Baseball’s Hall of Fame changes its election procedures (again)

Some observations on the revised election procedures for the Veterans Committee…

In case you were wondering why the procedures were revised, it’s fairly simple — the Hall wants more players elected.  It needs more people traveling to Cooperstown for Hall of Fame weekend.  Darren Rovell wrote about this, and that was prior to this weekend’s paltry attendance at the induction ceremony.

Since the BBWAA is struggling to elect more than one player per year (although I think both Bert Blyleven and Roberto Alomar will be elected this winter), the Hall needs the Veterans Committee to elect some players to excite fans of a certain age.  It hasn’t been easy.

The previous iteration of the VC (which Chris Jaffe refers to as the “Joe Morgan SuperFriends Committee” ) managed to elect no post-1960 players in three years of trying.  Now the VC has morphed into the following:

There will now be one composite ballot consisting of managers, umpires, executives and long-retired players divided into three eras, rather than four categories with separate electorates.

The “categories with separate electorates” voting resulted in the election by the VC of no “modern” players (courtesy of the SuperFriends, as noted above).  The only modern-day players elected were those few selected by the BBWAA.  The only player actually enshrined courtesy of any VC committee was Joe Gordon.  Gordon is one of two players elected by the VC in the last decade (Bill Mazeroski was elected in 2001).

The VC setup did produce several other Hall of Famers — two managers (Billy Southworth and Dick Williams), two owners (Barney Dreyfuss and Walter O’Malley) and former commissioner Bowie Kuhn.  Thus, the past three years of voting by the VC resulted in six new Hall of Famers, only one of whom (Williams) was still alive to accept the honor.

So what are the new divisions/categories?

The new divisions are as follows: Pre-Integration (1871-1946), Golden (1947-1972) and Expansion (1973-1989 for players; 1973-present for managers, umpires and executives)…

…One election will be held each year at the annual Winter Meetings, but the eras rotate, resulting in one era per year. The Expansion era will be first, followed by the Golden Era election in 2011 and the Pre-Integration Era election in 2012.

The new rules take effect immediately and will be put into practice at the first election at this year’s Winter Meetings, to be held on December 5, 2010, in Orlando, Fla., with the Expansion Era up first.

Oy.

First, who thought it would be a good idea to call one of the divisions the “Golden” era?  What a way to sell your current on-field product, guys.  It’s a sop to some of the baby boomers, and certain syrupy writers, I guess.

Then there is the actual dividing line between the categories.  Why does the “Expansion” era start in 1973, rather than in real expansion years like 1961 or 1968?  What is so special about 1973?  It was the first year of the DH.  Maybe that’s what it is.  Or maybe…

Maybe it’s because George Steinbrenner bought the New York Yankees in 1973.

I have to say that I’m not completely sure I’m going to buy the Big Stein Line of Demarcation theory, if only because I’m not sure Steinbrenner’s election would automatically result in overflow crowds venturing to Cooperstown next July.  However, let’s take a look at a potential ballot.  Remember, the “Expansion” era is up first, so The Boss is up for election immediately.  There will be 12 names on the expansion era ballot, made up of players, managers, umpires, and executives.

I figure that around eight of them will be players.  If I were to pick the top eight eligibles among this group of players, the list might look like this:

Tommy John
Bobby Grich
Darrell Evans
Ted Simmons
Buddy Bell
Bobby Bonds
Sal Bando
Jose Cruz, Sr.

I think it will be hard for any of these players to get 75% of the vote from a committee of 16 people.  John would have the best shot, and Grich likely would get serious consideration (at least, he should).

Then we have the non-players who would be on the ballot.  Bobby Cox and Lou Piniella would not be eligible for consideration this year.  Who would?  Steinbrenner, of course.  Charlie Finley.  Ewing Kauffman.  Marvin Miller.  John Schuerholz.  Davey Johnson.  Allan H. Selig…

That’s right.  Bud is a potential candidate.  I don’t think he’ll be on the ballot this time, but just wait three years.  Just wait.

