#049 - Envisioning the Hall

In light of my recent post on Junior Griffey and his imminent bronzing in Cooperstown, and also in light of a recent article I read about Chipper Jones (link here) which I found to be unusually aggressive and iron-fisted, I wanted to start looking around the league and trying to determine what players currently suiting up will eventually mount their bodiless heads in the Hall of Fame.

At the beginning of the year, I read an article which claimed that this year was the first in over 15 seasons where we didn't start the season with a mortal-lock Hall of Fame starting pitcher. While it's quite obvious that Trevor Hoffman and Mariano Rivera are already voted in (with 91% approval), I scoured team staffs to try and find and argument against this claim.

Turns out, he/she was right. (He or she, as in I don't remember, not that the writer's gender was questionable.) The closest thing we have is a bunch of guys who we project WILL end up as Hall of Famers, as long as they give it a couple more solid years. But let's face it, the time of the 300-game winner is probably gone, pitchers don't pitch long enough into games and don't get enough starts per year to get into that range, which would require one to average 20 wins a year for FIFTEEN YEARS to get there. Go back and look up how many pitchers won 20 games for just last year. Go ahead. None. Exactly. So to average 20? For that long? It's a fantasy. Guys will have to be evaluated on their performance versus their peers, which is fair, because baseball is a sport in which era matters greatly. Babe Ruth was downright immortal because he clubbed 714 home runs when nobody else had 400. Pedro Martinez's 1.74 ERA in 2000 was ludicrous because his closest competitors were in the 3.00s. And Brady Anderson's 50 home run season was insane--well, that is, until the Mitchell Report comes out.

Here we go.

SECTION 1: DONE AND DONE

These players have already accomplished enough in their careers that if it ended today, they'd make it to the Hall.


SP: Pedro Martinez. His run from 1997-2003 was godly: 118-36, 2.20 ERA, 0.94 WHIP, 1761 K in 1408 IP

RP: Trevor Hoffman, Mariano Rivera. You need longevity to make it as a relief pitcher. And you need to be consistently great to earn that longevity. Hoffman might be awful right now, but plenty of guys end their careers with clunkers.

C: Ivan Rodriguez. The greatest defensive catcher of his time, also not a bad offensive guy either.

1B: I don't think any. I'm not the world's foremost expert on who gets in the hall and who doesn't, but I'd say Todd Helton might be the closest, and he has largely underwhelming power numbers at a power position playing in a power ballpark. .326 lifetime average is pretty unreal, though. Thome is a real question mark. He hit a bunch of home runs but I'm not sure you could ever really call him a great player. Plus there's some steroid speculation with him.

2B: Probably none, again.

3B: Alex Rodriguez, for sure. Might be a little tarnished by the steroid scandal, but probably not enough. It wasn't as catastrophic as Bonds, and he benefited from coming late in the game and getting to see others ahead of him apologize quickly and be forgiven. The guy I was reading says Chipper Jones as well, which, I guess maybe does fit. 430 homers, .306 average. Those are pretty stellar. Plus a boatload of division titles (if that means anything). And one MVP award.

SS: Derek Jeter, which pains me to say. Very good chance for Omar Vizquel too, on the Ozzie Smith "Incomparable Defensively" reasoning--though technically I just compared both to each other. 2700 hits, too, though.

OF: Ken Griffey, Jr. (Come on.) Manny Ramirez. Headcase, and who knows where he landed on steroids, but he's one hell of a hitter. Oddly enough, I'm not sure anybody else really qualifies for this category. Well, possibly Vladimir Guerrero, the way he's playing this year.


SECTION 2: LOCK IT UP

These guys are about as good as gold when it comes to future Hall ballots, though they haven't exactly gotten there YET.


SP: Roy Halladay, Johan Santana, Andy Pettitte. It would help if Santana got to 200 wins and didn't divebomb in the next few years, but his pedigree is outstanding so far. People are saying Pettitte is for sure going to get in, and I think being a popular guy for the Yankees helps that.

RP: None. Maybe Billy Wagner? Closers are very new to the Hall, so I'm not sure how they value them so far.

C: Joe Mauer. How many batting titles will he win? All he needs to do is hit about .290 for the rest of his career and he's a dead-on lock.

1B: Albert Pujols. Seriously, he's almost in the "Done and Done" by now. Just inconceivable how good he is.

2B: Chase Utley. He's pretty much the best second baseman every year of his career. That has to earn you some mad props, and some high finishes in the MVP voting won't hurt.

3B: None that I can think of.

SS: None right now.

OF: Ichiro Suzuki. Don't sleep on his potential production. There's no reason he couldn't play til he is 40, and every year is another 200 hits for him, he could reasonably reach 3000 in less than 15 years of service. Already one of the 10 most efficient hitters of all time.


SECTION 3: PROJECTING

They're a long way aways, but I could totally foresee the future production of these guys resulting in a Hall-worthy career.


