All-Time Teams #19: New York Yankees

This is part of an ongoing series where I'm naming an all-time team for each of the current 30 MLB franchises. In an effort to revive this series after a long period of inactivity, I'm placing a little less emphasis on the discussion of the greatest eligible player who is not in the Hall of Fame.

Here's an update of the Hall of Famer per all-time team tally I listed in the Cubs post:

Cubs - 15
Braves - 14
White Sox - 13
Indians - 12
Yankees - 12
Red Sox - 12
Dodgers - 11
Reds - 10
Orioles - 9
Tigers - 9

These numbers include all Hall of Famers, regardless of whether they're inducted as a player, a manager, or in the case of Clark Griffith, an executive. 

A couple teams (Cubs and Indians) have the same Hall of Famer as a player and manager. Of course, I only counted those guys once.

Perhaps it's surprising to some that the Yankees aren't really close to the top of the list. The simple explanation is quite a few Yankees Hall of Famers didn't even make this team, with some even losing out to non-Hall of Famers, although that hardly makes the Yankees unique.

Franchise History

New York Yankees (1913 - )

New York Highlanders (1903 - 1912)

Baltimore Orioles (1901 - 1902)

An asterisk (*) denotes a Hall of Famer.

Starters

C - Yogi Berra* (1946-1963)

1B - Lou Gehrig* (1923-1939)

2B - Robinson Cano (2005-2013)

SS - Derek Jeter (1995-2014)

3B - Alex Rodriguez (2004-2013, 2015- )

LF - Babe Ruth* (1920-1934)

CF - Joe DiMaggio* (1936-1942, 1946-1951)

RF - Mickey Mantle* (1951-1968)

Ruth played a few hundred more games in right, but he's second in franchise history in games played in left field, and was essentially the Yankees' regular left fielder for four seasons. 

Mantle played right in his rookie season before eventually taking over the center field job when DiMaggio retired. This one's more of a stretch, but it's the best way to account for the fact that two of this team's four best players played the same position. 

Cano as the starting second baseman is probably my most controversial selection, and one that certainly would've been different five years ago. His cumulative WAR of 45.1 ranks third at the position, behind Willie Randolph (53.7) and Tony Lazzeri (48.3). But WAR/650 PA tells a different story: Cano - 5.6, Randolph - 5.2, Lazzeri - 4.9. 

While 0.4 WAR per year might not seem like a biggest enough difference to base such a decision on, especially since Joe Gordon's shorter Yankees career rates at 5.8 WAR/650 PA, but I'm skeptical enough of how much of Randolph's value comes from his defense to opt for Cano's offense instead. 

Rotation

Whitey Ford* (1950, 1953-1967)

Ron Guidry (1975-1988)

Red Ruffing* (1930-1942, 1945-1946)

Andy Pettitte (1995-2003, 2007-2010, 2012-2013)

Lefty Gomez* (1930-1942)

You could probably quibble with the order, but otherwise I doubt there's much controversy here. 

Closer

Mariano Rivera (1995-2013)

Reserves

C - Bill Dickey* (1928-1943, 1946)

C - Thurman Munson (1969-1979)

1B - Don Mattingly (1982-1995)

2B/3B/SS - Tony Lazzeri* (1926-1937)

3B - Graig Nettles (1973-1983)

LF/RF - Charlie Keller (1939-1943, 1945-1950)

OF - Bernie Williams (1991-2006)

Leaving Randolph off this team completely is tough -- I briefly considered expanding this team to accommodate him and a few other difficult omissions -- but I could probably put together a pretty great all-time team of players who didn't make my Yankees all-time team. That said, Lazzeri's flexibility to backup at SS as well was the deciding factor in his favor. 

Bullpen

Rich Gossage* (1978-1983, 1989)

Sparky Lyle (1972-1978)

Dave Righetti (1979, 1981-1990)

Mike Mussina (2001-2008)

I'm sure Gossage would choose himself as the team's closer, but everyone except him surely agrees Rivera is a no-brainer. Otherwise, it's a pretty short bullpen, but I've basically been going with 10 or 11 pitchers total depending on the worthiness of 25th man candidates. In this case, I felt Nettles and Munson were more worthy than any of the remaining hurlers. 

Manager

Casey Stengel* (1949-1960)

The Yankees really reinforce how difficult, and perhaps pointless, it is to decide who's the best manager in a franchise's history. Here are the choices:

Miller Huggins (1918-1929): 1067 wins, .597 W-L%, 6 pennants, 3 W-S titles. 

Joe McCarthy (1931-1946): 1460 wins, .627 W-L%, 8 pennants, 7 W-S titles. 

Casey Stengel (1949-1960): 1169 wins, .623 W-L%, 10 pennants, 7 W-S titles.

Joe Torre (1996-2007): 1173 wins, .605 W-L%, 6 pennants, 4 W-S titles.

Of course, it's not just comparing the level of success that makes choosing between these guys difficult, it's the age-old question -- which is especially pertinent to the Yankees -- of whether the manager makes the players great or the players make the manager great.

Obviously, it's probably a combination of those factors, but in the case of the Yankees, it's definitely more the latter than the former. In fact, the Yankees have won six World Series in the 61 seasons they were not managed by these four guys. By comparison, the second most successful franchise in baseball history (Cardinals) have won less than twice that many (11) in more than twice as many years (132), and the Dodgers have won six World Series in 130 years.

That said, Stengel gets the nod because of 10 pennants and seven World Championships in 12 years.