If I had to guess at four non-players on the ballot, the spots would be taken by Steinbrenner, Miller, Kauffman…and Billy Martin.  Imagine the press if Steinbrenner and Martin are enshrined at the same time.

So will the VC elect anyone this winter?  Probably.  There is one potential hitch, though.  As Tom Tango observes, past iterations of the VC mandated that each voter could only vote for up to four candidates, making it very hard, if not impossible, for an individual to get 75% of the vote.  That will be particularly true for a 12-man ballot (as opposed to the 10-man ballot for the Golden and Pre-Integration eras).

If instead each candidate gets an “up or down” vote, with no further restrictions for those on the committee, then I think there could be three or four candidates elected.  If not?

Then it’s Steinbrenner, and nobody else.  Somewhere, Frank Constanza weeps.

The appeal of appeal plays

One of the stranger things about baseball, especially when compared to other sports, is that an umpire can witness a breach of the rules, but doesn’t necessarily have to rule on the infringement.  In football, imagine if somebody lined up in the neutral zone and then proceeded to sack the quarterback, but no penalty was called unless the offense specifically appealed to the line judge for a ruling that the defender was offsides.  Well, that’s basically the situation that exists for certain aspects of the rules of baseball.

This is a remnant of the game’s origins.  Back in the 1850s, an umpire would not make a ruling on any play unless asked to do so by a player on one of the teams.  There were few exceptions to this (one being calling balls foul so that runners would know to go back to their respective bases).  As the game got more competitive, so many challenges were made that by the 1871 formation of the National Association, the onus had gradually shifted to the umpire to rule on most plays.

There were and are still vestigial exceptions, however.  As Peter Morris noted in A Game of Inches (Volume 1), a book I highly recommend (it is basically a compendium of historical baseball firsts), appeals were made for rulings on the legality of pitching deliveries “for many years afterward”.  There are still several appeal situations in the game for which an umpire is not required to rule unless asked, including a batter batting out of turn (almost always a lineup card mishap), a runner missing a base, a runner leaving too early while tagging up on a fly out, and check swings (a more recent development in the appeal world).

I want to write mainly about appeals involving baserunning snafus, but there were two lineup botch jobs in May within five days of each other, and each deserves mention.  The latter of these resulted in Houston’s Michael Bourn batting twice to lead off a game.  After singling, Milwaukee appealed that he had batted out of order (which he had, the Astros having submitted the wrong lineup card), so as a result Kaz Matsui (who should have been the leadoff hitter) was called out and Bourn then batted again as the #2 hitter, this time drawing a walk.

Earlier that same week Tampa Bay had submitted a lineup card in a game against Cleveland that featured two third basemen and no DH.  That situation was notable because it was later determined the umpires had erred on allowing Evan Longoria to remain eligible to play.

Of course, that type of thing happens occasionally.  Hall of Fame manager Dick Williams once submitted a lineup that required Nolan Ryan to face one batter (Gary Ross was supposed to have started the game, but Williams had absent-mindedly written Ryan’s name in the pitcher’s spot in the lineup instead):

Ryan was on the bench and in uniform. But he was wearing tennis shoes and no protective cup. Williams explained the problem.

“Thank goodness he understood,” Williams wrote in his autobiography. “He went out there and stiffly faced one batter, who grounded out to shortstop, at which point I immediately yanked him from the game.”

Imagine if there had been a comebacker…

On May 18, Ryan Church of the Mets was called out on appeal for missing third base during a game against the Dodgers.  It was a key play in the contest, as Church would have otherwise scored the go-ahead run in the 11th inning.  Instead, the game remained tied, and Los Angeles would score in the bottom half of that same inning, winning the game 3-2.  Church’s baserunning gaffe generated considerable discussion in several quarters, including a SABR listserv to which I subscribe.  This is what happened:

In the top of the 11th, Church singled with two outs, his second hit since entering in the eighth as a defensive replacement in rightfield. [Angel] Pagan followed with a long drive into the right-center gap, a shot that apparently allowed Church to score easily. But Church stepped in front of third base and over it – an obvious miss.

