Kuzul

They write songs about center fielders, from (where have you gone) Joe DiMaggio to Willie, Mickey and the Duke. They write books about center fielders.

Catchers, shortstops and first basemen are important, but center fielders live on.

And yet in all the years of the Hall of Fame, only six players who started at least 1,500 games in center field have been voted in by the Baseball Writers Association of America. On Wednesday, it will become seven.

On Wednesday, Ken Griffey Jr. will take his rightful place next to DiMaggio, next to Willie (Mays), Mickey (Mantle) and the Duke (Snider). And next to Ty Cobb and Tris Speaker as well.

It would be hard to think of a more rightful heir.

Griffey starred. He did it with style. And after nearly three decades where center fielders were mostly forgotten, Junior made it glamorous again.

Just as kids of the 1950s and ’60s grew up wanting to be Mays or Mantle, kids wanted to be Griffey. They wanted to hit like him and field like him, and they wanted to style like him.

As Andrew McCutchen wrote last year in the Players’ Tribune, “From the time I first stepped up in front of a tee-ball stand, I was trying to waggle my bat just like Ken Griffey Jr.”

Now, McCutchen is a star center fielder with the Pittsburgh Pirates, and now, Los Angeles Angels center fielder Mike Trout may well be the best player in the game. It’s too early to say we’re seeing the start of a new era of center field stars but not at all too early to declare Griffey as the founding father.

He was born the year after Mantle retired and was just three years old when Mays stumbled through his final season with the New York Mets. He grew up in a decade when Amos Otis and Cesar Cedeno were the best of a modest center field lot.

Dale Murphy, who could have been a Hall of Famer, followed them, and Kirby Puckett, who is a Hall of Famer, came after that. But no one really followed through to become what DiMaggio, Mantle and Mays were.

Griffey did. He played much of his career way out there in Seattle, a baseball outpost when he arrived as a 19-year-old in 1989. His games started too late for most of the country to watch, and most of them weren’t on national television, anyway. The team around him was ordinary enough that the Mariners won just one postseason series while he was there.

Didn’t matter. During the 22 seasons Griffey played in the major leagues, no one in the game was more recognizable.

Not everyone liked the way he wore his cap, but who couldn’t love that smile? Who couldn’t love the swing that produced 630 home runs or the way he chased down all those fly balls that shouldn’t have been caught?

He made the best catch I ever saw in person, in 1998 at Tiger Stadium, when he leaped high over the right-center field fence to rob Luis Gonzalez (chronicled here by Larry Stone of the Seattle Times). He made so many other great catches that when he was asked to name his five best, the Gonzalez play didn’t even make the cut.

He made it through the steroid era without ever feeling the taint, so when his name first appeared on the Hall of Fame ballot this winter, the only question was how close he would come to being a unanimous choice.

In fact, of the 181 ballots made public and posted on BBHoFTracker as of Wednesday morning, Griffey appeared on every one. We’ll find out at 6 p.m. ET Wednesday how many other votes he’ll get.

No one has ever been a unanimous pick. DiMaggio made just 88.8 percent of the ballots in 1955, the year he was elected. Mantle made 88.2 percent in 1974, and Mays made 94.7 percent (409-of-432) in 1979. Pitcher Tom Seaver came closest, missing just five of 430 ballots in 1992.

It’s a nice thing to watch for, and no one will mind if Griffey gets it. But in the end, it hardly matters, because Griffey’s legacy doesn’t depend on any number, any more than the legacies of Mays and Mantle did.

“Great players played center field,” said Art Stewart, the 88-year-old Kansas City Royals executive. “I saw Griffey his entire life, from high school all the way through the big leagues. He absolutely belongs with those greats.

“No question he belongs in that class. No question.”

No question, center field is glamorous in baseball again, with Trout and McCutchen both already owning Most Valuable Player awards. Bryce Harper has one, too, and while he played just 13 games in center field when he won it last season, he could end up playing there again.

Griffey played there 2,145 times. He played a few games in left field, a few more in right and a few as a designated hitter, but he was always a center fielder. He was what DiMaggio was, what Mays was, what Mantle was.

All he needs is a song.

Danny Knobler covers Major League Baseball as a national columnist for Bleacher Report.

Follow Danny on Twitter and talk baseball.

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It sat on my desk for several days just before Christmas. In the envelope. Unsealed. Stamp affixed. Questions nagging.

Finally, into the mail it went.

Last-minute Christmas card? No.

My Hall of Fame ballot.

The process is nearly the same every year. Spend most of December wrestling with it, thinking about it, researching it, second-guessing myself about it. Reach a point where I think I’ve got it…but then I don’t mail it back until the absolute last minute, leaving every opportunity to change something if a roaring doubt here or there isn’t quelled.

This was my 17th ballot, and there are few greater responsibilities, work-wise, in my year than this. As I remind everyone annually in this column, I’ve always viewed my vote akin to that of a congressman or representative: The Hall of Fame is a public house, belonging to the baseball fans, and each year when I vote, I’m mindful that I’m casting that vote on behalf of constituents. Not everybody is going to agree, but you do your best to represent.

So for this week’s Starting 9, and in advance of the 2016 Hall of Fame election results’ being announced Wednesday, here is what my ballot looked like (in alphabetical order), with a couple of other thoughts tagged on at the end.

1. Ken Griffey Jr.

Every now and again, a no-brainer, slam-dunk candidate comes onto the ballot, and that’s what Griffey is. The finest all-around center fielder in history, from his backward cap to his grin to his highlight-reel plays, is what you see when you close your eyes and envision what baseball should look like.

Easily, the biggest intrigue here is whether he can challenge Tom Seaver’s record 98.84 percent of the vote. What you might ask, and it absolutely is a fair question, is why wouldn’t Junior’s election be unanimous?

