Wrapping Up the Rest
I'm going to cover the next few ESPN HoF "debates" in one post, since I have less to say about each of them. Michael Knisley and John Shea tackled Andrew Dawson's candidacy; here's how Shea justified his decision to vote for "The Hawk":
For me, the most important ingredient when voting is this: When you saw him play, did you think he was a Hall of Famer or not? Cooperstown has the best Hall of Fame in sports because it's the toughest to get into, because not every borderline candidate is inducted. It could be argued that it's great not for who is in, but for who is not in.
In the case of Dawson, I always thought he was usually better than everyone else on the field, a guy who could take over a game, and dominate an era. Plus, what an intimidating fellow. I covered the Padres in '87, Dawson's MVP year with the Cubs. There was a game in July in which Dawson took an Eric Show fastball on the cheek that required 24 stitches. At first, he was motionless and couldn't charge the mound. So his teammates did for him. That's the ultimate respect.
Shea actually uses the "borderline candidates dilute the Hall's talent level" argument in favor of Dawson here, something I've never seen before. This is precisely why "what you thought when you saw him play" should not be the most important ingredient when voting. First of all, how much did you see him play? Did you watch every game he played at the Major League level, or did you merely cover one MVP season and see him intermittently throughout the rest of his career? Even if you did see every AB Dawson had, and every putout he made, in a big league uniform, I guarantee that you missed or forgot something important which could be revealed by a little statistical analysis. Human memory and perception are fallible. That's why we keep statistics.
In contrast, here's what Jay Jaffe has to say about Dawson's candidacy:
In his heyday, Dawson brought to the table an exceptional combination of power and speed. As an Expo, he was a Gold Glove center fielder who shifted to right after the Olympic Stadium turf took its toll on his knees. He left as a free agent following the 1986 season, and made a huge splash in his first year with the Cubs, hitting 49 homers, driving in 137 runs, and winning dubious MVP honors--he had just 7.3 WARP, which ranked 24th in the league and was only his sixth-best season--while playing for a last-place club, the first player to win the MVP from the basement. His stats that year were grossly inflated by Wrigley Field (.332/.373/.668 at home vs. .246/.288/.480 away), but for his career, the park effects were more even: .281/.330/.481 with 207 HR at home, .278/.316/.483 with 231 HR on the road. His Gold Gloves are somewhat overstated; the FRAA numbers show him a combined 15 runs below average in two of those seasons, but that's about par for the course. The biggest problem with Dawson's case is his lifetime .323 OBP, nine points below the park-adjusted league average for his career; he topped .350 just three times, while scraping the .300 range for too many years. That particularly depresses the value of his peak, which is tied for a rather unimpressive 250th all-time, though seven Hall of Famers--Dave Bancroft, Willie Stargell, Earl Averill, Hugh Duffy, Pie Traynor, Orlando Cepeda, and Luis Aparacio--are within half a win of his total. He's a better choice than Rice, but he still comes up short.
So, yeah. Something like that, maybe. I'm sure Jaffe watched Dawson play, too, you know.
The Raines debate was actually somewhat heartening; Jayson Stark converted Peter Gammons to the pro-Raines camp. Gammons didn't put up much of a fight, and considering that the agent of change was Jayson Stark, I'd wager to say that he was leaning towards voting for Raines anyway, but hey, it's still nice to see. That said, Gammons did offer one line to which I took exception:
Raines, Rickey Henderson and Wade Boggs were the best of the '80s and early '90s, and while some of our sabermetric fellows do not believe players are humans, Raines made every team he was on better, not just because he was such a good player, but because his effervescent personality made teammates relax and play better; you'd go out to the cage and players would all be following him around.
Low blow, Pete. Moreover, I don't know exactly what provoked it. Sabermetricians don't believe that players are robots; they believe in examining performance which can actually be quantified. Most sabermetricians probably wouldn't rule out the possibility that Raines' personality might have helped his teams, since it's impossible to prove that it didn't; however, it's also impossible to prove that it did, and since its hypothetical impact pales in comparison to other factors which actually can be observed, devoting an inordinate amount of attention to it would be ill-advised.
As our pal Jayson Stark said a few years ago, when he finally saw the light and began to vote for Rice, he met one essential Cooperstown criterion: the fear factor. Pitchers absolutely hated to face him, and for good reason.
Rob Neyer addressed this line of reasoning recently; I'll let him answer Stone:
Turns out Rice has one credential: As Shaughnessy and so many others have said over the years, he was "the most feared hitter of his day" ... but was he, really? I'm still waiting for someone, anybody.
Shaughnessy cites intentional walks: "Managers thought about intentionally walking him when he came to the plate with the bases loaded." Well, that's an interesting bit of untestable trivia, but for the moment let's ignore all those imaginary intentional walks and talk about the real ones. Because yes, a great number of intentional walks would suggest that a player really was feared.
Rice's 12 best seasons -- 1975-1986 -- are usually mentioned because the rest of his career was not good. Did Rice draw more intentional walks than anyone else over those 12 seasons? From 1975 through 1986 -- remember, that range of seasons has been chosen specifically to make Rice look his best -- 32 major leaguers drew more intentional walks than Jim Rice.
Stoney, in regard to the '86 World Series, I will quote a great American, Hawk Harrelson -- "Don't tell me what you hit, tell me when you hit.''
By the way, check out this article, which was linked to by an ESPN user in the discussion section of that Neyer blog entry; it perfectly illustrates the futility of the "fear factor" argument.
Now, Phil Rogers, Stone's opponent in the debate, isn't blameless--he quotes Hawk Harrelson in a favorable light, even going so far as to call him a "great American--but at least he's on the right side (or was, at the beginning of the debate--sadly, another one bites the dust). Joe Sheehan and Jay Jaffe have quite a bit more to say about the issue, as usual. These ESPN voters weren't necessarily the worst of all, but they certainly didn't improve my opinion of the average BBWAA HoF voter's knowledge and analytical skills.
















