Happy last day of February, everyone. By this time next week, the World Baseball Classic will have begun, allowing us to experience the best of what our global game has to offer. Earlier this month, Kiri Oler previewed the WBC with four team-by-team breakdown pieces, one for each pool, and we’ll have more coverage next week leading into the tournament. Also, I’ll be in Miami covering Pool D, which features Venezuela, the Dominican Republic, the Netherlands, Israel, and Nicaragua, so if you have any questions related to the first-round action at loanDepot park, you know how to reach me.

Of course, the World Baseball Classic isn’t the only baseball we have to look forward to in March. We are less than four weeks away from Opening Day! This year marks the earliest traditional Opening Day in MLB history, with 14 games scheduled for Thursday, March 26. The night before, the Giants will host the Yankees for the first game of the season. That standalone primetime matchup will air on Netflix of all places, because we all needed another streaming service subscription.

Anyway, in this week’s mailbag, we’ll be answering your questions about the NL Central, the value of a foul ball, a hypothetical Hall of Fame election in which every player regained eligibility for one year, and the most and least valuable baseball last names. Before we do, though, I’d like to remind you that this mailbag is exclusive to FanGraphs Members. If you aren’t yet a Member and would like to keep reading, you can sign up for a Membership here. It’s the best way to both experience the site and support our staff, and it comes with a bunch of other great benefits. Also, if you’d like to ask a question for an upcoming mailbag, send me an email at mailbag@fangraphs.com. Read the rest of this entry »

I’m a big believer in the value of WAR as a statistic. Like any summary stat, WAR is notably imperfect, with its nods to pragmatism, compromises made on philosophical grounds, and the necessary inclusion of many components that are just damn difficult to quantify even if we have a basis to think they’re important. Still, like all good models, even if WAR isn’t right, it can be useful. It gives us a broad estimate of a player’s overall contribution to winning baseball games, and almost certainly provides a far better conception of which individual actions lead to wins than generally existed, say, 50 years ago. But when we’re talking about whether a player is a Hall of Famer, a more malleable concept than what wins the most games, is WAR the right measure to look at? When I think about this question, four people instantly come to mind: Jacob deGrom, Miguel Cabrera, Jack Morris, and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Since FanGraphs is a website dedicated to baseball, we’ll start by talking about Mozart. Even people who don’t really listen to classical music, and thus couldn’t tell Gustav Mahler from Rick Mahler, would almost certainly count Mozart among the greatest composers of all time. Why? Well, the first part is obvious: because of his body of work as a whole. But what aspects of that work make him great? I’d submit that it’s the quality of his best compositions, rather than the massive volume of work he produced, that pushes him ahead of his peers.

Mozart is a legend because of his greatest works, such as his last three symphonies, his late 1780s/early 1790s run of operas, and the latter half of his piano concertos — and I could go on! But he also wrote a lot of stuff that just isn’t that good. He was a musical prodigy, but almost all of his early work is interesting because he was very young when he wrote it, not because of its own merits. Composers have always had to pay the bills, and Mozart wrote a huge amount of what was more or less intended to be pleasant background music, no more compelling than the peppy ukulele and xylophone music that seemed to be in every Kickstarter video in 2017. If the hundreds of examples of such work were to simply blink out of existence because someone got a hold of the Infinity Gauntlet, it would change nothing about Mozart’s greatness. Those compositions had value to Mozart in that they enabled him to write the good stuff that is worth remembering, but he’s great because of his peak. Read the rest of this entry »

All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

In the 121-year history of the modern World Series, just once has a player hit a walk-off home run in the seventh and deciding game. In the finale of the 1960 World Series, Bill Mazeroski, the light-hitting second baseman for the Pirates, connected for a solo homer off the Yankees’ Ralph Terry, driving the ball over the brick left field wall of Pittsburgh’s Forbes Field to deliver a shocking upset and produce one of the most indelible moments in baseball history. While it wasn’t entirely out of character — Mazeroski had already homered once in that World Series and would hit 138 regular season home runs for his career — the 24-year-old second baseman rode the notoriety of that conclusive blast right into Cooperstown. A well-decorated fielding whiz who never managed a league-average season at the plate, he was elected to the Hall of Fame by the Veterans Committee in 2001, and a quarter-century later remains a controversial choice.