Greatest Eligible non-Hall of Famer

More interesting (to me) than the aforementioned potential second team is a potential all-time team of Yankees eligible for, but not in, the Hall of Fame. 

Thurman Munson is the only career Yankee who's in my personal Hall, but not the real Hall of Fame, so he's my choice here. 

Somewhat surprisingly, Munson's Hall case didn't get the special consideration players with similar circumstances typically get. I suppose he has the double whammy of being a catcher and having an abbreviated career, two factors that, to differing degrees, adversely affect the counting stats voters love. 

Obviously, Roy Campanella had the same potential problem but was unaffected. The guy did win three MVPs. So, perhaps Campanella is the Rickey Henderson to Munson's Tim Raines when it comes to catchers with careers shortened by non-baseball factors. Perhaps that's a stretch, but I'll go with it. 

Next Up: Oakland Athletics

Two Hypothetical Hall of Fame Ballots

I'll admit I'm getting a little tired of this exercise, and perhaps you are too. I know I'm not the only one. I still love the Hall of Fame—I just can't help myself—but I've grown increasingly frustrated with the process and its usual outcome for many highly deserving candidates.

That said, I'm not going to write about how to fix it. If you're interested in reading more on that subject, here are some ideas worth kicking around. 

I am, however, going to take you through the trite 'ole hypothetical ballot exercise. Except I've got two hypothetical ballots. Bear with me if you please. 

The first is who I'd vote for independent of what I know about prior BBWAA ballots. In other words, if I had no idea of how the voting might go. 

Barry Bonds

Roger Clemens 

Randy Johnson

Pedro Martinez

Jeff Bagwell 

Mike Piazza

Curt Schilling

Mike Mussina

Tim Raines

Alan Trammell

These are who I consider the ten most deserving players on the ballot. Honestly, after the first eight, I'm pretty torn on six guys to take the final two slots. More on that in a minute. 

The second hypothetical ballot is who I'd vote for if I actually had a vote, with a heavy emphasis on how the vote is trending based on recent elections. 

Randy Johnson

Pedro Martinez

Jeff Bagwell 

Mike Piazza

Curt Schilling

Mike Mussina

Tim Raines

Craig Biggio

Larry Walker

Edgar Martinez

As you can figure out for yourself, on the second ballot, I've dropped Bonds, Clemens and Trammell and added Biggio, Walker and Edgar Martinez. 

My reasons may be obvious to some, but I'll explain. 

Bonds and Clemens aren't going anywhere. That is, they're not getting in anytime soon, and they're not in jeopardy of falling off the ballot either. They've been safely in the mid-to-upper-30s (in terms of voter percentage) both of their years on the ballot, and that's not going to change drastically. 

Trammell, I'm sorry to say, is the definition of a lost cause. Considering this is his second-to-last chance, he'll be put out of his BBWAA misery and moving on to the hopefully greener pastures of the Veterans Committee shortly. 

There's no sense using a vote on any of these three that could be applied more usefully to someone with a chance of getting in or who needs help staying on the ballot. 

Biggio fell two votes short of election last year. He's the 14th best player (out of 17 who I think are deserving) on this ballot, so getting him inducted and out of the way will be a step toward clearing a path for other deserving candidates to get their due. 

I suppose I could vote for John Smoltz (#13 on the ballot, in my opinion) for the same reason, but his candidacy is trending towards easily reaching the 75% threshold, so I'm going to assume he needs my vote less than Biggio does. 

Walker and Martinez are my 11th and 12th most deserving players. Walker is in jeopardy of falling off the ballot if his support takes a significant hit, so he needs the vote more than any of my top 12 candidates. Martinez is in a less tenuous position, but his candidacy needs to build some momentum as he reaches the latter half of his ballot eligibility. 

That leaves Mark McGwire, Sammy Sosa and Gary Sheffield as the three remaining players I'd vote for if there wasn't a 10-player restriction, and the 15th through 17th most deserving players, in my opinion. McGwire and Sosa are lost causes due to the PED issue, and it appears Sheffield is trending in the same direction. 

I'd honestly like to cast a hypothetical vote for Sheffield just to help him stay on the ballot, as I believe his PED transgressions are murkier than some of the others, but he's just too far down my list to justify that decision. 

Lastly, I'm going to predict four players are inducted this year: Johnson, Pedro, Smoltz and Biggio. Piazza's vote total will make a big jump, but fall short of 75%, paving the way for his induction with Ken Griffey Jr. next year. Bagwell and Raines will receive a significant boost in support as well.

For Bagwell, I think he'll eventually earn election before his BBWAA eligibility runs out. For Raines, I'm not so optimistic. 

Minnie Miñoso Belongs in the Hall

Circa 1995, I was on a work trip to South Bend, Indiana. One evening, I was in a retail store of some kind when an employee's voice came over the loudspeaker announcing a giveaway contest. They were awarding a prize to the customer who could produce evidence he or she had come the furthest to shop in their store.

South Bend is in western Indiana, bordering Michigan to the north and not far from Illinois to the west, so another customer was understandably convinced being from Ohio would prove good enough to win. That is, until I unearthed my New York driver's license with Albany address. (I suppose the fact I was from New York was enough, as I could've been from Jamestown and still won by a landslide.)

The prize was two tickets to a South Bend Silver Hawks game the following night. At the time, South Bend was the Class A Midwest League affiliate of the White Sox.