Church later said he felt like he brushed the edge of the base with his foot. “I thought I touched it,” he said. “That’s why I kept going. If I had any doubt, I would have stopped.”

Third baseman [Mark] Loretta yelled for the baseball – Dodgers manager Joe Torre noticed Church’s mistake, too – and with Pagan standing on third, got the appeal in his favor. Inning over, score still tied at 2.

Church may have felt he had touched the bag, but according to one SABR member at the game, it was obvious even from a vantage point high in the stands that Church had missed third base.  It was so obvious, in fact, that there wasn’t an appeal play — Loretta called for the ball immediately, with the putout recorded as 8-6-2-5.

What if there had been an appeal situation, though?  What if time had been called after the ball was thrown to the catcher?  Then the pitcher would have had to have initiated an appeal by throwing to third base, with Pagan at the bag following his would-be triple.

Apparently Phil Mushnick thought there was an appeal play when he blasted Mike Francesa for “big-timing” a caller on Francesa’s radio show who wanted to discuss the play.  That wasn’t the case, although that doesn’t really let Francesa off the hook (he thought the ball was dead, too).  Since this isn’t WFAN, though, and hypotheticals can occasionally be fun, we can discuss what the caller (who identified himself as a high school baseball coach) tried to say:

…in such rare situations — when there’s a call for an appeal play at third with a runner already there, as there was Monday in L.A. — he would instruct the player on third (Pagan) to run toward home the moment the pitcher starts the “live ball” appeal by touching the rubber and beginning his throw to third….the team in the field (Dodgers) must make a split-second move: Follow through on the appeal at third — in Monday’s case risk Church being called safe, thus the Mets would have a two-run lead (Church scoring, followed by Pagan) — or throw home to tag the runner (Pagan), thus no appeal at third could be made and the Mets would be conceded that one, go-ahead run (Church).

…The only way the Mets could not enter the bottom of the 11th with a lead was if the Dodgers stayed focused enough to carry out the appeal and Church was ruled to have missed third.

That would have been rather clever.  One of the key things about an appeal play is that it technically isn’t a “play”.  If it were, you wouldn’t be able to make consecutive appeals, because once the ball is “live” you can’t make an appeal after initiating a play.  So in the example given above, if the Dodgers had thrown home to put out Pagan, that would have been a play, and they would have lost the right to appeal Church missing the bag.

Other notable (or amusing) appeal situations:

From the amusing department, we have Melvin Mora, baserunning savant.  Retrosheet describes the bottom of the 5th of an April 2001 game between the Orioles and Red Sox as follows:

ORIOLES 5TH: Ripken grounded out (second to first); Mora was hit
by a pitch; Fordyce lined to third [Mora out at second (pitcher
to second)]; 0 R, 0 H, 0 E, 0 LOB.  Red Sox 1, Orioles 0.

Well, I guess that mention of Mora out at second base by the pitcher to the second baseman should tell you something.  Baseball Digest has the story:

Mora [was] on first base with one out when Brook Fordyce hit a line drive to Boston third baseman Shea Hillenbrand. The Red Sox rookie threw errantly to first to double up Mora and the ball went into dead territory.

Umpire Brian Gorman instructed Mora to go to third base, reminding him that a runner gets two bases on an overthrow that goes into dead territory. Apparently, Mora took Gorman literally and went directly to third without touching second base…

…The moment Mora touched third, he could not return to touch second base since the ball was dead. Orioles’ third base coach Tom Trebelhorn asked the third base umpire about the possibility of Mora returning to second before the Red Sox appealed the missed base. The ump nixed the idea immediately.

Before the next pitch, Red Sox pitcher Pedro Martinez threw to second to appeal Mora’s missed base. The appeal was upheld and the putout was recorded 1-4.