Here’s why: Believe it or not, nobody has ever been elected unanimously to the Hall of Fame. Somehow, 11 voters in 1936 did not see fit to vote for Babe Ruth. In 1962, 36 writers did not vote for Jackie Robinson. In 1966, 20 voters did not cast a ballot for Ted Williams.

I’m not sure who could look at Griffey’s career and conclude, “Nah, I’m not going to check the box next to his name.” History tells us it will be somebody, though. But after posting all-time numbers and making it through the Steroid Era considered squeaky clean, if Griffey doesn’t check in Wednesday with roughly 99 percent of the vote, some in the electorate need to look themselves in the mirror.

2. Trevor Hoffman

Given his 601 career saves rank second only to Mariano Rivera on the all-time list, some will be surprised to learn that not only is Hoffman not a surefire bet to be elected, but that chances are strong he will have to wait until at least his second or third year of eligibility.

Here’s a secret: Nobody who pitched exclusively as a reliever throughout his entire career has ever been elected in his first year of eligibility. Both Dennis Eckersley and John Smoltz worked part of their careers as starters. Rollie Fingers (second year of eligibility), Goose Gossage (ninth year) and Bruce Sutter (13th year) all had to wait.

My sabermetric friends continually point out how overvalued the closer’s position is, and I lean toward agreeing with them. I have not, for example, voted for Lee Smith, who for a time was baseball’s all-time saves leader with 478 saves.

But sometimes the body of work is so staggering that it should be obvious that, from whatever angle you view it, you are looking at a Hall of Famer. And I believe Hoffman’s 601 saves over 18 years clears whatever hurdles a Hall of Famer should clear in both dominance and longevity.

3. Jeff Kent

I’m still not sure about Kent, but in the end, I acquiesced to the fact that he hit more home runs as a second baseman than any man ever, 351. The doubts, though, continue to nag: Kent played in an offensively friendly era of juiced balls and ballparks that favored hitters. And I’m not sure the rest of his game screams “Hall of Famer.”

This isn’t to knock him. Obviously, he was a very, very good player. But good enough to be ranked among the greatest 1 percent ever (which, essentially, is what being a Hall of Famer means)? I wonder if I allowed myself to be seduced by that one gaudy home run number.

4. Fred McGriff

The Crime Dog is in his seventh year on the ballot, and I only began to vote for him two years ago based on this: I do not vote for players tainted by steroids (see explanation below). And as more and more of those came onto the ballot, it began to feel like I was spending more time penalizing players than anything else.

So why, then, shouldn’t I do the opposite of that in certain cases? Especially for players who by all appearances played clean, only to be completely pushed into the shadows by the cheaters?

With 493 career homers, McGriff ranks 28th all-time. Remove some of the steroid frauds from that all-time list and he comes close to cracking the top 20. With only 12.9 percent of last year’s vote, McGriff won’t get in. But he sure is worth looking at.

5. Mike Mussina

I know, I know: Wins are passe. They’re not a meaningful stat for starting pitchers anymore in this modern age of bullpen usage, yadda, yadda, yadda. But I look at Mussina’s pitching his entire career in the beastly AL East in an age of fierce sluggers, steroids and bloated payrolls producing All-Star lineups and see his 270 wins, and it resonates. The guy produced 11 seasons of 15 or more victories.

There are plenty of other numbers to back his cause, too. But I’ll leave it to my sabermetric friends to fill you in with all of those (wink, wink).

6. Tim Raines

After checking in with 55 percent of the vote last year, where will Raines, now in his ninth year on the ballot (and with just one year of eligibility remaining), land this time? There absolutely should be a place in Cooperstown for a man with a staggering .385 career on-base percentage and whose 84.7 success rate on steal attempts (among those with 300 or more attempts) ranks second all-time.

7. Alan Trammell

It is going to be sad to see Trammell drop off the ballot after this season (and he will, because he only received 25.1 percent of the vote last year, nowhere near the 75 percent needed). I’ve voted for him every year and maintain that the mid-1980s Detroit Tigers are egregiously overlooked by the Hall electorate (yes, it is a gross injustice that Jack Morris is out in the cold, too).

Trammell came in with Cal Ripken Jr. and Robin Yount (both Hall of Famers), and his offensive numbers clobber those of Ozzie Smith (yes, a Hall of Famer). I’ve yet to talk with a manager of that time who would have picked Ozzie over Trammell if given the choice. Plus, Barry Larkin was enshrined, and Trammell’s numbers and career run in close parallel to Larkin.

Trammell has been criminally undersupported, and it’s a shame.

8. The Steroid Stance

OK, I intentionally left this until after I revealed my ballot because those who are not on my ballot should not overshadow those who are on it. And year after year, that’s what Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens do.

I do not vote for those who have admitted to using performance-enhancing drugs, who have tested positive for it or who are obscured by a mountain of circumstantial evidence. Period. I never have, and while reserving the right to change my mind in future years, I do not plan on doing so.

For those like Manny Ramirez (and, eventually, Ryan Braun), who blatantly broke the rules after PED regulations were instituted in 2004, they made their choice. It’s pretty black and white.

For those who came just before, like Bonds, Clemens, Sammy Sosa and Rafael Palmeiro, they knew they were cheating the game and their peers. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been dipping into PEDs away from the clubhouses and ballparks. There is a reason why players were doing these things in private and attempting to hide their activities.

Just look at what Mark McGwire said in 2012 while apologizing for his actions before coming back to the game as a coach, per Petros & Money, via USA Today: “It’s a mistake I have to live with for the rest of my life. I have to deal with never, ever getting into the Hall of Fame. I totally understand and totally respect their opinion and I will never, ever push it.”

And, per the Associated Press via the Huffington Post: “I wish I had never touched steroids. It was foolish and it was a mistake.”