I don't recall if I successfully recruited a co-worker to accompany me to the game. In fact, my hazy memory is of going to the game solo, which is something I've done countless times without reservation.

I also don't remember much about Coveleski Stadium, the home of the Silver Hawks, which is named after Hall of Famer and 55-year South Bend resident Stan Coveleski.

What I do remember is that Minnie Miñoso was there signing autographs, for free. I've never been much of a memorabilia collector, but every once in a while I decide to seize an opportunity. This, of course, was one of those occasions.

I quickly popped into the nearest souvenir store and purchased a cheap Silver Hawks ball which, with Mr. Miñoso's gracious assistance, became this souvenir:

Of course, none of this, in any way, has anything to do with Miñoso's Hall of Fame case, which I admit I've come around on in recent years. That is to say I've gone from thinking he's borderline to believing he definitely belongs in Cooperstown.

Miñoso's chances of getting in seemed pretty close to zero after he fell short on the 2012 Golden Era ballot, receiving nine of 16 possible votes, three short of election. This came after he was passed over by the 2006 special election of the Negro Leagues Committee, which inducted 17 former players, pioneers and executives of black baseball.

Miñoso's Hall of Fame case is borderline at first glance, but when his late start in the minors due to segregation is factored in, I believe a strong argument can be made in his favor.

Cuban-born Saturnino Orestes Armas (Arrieta) Minoso played his first professional baseball in the United States in 1946, the year before Jackie Robinson debuted for the Brooklyn Dodgers. That year, Minnie signed with the New York Cubans of the Negro National League.

Minnie was signed by the Indians in 1948, but he was already 22, unproven at the highest level, and his road to the majors blocked by several veterans. So, he toiled in the minors for 2+ seasons, playing nine games at the major league level in 1949 and none in 1950, before being traded to the White Sox in early 1951.

In Chicago, he became an instant star, homering in his first at bat and finishing the year with a .326/.422/.500 triple slash line, a 151 OPS+ and leading the league in triples (16), stolen bases (31) and HBP (16), while scoring 112 runs. He finished second in Rookie of the Year voting and fourth in MVP voting that season.

Miñoso averaged 5 WAR per year from 1951 to 1959, 4.1 per year through 1962, his age 36 season. His 1963 season was a -1.7 WAR disaster, signalling the end of his career. I've said before I think 4 WAR per year over 15 years is a Hall of Fame career. Miñoso's productiveness falls three seasons short of that, but what do we make of his late start?

I normally don't cut a guy any slack for a late arrival to the major leagues, but the fact of the matter is Miñoso was already 21 years old when Jackie Robinson made his major league debut. Obviously, the majors didn't become fully integrated overnight, and we can't fault Miñoso for not being the guy Branch Rickey hand-picked to be the first.

So, it stands to reason that, given the opportunities white ballplayers had, Minnie would have been drafted younger and potentially would have fully broken into the majors 2-3 years earlier than he did.

Would this have been enough to make his Hall of Fame case that much clearer? I think so.

A lot of people my age know Minnie more for his distinction of being one of only two players in history—-Nick Altrock being the other—-to play in five different decades. Brief appearances with the White Sox, in 1976 at age 50 and 1980 at age 54, helped him achieve that notoriety. But, Minoso did put together what should be considered a Hall of Fame career.

Council Rock and the Hall

If you're still reading, you've certainly noticed this blog's output has dropped off quite a bit this year. I don't expect that to change anytime soon, but I'm still going to try to keep writing about what I consider the essential subject matter. 

To that point, I'm a little (as in way) overdue for an update on my annual trek to Cooperstown for induction weekend. 

Hall of Fame weekend was the last weekend in July, and we spent Thursday through Sunday in Cooperstown. Here are some highlights. 

A Thursday evening visit to Council Rock Brewery, a relatively new place on the outskirts of town. I wasn't expecting to be blown away, and I wasn't, but I was pleasantly surprised. 

I enjoyed a flight of five 5-oz. samples for $8.50, which included a few guest taps as well. In fact, I was just as impressed with the offerings from Hamilton, New York's Good Nature Farm Brewery (Bavarian Dream Hefeweizen and American Brown Ale). 

The Council Rock beers (Full Nelson Pale Ale and Vienna Lager) were very good as well, leaving me to wonder if this isn't already the second best Cooperstown brewery. More on that at a later date, hopefully. 

I was a little less enthusiastic about the one guest beer from a brewery I was already familiar with (Captain Lawrence Kolsch). 

Of course, this and future vacations will surely have an increasing emphasis on Little Chuck's entertainment, so this year seemed like a good time to check out the Farmer's Museum for the first time. 

Considering he still talks about it, I'd say the Farmer's Museum was a hit, although at one point we realized he thinks a farmer is what you and I refer to as a barn. We haven't really bothered to correct him—well, we've tried, but it hasn't worked—so we're leaving this as one of those cute toddlerisms that will correct itself eventually. 

Here's another reason the Farmer's Museum was a big hit. As I said earlier, I hope to eventually get around to writing something about the Cooperstown beer scene, including the area's history as a hop producer. 

Of course, there was Saturday night's parade of Hall of Famers down Main Street. No acknowledgement from Eddie Murray this year. He's still a family favorite, but Rollie Fingers is now LC's favorite player. Because of the mustache, of course. 