Oof.  That reminds me a little of the 1976 Little League World Series title game, when a Japanese runner on second base was so excited about scoring a run following a base hit that he ran straight home from second, without bothering to run to third base.  The opposing team (from California) appealed to third base for the putout.  Japan won anyway, 10-3.  I guess you can’t compare a major leaguer’s mistake to that of a Little Leaguer, although I suppose they may have been about the same age…

Also in the funny (and more well-known) department would be Marv Throneberry’s baserunning gaffe in this game, where he was ruled out for failing to touch second base on a triple.  According to legend, after the successful appeal manager Casey Stengel went out to argue, but was intercepted by his own first base coach, Cookie Lavagetto.  The coach told him not to bother, because Throneberry had also missed first base.  I don’t know if that story is really true (I’ve also read a version in which Stengel is met by the first base umpire instead of Lavagetto), but it’s part of the lore of the 1962 Mets, and whether or not it’s factual probably doesn’t matter much.  At least Throneberry got a Miller Lite commercial out of his reputation.

In terms of playoff appeals, one of the more famous, if not the most famous, happened in Game 5 of the 1991 NLCS, when Atlanta’s David Justice was ruled to have missed third base while scoring what would have been the go-ahead run in that game, a contest eventually won by the Pittsburgh 1-0.

Justice claimed that he had actually touched the bag, and I think he probably did, but he stumbled over it, and it was such an awkward move that it’s not surprising Jay Bell asked for an appeal.  Frank Pulli then called Justice out.  It would have been a much bigger deal, of course, if the Braves had not rallied to win the series.

In the linked article, Dave Anderson compares Justice’s blunder to the famous “Merkle’s Boner” play, which is understandable, although the play involving Merkle wasn’t actually an appeal.  Johnny Evers retrieved the ball (or some ball; whether it was the actual ball used in the play is debatable) and stepped on second base, and got the out call from umpire Hank O’Day.  That play was still considered “live”, even with all the fans overrunning the field.

Of course, that Cubs-Giants game from 1908 was an end-game situation, and making a standard appeal in that scenario may not be possible.  It’s not unlike what happened in a memorable 22-inning affair at Montreal in 1989 between the Dodgers and Expos.

Los Angeles would eventually win the game 1-0 on a home run by Rick Dempsey (off El Presidente, Dennis Martinez), but Montreal thought it had won the game in the bottom of the 16th inning, when Larry Walker appeared to have scored the winning run on a sacrifice fly.  The Dodgers appealed that Walker had left third base early, though, and he was ruled out by third base umpire “Balking” Bob Davidson.

According to one observer who was at the game, Davidson did not immediately leave his position after the play (and presumably the game) had ended, which may have suggested to the Dodgers that an appeal play might prove successful.  I think that illustrates an inherent problem with the “see evil, don’t say evil unless asked” aspect of appeal plays, to be honest.

Tangent:  that game was also notable because Expos mascot Youppi! was ejected from the game in the 11th inning, which is believed to have been the first time a mascot was ejected from a major league game by an umpire.  Dodgers manager Tommy Lasorda had complained after being disturbed by some Youppi! antics on L.A.’s dugout roof.  Youppi! did reappear later in the game, however, although he (it?) was restricted to Montreal’s dugout roof.

One more appeal story, a side note to one of baseball’s more famous (or infamous) regular season games, the George Brett “pine tar” game.  After AL president Lee McPhail had overruled the umpires’ decision, and that Brett’s home run stood, the Yankees and Royals resumed the game — 25 days later.  Billy Martin had one more argument to make, and it would have been a good one, but somebody in the league office had been thinking along with the Yankee skipper:

Before the first pitch to Hal McRae (who followed Brett in the lineup), Martin challenged Brett’s home run on the grounds that Brett had not touched all the bases, and maintained that there was no way for the umpires (a different crew than the one who worked July 24) to dispute this. But umpire Davey Phillips was ready for Martin, producing an affidavit signed by the July 24 umpires stating that Brett had indeed touched all the bases. An irate Martin continued to argue with the umpires and was ejected from the game.

I think that’s a good way to end this post — with an appeal that was rejected.

