I joined numerous baseball social media groups and platforms shortly after I began publishing this newsletter. Yeah, I’m the guy on there promoting my stuff while trying not to be too annoying about asking you to read my work. It’s a fine line, and it has provided me with several insights into the minds of baseball fans. Chief among them, we love to argue about the Hall of Fame.
Sure, we act like we don’t. There are probably almost as many posts complaining about Hall of Fame arguments as there are actual arguments, but that doesn’t stop us from jumping back into the fray anytime we see a post that triggers our sensibilities. I learned this the hard way back in January when I made what I thought was an innocent comment about Scott Rolen’s Hall of Fame election.
I received more responses to that post than anything else I’d ever said on social media. Well, actually that’s not true. A post I made in support of the pitch clock on the eve of Spring Training probably got even more, but most of those people have quieted down since the pitch clock has been proven largely successful and didn’t spell the end of baseball as we know it. But the Hall of Fame debates rage on.
I’m not going to rehash the Rolen conversation in detail here, but it boiled down to this. I watched Scott Rolen play, and he was a very good player. But I never once thought I was watching a Hall-of-Famer at the time, and there’s not a single moment of his career that stands out as particularly memorable to me. There’s a lot of subjectivity in that assessment, and I admit that I didn’t follow his career closely, but I feel like most HOFers can point to some accomplishment that even casual fans recognize. And Rolen doesn’t tick that box for me, or a fair amount of other baseball fans apparently.
Now, if you’re not on any of those baseball platforms I alluded to, you probably don’t realize what a can of worms I just opened. I guarantee at least a few readers just paused this article and started putting together their case for Rolen. While your eyes continue to scan this paragraph, they’ve already opened up another browser window to collect evidence they can throw at me in favor of Rolen.
Most of their case will revolve around stats, and especially advanced stats. And that’s fine. I’m not against advanced stats, although I’ve often made the case that people sometimes take them too seriously. Stats are an important part of baseball, and I won’t argue that they are the best way to evaluate players and teams. As has often been stated, stats don’t lie. But I would add that they also don’t always tell the whole story.
Take for example, Dave Parker. Not only is he one of the coolest individuals to ever pick up a bat, but he knew how to use it too. I only caught the tail end of Parker’s career, the highlight of which was his time in Oakland— I didn’t see any of his glory years in Pittsburgh or much of his resurgence in Cincinnati— but even in the limited time I got to see him, Parker always struck me as much more of a game-changer than Rolen. That, alone, doesn’t necessarily warrant inclusion in the HOF, but I still would put the Cobra’s resume up for inclusion in Cooperstown any time anybody talks Hall of Fame.
Head-to-head, almost every category favors Parker, although they’re very close across the board, except when it comes to Gold Gloves and WAR. Gold Gloves are nice, and certainly indicate strong defense, but they’re also not the most reliable award. And besides, no one is disputing that Rolen was a better defender. Does that alone account for 30 points in WAR?
I have major issues with Wins Above Replacement, but that is what all the statheads will point to when they make their case for Rolen. Although, surely, Parker’s MVP award and role on an extra World Championship team, not to mention the Cobra’s sense of style, should make up for a discrepancy in what is an inherently flawed stat. Right? Apparently not. And when you bring up Lou Whitaker, a man with a better resume and WAR than either Parker or Rolen, you usually get crickets.
Or, if you’re lucky, maybe you get a begrudging admission that HOF voting is far from perfect. To be sure, there is a lot of nuance to it. For example, how much credit should be given to players who were able to compile impressive stats through longevity, but were never necessarily among the best players in the game for any single season or stretch of their career, compared to players who could match the all-time greats in their prime, but maybe didn’t have the staying power to hit certain milestone stats HOF voters place so much emphasis on?
Dale Murphy is an excellent example of this, and a frequent topic of discussion in HOF forums. From 1980-87, Murphy was as good as any player in baseball for the mostly hapless Braves, and scored back-to-back NL MVP’s in 1982 and 1983. Prior to that, and certainly after, until his retirement in 1993, his numbers were far more pedestrian. Part of that was due to injuries, but the more important question is how much should his prime count? Because people my age and older will, for the most part, testify that Murphy was a truly elite player, even if he tailed off at the end. I’d put him in the Hall in a heartbeat, and so would many others, but the voters don’t agree.
The same is true of Don Mattingly, aka Donny Baseball. Everyone who watched baseball in the 80’s knows that Mattingly was something special, and the heartbeat of the game’s most out-front organization (the Yankees) at a time when they didn’t have a whole lot else going for them. Hell, his hilarious appearance on the classic Simpsons episode “Homer at the Bat” is worth a plaque all on its own. And the real irony to that is “Homer at the Bat” was inducted into the HOF a few years ago, while Donnie Baseball is still left out in the cold for people like us to argue about.
Another great New York first baseman, Keith Hernandez, is in a similar boat. The stat argument might hold up a little better with the former Cardinal and Met great than some of the other guys— Hernandez was never the offensive juggernaut that Murphy and Mattingly were, and he never had a stretch where he absolutely dominated the game like they did— but there are still many compelling arguments on his side. In addition to being the leader of the iconic 1986 Mets, Hernandez won an MVP award, played in five All-Star games, and is without a doubt the best defensive first baseman in baseball history.