Last, but certainly not least, here are the induction ceremony high—and low—lights:

• Greg Maddux made a fart joke.
• Dumb Braves fans started the tomahawk chop/war chant (or whatever it is) during Tom Glavine's speech. 
• Many dumb Braves fans left after Glavine's speech. Honestly, I suspect that's what the Hall of Fame wanted. Why else would they schedule Maddux, Bobby Cox and Glavine as the first three speeches. 
• I missed most of Tony LaRussa's speech waiting on line to use the porta-johns. 
• Frank Thomas cried. A lot. It was fantastic. 
• Dumb Braves fans booed when Joe Torre referenced the 1996 World Series—his first in a career that spanned 18 years as a player and 16 as a manager to that point—during his speech. These are the first boos I've EVER heard at a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, except those directed at Bud Selig.

Obviously, not all Braves fans are dumb, but the notion that only Yankees and Red Sox and Phillies fans are idiots has been out the window for many years, as far as I'm concerned. 

Four for My Personal Hall

When we collaborated on our Personal Hall of Fame project last year, my (mostly) High Heat Stats pals and I never discussed if it was something we'd be updating on an annual basis, but that always was my intention.

Since there's a ton of Hall of Fame discussion surrounding the time of year the BBWAA voting is announced, I decided I'd unveil my "inductees" just prior to the actual induction ceremony. Since that's this weekend, I'd say it's about time to reveal my fairly predictable selections for the class of 2014. 

Greg Maddux

No big surprise that the pitcher who's 8th all-time in Wins and pitching WAR is the easiest choice here. 

Frank Thomas

Thomas will become the first Hall of Famer to have fielded a position in less than half his career games—Paul Molitor came close, but still played the field more than he didn't—yet Edgar Martinez continues to be considered as less than a complete player. Perhaps The Big Hurt will mention Edgar in his speech. Don't count on it. 

Tom Glavine

Well, that wasn't much of a tribute to Thomas there, was it? No offense intended. I am putting him in my personal Hall, after all, so it should be pretty clear what I think of him. The same goes for Glavine, but, as with Thomas, his induction reminds me of another slight, this one perhaps even bigger than Martinez...

Mike Mussina

Mussina compares pretty favorably to Glavine. Sabermetrically speaking, he's actually a superior candidate (82.7 to 74 WAR over 850 fewer IP, 161 to 147 Hall Rating), while falling a little short by traditional standards (270 to 305 wins, 0 Cy Young awards to Glavine's 2). Glavine may very well be more Hall-worthy than Mussina, but this little comparison—a compromise of sorts between old school and new school—shows how truly close they are.

In my opinion, Glavine is perceived more as a Hall of Famer because he combined a couple dominant (i.e. Cy Young caliber) seasons with considerable longevity. I suppose Mussina is thought of as a guy who was just consistently very good, but the rate stats—and those that consider context—show he was a better pitcher than Glavine, just over a shorter period of time. 

Don't misinterpret this. I think Glavine is a no-doubt Hall of Famer. But, so is Mussina.

Of course, a bunch of guys who fell short on the actual 2014 ballot are already in my Personal Hall, but there are a few who I'd like to consider further, most notably Jeff Kent. However, I'm not dropping anyone from consideration. It's just that most of the rest of the eligible players won't be very high on my radar moving forward. 

All-Time Teams #18: New York Mets

This is part of an ongoing series where I'm naming an all-time team for each of the current 30 MLB franchises, and using this as a vehicle to discuss their greatest eligible player who is not in the Hall of Fame.

The long overdue return of this all-time teams series brings us an installment away from the most difficult one of all.

Franchise History
New York Mets (1962- )

An asterisk (*) denotes a Hall of Famer.

Starters
C - Mike Piazza* (1998-2005)
1B - Keith Hernandez (1983-1989)
2B - Edgardo Alfonzo (1995-2002)
SS - Jose Reyes (2003-2011)
3B - David Wright (2004- )
LF - Cleon Jones (1963, 1965-1975)
CF - Carlos Beltran (2005-2011)
RF - Darryl Strawberry (1983-1990)

Alfonzo played more games at third for the Mets, but his two best seasons were as the team's starting second baseman, making it easy to justify this position switch.

Rotation
Tom Seaver* (1967-1977, 1983)
Dwight Gooden (1984-1994)
Jerry Koosman (1967-1978)
Sid Fernandez (1984-1993)
Jon Matlack (1971-1977)

Closer
John Franco (1990-2001, 2003-2004)

Reserves
C - Gary Carter* (1985-1989)
1B - John Olerud (1997-1999)
2B - Wally Backman (1980-1988)

SS - Bud Harrelson (1965-1977)
3B/SS/OF - Howard Johnson (1985-1993)
OF - Mookie Wilson (1980-1989)
OF - Lenny Dykstra (1985-1989)

The toughest omissions here were Ed Kranepool and John Stearns.

Kranepool is the franchise's all-time leader in games played, at bats and plate appearances, and is in the top five in hits, total bases and RBI, but Olerud had two of the franchise's 25 best seasons by a position player, and racked up more WAR in 1998 than Kranepool did in his entire career. 

Stearns accumulated more value in his 10 years with the Mets than Carter did in his five, the last two of which were the beginning of the end for the Kid. That made this a much tougher decision, but Carter had an MVP-type season in 1985 and was one of the leaders of one of the team's two World Series winners, so that edges him past his fellow four-time all-star.

In the pre-David Wright days, A Mets fan argued with me in favor of Ray Knight over Howard Johnson as the team's all-time third baseman. World Series MVP notwithstanding, that guy was out of his freaking mind. Knight didn't even sniff consideration for a reserve spot on this team.