To be a baseball Hall of Famer — the 2008 ballots (Part 1)

This year there are three separate elections for enshrinement in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.  Three distinct voting groups will vote on the following:  a list of 10 players whose careers began in 1942 or earlier; a list of 10 players whose career began in 1943 or later; and a list of players still eligible for election by the Baseball Writers’ Association of America (BBWAA).  The first two groups are what we think of as “veterans” committee picks, although in this case the makeup of the committees making the selections (if there are any selections) will be quite different.

In this post I’m going to take a look at the pre-1942 veterans ballot.  Subsequent posts will feature a brief analysis of the post-1943 veterans ballot and the BBWAA ballot (which has 23 players on it).

The ten men on the pre-1942 ballot are the finalists of a process that began with a group of BBWAA appointees winnowing the field from the many thousands of major leaguers who predated 1942.  Two of those involved in the initial phase, Bill Madden of the New York Daily News and Steve Hirdt of the Elias Sports Bureau, are on the 12-person selection committee.  They are joined on the committee by Hall of Famers Duke Snider, Bobby Doerr, Robin Roberts, Ralph Kiner, Phil Niekro, Don Sutton, and Dick Williams, longtime baseball executive Roland Hemond, retired Atlanta Journal-Constitution sportswriter Furman Bisher, and Claire Smith, who currently works as a “news editor” for ESPN, but who previously covered baseball for a variety of newspapers, including The New York Times and The Philadelphia Inquirer.

That’s an interesting committee to say the least.  Incidentally, Bobby Doerr was a teammate of one of the ten men on the ballot, Junior Stephens.

Okay, now to the ballot itself.  There is one player on it who absolutely should be in the Hall of Fame.  That player is “Bad Bill” Dahlen.

Dahlen is not in the Hall already in part because he played about half of his career in the nineteenth century, and the other half in the twentieth.  He actually started his major league career before the pitcher’s mound was moved back.  He wasn’t really known as “Bad Bill” until his managerial career (he was ejected 65 times in only 606 games as a skipper).  As a manager, he wasn’t so hot — but as a shortstop, he was tremendous.

Dahlen played in 2443 games, mostly at shortstop, and had a career OPS+ of 109.  He finished in the top ten in slugging three times, runs batted in four times (winning the RBI title in 1904), walks five times, doubles six times, triples four times, and homers five times.  In 1894 Dahlen had a 42-game hit streak, went hitless in the next game, and then started a 28-game hit streak.

He was considered an outstanding fielder for much of his career (despite a high error total).  John McGraw once traded for him in what he called “the most successful deal I ever made…just what I wanted – a great defensive shortstop.”

Dahlen had a drinking problem at the beginning of his career, got it under control, and then returned to the bottle in a major way after his career ended.  McGraw managed to get him a job as a night watchman at the Polo Grounds, which was standard operating procedure for McGraw faves who had lost their way (Dan Brouthers and Amos Rusie were also night watchmen).

If he is elected to the Hall of Fame, perhaps he could be in line for a marked gravestone…

None of the other players on the ballot are guys I feel strongly should be in the Hall of Fame, although most of them have pretty good cases.  It’s a good ballot overall.

Sherry Magee was a Deadball-era outfielder who played mostly for the Phillies, finishing his career with the Braves and Reds.  If they had given out an MVP award in the National League in 1910, he almost certainly would have won it.  Alas, the first NL MVP award was handed out in 1911.  Magee had a career OPS+ of 136 (in 2087 games), with six top 10s in batting (one title) and eleven Top 10s in slugging (first twice).  He finished in the top 5 in hits on six occasions and was in the top 10 in runs seven times.  He led the league in doubles in 1914 and finished second in that category five times in a row from 1906-10 (four times beaten out by Honus Wagner).  He finished in the top 5 in stolen bases six times.  Did I mention his four RBI titles yet?  He ranked among the league leaders in triples and homers too.  He was also a solid defensive outfielder.