SP: Tim Lincecum, who already has two Cy Youngs. CC Sabathia. Roy Oswalt, only if he can regain form from a few years past. I'd love to say Felix Hernandez, who at 24 already has 63 wins, but he's a bit of a headcase and who knows how that will affect him. Stephen Strasburg--half kidding, but he's already disgustingly good.

RP: I'm not sure if closers will have the career longevity required to fit this bill. Possibly Francisco Rodriguez, but he's been very up and down. Closers seem to last about 3 seasons and then flame out, so it'll be hard to find others.

C: None.

1B: Ryan Howard could perhaps get there, with these filthy power numbers he continues to put up. Same could be said for Prince Fielder. Miguel Cabrera, though, tops both of them on consistent production so far, and he seems to only be getting better.

2B: Robinson Cano could win MVP this year. And if he secures some batting titles, like everyone has been predicting he will, he might get into range.

3B: Evan Longoria. It's VERY early for him. But let's hope he can keep it up.

SS: Hanley Ramirez. He's been the best shortstop in baseball for a few years, and at 26 is already 44th in Active Career WAR (wins above replacement). Very promising.

OF: It's all about sustained top-level production. There are plenty of great outfielders, but not enough of them are consistently in the top 3 at their position. A few more years down the road and this picture will come better into focus.

#048 - Farewell.

Hard to believe this guy is now retired.

There are very few words I could use at this point to elucidate my feelings on George Kenneth Griffey, Jr. He's been my favorite athlete in any sport, for my whole life. In my Google profile picture, you might be able to notice that I'm wearing a Seattle Mariners sweatshirt. Who can they thank for that? Griffey. I once tried out for the reality show ESPN Dream Job where you compete to become a Sportscenter anchor. What play did I recall during my "Favorite Play-by-Play Memory"? Edgar's double down the line against the Yankees, scoring Griffey from first. Anytime I pick up a baseball bat, I can't help but rock my hips back and forth a bit, emulating his timeless pose. Unfortunately, I was only able to see him play in person three times, something I'm already greatly regretting. I had hoped to travel out to the Chicago and catch a couple last games of him with the Mariners in July, but as this news has broken, it's clear that's not going to happen.

It's sad to see him go.

It's sad to see him go like this. He's batting .184, no home runs, scant contribution and relegated to designated hitter (or designated walker, most appropriately). He never was chiseled, he was lean with a thick waist that would generate locomotive power. Now one might say he's a bit paunchy, his belt size a few notches bigger, father time taking his toll. His quickness has been sapped, moving from center field to right a few years ago. His fluid, picture-perfect swing has been drained of its speed, making him an easy mark for even middle of the road pitchers. It's not the way you envision it happening when you're 10 years old. You envision him standing up to bat, last game of the season, perched at 755 career home runs. Of course it would make sense to walk him, but in your head, there's no room on the bases. They've gotta pitch to him, even though it's obvious to everyone in the park what's going to happen. A mistake middle-in, and there's no doubt. He's carried around the bases by his teammates, his smile as brilliant as ever, his eyes lit up to show the little kid inside of him. Hank Aaron's at home plate to congratulate him. Carried off into the sunset.

That's how you want it to go down. That's how the story was written.

Written by all of us 10 year olds, glued to our sets as he homered in 8 straight games, leaping from our seats as he dismantles the Yankees with one of the all-time great performances, raising our fists as he turns in back to back 57 HR / 140 RBI seasons.

Covering our eyes as he crashes head first into walls.

Hanging our heads as he changes allegiances.

And welcoming him back with open arms.

The old legend has it that children, who are always said to be innocent, can cut right through all the bullshit facades and see you for who you really are. So it's no wonder schoolyards in the early 90s were packed with Griffey impersonators, littered with Mariners caps. Griffey was my first hero, as I'm sure he was for others. He jumped out at you as a guy you wanted to emulate, and for a change, parents had no problem with that. The same things that made him such a great player, wonderful teammate, and jubilant personality are the same things that bring him to today, his cleats hung up, his number on its way up the flagpole. Griffey never shied from the spotlight, but it's without question that his smiles were the brightest at the bottom of a mob of teammates.