Bullpen
Jesse Orosco (1979, 1981-1987)
Tug McGraw (1965-1967, 1969-1974)

Al Leiter (1998-2004)
David Cone (1987-1992, 2003)

The most accomplished Mets pitcher to not make it here is probably Ron Darling. I suppose an argument could be made for Billy Wagner, but his time with the Mets was a little too short to justify taking him over Orosco or McGraw, and I had to find a place for rotation runners-up Leiter and Cone.

Manager
Davey Johnson (1984-1990)


Greatest Eligible non-Hall of Famer

There are three players on this team who are in my personal Hall, but not the real thing. 

Mike Piazza played longer with the Mets, but most of his truly great seasons were with the Dodgers. 

Keith Hernandez, despite his status as one of the key members of the '86 Mets, is probably thought of as a Cardinal first. 

David Cone might be considered a Met, or he might be considered a Yankee, for the purpose of the cap depicted on his hypothetical Hall of Fame plaque. 

Image via Wikimedia Commons

So, my choice for the distinction of the greatest eligible player unquestionably identified as a Met, who's not in the Hall of Fame, is Dwight Gooden.

Gooden is a little short of Hall-worthy in my book, but an argument can be made for him based on peak. 

In fact, take a look at this short list of 20th-century pitching WAR leaders through age 23. Four out of six are Hall of Famers, while Gooden (100 ERA+, 18.9 WAR in 1628 IP from age 24 on) joins Frank Tanana as players whose careers could have been so much more. 

Next Up: New York Yankees

My Hypothetical Hall of Fame Ballot

If you weren't instantly put off by the title, and you've read even this far, it likely means you're one of the few who haven't already had enough of this subject for the year. That being said, I'll try to be as brief as possible.

13 of the players on this year's ballot are already in my personal Hall of Fame, and several easy choices are new to the ballot. So, obviously, the process of narrowing my selections down to ten creates some serious dilemmas.

I know this doesn't make me unique, but I've decided, if I had a Hall of Fame ballot, I'd use it strategically out of necessity. That is, unfortunately, I wouldn't simply vote for the ten players I consider to be the most worthy candidates.

Enough has been written about the glut of qualified candidates on the ballot, and the fact that situation is only going to get worse in upcoming years, so I'll not belabor that point. But, the thing that could help alleviate the situation, short of a change in the rule allowing each voter to vote for only ten players, is for some of this year's qualified candidates to get elected. 

So, to that end, my first priority would be to vote for the Hall-worthy players who have a chance of getting in:

Greg Maddux is the only player who's basically guaranteed to be a member of Cooperstown's class of 2014.

Tom Glavine and Frank Thomas, also newcomers to the ballot, would be virtual locks in almost any other year. 

Craig Biggio came close last year. He probably won't get the boost needed to get in this year, but he has the best chance of all the returning candidates. 

My next priority would be to vote for the qualified candidates who are in danger of falling below the requisite 5% to remain on the ballot:

I think Larry Walker is in serious jeopardy of being the guy bumped off of many of the ballots that included him last year in favor of the first-timers. 

Based on last year's results, Edgar Martinez has nothing to worry about. However, I expect his support to take a bigger hit than most this year because of his status as a perceived fringe candidate. 

Mike Mussina is this year's wild card. I could see him getting nearly as much support as Curt Schilling received last year (probably not) or somewhere around the 5% borderline. I think he'll be OK, but I'd vote for him just to be safe.* 

That leaves me with three more votes to award to candidates who don't have a chance of getting in this year, but also aren't likely to fall off the ballot either. So, I've decided my third priority will be players whose candidacies need to continue their momentum towards 75%. 

Believe it or not, I considered not voting for Tim Raines. But, in his 7th year on the ballot, I don't think he can afford to take a major step back, although a slight reduction in support seems likely. 

Jeff Bagwell and Mike Piazza are going to get in eventually, I think. Basically, my final choices came down to them or the duo of Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens.

So, Maddux, Glavine, Thomas, Biggio, Walker, Martinez, Mussina, Raines, Bagwell and Piazza it is.

*As it turns out, Mussina has received 35 votes from among 101 voters who've made their ballots public to date. Last year, a total of 569 votes were cast, so it appears he already has enough support to remain on the ballot. But, I wasn't aware of this at the time of this writing, which technically was after the ballot submission deadline anyway, so I'll stand behind my methodology here. 

It's hard to believe this means I'm leaving Bonds, Clemens and Curt Schilling off. Schilling probably isn't in danger of dropping off, but he's my riskiest omission. 

Bonds and Clemens aren't going anywhere, but since they're the two best players on the ballot, it feels really weird to not vote for them. 

That leaves Alan Trammell, Mark McGwire, Rafael Palmeiro and Sammy Sosa as the Hall-worthy players I'm writing off as lost causes. The latter two or three are probably the weakest candidates of the 17 I'd like to vote for anyway. 

I'd also like to see Jeff Kent (who I'm still undecided about) get a longer look, but I just can't find a place for him on my ballot. 

Unfortunately, this is how progressive voters need to approach their ballots, in my opinion. Personally, I'm far from certain I've made all the right decisions here, but I feel pretty confident my top two selection criteria are the way to go. 

Handicapping the Expansion Era Ballot

Last week, the Hall of Fame's Expansion Era Committee announced the 12 candidates (whose greatest contributions to baseball were from 1973 to present) who they'll consider for induction this year.