Defense is something the Rolen fans always bring up in his, uh, well, defense. And I’ll grant that it is something that is often unfairly overlooked. What doesn’t make sense is that a fair amount of Rolen’s case seems to be built on it, but they don’t want to extend that to Hernandez. I won’t argue that 3B isn’t a more difficult position that 1B, but Hernandez was the best ever at his position. No one is saying that about Rolen.
It goes back to the eye test. (And by that, I don’t mean the way sabermetricians roll their eyes whenever someone brings up the eye test.) I watched them both play, and if I were starting a team myself, there’s no way I would pick Rolen over Hernandez. Keith Hernandez was the bigger impact player throughout his career— I don’t care what stat you want to throw at me that says otherwise. I saw it myself.
Okay, so it probably sounds like I’m a virulent Rolen-hater at this point. But that’s not what I’m going for here. I honestly have no problem with Rolen being in the Hall of Fame, I just would have inducted several other guys in front of him. One of the great things about the Baseball HOF is that it maintains a high bar for admission, unlike football or basketball, the latter of which seems to induct whoever can dribble a ball for two minutes at a time. (I believe I’m up for election in that one in 2027, and I consider it a great honor.) I just wish the guidelines for that bar were a little more clear and consistent.
The Baseball Hall of Fame means something though. Fans of other sports don’t get this worked up over who belongs in their museum. And that’s essentially what the HOF is— a museum. As a baseball and history nerd, it’s the perfect crossroads for two of my biggest passions.
Established in 1939 by Stephen Carlton Clark, the heir to the Singer Sewing Machine Company fortune, it was built to serve two purposes. First, to honor the greatest players in baseball history— obviously. And second, to bring tourists to a town in western New York decimated by the Great Depression and Prohibition. They even invented the myth of Abner Doubleday creating the game in Cooperstown as a way to sell it. That’s right, the building that we get so excited arguing over that the vein in your forehead starts to bulge is really just a glorified tourist trap.
In this respect, it has proven immensely successful. Roughly 260,000 visitors go to Cooperstown every year, though this number is down from about 380,000 roughly twenty years ago. That raises a discussion about how the history of the game, something diehard baseball fans are always very concerned with, is potentially just as dependent on the game’s future as vice-versa, but I’m not going to go down that rabbit hole today.
With the addition of Rolen and Fred McGriff in 2023, 342 people will have been inducted into the hall and had their plaque added to the wall. That includes 239 MLB players, 39 Negro Leagues players, 23 managers, 10 umpires, and 36 miscellaneous individuals consisting of executives, pioneers, and others. Players are eligible for induction five years after retirement, as long as they played at least ten years. Election requires seventy-five percent of the vote, and if you receive less than five percent, you’re dropped off the ballot. This doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t get in, however, as there is a veteran’s committee that selects players passed up by the writers who cast votes in the main election. This is actually how Fred McGriff earned his plaque.
The museum, itself, houses only a fraction of the Hall’s material. It is also the home of an archive that includes 40,000 artifacts from the game’s history, three million library items, including newspaper clippings and photos, and 140,000 baseball cards. I’m not lying when I say it would be one of my dream jobs to work there.
Because that’s what the Hall is— a monument to the game. We argue over who belongs inside— that’s not even necessarily a bad thing, as it certainly keeps people invested and showcases people’s passion for the sport. But the Hall of Fame is so much more than just a wall of plaques. It is literally an exhibition of the greatest game on Earth.
This is why I personally believe Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire, Roger Clemens, and other stars of the steroid era should be included. A lot of people will bristle at that, but you can’t ignore an entire era of the game because players were juicing— especially because so many players were using at the time. Just don’t hide from it. Acknowledge it on their plaques and in any other displays featuring the affected players. The players themselves might not love that, but it seems like a small price to pay for their indiscretions.
The same goes for Pete Rose, although I will concede that his situation is a tad more complex than the steroid guys. Technically, nothing they did was illegal at the time, even if it was sketchy and certainly frowned upon. And one can even argue that they helped the game regain its popularity in the wake of the Strike, regardless of whether they tainted it in the long term. Perhaps not the sturdiest defense for their actions, but it’s more than Rose can offer.
I definitely don’t want to get sidetracked with the whole Pete Rose debate. There are few players I am more tired of hearing about than Rose, but he is the all-time hit king. There’s no denying that. (Unless you want to make a case for including Ichiro Suzuki’s Japanese stats.) And he also got busted for betting on baseball while a player-manager for the Reds in 1989. No denying that either. Ah, the rare player-manager. Once a staple in baseball, Rose is the only one I can remember in my lifetime. That fact actually endears him to me a bit.