In his statement to the team, he told his GM that he didn't want to be a distraction. He didn't want to hurt the team. He didn't want to take up a roster spot without providing anything in return. Being a good teammate has led him to being no teammate at all. But the parallels don't end there. In his prime, he was explosive and fearless, crashed into walls, laid himself out onto the Kingdome turf, piled up injury after injury, ripped his hamstrings from the bone. He always impressed with his grace and fluidity, and the years of bodily harm added up. Being such a fantastic player for so long ended up doing him in. Physically, he's not the same. He had a long swing, one that is etched into my brain as history's prettiest home run producer, but old age unmasked giant holes in it. Genuine old age. Natural old age. If there's anything you can say about Junior, it's that he was genuine. He comes out with his true feelings, whether it's pure joy as he cranks a homer, disappointment as his team falls short year after year, or the sadness of accepting his declining skills and bowing out. He foolishly thought you could get an edge by being a good guy. While all his contemporaries turned to the needle (or "flaxseed oil") and debuted bulging muscles and screaming line drives late into their 30s, Griffey let the game go naturally. His weight went to his hips. His fly balls started dying at the track. Once destined to barrel through Aaron's 755 barrier, Griffey limped across the line with 630 home runs. To 99.99999% of people, 630 homers is unreal. But for Griffey, there's always going to be a lingering "what if?" in the back of everyone's heads. He's almost unfairly being criticized because he didn't reach the lofty goals that were set for him. While it's humbling to get to this point and have to accept that Griffey wasn't going to be the one to break all those records, I don't think it should diminish what he was able to accomplish at all. If anything, it should just stand to commend Hank Aaron on what a machine he was. From ages 31-36, Griffey played in 554 games and hit 125 homers, as compared to Hammerin' Hank, who played in an astonishing 920 games and hit 226 home runs. Junior just couldn't stay healthy when he hit the wrong side of 30, and too many people are going to slight him based on the games he missed as opposed to the games he played. He still hit 630 home runs. He still drove in 1836 runs. He still accumulated 2781 hits. Those numbers are dumbfounding. Especially when you add to it an MVP award, 13 all-star appearances and 10 gold gloves. In 1998 he was already a first-ballot Hall of Famer. What is he now?

Now, he's the owner of one of the most incredible resumes ever seen in any Ken James or SABR anthology. He's the curator of the league's Jackie Robinson Day, coming up with the idea that he wanted to honor Jackie's memory by wearing his number one day a year--just his number, without a name. He's the savior of one franchise, one that was in physical and financial ruin before he came along and starting tearing the cover off the ball. He's a family man, something we saw as early as 1990 playing side-by-side (and homering back-to-back) with his father, Ken Sr. It's something we've witnessed throughout the years playing with his kids (sometimes to his detriment) on the ballfield, just as he did when he was a kid. And it's something he's struggled with this year, having to spend long stretches of games away from his family. He's a prankster, known for his clubhouse gags and for coming in and lightening the mood of a downtrodden Seattle team on the verge of pushing away its franchise player in 2009. He's the force behind a tiny plaque on the wall of the B&O Warehouse at Camden Yards, a tribute to his mammoth blast during the 1993 Home Run Derby. He's the star of one of the most impressive highlight reels in all of sports, one that I'll enjoy watching again and again until the day I die. He's a legend, but even more than that, he's a person.

I think it'll take some more time for people to truly appreciate Griffey for the player that he was. Playing in the steroid era cost him. It cost him home run titles, MVPs, and his place in history. Of his generation, he'll be joined in the 600 home run club by Sosa, Bonds, and A-Rod. The catch? Those three have been under constant steroid suspicion, whether it be rumors, grand jury testimony, or failed drug tests. Griffey? Clean. In fact, I've stated on many occasions, that if he's ever found out to NOT be clean, I think it will officially end my relationship with baseball altogether. I can't face that. Luckily, I doubt I will ever have to. But once all the dust settles from this tarnished period of the game, the players will likely be dumped into two categories: those who did, and those who didn't. For all his achievements, I can say without hesitation that Griffey will stand at the front of the steroid-free class, and rightfully take his place in baseball history with Aaron, with Mays, with Clemente--not above or below them, but alongside them.

Maybe it makes no difference to you, but to me, baseball won't be the same without him.

(Thanks to user rkuehn24 for this video. It's fantastic.)

#047 - Joe Camel, eat your heart out.

Want to see something that is beyond wrong? Like, that will astonish you in every way possible, potentially to the point that your head will just explode and leave gooey debris all over your computer screen? Nice. I have just the thing:

(Video courtesy of Reuters. Not like they gave me permission or anything.)

This brings to mind so many questions. So, so many questions. But I'm not even sure where to start. Here goes--how does this even get filmed? How does someone hear about this, and have their first thought be, "Hey, let's take video of this for a new service!" and not, "Holy crap! This needs to stop!"? Seriously, this is absurd. I've never smoked, and am pretty much against it on all counts, so naturally I'm a biased observer, but I can at least admit that adults, when given the choice, sometimes choose to become addicted to this product, so there must be some benefit. But children? This kid looks about 15 pounds overweight to begin with, which is horrible, but add to it the endless list of life-enhancing health benefits of smoking, and I'm pretty sure he'll live only long enough to grow his first facial hair--a very thin, patchy mustache. And considering he'll stunt his growth at 3 feet 5 inches tall, he'll be one of the creepiest looking beings on the planet. But at least his voice will be nice and raspy, if he can even talk at all, so he has a future in radio.

I fear for his life. And the lives of everyone in his town. Because honestly, the more I watch this video, he looks totally badass. And reminds me a little bit of Oddjob. Okay, I'm a bad person.