I’ve seen several "Virtual Hall of Fame" sites on the Internet lately. Apparently some of our more rabid fans are so disgusted with the real Hall of Fame’s selections that they want to start their own!
I wrote this article in 1994 with the same idea in mind. I’m not going to start my own Hall, of course, but my idea at the time was that there were several players who should be in who weren’t at the time. As you’ll see, four of my suggestions from five years ago are now in the Hall of Fame.
The real problem has been the Veterans’ Committee, which has been guilty of letting people in because they were friends of committee members. Ted Williams got his friend Bobby Doerr in, and Stan Musial got his pal Red Schoendienst in (and kept his enemy Leo Durocher out until after Leo’s death). Bill James’ fine book, The Politics of Glory, detailed how Frankie Frisch and Bill Terry loaded up the Hall with their teammates on the Giants and Cardinals of the 1920s.
(Superfluous note: A guy planning a vacation once asked in an AOL chat room, "How do you get to the Hall of Fame?" I replied, "Through the Veterans’ Committee like Rick Ferrell did.")
I wouldn’t mind at all if they held a re-vote on all the Veterans’ Committee selections since the committee was formed in 1953.
Of course, that’s not going to happen. It would be grossly unfair to boot anyone out of the Hall after they got in. All the guys in the Hall of Fame are good players, at the very least. So we’ve got to be satisfied with rectifying some of the Hall’s sins of omission.
So, who do we put in? I propose eight new members of the Hall of Fame, as follows:
Richie Ashburn. He didn’t hit with power like Willie, Mickey, or the Duke, but Ashburn was miles ahead of any National League centerfielder in the three or four decades preceding him. He hit .306 lifetime, won two batting titles, and set fielding records that still haven’t been broken. His totals of outfield putouts have sent researchers scrambling to figure out how anyone could catch so many balls. Did the Phillies have a lo of flyball pitchers? Did the ballpark have anything to do with it? However you look at it, Ashburn simply caught more balls than anybody before or since. If Ashburn had come up in 1928 instead of 1948 he’d be in the Hall by now. And he’d still have been the best player on the 1962 Mets.
Bill Mazeroski. No one who saw him play disputes that Maz was the greatest fielding second baseman of all time, and that has to count for something. He hit only .260 lifetime, not enough to be a batting star but more than enough to contribute to the Pirate offense. Maz turned the double play like no one else in history. There’s also that little matter of winning the 1960 World Series with a homer to end the seventh game.
Don Sutton. He may be in the Hall by the time you read this. I know that, as Bill James says, Sutton "put together a lot of 17-12 seasons", but anyone with 324 wins should have no problem breezing into the Hall. Now if he could do something about his hair....
Phil Niekro. Ditto above. His 318 wins and his status as the greatest knuckleball pitcher of all time, should put Phil in. Like fellow knuckleball artist Hoyt Wilhelm, Niekro spent a lot of years in the minors before he finally came up. He spent a remarkable 30 years as an active player from 1958 to 1987. Did they ever build that statue of him in Atlanta?
Ron Santo. He was the outstanding National League third baseman of the 1960s. Two things are keeping him out. First, he was overshadowed by Brooks Robinson his entire career, though Santo was also a fine fielder who hit much better than Robinson. Second, I don’t think any player’s reputation has been trashed as thoroughly as Santo’s was in Leo Durocher’s autobiography. Durocher chewed Santo up and spit him out all through the book, at least in the parts where he wasn’t kissing up to Frank Sinatra and his Rat Pack pals. Santo, who battled diabetes during his career (and still does, of course) didn’t deserve such treatment.
George Davis. Bill James calls him "the best 19th century player not in the Hall", but wonders if you can honor a man who played 100 years ago and died in 1940. I think you can. I wonder how the committee that chose 21 players in 1945 and 1946 missed him while putting in Roger Bresnahan and Joe Tinker, among others. From 1897 to 1902 many people considered Davis the best player in baseball.
Bid McPhee. In an era when teams bounced from city to city and players from position to position, Bid McPhee played 18 years (1882-1899) at second base for the Cincinnati Reds. Now, I’m not married to the idea of putting more 19th century guys into the Hall; the game was in its formative years, competition was uneven, and McPhee spent many years in the American Association, the weaker of the two major leagues. But if any players from the 1800s belong, McPhee and George Davis do. Let’s let them in and close the door, except for:
Dickey Pearce. Everyone has an off-the-wall candidate for the Hall of Fame. Mine is Dickey Pearce. They put in Candy Cummings for inventing the curve ball. Why not put in Pearce, who invented the bunt in 1856? Pearce was a tiny man, only five feet three inches tall, who was a standout on New York amateur teams in the 1850s and 1860s, and played in the National League in 1876 at age 41. He and George Wright were the great shortstops of the era.
All right, maybe Pearce is a stretch. Then how about:
Lefty O’Doul. His .349 lifetime average and two batting titles in a short major league career may not be enough to get him in, but O’Doul was also the father of baseball in Japan. He did more than anyone else to make Japan baseball-crazy, and that by itself is an accomplishment worthy of the Hall.
After these guys are in, let’s shut off all elections of players whose careers began before 1945. I think we got them all, since such a ridiculous numbers of players active from 1920 to 1940 are in already. Fifty-four players (not counting Negro Leaguers) who were active in the 1928 season are in the Hall of Fame. Can you think of 54 players active now who should be in? I can’t, although we have nearly twice as many teams now.
Well, that’s my two cents worth. I don’t know how much good it will do, but I know I feel much better now.