What sometimes gets lost amid the social media shouting at this time of year is that the Baseball Writers’ Association of America is not on some sort of organized, evangelical mission to keep the PED guys out. I am not standing on street corners, on a soapbox, shouting to the masses.

I am one man with one ballot who is voting my conscience. I wish the players’ union, or the owners, or MLB Commissioner Bud Selig would have stood up back in the day and corralled this issue long before it got out of hand. They didn’t. Now, the issue has come to the Hall of Fame voters, and on behalf of many fans who think along the lines that I do, if I can in some small way make a stand now for what I believe in, then that is my obligation. I welcome the opportunity to do so.

Some of my best friends in the business always have voted for those who used PEDs. A couple of other close friends who once held out changed their minds this year and now vote for them. I predict you will see the vote totals for Bonds rise this year.

That’s fine. I respect that. Clearly, there is no wrong and right here, only deeper and confusing shades of gray. But in the end, in whatever aspect of life we are facing, we each must stand up for what we believe in. There is no higher individual honor in this game than the Hall of Fame. And for that precious place, I cannot—and will not—knowingly endorse the career of a man who cheated.

And for those who say Bonds had a Hall of Fame career before 1999, when it is generally believed he started using, my Hall of Fame vote is not for a partial career. It is for a full career.

9. The Near-Misses

Mike Piazza and Jeff Bagwell

These are the two guys who continue to keep me up late into the night wondering what to do. I have not yet voted for either because of steroid concerns, yes. Yet neither’s name was found in the Mitchell Report or anywhere else. The evidence is purely circumstantial (both men’s bodies got a whole lot smaller after retirement).

I’ve had each in a sort of holding pattern, wanting to allow a few years to elapse before ultimately deciding to cast a vote in his favor, to see if anything PED-related comes to light. So far, it hasn’t. Bagwell is in his sixth year on the ballot, while Piazza is in his fourth. So each has a few years left (they can stay on the ballot for 10 years).

I want to vote for both men. Piazza may well earn election this year (he was at 69.9 percent last year); Bagwell (55.7 percent) is getting closer. If they both are elected this year, I’ll be happy for them.

Curt Schilling

Yes, I know he was one of the greatest postseason pitchers of our time, and I know his strikeout totals are staggering. I also know he had a whole lot of mediocre years surrounding all of this. Many voters raged against Jack Morris’ 3.90 ERA; Schilling managed just 216 wins during his career. Forget 300—he barely had 200. Sorry, if there’s no place in Cooperstown for Morris, I sure don’t see a path for Schilling. Head-to-head, in their prime, I’d take Morris.

Edgar Martinez

I have not voted for him because, to me, if you’re going to be a one-dimensional player as a designated hitter, your numbers had better be staggering (see my Hoffman vote explanation above). And with 309 career homers and 2,247 career hits, Martinez’s are not. Except…his .418 on-base percentage is. Had he played the field like Raines did, I’d vote for him in a heartbeat. But strictly as a DH…he’s in his seventh year on the ballot, and I’ll reconsider again next year. But I wish some of those other numbers were higher.

Scott Miller covers Major League Baseball as a national columnist for Bleacher Report.

Follow Scott on Twitter and talk baseball.

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Get ready, folks. On Wednesday afternoon, the results of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America vote for the 2016 Baseball Hall of Fame class will be announced.

It’s unlikely that the 2016 class of inductees will be as big as last year’s, which saw a whopping four players elected into Cooperstown. But with enough cunning, we can make a fair guess about what is going to happen with the 32 players on the 2016 ballot.

Ahead lies a full set of predictions for what will be announced on 6:00 PM ET on Wednesday afternoon, ranging from which players won’t come close to those who will remain in the mix to the guys slated to get in. But before we get going, a few reminders:

• It takes 75 percent of the vote to be elected into the Hall of Fame, and at least five percent to stay on the ballot.
• In 2014, the Hall of Fame reduced the maximum number of years a player can stay on the ballot from 15 to 10, save for a few holdover exceptions.
• More recently, the Hall of Fame stripped the lifetime voting rights from BBWAA members who are at least 10 years removed from covering baseball.

OK, then. Enough stalling. Let’s get going.

Begin Slideshow

Mike Piazza, the best offensive catcher in baseball history, isn’t in the Hall of Fame. And nobody can really explain why.

Yes, you will hear phrases like “stain of the steroid era” and “cloud of suspicion.” But these are the facts: Piazza was never suspended for performance-enhancing drug use. His name did not appear in the Mitchell Report, and it hasn’t surfaced in any subsequent PED revelation.

All we have is rumor, conjecture and innuendo. So far, that’s been enough to keep him out of Cooperstown. Now, with the 2016 class set to be announced Wednesday, it’s high time this capricious waiting game comes to an end.

This is Piazza’s fourth go-round on the Hall of Fame ballot. His vote total has climbed each year, starting at 57.8 percent in 2013 and reaching 69.9 percent last year. The threshold for enshrinement is 75 percent.

So, it’s looking good for Piazza. The reluctance to let him in, on the other hand, does not look good for the Baseball Writers’ Association of America voters.

First, let’s just get the unimpeachable stats out of the way. In his 16-year career, Piazza hit more home runs (427) and posted a higher OPS (.922) than any qualified catcher in history. He won National League Rookie of the Year honors in 1993, made 12 All-Star teams and finished in the top 10 in MVP voting seven times.

His defense gets mixed reviews, though in 2013 Max Marchi of Baseball Prospectus made the case for Piazza as the ninth-best pitch-framer of all time.

What’s undeniable is that his bat stands above even greats like Johnny Bench, Carlton Fisk and Yogi Berra.

On the numbers alone, Piazza is a first-ballot shoo-in. Instead, he’s been tossed on the heap with tainted sluggers like Barry Bonds, Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa. The difference is that McGwire admitted to using PEDs, and there is ample evidence that Bonds and Sosa did as well.