It’s probably the only thing about Rose that I find endearing. He’s a selfish, shameless dumbass who accepted a lifetime ban from baseball (which includes the HOF) to avoid prosecution for his gambling sins. Over the years, he’s had several chances to apologize and potentially get back in the good graces of baseball, and he’s usually screwed them up spectacularly. I think he might be one of the most overrated players in the history of the game too. The very definition of a compiler, he has the most hits of anyone mostly because he has by far the most at-bats. He also has the most outs. But overrated doesn’t mean he sucked. Even his haters have to admit that “Charlie Hustle” was a dynamic player and a game-changer for some great teams.
So, all things considered, I don’t have any problem with MLB sticking to its guns and holding up the “lifetime” part of his ban, even if it seems a bit ridiculous now that the sport itself is in bed with legalized gambling. But the second he dies, Rose should be eligible for induction. And so should “Shoeless” Joe Jackson too. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go watch Field of Dreams. Because all of these guys are in there already, in some form or another. I know, I’ve seen it myself.
I visited Cooperstown in 2016. My very pregnant wife and I were taking a roundabout road trip to Maine to visit her family. We had just hit Philadelphia and were planning the next leg. Neither of us really wanted to deal with New York traffic, and we didn’t have time to stick around and see the city anyway, so I suggested a detour through Cooperstown. Because she is the woman I was meant to be with, she agreed.
Cooperstown is actually a very nice little village located on Otsego Lake. I remember it was a very hot day when we arrived, but the breeze coming in off the water made it tolerable. Downtown is filled with tons of overpriced souvenir shops and restaurants, and very little parking. We ended up parking on a divided lane through a residential neighborhood, which gave us a chance to take in some of the surroundings as we walked to the museum. Other than the town’s isolated location, which played hell with my GPS— although that wouldn’t be a problem until we left that night and got lost— it struck me as an extremely pleasant place.
I wore my Royals hat and jersey (a free giveaway from a game a few years earlier), and the usher at the door took notice right away. “Fans of the reigning champs!” he said, welcoming us inside. I have a knack for finding other Royals fans in the greater outside world, whether it be a minor league game in Bowling Green, Kentucky or on a tour of Alcatraz. And there were several others we crossed paths with in the museum, though none of us were there to gawk at other people in Royals attire.
The timing for our visit was perfect. Because the Royals were the reigning champs, as the doorman pointed out, there was a whole exhibit dedicated to them and the 2015 World Series. I got to see Hosmer’s stained jersey from his mad dash home in Game 5, Salvy’s catcher’s mitt, Wade Davis’ cap, Lorenzo Cain’s cleats, Moose’s bat, and the bat Alcides Escobar used to lead off the series with an inside-the-park-homerun. You know, all the stuff to make a baseball dork like me really nerd out.
Of course, I had to seek out items from the PBN era. They had George Brett’s pullover jersey from his run at .400 in 1980. It was the home white jersey, unfortunately— they couldn’t have grabbed a powder blue one instead?— but still really cool. I also made sure to see his bat from the Pine Tar Game, Darryl Motley’s bat from Game 7 of the 1985 World Series, and of course, we had to check out Brett’s plaque. He’s the only one wearing a Royals hat on his plaque, and probably will be for some time, unless Zack Greinke chooses to go with the Royals when he’s elected. That would be great, but as much as I love Zack, he’s bounced around to multiple teams in his career. No one means as much to Kansas City fans as George Brett.
Among non-Royals items that stood out to me were Greg Maddux’s glove and hat. I also had to take special notice of his plaque, since he’s probably the best pitcher I’ve seen. Then there were the batting gloves Rickey Henderson was wearing when he broke the stolen base record, and Mark McGwire’s jersey and bat from when he broke Roger Maris’ single-season HR record. See, I told you they were all in there anyway, whether the puritans among us like it or not.
That’s the real beauty and significance of the Hall of Fame. It’s so much more than elections and plaques. It’s the story of the game laid out in a walkable tour of relics, complete with fancy lighting and air conditioning. Regardless of character or personal honors, Hank Aaron rubs shoulders with Pete Rose, and Ty Cobb and Jackie Robinson are on equal ground inside those walls.
Perhaps it’s the counterculture part of my personality speaking, but that’s why I love it so much. Baseball is not just the clean-cut game so many people romanticize, though it definitely has that aspect to it. It also has warts, and scars. Plenty of them, which the Hall of Fame makes abundantly clear, no matter how much some people try to sanitize it. We always attempt to classify everything, but there is no stereotypical ballplayer, any more than there is a stereotypical fan. The Hall of Fame includes every kind of player, from hero to villain, straight-arrows and cheats, to naturals and underdogs. Every baseball fan should see it at least once.
Good and bad and everything in between, it’s all in there.
As always, thanks for reading Powder Blue Nostalgia. Have you visited the Hall of Fame? If you’ve got some good pics, drop ‘em in the comments. And be sure to weigh in on what snubbed player you believe should be in Cooperstown. I’m sure that won’t lead to any disagreements.
Nice to see this piece. Where if anywhere have you made your anti-WAR case? Curious to read it
I'm a Royals fan who lives in the Cooperstown area. It is a great place, and not just for baseball. Glad you enjoyed your visit!