**2003: **
Eddie Murray is in. Despite his rocky relationship with the press, the number of his teammates (e.g., Cal Ripken) who speak highly of him as someone who’s taught them a lot about the game ought to count for something. Statistically, it’s awfully hard to challenge his credentials.
Ryne Sandberg gets in as well, in my opinion. If not, he’s one of the best players not in the Hall. It is the Hall of Fame, and he was unquestionably one of the marquee players of the 1980s, for good reason.
Lee Smith at first doesn’t seem like he’s quite there, but on reflection, I have to wonder why. When you have a guy who’s the career leader in the key stat for his position, and who was among the top five in his league in that stat practically every year for over a decade, you really have to justify leaving them out rather than putting them in. To be sure, some of his achievement is due to longevity, but it’s not as if he hung around for years after he was no longer effective simply to rack up numbers, a la Pete Rose; Smith was second in the AL in saves in 1995, and retired after 1997 – only 7 of his career 478 saves came in his last two seasons. For fifteen years or so, there were never more than a couple of GMs or managers who wouldn’t have taken Smith in favor of whoever they had closing for them, all other considerations (money, etc.) being equal. Part of the problem is that the role of closer was still being formed during the early part of Smith’s career, and we don’t yet have well-formed mental benchmarks for what consititutes HOF-caliber performance for closers like we do for hitters and starting pitchers (3000 hits, 500 HR, .300+ career BA, 250-300 wins, etc.). Considered objectively, I think you either have to say Smith’s in, or no one who’s primarily a closer ever should be.
Fernando! Nope. Outstanding pitcher for most of a decade, but not HOF-caliber.
2004:
Joe Carter. No. Don’t get me started again on this.
Paul Molitor. Yes. For all you may want to discount his numbers for being a DH, he’s still unquestionably the equal or better of a whole lot of other guys who’re in. And it’s not as if he was completely hopeless with the glove; his career FP is only slightly below average, his range factor was generally above the league average, he did see action at every defensive position except pitcher and catcher (most often at 2B and 3B, both skill positions), and from 1978 until 1991 he appeared at a defensive position in more games than at DH in every season except 1987. Certainly the option of being a DH prolonged his career, and allowed him to improve his overall totals, but again he wasn’t a worse player than most possible replacements during that time – he still had a .390 OBP in 161 games at age 39.
Dennis Eckersley. Yes. Has the advantage over Smith of having had outstanding success as a starter before becoming a closer, so the conventional comparisons are more applicable.
El Presidente. No. Much as I enjoyed his farewell tour with the Braves, and his 10- or 11-hit shutout to pass Marichal’s record for wins by a Latin-American pitcher, his is an example of longevity for its own sake. A valuable, inning-eating starter for most of his career who could be counted on for 12-15 wins per season, but rarely exceeded that, and never by much. In 23 seasons, he was an All-Star only four times, and finished fifth in Cy Young balloting twice – the only two times he was in the top ten.
Jimmy Key. No. Statistically, he’s Dennis Martinez with a slightly higher peak (won 18 once and 17 twice, ERA around 3.5 instead of 3.7) and eight fewer seasons.
2005:
Wade Boggs. Yep. Don’t care for it much, but career BA of .328 and OBP of .415 and over 3000 hits gets you in.
2006:
Albert Belle has about as good a case as anyone could possibly make in only 10 full seasons. Certainly, he had as much fame as any player of his time, but for all the wrong reasons; if public opinion about him were even neutral, I’d say he’d get in. As it is, I doubt it. And that’s probably as it should be.
Will Clark is just a bit shy of the standard, in my estimation. If he had some memorable record chase, or had been a key member of a team that won a World Series or two, he’d probably get in. As it is, an outstanding player but not a Hall-of-Famer.
Orel Hershiser initially seems to me like a relatively strong candidate, but on reflection I realize that’s mainly due to the attention he got during the Dodgers’ successful years in the late 80s, the scoreless inning streak, etc. Lost at least half of three seasons to injuries, and pitched pretty well despite losing records(10+ wins, sub 3.75 ERA, approx. 2/1 K/BB ratio, 200+IP) for two mediocre/bad Dodger teams in the early 90s. There are plenty of guys with a better case based on the numbers who aren’t in yet, but there are also guys who are in who don’t have as strong a case; Hershiser getting in at least wouldn’t embarass the Hall.
Darryl Strawberry: No. It’s neither the Hall of Potential nor the Hall of Infamy. Only ten full seasons spread out over 17 years. Over the last nine seasons he was active, had a total of 55 HR, appeared in more than 100 games only once, and never had over 300 AB. He had half of a HOF career, and pissed away the rest.
2007:
Tony Gwynn is in. No question.
Big Mac likewise.
Cal Ripken, Jr. ditto.
It amazes me, but there will be people who’ll actually argue with one or all of those. Each occupies a unique and enduring niche in the history of the game. Each will be subject to having their outstanding accomplishments on the field overshadowed by other considerations. Each, in his own way, established himself as having not only unparalleled talent in certain facets of the game, but also character, grace, and humility at a time when the game and sports in general desperately needed it. There hasn’t been another “class” of three players becoming eligible in the same year that’s comparable; Ryan, Brett, and Yount is similar, but not quite at the same level.
If you combine Paul O’Neill’s record of being on teams that win in the postseason with Will Clark’s career stats, you’ve probably got a Hall-of-Famer. Clark was just a notch better overall (approx. twenty points better BA, OBP, SLG). As popular as he was, O’Neill doesn’t quite make the grade.
Eric Davis was probably a Hall-of-Fame-caliber talent, but injuries and health problems prevented him from having a Hall-of-Fame-caliber career. Never played more than 135 games in a season, and only had nine seasons in which he appeared in more than 100. Averaged 313 AB/season over his 17 year career.