On the other hand, he was a hothead, had bullying tendencies, and was by nature a bit of a crab, and was also occasionally accused of being more interested in his personal stats than the team’s success.  He was suspended for over a month in 1911 for punching an umpire.  He was traded from the Phillies to the World Champion Braves after the 1914 season, and the Phillies won their first pennant the next year.  1915 was also the year Magee stepped in a hole during spring training, fell, and broke his collarbone.  He was never the same, and his play declined substantially until Boston waived him in 1917 to the Reds.  In a mini-comeback of sorts, he batted .321 for Cincinnati during his stint with the Reds that year, and then led the league in runs batted in in 1918.  That was about it for Magee, although he did play for the Reds when they won it all in 1919, pinch-hitting twice in that much-discussed World Series.  Magee, rather amusingly, would later become an umpire, but he died of pneumonia at age 44 in 1929.

Bill James, in The Politics of Glory, wrote extensively about both Joe Gordon and Vern Stephens.  I’m not going to rehash all of that here, but there is one particular passage that I would like to quote:

I am not advocating that Junior Stephens should be in the Hall of Fame — but I wonder if we aren’t in danger of honoring exactly the wrong combination…we’ve got one from Boston (Doerr), one from New York [Phil Rizzuto], one second baseman, one shortstop.  I wonder if we…have the wrong one in all four categories — the wrong one from New York, the wrong one from Boston, the wrong second baseman, the wrong shortstop.

At the time James’ book was published, Rizzuto was on the cusp of being elected to the Hall.  He was, of course, eventually enshrined.

Both Gordon and Stephens had relatively short careers, and you could be justified in not supporting either’s candidacy.  Stephens does have eye-popping offensive numbers, especially for a shortstop (career OPS+ of 119).  His raw numbers for the 1949 season were outrageous, and he could easily have been the MVP for the Browns in 1944, the only time the Browns ever won the pennant (albeit in a war year).  I would not necessarily vote for him, but if he were elected I wouldn’t question it.  I will say, though, that it would be curious for him to be elected after never receiving a Hall of Fame vote from the BBWAA.  Not one.  Even assuming that some  of the voters of the time weren’t all that bright, it’s awfully hard to go against essentially the entire electorate of that era.

I would rate Joe Gordon slightly ahead of Stephens, although his career was even shorter.  However, Gordon missed two years due to World War II.  Gordon is famous (or infamous, I guess) for winning the MVP award in a year (1942) in which Ted Williams won the Triple Crown.  That was a poor selection, of course, but I think it may have hurt Gordon a little in the eyes of people who only remember the bogus MVP award and not the rest of what was an outstanding career.  Gordon was the best second baseman in baseball for much of the 1940s, an outstanding defensive player who was an integral part of several championship teams, mostly for the Yankees but also for the 1948 Cleveland Indians.  In 1948 Gordon led the Tribe in homers and runs batted in.  Gordon had a career OPS+ of 120.

When Gordon came back from the war in 1946, he had a poor year, and thinking he might be through, the Yankees traded him to Cleveland for Allie Reynolds.  Guess who’s on the ballot with Gordon?  Yes, Allie Reynolds.

Reynolds is not one of the better candidates on the ballot, though.  He did pitch for six championship teams, including five in a row (1949-53).  Reynolds generally pitched well in the Series (7-2, 4 saves, 2.79 ERA).  He had a career ERA+ of 110, however, and if you’re going to be a Hall of Famer with an ERA + of 110, you better have had a really really long career.  For example, one of the members of the committee, Don Sutton, had a career ERA+ of 108.  However, Sutton pitched 5292 innings in his career.  Reynolds pitched less than 2500.  Another panelist, Phil Niekro, pitched even more innings than Sutton and had a better ERA+ (115).

In fact, many of those under consideration had relatively short careers for Hall of Fame candidates.  Stephens, Gordon, Reynolds, Wes Ferrell, Bucky Walters, and Carl Mays all fall into this category.  The first three I’ve already discussed.  Let’s look at the other three.

