Hall of Fame needs some reorganizing
By GARY SHELTON
Published July 29, 2005
COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. - Company's coming. Time to clean up the place.
Wade's moving in. Ryne, too. Time to rearrange the furniture. Time to toss out the clutter.
For the Baseball Hall of Fame, what better time to get the house in order?
That's the thing about designating two new immortals. Now that Wade Boggs and Ryne Sandberg have measured up, it is natural to ask if those already in place measure up to them. To recheck the inventory, so to speak.
Let's invite some new faces to the party.
Let's invite some old ones to leave.
Look, it's easy enough - and common enough - to list a bunch of names and suggest that each belongs in the Hall of Fame. But, hey, space is at a premium in Cooperstown. If you invite one player to the party, shouldn't you have to ask another to leave?
In other words, the problem isn't that there are 258 members of the Hall. It's just that they aren't the right 258 members.
So just to make sure things are in order before Boggs and Sandberg arrive, it's time for a few pinch-hitters.
Ten men enter.
Ten men leave.
Say hello to Bert Blyleven. Say goodbye to Rube Marquard.
It baffles me that Blyleven isn't in the Hall. Certainly, he was a dominant player in his time. Hitters still talk about Blyleven's curve as if it broke across the plate from a different dimension.
No, Blyleven didn't win 300 games. He won 287 while pitching for bad teams in a hitter's park.
Marquard? He won only 201 games, and he didn't win 20 in a season his last 12 years as a pitcher. Besides, have you ever heard anyone talk about his curveball?
Good morning, Ron Santo. Good night, Fred Lindstrom.
It's hard to figure the bigger mystery: why Santo hasn't been inducted or why Lindstrom was. Santo was the heart of his Cubs team, a tough, scrappy player who historians rank among the top six to seven third basemen of all-time. Lindstrom? He received only 22 votes in his five years on the writers' ballot. Analyst Bill James refers to Lindstrom's induction curtly. "A mistake," he says.
Take a seat, Steve Garvey. Take a hike, Frank Chance.
If you are going to put Chance in the Baseball Hall of Fame, you should quote The Raven in Bartlett's. It was, after all, a better poem.
Except for the Tinker-to-Evers-to-Chance poem, it's hard to figure what Chance is doing in the Hall. He had only six seasons in which he played as many as 100 games.
As for Garvey, he was an impact player on the great Dodger teams of the '70s. It's hard to figure out why he hasn't been inducted, except that not much rhymes with "Garvey."
Welcome to the show, Tony Oliva. We have some lovely parting gifts, Chick Hafey.
How long does someone have to be great before the designation sticks? Is it better to be better than average for 20 seasons or dominant for five? Every now and then, a player makes you wonder. Sandy Koufax, for one. In the NFL, Gale Sayers.
Then there is Oliva, who ripped the ball before his knees went bad. Still, he didn't star long enough for some people.
In the end, Oliva only had 1,917 hits. Hafey, on the other hand, had 1,466 hits. No contest.
Can we take your hat, Dave Concepcion? Can we get your coat, Joe Tinker?
Concepcion seems to have suffered because a.) he was playing with a bunch of other great players and b.) they weren't Yankees.
Concepcion was a fine player for the Reds, a five-time Gold Glove shortstop whose career average (.267) is roughly the same as Hall of Famers Bobby Wallace, Luis Aparicio and Pee Wee Reese.
As for Tinker, did we mention that silly poem?
Come right in, Curt Flood. Leave quietly, Tommy McCarthy.
Define "fame." Flood was a .293 hitter who won seven Gold Gloves in centerfield. Not bad. But Flood's true impact came when he challenged baseball's reserve clause through the courts. It changed the game about as much as the invention of third base.
Put Flood's bust in place of McCarthy's, an outfielder who had only 1,496 hits. Consider: Hafey and McCarthy combined had fewer hits than Boggs.
Thanks for coming, Jack Morris. Thanks for going, Jesse Haines.
Again, the Hall gets too carried away with career numbers and not enough on big moments. Remember Jack Morris? The Atlanta Braves do. Had their World Series game lasted four days, Morris would have been on the mound by the end.
For his career, Morris won 254 games. Haines won 210. Over his last nine seasons, Haines record was 70-49. That's hardly dominant.
This is your stop, Jim Rice. This is your exit, George Kelly.
Rice was known for his consistency. He has been that way on the ballot, too. Year-in, year-out, Rice has been close enough to think about Cooperstown but never close enough to get there. For six straight elections, he has received more than half the votes.
When you look at Rice's numbers, he deserves more. Rice had 2,452 hits, 382 homers and a .298 average. He won one MVP award and was in the top five in the voting five other times.
Kelly? He had 1,778 hits.
Pete Rose, your time is here. Lloyd Waner, your time is up.
Yes, Rose gets in. Despite the bets, despite the lies, despite the controversies and hollow apologies and lame explanations, baseball's all-time hit leader deserves to be in the Hall (though not on the field). Yes, he may be poison, but he was a much better player than Little Poison.
As for Waner, he had a nice enough career with 2,459 hits. On the other hand, how does an outfielder get that many hits and only drive in 598 runs?
Billy Martin, come on down. Bucky Harris, move it along.
Say what you will about Martin, a man who struggled with self-control in the dugout and away from it. But for all of his sideshows with George Steinbrenner, Martin could make a team better. He did it with Minnesota, he did it with Oakland, he did it with the Yankees. Martin won at a .553 clip.
As for Harris, yes, he has the fifth-most victories of any manager. On the other hand, he managed 29 seasons, and he had a losing record in 16 of them. Over his career, Harris lost 61 more games than he won. Gee. How bad would his teams have been if he wasn't a Hall of Fame manager?
And don't worry about Billy. Next time, we'll replace Charles Comiskey with Steinbrenner. Then the fun will really start.