Mazeroski’s home run stands among the game’s most famous, up there with Babe Ruth’s “Called Shot” in the 1932 World Series, Bobby Thomson’s “Shot Heard ‘Round the World” to win the 1951 pennant for the New York Giants and Joe Carter’s 1993 World Series-ending two-run homer, which unlike Mazeroski’s — which broke a 9-9 tie — turned a potential defeat into victory, albeit in Game 6, not Game 7. One might swap out another homer for Ruth’s, such as Ted Williams’ career-capping blast from 1960, Henry Aaron’s record-breaking 715th from 1974, or signature October blasts by Bucky Dent, Carlton Fisk, or Kirk Gibson, but if there’s a Mount Rushmore of homers, Mazeroski’s claim on a spot is rock-solid.

“Every day of my life I think of that home run. Wouldn’t you if you had hit it?” Mazeroski later said with typical humility. “People always are reminding me of it. I suppose it must be the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

Mazeroski died on Friday in Lansdale, Pennsylvania at the age of 89, according to the Pirates. No cause of death was given. He is the second member of those 1960 champions to pass away this month, after reliever Elroy Face, who died on February 12.

In a 17-year career with the Pirates (1956–1972), Mazeroski won eight Gold Gloves and made 10 All-Star teams, counting the three seasons in the 1959–62 span during which he was selected for both games. Renowned for his impeccable footwork, sure hands, and lightning-quick pivot, he led NL second basemen in double plays in eight consecutive years (1960–67) and is the career leader in that category, with 1,706. Meanwhile, he’s fifth at the position in assists (6,685), seventh in putouts (4,974), and 11th in games (2,094). Based on Total Zone’s estimates, his 147 fielding runs ranks third among players who played at least 50% of their games at the position, behind only Bid McPhee (154 from 1882–99) and Joe Gordon (150 from 1938–50). Mazeroski did all of this while wearing an exceptionally small glove to prevent the ball from getting lost in the webbing, and while playing the vast majority of his home games on Forbes Field’s notoriously hard infield, which longtime Pirates broadcaster Bob Prince dubbed “alabaster plaster.”

“Everybody talked about his quick hands, but nobody talked about his leg work,” former Pirates general manager Joe L. Brown said of Mazeroski in 2001. “[Manager] Danny Murtaugh used to say his legs were so quick, so agile, he had the leg control of a ballet dancer.”

“He had marvelous range, great instincts and never threw to the wrong base,” Dick Groat, Mazeroski’s primary double play partner from 1956–62, told ESPN for its SportsCentury series. “If I would move Maz and tell him to play here or play there, I never had to tell him a second time. Ever.”

Gene Alley, the Pirates’ regular shortstop from 1964–72, explained Mazeroski’s quickness on the double play to ESPN:

“Maz never really caught the ball, never really closed his glove over it, turning the double play. He could tilt his glove at an angle and hold his hand just so. It was a wonder the ball stayed in there. Then it would slide out in his hand just like that. He was the only one I ever saw do it like that.”

By contrast, Mazeroski was not much of a hitter, though his 12 seasons of everyday play (1957–68) did help him amass 2,016 hits. For his career, he batted .260/.299/.367, making him the only Hall of Fame position player with an on-base percentage below .300. Among that group, his 84 OPS+ is ahead of only shortstops Luis Aparicio and Rabbit Maranville (both 82) and catcher Ray Schalk (83).

William Stanley Mazeroski was born on September 5, 1936 in Wheeling, West Virginia, about 60 miles southwest of Pittsburgh. The family — parents Louis and Mayme, sister Mary and Bill — lived on the other side of the Ohio River, in a one-room tumbledown house with no electricity or indoor plumbing in Little Rush Run, Ohio. Louis was a coal miner who had been a standout sandlot shortstop, getting a tryout with Cleveland before his foot was crushed in a mining accident at age 17.

Despite — or because of — the injury, Louis tried to live out his major league dreams by teaching his son baseball starting at a very young age, sharpening his reflexes and adjusting to bad hops by fielding tennis balls that caromed off a brick wall. Though the younger Mazeroski only grew to be 5-foot-11, he starred as a center for Warren Consolidated High School’s basketball team, earning Second Team All-Ohio honors as a senior and receiving scholarship offers from Ohio State, Duquesne, and West Virginia University. On the diamond he was a four-year letterman, starring as a shortstop and pitcher. Despite having only 60 students in his graduating class, the school’s team made it all the way to the finals of the state championship tournament in 1953. Mazeroski drew interest from scouts for Cleveland, the Phillies, Red Sox, and White Sox, as well as the Pirates. He chose Pittsburgh because it was the only team willing to start him above Class D, signing for a $4,000 bonus.