Wes Ferrell was a better player than his brother, who is in the Hall.  Of course, Rick Ferrell is one of the worst selections for enshrinement ever made, so that doesn’t say much.  Ferrell is often cited as the best-hitting pitcher ever (non-Ruth division), although I think a case could be made that Bob Caruthers deserves that title.  Wes Ferrell was a very good pitcher, and indeed a solid hitter, but for a limited amount of time (2623 innings).  He did have six 20-win seasons.  Ferrell (and his brother) were the subjects of a book by noted baseball researcher Dick Thompson.  Thompson (who is now deceased) suggested that Ferrell’s pitching career was actually better than his numbers indicate because he pitched more often against the league’s better teams.  However, this claim has been challenged by another researcher.

Bucky Walters won the 1939 MVP award after a 27-win season.  His effort helped push the Reds into the Series for the first time since 1919.  The next year, Walters won 22 more games, and the Reds won the world championship.  Walters got off to a late start in his pitching career because he came up as a third baseman (who couldn’t hit).  He still logged more innings than Ferrell, Mays, or Reynolds, but I think he needs a bit more heft in his resume to be a Hall of Famer.

Carl Mays has slightly better career statistics than Walters.  He also killed a guy with a pitch.  That shouldn’t automatically disqualify him from consideration for the Hall, of course.  Mays was a submariner who could throw hard (think B.K. Kim when he was actually good).  He won 20+ games five times.

He was also tremendously unpopular.  He was known as a headhunter (this was long before the Ray Chapman incident).  He couldn’t get along with anybody, including teammates.  Many baseball people also believed that Mays threw at least one, if not two, World Series games.  Basically, he was a nasty bit of goods (who despite that found work as a scout in later years).  His statistical record as a pitcher (who was not a bad hitter, either) is probably close to the border for a legitimate Hall of Famer.  His “extracurriculars”, if you will, have kept him out of the Hall, and in my opinion, deservedly so.

The final two players on the ballot are Mickey Vernon, who debuted in 1939, later than any of the other nominees, and Deacon White, whose major league career ended in 1890, before any of the other nominees had debuted.

Vernon was a first baseman who in a long, Mark Grace-like career won two batting titles and the enduring support of many fans, as he was extremely popular.  Vernon was an outstanding defensive first baseman and a seven-time All Star.  A native of Pennsylvania, he would be the first Villanova alum to be enshrined in Cooperstown.  Vernon was still alive when he was named as a Hall of Fame nominee (in August 2008), but he died last September at age 90.

Deacon White was a third baseman and catcher at the dawn of the National League.  He was already 28 when the league was founded, so a lot of his best years were already behind him, but he still fashioned a lengthy career in the NL, playing until age 41 in that league (and adding a season in the Players League at age 42).  He was the oldest player in the majors for the last four seasons of his career.

White won the RBI title in the first two years in the new league, and won the batting title in 1877.  That year he was primarily a first baseman; in 1876 he had been a catcher.  It would not be until Roy Campanella in 1953 that another catcher would win the RBI title in the National League.

White’s candidacy, I think, hinges on whether or not he should get credit for his time in the “pre-majors” era.  He was a big star in the National Association, the forerunner to the National League.  If you count those years (particularly the last three), then I think he’s a Hall of Famer.  I would count them –it’s not White’s fault there wasn’t an established major league (or what we now consider a major league).  White also gets bonus points for being a solid citizen; he was called “Deacon” because he was one.  Maybe you would take away bonus points because White believed the world was flat…

His younger brother Will was a fine pitcher, by the way.

If I voted, I would definitely vote for Dahlen, and I would be inclined to vote for White as well.  I would seriously consider both Magee and Gordon.  I wouldn’t vote for Stephens, but I could understand why someone would.

Vernon, in my view, is not of the same quality (in terms of on-field value) as the other nine candidates, and I see no reason to honor Mays.  Reynolds, Ferrell, and Walters are fairly similar candidates who don’t quite measure up to the standard (such as it is).

As to who I think the committee will elect (if anyone):  I have no idea.  I suspect that Reynolds will get a lot of support, and the very fact Dahlen and White are on the ballot may suggest that they have supporters from among those on the committee who were on the panel formulating the ballot.  Vernon’s appearance on the ballot troubles me a little.  I wouldn’t be shocked if he were elected.

We’ll see on December 8.