The list of names includes several who were passed over in 2010–when the committee last considered candidates–as well as some prominent newbies. 

The newbies include three managers who are virtual locks to get in: Bobby Cox, Tony LaRussa, and Joe Torre, the latter of whom's case is buoyed by a playing career that, at worst, was borderline Hall-worthy. 

In fact, thanks to these three, it's hard to imagine anyone else has much of a chance. Let's do the math. 

The committee consists of 16 members, each of whom can vote for up to five candidates. Assuming everyone uses up their full allotment (which is no guarantee), that's 80 votes to go around. It takes 12 for election, so that means a perfect storm of virtual consensus would result in a maximum of six successful candidates. 

But, of course, that's not going to happen. I could be wrong about this, but it's hard to imagine any more than 2-3 voters each not getting behind this trio of managers. That leaves approximately 40 for the remaining nine candidates. 

Assuming there's some support for each candidate–they wouldn't be on the ballot otherwise–at least two or three votes for each of the remaining nine seems likely. That brings the available votes down to low-20s at most, meaning two more could conceivably garner the extra 9-10 needed to be elected. 

That's a little far-fetched, though, but I'll back off my original contention and say there's an outside chance a fourth could get in. I doubt it, but it's not impossible. 

So, who has the best chance to be that potential fourth selection? 

Marvin Miller and Dave Concepcion both did fairly well in the last Expansion Era election in 2010–receiving 11 and 8 out of a possible 16 votes, respectively–so they're the most obvious candidates. Personally, I think Miller has the best shot, and is much more deserving than Concepcion, who I would rank as slightly more Hall-worthy than Mark Belanger, slightly less than Bert Campaneris and considerably less qualified than Alan Trammell, among his contemporaries at shortstop.

The remainder of the candidates I see as having little to no chance of getting in.

The committee must have been trying to stick it to Billy Martin by pitting him against Cox, LaRussa and Torre.

George Steinbrenner will probably make the Hall of Fame someday, but not this year.

Steve Garvey is a lost cause, and rightfully so. With so many years of hindsight, why anyone thinks he's a better candidate than Keith Hernandez is beyond me. 

Tommy John is just below the borderline to me. I don't think there's much hope for him, but he's a better candidate than all the players on this ballot except one. 

Dave Parker doesn't stand much of a chance either. I'm not sure why the selection committee thinks he does. I would have much rather seen Dwight Evans get a shot in his place. 

I really want to be able to make a case for Dan Quisenberry, and I think there's one to be made. He's arguably as Hall-worthy as Bruce Sutter and maybe even more so than Rollie Fingers. But, I just can't find enough there to make the case that any of these players and their peers–with Goose Gossage being the exception–deserve the honor. 

Ted Simmons, of course, is the most worthy candidate beyond the three aforementioned managers, but I don't give him much of a chance either. 

In fact, there are a lot of players I would have rather seen than most of these guys: Bobby Grich, Graig Nettles, Thurman Munson, in addition to Evans and Hernandez, just to name a handful.

If I had a vote, I'd go with Torre, Cox, LaRussa, Simmons and Miller.

High Heat Stats: Let's Talk About Carlos Beltran

Following Carlos Beltran’s heroics Friday night–which continued his history of tremendous postseason results (save one forgettable at bat in the 2006 NLCS)–I wrote a little something over on High Heat Stats discussing his Hall of Fame candidacy. Please check it out.

Personal Hall of Fame, Part 6: Modern Era

This is the sixth in a series of six posts where I'm revealing my personal Hall of Fame one era at a time.

I've determined era based on when each player's star shined the brightest—although in marginal cases, I've assigned some players based on where they fit best due to the all-era teams format—but their entire careers provide the basis for selection, rather than just time spent in a specific era.

My personal Hall consists exclusively of players (no managers, executives, pioneers or umpires) based on their careers in Major League Baseball only.

For a more complete explanation of this series, and for my 19th Century inductees, please see Part 1. For my Deadball era inductees, please see Part 2. For my Live Ball era inductees, check out Part 3. For my Post-Integration and Designated Hitter era inductees, respectively, see Part 4 and Part 5.

An * denotes an actual Hall of Famer.

Modern Era Personal Hall Inductees (1994- )

C - Mike Piazza* (1992-2007)
1B - Jeff Bagwell* (1991-2005)

1B - Mark McGwire (1986-2001)

1B - Rafael Palmeiro (1986-2005)
2B - Roberto Alomar* (1988-2004)

2B - Craig Biggio* (1988-2007)
SS - Barry Larkin* (1986-2004)

LF - Barry Bonds (1986-2007)

CF - Kenny Lofton (1991-2007)

RF - Larry Walker (1989-2005)

RF - Sammy Sosa (1989-2005, 2007)
DH/1B - Frank Thomas* (1990-2008)

DH - Edgar Martinez (1987-2004)

SP - Roger Clemens (1984-2007)
SP - Greg Maddux* (1986-2008)

SP - Curt Schilling (1988-2007)
SP - Mike Mussina (1991-2008)
SP - Tom Glavine* (1987-2008)

SP - Kevin Brown (1986, 1988-2005)

Obviously, this era is far from complete. I haven't decided if I'll keep updating here as new players become eligible and are added to my personal Hall. As of right now, I'd say that's my intention. 

The non-Hall of Famers I'm inducting here essentially fall into three categories: those who will eventually be inducted into the real Hall of Fame (Piazza, Bagwell, Biggio, Schilling); those who would otherwise be Hall of Famers if not for steroid allegations (McGwire, Palmeiro, Bonds, Sosa, Clemens); and those who truly fall into the underrated category, at least in my opinion. 