With Piazza, there’s only guilt by association. He was a big, strong guy who hit a lot of homers during a time when other players were using PEDs.

Last January, Bill Madden of the New York Daily News admitted as much when explaining why he snubbed Piazza.

“I decided to withhold my vote on Piazza,” Madden wrote, “the reason being I did not want to vote somebody into the Hall of Fame who I would then find out two or three years later had, in fact, been a steroids cheat.”

With that logic, why vote for anyone? Even the seemingly cleanest player could turn out to be a PED user in retrospect. Better keep them all out, just in case. Don’t want any egg on your face.

As I’ve made clear in the past, great players from the steroid era, like Bonds and Roger Clemens, belong in the Hall. To me, it’s a museum commemorating the most transcendent talents in baseball history, not a reward for good behavior.

But even if you think PED use disqualifies a player from enshrinement, you have to draw a line somewhere. Did the player test positive for a banned substance? Is there documentation and strong circumstantial evidence suggesting he did? Fine, leave him off your ballot.

But if all you have is a sneaking feeling—or, in the case of Murray Chass, the fact that you noticed acne on Piazza’s back—you are unfairly playing judge, jury and executioner.

BBWAA voters can do what they please, of course. This is an entirely subjective process. But we don’t have to like it.

Did Piazza use PEDs? It’s certainly possible. He did admit to using androstenedione early in his career, according to a 2002 New York Times report by Rafael Hermoso and Tyler Kepner. At the time, though, “andro” was a legal substance; MLB didn’t ban it until 2004.

Piazza also told Hermoso and Kepner that he never used steroids because “I hit the ball as far in high school as I do now.”

Whether you believe him or not, he’s never deviated from that statement. And no hard evidence has emerged to refute it.

Was Piazza a 62nd-round pick who came out of nowhere to become an offensive force? Yes. Did he hit the bejeezus out of baseballs during the 1990s and early 2000s, a time when PEDs permeated the game? Yes, again. Did he have pimples on his back? Apparently.

Is that enough to keep the greatest offensive catcher in baseball history out of the Hall of Fame?

Here’s hoping the answer, finally, is “no.”

All statistics courtesy of MLB.com unless otherwise noted.

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The Hall of Fame ballot arrived in the mail last month, filled with tough choices. Too many steroid guys, too many close calls.

And one sure-fire, no-doubt Hall of Famer.

If the Hall allowed us just one vote a year, this would have been the easiest ballot ever.

Put a check next to Ken Griffey Jr. Sign the ballot and mail it in.

And I would have been fine with that.

There’s an argument to be made that if you’re not sure a guy belongs in the Hall of Fame, he probably doesn’t. There’s an argument that the Hall should belong to guys like Griffey, where you don’t need to study the stats or the Mitchell Report to know he deserves your vote.

But we do study, and we do look beyond the obvious names. We get as many as 10 votes a year, not just one, and some of my colleagues (notably my friend Jim Caple of ESPN.com) have made a strong argument we shouldn’t be limited to 10. The disagreement over whether “steroid guys” should get in has led to ballot congestion, because tainted stars like Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens get enough votes to remain on the ballot (more than 5 percent) but not enough to get elected (less than 75 percent).

I understand the debate, but I find it hard to complain, because I used only nine of my 10 available votes. I stopped automatically eliminating guys like Bonds and Clemens two years ago, and I still didn’t get to 10. If anything, the 10-vote limit helps sharpen my decision.

I began with Griffey, one of the easiest calls since I began voting 15 years ago. I quickly added Bonds and Clemens. I took a while to get to nine, and a lot longer to decide against a 10th.

Many of you won’t agree with my Bonds/Clemens call. Plenty will argue about other guys I have on my ballot, and about those I don’t.

I can’t imagine anyone complaining about Griffey.

I love the passion the Hall of Fame voting generates. I’ll even accept the silly name-calling, because I take it simply as proof of that passion.

Rather than a player-by-player rundown, here’s a look into the thought process that went into one ballot (after Griffey).

First question: Do I keep voting for the “steroid guys,” as I have the last two years?

I’ve never been totally comfortable voting for Bonds, Clemens and Mark McGwire, because I’ve never been totally comfortable with the idea of having them stand on that stage in Cooperstown, New York, to be celebrated by the game they likely cheated. I didn’t vote for Bonds or Clemens in 2013, the first year they were on the ballot, for exactly that reason.

A year later, I flipped, because I was even less comfortable excluding the “steroid guys” we know about while inevitably voting for many players who were likely just as guilty. Baseball and its players association never allowed us to know which of those players also cheated, because testing and suspensions didn’t come into the game until June 2004.

I fully respect those many colleagues who continue to withhold votes. Neither Bonds nor Clemens has ever reached even 40 percent, with 75 percent required for election. But I don’t want to be the one deciding which players cheated and which didn’t, so in my mind the ultimate choice was between voting for none of the players from that era or considering all of them.

For now, I’ll continue considering all of them, with another test coming next winter when Manny Ramirez (a drug suspension, and retirement to avoid another one) first appears on the ballot.

So Bonds, Clemens and McGwire get check marks on my ballot again this year, and others whose drug use is more suspected than proven remain under consideration as well.

Second question: Do I renew my support for the seven players I voted for last year who remain on the ballot?

I used all 10 votes last year, and three of them went to players who were ultimately elected (Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez and John Smoltz). If I’d been allowed 11 votes, I may well have given one to Craig Biggio, who also got in.

That left Bonds, Clemens, McGwire, Mike Piazza, Tim Raines, Curt Schilling and Alan Trammell.

I revisit every player’s case every year, but after reconsidering all seven I saw no reason to take away any of those votes.

Third question: Besides Griffey, do any newcomers belong on the ballot?