Mazeroski was still just 17 when he began his career at A-level Williamsport, where he hit a mere .235/.291/.333 with three home runs in 93 games in 1954. He was a full-time shortstop that season, but the following spring, general manager Branch Rickey decided that between his arm strength and impressive ability to make the pivot on the double play, Mazeroski was better suited to second. The Pirates started him at Hollywood of the Pacific Coast League in 1955 — then considered one level above Triple-A — but he struggled in 20 games there before returning to Williamsport, where, as an 18-year-old in a league where the average age was 24, he hit a much more impressive .293/.354/.438 with 11 homers in 114 games. He played well enough in a return to Hollywood in 1956 (.306/.358/.465, his only time with a .300 batting average at any level) that the Pirates called him up in early July. On July 7, 1956, 59 days before his 20th birthday, he debuted, collecting a single off the Giants’ Johnny Antonelli in his first plate appearance. He spent his first five weeks with his batting average generally below .200, but heated up in mid-August during a stretch that included his first home run, one of three hits he collected off the Phillies’ Robin Roberts, a future Hall of Famer, on August 16. He finished the season with a .243/.290/.318 (67 OPS+) line and three homers in 81 games.

The Pirates finished seventh in the NL with a 66-88 record in 1956, their first time escaping last place since ’51, and their first with Brown as their GM; even with Rickey in that role, they had lost 317 games from 1952–54, but by the time Mazeroski had arrived, the youth movement was showing returns. Rickey had signed Groat in June 1952, and had plucked 20-year-old Roberto Clemente from the Dodgers as a Rule 5 pick in November 1954, while Brown traded for center fielder Bill Virdon in mid-1955. Though the Pirates actually backslid to 62-92 in 1957, they went 26-25 after Murtaugh took over from the fired Bobby Bragan — a move that came as a relief to the young Mazeroski, who later told Sports Illustrated, “I suddenly felt as if an elephant had just climbed down off my shoulders.”

Aided by hitting coach George Sisler, Mazeroski learned to use the whole field better instead of trying to pull every ball. He improved to a respectable .283/.318/.407 (96 OPS+) with eight home runs and 3.6 WAR in 1957, his first full season. The Pirates rocketed to 84-70 and a second-place finish in 1958, with the 21-year-old Mazeroski having what would stand as his best season on both sides of the ball. He hit .275/.308/.439 (97 OPS+) with 19 homers, was elected to start his first All-Star Game, won his first Gold Glove, and ranked seventh in the NL with 4.7 WAR. While he would match both that mark and its underlying 23 fielding runs in 1963, he would never surpass those numbers.

After marrying Milene Nicholson, the secretary of the Pirates’ head of scouting, in October 1958, Mazeroski failed to keep in shape during that offseason, reporting to spring training 15 pounds overweight. He lost range, and a pulled muscle in his leg didn’t help; while he was selected for both All-Star games, he slipped to a 67 OPS+ and 0.2 WAR. With Sisler counseling him to move deeper in the batter’s box and wait on curveballs until they broke, he rebounded to .273/.320/.392 (94 OPS+) with 11 home runs and 2.5 WAR in 1960, again starting both All-Star Games and claiming his second Gold Glove. Led by Groat and third baseman Don Hoak — who finished second to Groat in the NL MVP voting — as well as Clemente and Cy Young winner Vern Law, the Pirates won 95 games and took home their first pennant since 1927.

Though the World Series against the Yankees went down to the final pitch, New York’s three wins were all by at least 10 runs — 16-3 in Game 2, 10-0 in Game 3, and 12-0 in Game 6 — while the Pirates’ were all by three runs or fewer. In the aggregate, the Pirates were outscored 55-27 and outhit 91-60, though they benefited from Yankees manager Casey Stengel’s curious decision not to start Whitey Ford in Game 1, thus keeping him lined up for starts in Games 4 and 7. Ford instead started only Games 3 and 6, a decision that contributed to the 70-year-old Stengel’s losing his job shortly after the series despite having led the Yankees to 10 pennants and seven championships in 12 years.