There's some overlap—Piazza and Bagwell are also kind of in the second category—and some gray area—there are those who suggest McGwire, Palmeiro and Sosa are not slam-dunk Hall of Famers, but take a look at their numbers and ask yourself who those folks are kidding—but those three categories cover all the angles. 

I'm going to talk about the guys in the latter category. 

Kenny Lofton compares more favorably to Tim Raines than I bet a lot of people realize. He wasn't as good a hitter and doesn't quite have Raines' career base-stealing prowess, but his defensive advantage essentially elevates him to virtually Rock's equal. That makes him Hall of Fame worthy in my book. 

I'm not sure what Larry Walker needed to do to compensate for the fact he played a lot of games in the friendly confines of Coors Field to satisfy the voters. His 141 OPS+ and 73 WAR in 16 seasons (not including a cup of coffee as a 22-year old) shows his career was way more than a home-ballpark aided mirage. 

If Edgar Martinez had played the field for most of his career, it probably would've cost him a little career value, but no more than some of the Hall's most one-dimensional players, such as Willie McCovey, Harmon Killebrew and Willie Stargell. Like those guys, Martinez's offense more than made up for his lack of a defensive resume. It's ludicrous to say he was any less of a complete player because his team decided the role that best suited him was designated hitter. 

Kevin Brown wasn't very well-liked. He played for a bunch of different teams. His brief time on the big stage in New York didn't end well, especially in the ALCS (although his prior postseason performance was solid overall). He was named in the Mitchell Report. Perhaps that's why a guy who compares pretty favorably to Schilling (not that he's received overwhelming Hall support himself), except without the tremendous postseason resume, fell off the ballot after one year. 

I'm also making a few adjustments to my previous selections, adding Clark Griffith, Joe Tinker and Luis Aparicio (all actual Hall of Famers, although Griffith is in as an executive), bringing my personal Hall to 215 players. That's seven more than the actual institution, but it's still a much more select group, in my opinion.

Personal Hall of Fame, Part 5: Designated Hitter Era

This is the fifth in a series of six posts where I'm revealing my personal Hall of Fame one era at a time.

I've determined era based on when each player's star shined the brightest—although in marginal cases, I've assigned some players based on where they fit best due to the all-era teams format—but their entire careers provide the basis for selection, rather than just time spent in a  specific era.

My personal Hall consists exclusively of players (no managers, executives, pioneers or umpires) based on their careers in Major League Baseball only.

For a more complete explanation of this series, and for my 19th Century inductees, please see Part 1. For my Deadball era inductees, please see Part 2. For my Live Ball era inductees, check out Part 3. For my Post-Integration era inductees, Part 4.

An * denotes an actual Hall of Famer.

All-Designated Hitter Era Team/Personal Hall Inductees (1973-1993)

Starters

C - Johnny Bench* (1967-1983)

1B (2B) - Rod Carew* (1967-1985)

2B - Joe Morgan* (1963-1984)

SS - Cal Ripken* (1981-2001)

3B - Mike Schmidt* (1972-1989)

LF - Rickey Henderson* (1979-2003)

CF (RF) - Andre Dawson* (1976-1996)

RF - Reggie Jackson* (1967-1987)

DH (3B/2B) - Paul Molitor* (1978-1998)

SP - Tom Seaver* (1967-1986)

SP - Steve Carlton* (1965-1988)

SP - Phil Niekro* (1964-1987)

SP - Bert Blyleven* (1970-1990, 1992)

SP - Jim Palmer* (1965-1967, 1969-1984)

Reserves

C - Gary Carter* (1974-1992)

C - Carlton Fisk* (1969, 1971-1993)

C - Ted Simmons (1968-1988)

C - Thurman Munson (1969-1979)

1B - Eddie Murray* (1977-1997)

1B - Keith Hernandez (1974-1990)

2B - Ryne Sandberg* (1981-1994, 1996-1997)

2B - Bobby Grich (1970-1986)

2B - Lou Whitaker (1977-1995)

SS - Ozzie Smith* (1978-1996)

SS/CF - Robin Yount* (1974-1993)

SS - Alan Trammell (1977-1996)

3B - Wade Boggs* (1982-1999)

3B - George Brett* (1973-1993)

3B - Graig Nettles (1967-1988)

3B - Buddy Bell (1972-1989)
LF/1B - Willie Stargell* (1962-1982)

LF - Tim Raines (1979-1999, 2001-2002)

CF - Kirby Puckett* (1984-1995)

RF/CF - Reggie Smith (1966-1982)

RF - Tony Gwynn* (1982-2001)

RF - Dave Winfield* (1973-1995)

RF - Dwight Evans (1972-1991)

SP - Nolan Ryan* (1966, 1968-1993) 78/20

SP - Don Sutton* (1966-1998)

SP - Rick Reuschel (1972-1981, 1983-1991)

SP - David Cone (1986-2001, 2003)

SP - Luis Tiant (1964-1982)

SP - Bret Saberhagen (1984-1995, 1997-1999, 2001)

SP - Dave Stieb (1979-1993, 1998)

SP/RP - Dennis Eckersley* (1975-1998)

RP - Rich Gossage* (1972-1989, 1991-1994)

Continuing the trend that integrated eras are more highly represented, the 46 players here from a period spanning 21 years (2.19/year) is the highest concentration so far. 