Most of the 15 new names on the ballot were easy to dismiss. Sorry, Brad Ausmus, David Eckstein and Mike Sweeney, among others.

You can make a case for closers Trevor Hoffman and Billy Wagner, and for outfielder Jim Edmonds. Hoffman makes my ballot, because even though saves are an imperfect stat, his 601 are far and away the most of anyone not named Mariano Rivera and helped make him one of the dominant players of his era.

Wagner and Edmonds got serious consideration but fall just short of the dominance you want in a Hall of Famer.

Fourth question: Seven holdovers plus two newcomers means one available vote. Who gets it?

For a week, my ballot had those nine names checked. For a week, I had an “almost” list of four names I looked at every day. I saw reasons for voting for Edgar Martinez, Mike Mussina, Jeff Bagwell and Larry Walker, but I only had room for one of them.

In the end, I voted for none of them. The more I looked at the case for each, I realized I wasn’t convinced about any of them. In a vote for the Hall of Fame, I wanted to be convinced. Unless they get in (possible) or get dropped from the ballot, I’ll give them another look next year.

For this year, I stuck with nine.

Some of them have no chance of getting elected this year. Some of them could be hurt because voters who believe there are more than 10 worthy candidates need to make tough choices.

Early estimates suggest a few could get in, but it could be that Ken Griffey Jr. ends up being the only player elected.

And I’d be fine with that.

Danny Knobler covers Major League Baseball as a national columnist for Bleacher Report.

Follow Danny on Twitter and talk baseball.

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Just four years after World War II ended and two years after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in baseball, Minnie Minoso made his major league debut with the Cleveland Indians. Five decades and 1,963 hits later, at the age of 54, Minoso was standing at home plate of Comiskey Park in a White Sox uniform. 

His website lists him as the ninth black player in Major League Baseball, the first for the White Sox and the first publicly acknowledged Cuban major leaguer.

Only 12,817 fans saw his major league debut on April 19, 1949. Fewer than that were likely even aware. It was fitting that he drew a free pass in his only plate appearance, as he would go on to accumulate 192 free, painful hit-by-pitch passes. In fact, he led the league in being hit by a pitch in 10 of his 17 seasons.

Yet despite his contributions to the game of baseball, Minnie Minoso stands on the outside of the Hall of Fame looking in.

After once again failing to be elected to the Hall of Fame via the Veteran’s Committee, receiving only 8 of the 12 required votes, White Sox Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf admitted that Minoso‘s returns to the game at the ages of 51 and 55 hurt his chances of being inducted, as some voters didn’t get to see the real Minoso play.

Heck, take away his final 35 plate appearances and his batting averages raises an entire point to .299. Minoso‘s actual career batting average was an impressive .298—that’s tied with Mickey Mantle.

His .389 career on-base percentage ties him with Frank Robinson and puts him ahead of Tony Gwynn (.388), Willie Mays (.384), Hank Aaron (.374) and Willie McCovey (.374).

Minoso was a nine-time All-Star and three-time Gold Glove winner, yet the Gold Glove Award wasn’t even implemented until he was 35 years old. He received the honor at age 35, 37 and 38, though his actual age isn’t known for sure.

In 2009, Jim Rice was elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame on his 15th and final ballot. Like Minoso, Rice spent a majority of his time in left field; in fact, Minnie played a mere six games in left field more than Rice with 1509 and 1503 games, respectively. 

Although Rice’s fielding percentage was eight points higher than Minoso‘s, Minnie earned three Gold Gloves while Rice won zero. As mentioned earlier, the Gold Glove did not come along until Minoso was 35 years old; Rice had the opportunity to win one during his entire career.

Offensively, Minoso matches up quite comparably to Rice. Rice was certainly more of a power hitter, slugging 382 home runs in 16 seasons. Here’s a look at the offensive stats of the two:

Sure, Minoso isn’t often mentioned in the same sentence as players like Hank Aaron or Willie Mays, but his numbers in virtually any category can compete with those of quite a few Hall of Famers. He didn’t rewrite the record books, but he made tremendous contributions to the White Sox and the game itself.

A few years ago, Chicago baseball fans were heartbroken that one of their most beloved, Ron Santo, was inducted into the Hall of Fame just a year after his death. Like Minoso, Santo was not often compared to those individuals regarded as “the greatest,” but he certainly had a stellar career. Santo was one of the greatest Cubs ever to play. His number is retired by the Cubs, while a statue of him stands eternally outside of Wrigley Field. 

The same goes for White Sox legend Minnie Minoso, whose statue can be seen in the center field concourse and his number above the U.S. Cellular Field press box.

The Veteran’s Committee cannot let what happened to Santo happen to Minoso. It’s time that Minoso gets inducted into the Hall of Fame before it’s too late.

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The 2015 MLB Hall of Fame class has officially been announced, as it will be a four-player class of Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, John Smoltz and Craig Biggio earning enshrinement in the hallowed halls of Cooperstown this year.

The three pitchers are each first-ballot selections and deservedly so, as they were among the greatest to ever toe the rubber. But for Biggio, it took three tries to finally gain induction.

To be blunt, the fact that Biggio did not breeze in on his first ballot is nothing short of ridiculous.

So let’s dive into the numbers and show just how deserving a Hall of Famer Craig Biggio really was, looking at his candidacy from a few different angles.

For some people, a Hall of Famer is someone who compiles impressive overall numbers throughout the course of a lengthy and productive career. Biggio certainly did that.

Do you know how many members of the 3,000 hit club were not first-ballot Hall of Fame inductees?

Excluding the three players not enshrined (Pete Rose, Rafael Palmeiro, Derek Jeter) and guys who were part of the inaugural ballot, only Paul Waner was forced to wait for his ticket to be punched.

The 500-home run club is understandably not the same accomplishment it once was, but 3,000 hits still speaks volumes to a player’s productivity and longevity, and it’s a feat accomplished by just 28 players in the history of the game.