Mazeroski went 2-for-4 in Game 1, with a two-run homer off Jim Coates in the fourth inning of a 6-4 win. He collected hits in each of the next four games as well, including a two-run double to chase starter Art Ditmar in the second inning of Game 5.

In Game 7, the Pirates took an early 4-0 lead, with Mazeroski contributing a bunt single to load the bases in the second inning before coming around to score. Aided by home runs by Bill Skowron and Yogi Berra, the Yankees rebounded, and by the eighth inning they led 7-4. The Pirates answered back by scoring five runs in the eighth — all without Mazeroski batting — with Hal Smith’s two-out, three-run homer off Coates giving them a 9-7 lead. The Yankees tied the game in the top of the ninth against reliever Harvey Haddix, but as Roger Angell later recalled, Mazeroski made a key defensive play with two outs and Mickey Mantle on first:

… a great play that will forever go insufficiently sung, because of what happened afterward and because it was a simple force at second. Indeed with the fleet Mantle barreling toward second on the pitch, [Pirates shortstop] Dick Groat’s best play on Skowron’s grounder into the hole was to first. Groat, however, after bobbling the ball slightly, looked to Mazeroski and rushed his throw, which went wide, surely wider than the compactly put-together Maz could stretch. But Maz, for whom second base is T.S. Eliot’s “still point of the turning world,” seemed to lay every fibre of his being end to end for an instant to snag Groat’s throw and nip the sliding Mantle by a heartbeat. And then he jogged in toward the bottom of the ninth and immortality.

That set up Mazeroski’s leadoff at-bat against Terry, who had relieved Coates following Smith’s homer and retired Hoak on a fly ball to end the eighth. Terry, who had warmed up five times since the first inning, fell behind 1-0 as Mazeroski passed on a shoulder-high fastball off the plate. His next pitch — a slider that didn’t slide — was over the plate, and Mazeroski clouted it over the left field wall, with Berra (in left field) and Mantle (in center) giving half-hearted chase but having no chance. Pandemonium ensued as fans stormed the field while Mazeroski rounded the bases, batting helmet in hand.

Remarkably, Mazeroski — who hit .320/.320/.640 with five RBI — was not named the World Series MVP. Instead, the honor went to Yankees second baseman Bobby Richardson, who drove in 12 runs, a record now shared with Freddie Freeman of the 2024 Dodgers. The MVP vote had been taken in the eighth inning of Game 7, and it remains the only time since the award’s inception (in 1955) that it went to a member of the losing team. Mazeroski did win that year’s Babe Ruth Award, given by the New York BBWAA chapter to the most outstanding player in the postseason.

For as climactic as it was, Mazeroski’s homer ranks only eighth in terms of championship win probability added (cWPA). As MLB.com’s Mike Petriello explained last fall in the wake of the Dodgers’ thrilling Game 7 win over the Blue Jays, Hal Smith’s homer in the previous inning turned a one-run deficit into a two-run lead, increasing the Pirates’ championship odds by 63.6%. Mazeroski’s homer “only” improved their chances by 36.7% — which is to say that with no outs and the score tied in a walk-off situation, the odds of the Pirates winning at the point of his homer were already higher.

Just 24 years old at the time of his signature blast, Mazeroski still had plenty of baseball ahead of him. He spent the next eight seasons as the Pirates’ starting second baseman, hitting a combined .262/.298/.368 (87 OPS+) while averaging 152 games, 10 home runs, 13 fielding runs, and 3.1 WAR per year. He won five straight Gold Gloves in that span (1963–67), perennially leading NL second basemen in most key defensive categories, and started All-Star Games in 1962 (twice) and ’67, while making the teams as a reserve two other times. After Groat was traded to the Cardinals in November 1962, the Pirates appointed Mazeroski team captain.

The Pirates’ competitive fortunes ebbed and flowed across the eight seasons following their World Series title. They won 93 games in 1962, 90 in ’65, and 92 in ’66, but they also finished below .500 four times in those eight seasons, and right at .500 once. They placed third in a 10-team league in both 1965 and ’66, three games behind the Dodgers in the latter season, but in the years before division play and wild cards, that wasn’t enough. Murtaugh stepped down after 1964 due to health concerns, though he returned to the dugout for the second half of 1967, when he guided the team to a 39–39 record after Harry Walker was fired.