Also of note, there are 15 non-Hall of Famers added to my personal Hall here, almost doubling the previous high for an era. My best guess as to why is voters have failed to properly adjust for the game's continuously evolving playing environment and continue to hold players to standards established in the game's so-called heyday. This is especially true with pitchers. 

Either that or I've chosen too many players. 

Among the 15, I'll add Ted Simmons and Thurman Munson to the list of catchers underrated by Hall voters. 

Simmons' defensive skills were never highly rated, so I suppose his status as one of his era's best offensive catchers wasn't considered enough. It is for me, though, not to mention his rank as the 11th best catcher of all-time according to Hall Rating. 

Munson's career ended prematurely and tragically, of course. I've always assumed talk of his skills declining at a young age is the reason he never received the Kirby Puckett treatment. Just as we can't project his would-have-been statistics in a positive way, we can't be certain a brief downward trend would have continued. Despite the shortened career, only six catchers produced more 4-WAR seasons than Munson did (min. 75% games caught per season): Johnny Bench, Mickey Cochrane, Ivan Rodriguez, Mike Piazza, Gary Carter, Yogi Berra.

With apologies to Don Mattingly, Keith Hernandez was the greatest defensive first baseman of all-time. Although it's a position where defense is relatively unimportant, rating as the best certainly helps Hernandez's case. His offense was also tremendously underrated since he didn't hit a lot of homers and fell short of the magic .300 lifetime batting average. However, thanks to a .384 career OBP and a lot of doubles, Hernandez's 128 OPS+ is better than I suspect most folks realize, and is comparable to Jim Rice, a player from this era who's in the Hall entirely for his offensive ability. 

A lot has been written about the voting travesty that allowed Bobby Grich and Lou Whitaker to fall off the ballot after only one year. They're perhaps two of the most underrated players of all-time. They should be Hall of Famers. It's just that simple. 

Ditto for Alan Trammell, who's still on the ballot but stands little chance of getting inducted in his remaining three years. 

My dad would argue Clete Boyer just as I'm going to say Graig Nettles is maybe the second best defensive third baseman in history. I know there's some personal bias there, but so be it. Nettles also hit 390 home runs and is ranked 9th all-time at the position based on Hall Rating, but didn't get much consideration because of a .248 career batting average. 

As evidence not supporting one of my previous statements, Buddy Bell actually won several Gold Gloves at third over Nettles. Accepting that Bell is arguably in Nettles' class as a third basemen, their offensive resumes are comparable as well, although Bell didn't have Nettles' power. Both are deserving of the Hall at one of its most under-represented positions. 

It should be no secret how I feel about Tim Raines, so I'll just add this:

Only eight players in history have reached base 4000 times, scored 1500 runs, stolen 500 bases and were worth more than 60 wins above replacement for their careers. Five of them (Rickey Henderson, Joe Morgan, Paul Molitor, Ty Cobb and Honus Wagner) are first-ballot Hall of Famers; one (Eddie Collins), while not being elected on the first ballot, was among the first 16 player inductees in the Hall's history; and the remaining two are Barry Bonds and Tim Raines.

Rice came of age during my childhood, and he definitely falls into the category of a player I thought of as a future Hall of Famer back then. But his offensive peak wasn't as impressive as I thought as a kid, and it didn't last long enough to overcome his deficiencies. I'll always remember his flashes of greatness, but he falls short to me.

However, two other former Red Sox outfielders step in in his place: Reggie Smith, who left the team before Rice arrived and who frightened the hell out of me while playing for the Dodgers in the 1977 and 1978 World Series against the Yankees; and Rice's unsung teammate Dwight Evans, whose 127 OPS+ was nearly identical to Rice's 128 while playing Gold Glove defense in right field over a career that lasted four years and 1500 plate appearances longer. 

I really think modernish starting pitchers have been short-changed by Hall voters who simply don't realize how rare consistency and longevity has become at the position. Sure, there's a new wave of pitchers about to descend on the Hall who measure up to the Lefty Groves, Warren Spahns and Tom Seavers. But, of the last 28 MLB players elected to the Hall, only two of them were starting pitchers, and one of those is Dennis Eckersley. 

I'm making up for that unattainable standard by extending the list of this era's greatest starters to include Rick Reuschel, Luis Tiant, David Cone, Dave Stieb and Bret Saberhagen.

As you may have already noticed, I'm being lazy and linking to articles supporting the Hall of Fame cases of some of these players (most provided by friends of the blog). Here's a good one that covers Cone, Saberhagen and Stieb. I'll use another familiar source to present Reuschel's case, but I'll handle Tiant myself.

There was some inconsistency to Tiant's career, just as with the other guys. But, I've already made the point that we've long since reached an era where that's simply the nature of starting pitchers. A few mediocre seasons over the course of a career should not disqualify a player from the Hall of Fame. At least, not in my book. El Tiante's rough stretch was from 1969-1971, although 1969 wasn't nearly as bad a year as his 9-20 W-L record would indicate. But, from 1964-1968 and 1972-1979, he was 200-126 with a 122 ERA+ and 62 WAR over just 13 seasons. If we leave those three seasons in, we're talking 66 WAR in 16 years, which easily passes my personal Hall of Fame litmus test.

The list of actual Hall of Famers who didn't make my personal Hall (in descending order by Hall Rating) is a short one: Jim Rice, Bruce Sutter, Rollie Fingers.

Next Up: Part 6 - Modern Era