That accomplishment alone is enough to make him a first-ballot selection in my book, but if that’s not enough for you, let’s go further.

As a leadoff hitter for most of his career, Biggio was counted on first and foremost to get on base, and he did that a ton.

Between his 3,060 hits, his plus eye at the plate and his uncanny ability for getting hit by pitches, Biggio was on base an impressive 4,505 times in his career, good for the 18th on the all-time list.

Those frequent trips on the base paths, coupled with 414 career stolen bases, helped him score 1,844 runs, good for 15th all time.

However, he was far from just a table-setter, as he also cranked out the sixth-most doubles all time with 668 to go along with 291 home runs and 1,175 RBI.

To put it simply, he was a well-balanced offensive threat who could hurt you in a number of ways, and he compiled some impressive career numbers to prove it.

While lofty career numbers are nice, others are more interested in where he stacked up among his contemporaries.

Was this player one of the greats of his generation and an elite talent at his respective position?

The biggest contenders for the title of top second baseman during the era in which Biggio played are Roberto Alomar, Jeff Kent and to a lesser extend Ryne Sandberg.

Let’s take a look at how those four guys stack up from an offensive standpoint.

Most would give Alomar the nod for top second baseman of that era, thanks to his elite mix of offensive production and defensive ability, but there is something to be said for the defensive transformation Biggio underwent during his career.

A catcher for his first four seasons in the league, Biggio shifted to second base in 1992 and by 1994 he was a Gold Glove winner, kicking off a streak of four consecutive Gold Glove wins.

He then moved to center field as a 37-year-old in 2003 to make way for the aforementioned Kent, and while defensive metrics don’t paint him as a plus defender there, it’s an impressive transition nonetheless.

To be honest if I’m building my All-1990s team, Alomar probably gets the nod at second base, but it would be an incredibly tough decision to make, and it’s because Biggio was one of the best that era had to offer.

You could make the argument that Biggio did not deserve to be a first-ballot guy since it took Alomar two tries to earn induction.

However, Alomar‘s spike in vote total from 73.7 percent to 90.0 percent shows a first-ballot talent who was being punished by the voters for some indiscretions during the course of his career, so that argument doesn’t hold much weight.

At the end of the day, Craig Biggio is officially in Cooperstown where he belongs, as there is little question he is one of the greatest and most productive second basemen the game has ever seen.

It’s a shame he was forced to wait three years to gain baseball’s highest honor, but let’s take this chance to reflect on just how impressive his career was, as opposed to focusing on just how broken the Hall of Fame voting system is.

Now let’s hope the voters get it right next year and his longtime teammate Jeff Bagwell joins him in Cooperstown.

All stats courtesy of Baseball-Reference, unless otherwise noted.

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If you think Mike Piazza is worthy of Cooperstown, you’re not alone. For the third year in a row, he drew votes from the majority of the Hall of Fame voters.

…But not quite enough to actually get into the Hall of Fame.

A candidate needs 75 percent of the vote to be elected into Cooperstown. When the voting for 2015 was revealed on Tuesday, four players were over that threshold: Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, John Smoltz and Craig Biggio.

Piazza, however, juuuuuuust missed with 69.9 percent. Though an improvement over the 62.2 percent he received in 2014, it means another year of waiting for the former Los Angeles Dodgers and New York Mets great.

Piazza is surely disappointed, but don’t expect to hear him complain. When it comes to the voting for the Hall of Fame, he knows what the deal is.

“The way history has always gone, it has always been a process,” Piazza told Ted Berg of USA Today. “In this day and age there’s so much attention on it, and now there are so many outlets for analysis that it gets more and more scrutinized.

“Hopefully it happens. I’m optimistic, but it’s out of my control.”

Going forward, Piazza should continue to be optimistic. He may not be in yet, but ESPN.com’s Jayson Stark noted just how close he is:

There’s a good chance Piazza will get those votes. Support for him has increased each year he’s been on the ballot, and one thing that’s for sure is that it’s not what he did on the field that’s holding him back.

Piazza is often cited as the greatest offensive catcher ever and rightfully so. Beyond being a career .308/.377/.545 hitter with 427 home runs, Piazza holds the following distinctions:

• His .922 career OPS is tops among qualified catchers.
• His 143 career OPS+ is also tops among qualified catchers.
• He’s the all-time leader in OPS as a catcher at .942.
• He’s the all-time leader in home runs as a catcher with 396.

Piazza has other things going for him as well. He broke in as the National League Rookie of the Year in 1993 and went on to become a 12-time All-Star and a 10-time Silver Slugger. And though his overall postseason numbers are lacking, he was a monster in the Mets’ run to the World Series in 2000.

Meanwhile, stuck in the shadow of the accolades and gaudy offensive numbers is Piazza’s defense. He’s not regarded as a strong defensive catcher, but SI.com’s Jay Jaffe highlighted two studies that disagree.

In 2006, Sean Forman of Baseball-Reference.com (via Baseball Prospectus) made a case for Piazza as one of the best catchers ever at keeping the ball in front of him. In 2013, Max Marchi of Baseball Prospectus used pre-PITCHf/x data to highlight Piazza as one of the 10 best pitch framers of all time.

So though Piazza struggled to throw out runners, he was basically Jonathan Lucroy before Jonathan Lucroy was Jonathan Lucroy. If he played today, he’d be regarded as a good defensive catcher and, therefore, hardly a one-dimensional superstar.

In all, Piazza’s career accomplishments say he clearly belongs in the Hall of Fame. That he’s not is snubbery. Snubbery most foul.

So why isn’t Piazza in the Hall of Fame yet? It’s fairly obvious that it’s because a good percentage of the voters are essentially the anti-Yogi Berra:

They may not know anything, but they suspect everything.