Mazeroski had proven ultra-durable during that span. From 1964–67, he reached the 162-game mark three times, with a high of 163 (including a tie game) in ’67. He missed the first 21 games of the 1965 season after fracturing a metatarsal in his right foot, and played in just 130 games that year. In 1969, a recurrent hamstring injury limited him to just 67 games, including just six after June 29. With Murtaugh back at the helm in 1970, Mazeroski played 112 games, but his 65 OPS+ and 1.1 WAR both suggested the Pirates could do better, and as the season went on, he increasingly yielded to 22-year-old rookie Dave Cash. On June 28, 1970, Mazeroski did have the distinction of recording the final out of Forbes Field’s 62-year history on a forceout at second off the bat of the Cubs’ Don Kessinger; this, after he had collected the Pirates’ final hit at the ballpark, an eighth-inning double. Another double, on August 17 off the Astros’ Wade Blasingame, marked Mazeroski’s 2,000th career hit.

The Pirates went 89-73 in 1970, winning the NL East, but they were swept by the Reds in the best-of-five National League Championship Series, with Mazeroski going hitless in his only start in Game 3. Reduced to a reserve role, he slipped below replacement level in 1971 and ’72, but nonetheless served as a valued mentor to the team’s younger players, including Cash and fellow second baseman Rennie Stennett. The Pirates repeated as NL East champions in both seasons; in those postseasons, Mazeroski was limited to pinch-hit duty. His pinch-single in the second inning of Game 4 of the 1971 NLCS off the Giants’ Gaylord Perry led to a game-tying three-run homer by Richie Hebner. The Pirates clinched the series that afternoon, and went on to beat the Orioles in the World Series.

Mazeroski retired after the 1972 season, moving directly into a role as the team’s third base coach under Virdon, who despite winning the division title as a rookie manager didn’t make it through the following season; Murtaugh came out of retirement in September. Mazeroski didn’t return to coach in 1974, but did coach third for the Mariners in ’78 and ’79. He often served as a spring instructor for the Pirates, making an impression upon yet another generation of players. In 2010, he tutored Neil Walker as he made the conversion from third base to second. “He was in either his late 60s or early 70s at that time, and he was still pretty impressive,” Walker recalled in the wake of Mazeroski’s death. “The hands were still there, the glove was still there, the footwork was still there. The eyes were probably going a little bit, but it was just incredible.”

The Pirates honored Mazeroski by retiring his no. 9 in 1987. After his election to the Hall of Fame in 2001, the team named a street outside PNC Park Mazeroski Way in his honor. On his birthday in 2010, a bronze statue commemorating his jubilant trip around the bases following his Series-winning homer was unveiled along the Allegheny River outside PNC Park. Forbes Field was razed in 1972, but a plaque commemorating Mazeroski’s home run still stands on the site, along with a portion of the brick outfield wall. Since October 13, 1985, on the 25th anniversary of the home run, fans gather at the spot every year to rewatch the game, timing it so that Mazeroski’s home run happens at 3:36 p.m., as it originally did. For the 50th anniversary in 2010, Mazeroski and over 1,000 fans showed up to celebrate.

Mazeroski became eligible for election to the Hall of Fame on the BBWAA’s 1978 ballot. He scraped by with just 6.1% of the vote, didn’t reach double digits until 1983, and after five years spent in the 30% range, topped out at 42.3% in ’92, his final year of eligibility. Starting in 1996, his case was taken up by the Veterans Committee on an annual basis. With Brown serving as the committee’s chairman — and alas keeping alive the VC’s long history of cronyism — Mazeroski didn’t lack for support. After falling one vote short of election in 2000, he was elected the next year. Ted Williams, who had served on the committee since 1986 and had been frank about his unwillingness to support Mazeroski due to his weak offense, missed the 2001 vote while recovering from open-heart surgery. Instead of needing 12 out 15 votes to clear 75%, Mazeroski only needed 11 out of 14, and he squeaked through.

It would be an understatement to suggest that the election sparked controversy. “The Hall of Fame Veterans Committee was created to rectify mistakes. Which means its next act should be self-abolishment,” wrote the New York Post’s Joel Sherman. Implicitly, the Hall agreed, overhauling the committee format so that all living Hall of Famers, all Spink and Frick Award winners (writers and broadcasters), and all VC panelists whose terms had not expired (a group that did not include Brown) would have a vote on a biennial basis, starting in 2003.

