy Pettitte
Okay, what's going on?!? This is a big-picture vote that perhaps a Patriots fan could understand, as their two-decade tenure in Canton remains woefully underrepresented, aside from Ty Law and Richard Seymour.
The Yankees of the late '90s were baseball's last dynasty, and yet only two regulars are Hall of Famers – the captain, Derek Jeter, and the closer, Mariano Rivera.
There was no room for anyone in between, from Paul O'Neill to Jorge Posada to Bernie Williams to David Cone and, yes, Pettitte. That's partly because his numbers are historically poor: with “only” 256 wins and a 3.85 ERA, that's unsightly at the Jack Morris level, but allow me some context.
For one thing, we need to recalibrate our standards around starters who no longer throw 300 innings or win 300 games. Second, we should acknowledge not only the predominantly offensive era in which Pettitte toiled, but also the division.
The AL East featured killer Red Sox and Blue Jays lineups, and this may have been the highlight of the DH era, between David Ortiz, Edgar Martinez, Frank Thomas and Jim Thome. There were no free evenings and yet Pettitte was fine.
I understand the arguments against him, but when you add 19 postseason wins, the 2001 ALCS MVP Award, and his place as the best starting pitcher during baseball's last true dynasty, we're making room for him in upstate New York.
Manny Ramirez
I'd love to just cut and paste what I write every year, but here's the abridged version: If baseball doesn't want steroid users in the Hall of Fame, remove them from the ballot. Otherwise, the sport deserves to reap the whirlwind.
Ramirez is an all-time jerk for failing two drug tests, but he's also an all-time great right-handed hitter. Parliament can hang its memorial plaque in the basement if it finds its election unpleasant.
Alex Rodríguez
See Ramirez, Manny above.
Gary Sheffield
We all have our concerns and unfortunately my term ended with Sheffield's final year on the ballot. Much like I adore Jones for his glove, I put Sheffield in Cooperstown for his bat.
Am I biased because I personally witnessed so much of his renaissance during unforgettable battles with the Red Sox in 2004, when his menacing bat wobble made every at-bat a must-see? Probably. But I also believe that Sheffield belongs on the list of the 30 most dangerous hitters of all time, with over 500 home runs, more walks than strikeouts and a style all his own.
He began his career by nearly winning the Triple Crown with the Padres and, fittingly, ended it with an intentional walk in his final plate appearance at age 40. In between, he was a beast who helped define an era.
“Oh, but he couldn’t fight to save his life,” you say, to which I reply, with all due respect, “Go to hell.”
Comments are closed.