Despite the apparent invalidity of it, you sometimes hear Piazza’s poor defensive reputation cited in Hall of Fame columns. But as far as reasons for denying him a vote, it pales next to suspicions regarding performance-enhancing drugs.

It’s not hard to find examples. Dan Shaughnessy of The Boston Globe lumped Piazza in with the “Roids Boys.” Marty Noble of MLB.com referenced his suspicion of Piazza. Jon Heyman of CBSSports.com cited the “steroid specter.” And so on.

That Piazza has a PED cloud hanging over him shouldn’t be news. He gets one of those by default simply by virtue of being a slugger from the 1990s and early 2000s, but that’s not all there is to it.

For beginners, there’s the reality that Piazza told The New York Times in 2002 that he briefly used androstenedione, which is best known as the stuff that was in Mark McGwire’s locker in 1998. Even in giving Piazza his vote, Paul Daugherty of The Cincinnati Enquirer brought that up.

As the New York Post highlighted in 2013, Piazza claimed in his biography, Long Shot, that andro is the strongest substance he ever took. But some believe he was into much heavier stuff, with the most common suspicion being over what was on Piazza’s back during his playing days.

Specifically, acne.

To my knowledge, Joel Sherman of the New York Post was the first to raise suspicion over Piazza’s back acne in 2009. But nobody has beat the drum like former New York Times writer Murray Chass, who wrote in ’09:

Not that reporters spend their time in clubhouses looking at guys’ bare backs, but when a reporter is talking to a player at his locker before he puts on his uniform shirt or after he takes it off and he turns around to put something in or take something out of his locker his back is what is visible. And Piazza’s acne was always visible. Teen-age kids never had such a problem.

Now as naïve as I might have been about steroids, the one thing I knew was that use of steroids supposedly causes the user to have acne on his back. As I said, Piazza had plenty of acne on his back.

As far as circumstantial evidence of more heavy PED use goes, there’s more than just back acne.

For example, Bill Madden of the New York Daily News is suspicious about the back end of Piazza’s career, writing, “Piazza’s career went downhill fast and he began being plagued with the kind of injuries often related to steroids in 2003, the year testing began.”

Some voters have also raised suspicions about the beginning of Piazza’s career. Dan Lewis of SB Nation compiled some writing on that last year, with the common theme that there’s just no way Piazza could go from being a 62nd-round draft pick to a Hall of Fame-caliber producer without help.

Of course, it’s possible to poke holes in these suspicions.

Yes, Piazza may have used andro, but it’s definitely notable that Major League Baseball didn’t even ban andro until after the Food and Drug Administration banned it in 2004. Until then, it was perfectly legal.

Yes, Piazza may have started declining in 2003. But he was in his mid-30s at the time, and the injury that undid him was a bad groin strain. A catcher breaking down upon hitting his mid-30s shouldn’t be suspicious, and groin strains have been around a lot longer than steroids.

Yes, it is rather unbelievable that Piazza rose from being a throwaway draft pick to an all-time great. But as Lewis took care to highlight, Piazza always projected to be a big guy with a big bat. So in a sense, he did indeed become what he was supposed to be.

As for the back acne argument, the best counter-argument for that can be summed up in one word: Seriously?

But then, it doesn’t really matter whether the PED suspicions that cloud Piazza’s Hall of Fame case are valid or not. All that matters is that they exist, and that there are enough writers clinging to them to keep him out of the Hall of Fame…for now.

As somebody who wants to see Piazza in Cooperstown, all I can say now is that this is regrettable. But the good news, such as it is, is that it’s short of a tragedy. 

Piazza’s situation would be a tragedy if he was nowhere close to getting into Cooperstown. But he is close. Very close. Close enough to get in a year from now, anyway. If not, it’s going to happen eventually. Sooner or later, Piazza will be in the Hall of Fame.

And when he is, the suspicions that played a part in keeping him out will be water under the bridge.

Note: Stats courtesy of Baseball-Reference.com unless otherwise noted/linked.  

If you want to talk baseball, hit me up on Twitter.

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The 2015 MLB Hall of Fame class is historically impressive.

The following four players are all be headed to Cooperstown this summer, per the MLB Twitter account:

• Craig Biggio
• Randy Johnson
• Pedro Martinez
• John Smoltz

As ESPN Stats & Info points out, this is the first time since 1955 and just the third time overall that four players will enter the Hall in the same year.

That’s an incredible feat, but the big question is where the class ranks all-time. What follows is a look back through baseball history to see just which groups are the best of all.

For the purpose of these rankings, each class consists of the players elected by the Baseball Writers’ Association of America in a given year. That means that players, managers and officials who entered the Hall thanks to the Veterans Committee weren’t part of the equation.

As for the ranking criteria, the most important aspect taken into consideration was the collective WAR of each class. There was also a focus on how many players it took to compile that WAR, as the classes vary in size from five to two.

Plus, the individual accomplishments of particular players—all-time records, career milestones, MVP awards and Triple Crowns—also determined where each class ended up in the rankings.

Begin Slideshow

What once was a tremendous responsibility that brought joy and awe has degenerated into an exercise in frustration. But I’m not going to bore you with whining no matter what the Steroid Era has wrought, because let’s be honest: Being entrusted with a Hall of Fame ballot remains a tremendous responsibility, no matter what.

So my 16th Hall of Fame ballot has been cast, and before I get into the names, there are a few things you should know.

I believe in full transparency and always have. To me, the Hall of Fame is the baseball version of the White House. It is the People’s House. It belongs to baseball fans of all colors and creeds. I know how important this game always has been to me; my now-professional objectivity aside, I continually remind myself as I study the ballot of the thoughts and feelings I had as a fan long ago, before I ever got into this business.

That’s why, each year, I view my vote much like that of a congressman or senator on Capitol Hill. I feel like my votes are cast not only for me, but on behalf of constituents, if you will: fans who love the game every bit as much as me but are without a Hall of Fame voice.

You might agree with my votes and deliver a standing ovation. You might disagree and deliver a Bronx cheer. Either way, I also believe this: Two people can have diametrically opposed beliefs on a player, with perfectly legitimate reasons supporting his or her position. That does not mean one of those people is a blithering (bleep) idiot (obscenity).

Which means now is a good time for a quick-hitting, one-paragraph explanation of the “exercise in frustration” part of the ballot that comes with today’s voting—yes, the steroids part. I don’t vote for those who have admitted use, nor for those who are buried under an avalanche of evidence. Is this right? I’m less certain every year. But I do know, whether we’re talking Hall of Fame or President of the United States, every person must vote his or her conscience.

OK, let’s extend that one paragraph into two (and I promise, it won’t go three): There is right, and there is wrong, and I believe some all-time great players made some very wrong choices. There is no soapbox, nor holier-than-thou thinking here. I just can’t personally reconcile voting for those men. Some of my closest friends in the business do vote for them. We’ve debated this probably more times than you’ve heard The Beatles’ “Yesterday” on the radio in your entire life. And that’s fine. I respect their reasons for checking the box next to, say, Barry Bonds or Mark McGwire. I just can’t do it.

So that should tip you off as to the general tone of my ballot. No need to guess from here. With the Hall of Fame voting announcement set for Tuesday, here are the nine players I voted for this year.

Craig Biggio

So close last year, missing by two votes (he finished with 74.8 percent of the vote; you need 75 percent for election). He’s 15th on baseball’s all-time list of runs scored (1,844), 21st in hits (3,060) and is the only player in baseball history with at least 3,000 hits, 600 doubles, 400 steals and 250 homers. Versatile. Could beat you in so many different ways.

Randy Johnson

One of the baddest men ever on the mound, an automatic choice in his first year on the ballot. His 4,875 strikeouts are second all time, in case you’re wondering.

Jeff Kent

I love the old Chief Justice Potter Stewart take on obscenity in a 1964 decision handed down by the Supreme Court: “I know it when I see it.” In my fantasy Hall of Fame world, that’s how I would vote each year. Forget numbers and comparisons and simply vote for players whose impact rises above everyone else, into the “I know a Hall of Famer when I see one” category.

But there are precious few of those guys. Kent definitely is not one of them. The eye test says he falls just a bit short. But I have a difficult time not voting for him when he was one of the most productive second basemen in history: His 351 career homers are the most ever by a second baseman, as are his eight seasons with at least 20 homers and 100 RBI.

Pedro Martinez

He didn’t reach 300 wins, like Johnson (not even close—Pedro was 219-100). But he nonetheless was one of the most dominant pitchers of his era. A three-time Cy Young winner, he also finished in the top five on four other occasions. Easy choice.

Fred McGriff

Here’s the thing about the Crime Dog’s 493 career homers: Because he overlapped with the Steroid Era, and by all appearances stayed clean, he disappeared quickly and quietly under a sea of artificially bloated numbers. His career was far better than he’s generally given credit for. He ranks 43rd all time with 1,550 RBI.

Mike Mussina

More consistent than a metronome (11 seasons with 15 or more wins), Mussina finished with a career record of 270-153 and a 3.68 ERA. Pitching in the bloated AL East for his entire career, a veritable landmine of All-Star sluggers and high-salaried rivals, Mussina remained dominant enough that, for me, he earns the vote.

Tim Raines

My friends in the sabermetric community long ago convinced me that Raines, one of the greatest leadoff hitters ever, is a no-brainer (though I think Jack Morris is a no-brainer, so we still don’t agree on everything). Raines had a .385 career on-base percentage, and his 84.7 percentage on stolen bases (among those with 300 or more attempts) ranks second all time.

John Smoltz

This side of Dennis Eckersley, nobody had the effect on the game both starting and closing that Smoltz did. A total of 213 wins and 154 saves, he anchored 13 division-title Atlanta clubs either as a rock in the rotation or as a dominant closer. He ranks 16th all time with 3,084 strikeouts, one of only 16 pitchers in history with 3,000 or more. I hear folks say he may not be a first-ballot Hall of Famer and I say, “Huh?”

Alan Trammell

I bang on the drum (just like Todd Rundgren) for Trammell annually, and sadly, he’s down to just one more year after this until his 15 years on the ballot are up (Trammell, Don Mattingly and Lee Smith were grandfathered in when the Hall reduced a player’s time on the ballot from 15 to 10 years this year; they all get 15 still).

In the 1980s, it was Cal Ripken, Robin Yount and Trammell who redefined expectations for a shortstop. Before them, good-glove, no-hit was acceptable. Ripken and Yount are in the Hall; Trammell should be.

Ask yourself this: Who would you have taken first as a shortstop during his era, Trammell or Ozzie Smith? Offensively, it’s no contest: Trammell. Defensively, sure, Smith had the edge, but Trammell was a Gold Glover. It’s a travesty that he doesn’t get more support.

One significant change in voting this year is that the Hall of Fame’s Board of Directors unilaterally moved to reduce the maximum length a player can stay on a ballot from 15 years to 10. There was no consultation whatsoever with the Baseball Writers’ Association of America, which handles the voting, and that’s troubling.

Though the Hall denies it, it feels and looks like the Board made the move to fast-track the controversial steroid players off the ballot sooner rather than later so that the subject recedes more quickly than it otherwise might. I’m not sure we’ve heard the end of this.

Scott Miller covers Major League Baseball as a national columnist for Bleacher Report. He has over two decades of experience covering MLB, including 14 years as a national baseball columnist at CBSSports.com.

Follow Scott on Twitter and talk baseball @ScottMillerBbl.

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