“You dream of a lot of things,” Mazeroski said of his election, steering clear of the controversy. “You want to be in the big leagues. You want to make the All-Star Game. You want to be in a World Series. You want to do all those things. But you never dream of this. It’s pretty exciting. I just hope I can live up to it.”

Though he began his induction speech by noting he’d written 12 pages, Mazeroski ended up delivering one of the shortest speeches in Hall history. “I think defense belongs in the Hall of Fame. Defense deserves as much credit as pitching and hitting, and I’m proud and honored to be going into the Hall of Fame on the defensive side and mostly for my defensive abilities,” he said. Overcome by emotion, he continued for just a couple more minutes. “I thought when the Pirates retired my number that would be the greatest thing ever to happen to me… I think you can kiss those 12 pages down the drain… I want to thank all the friends and family who made this long trip up here to listen to me speak and hear this crap.”

Does Mazeroski belong in Cooperstown? By the advanced statistics, his case is flimsy. Even with his strong standing in fielding runs, his 36.5 career WAR and 31.2 JAWS both rank just 52nd, lower than any non-Negro Leagues Hall of Famer at the position, in the general vicinity of other glove wizards such as Placido Polanco, Mark Ellis, and Frank White, not to mention a less accomplished defender who hit a game-winning homer in a World Series Game 7, Howie Kendrick.

Such is the power of one fateful swing of the bat. Defense alone is rarely enough to get a player to Cooperstown, but defense and one of the most famous and enduring home runs in baseball history? That’s another story.

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Last week, BBWAA voters elected Carlos Beltrán and Andruw Jones to the Hall of Fame — and in doing so, they once again foiled my chances at a perfect five-year projection of upcoming elections. Not that I had any real expectation of running the table given my spotty track record regarding this endeavor, but while a year ago I correctly projected that Beltrán, who received 70.3% on the 2025 ballot, would make it this year, I was somewhat surprised that Jones, who received 66.2% last time — leaving him with what has typically been roughly coin-toss odds of reaching 75% the next year — made it as well.

If I’ve learned anything from 14 years of doing these five-year outlooks, dating back to the wrap-up of my 2014 election coverage at SI.com, it’s humility, because there are far more ways to be wrong in this endeavor than to be right; when a candidate gets elected more quickly than I expect, or lags relative to my expectations, it creates a ripple effect. The presence of a high-share holdover means less space for and less attention paid to the mid-ballot holdovers, so clearing one from the ballot can have ramifications that won’t be felt for a few years; likewise, a more rapid election than predicted can accelerate other candidates’ timelines. What’s more, the Hall can change the rules for election without warning, and candidates can do unforeseen things that compromise their chances.

The first time I tried this was so long ago that candidates still had 15 years of eligibility instead of 10, so I could afford to project Tim Raines for election in 2018, his 11th year of eligibility. The Hall’s unilateral decision to truncate candidacies to 10 years would come just months later, though thankfully voters accelerated their acceptance of Raines, who was elected in 2017. Both the eligibility shortening and Hall vice chairman Joe Morgan’s open letter pleading with voters not to elect candidates linked to performance-enhancing drugs changed the landscape in ways I couldn’t foresee. Meanwhile, Ichiro Suzuki made a two-game comeback that bumped his eligibility back a year, Curt Schilling found increasingly elaborate ways to offend voters, Omar Vizquel became the subject of multiple allegations of domestic violence against his wife and sexual harassment of an autistic batboy, and Beltrán lost a shot at first-year election because of his involvement in the Astros’ illegal sign-stealing scheme. My Magic 8 Ball didn’t see any of that coming. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

The 2026 Hall of Fame election is history, with a pair of center fielders who were born one day apart, fourth-year candidate Carlos Beltrán (born April 24, 1977) and ninth-year candidate Andruw Jones (born April 23, 1977), elected by the Baseball Writers Association of America. This is the fourth time two players from the same position besides pitcher were elected by the writers in the same year. Right fielders Harry Heilmann and Paul Waner were the first pair in 1952, followed by right fielders Henry Aaron and Frank Robinson in ’82, with left fielders Rickey Henderson and Jim Rice elected in 2009. That’s some impressive company!

Beltrán and Jones will be inducted into the Hall along with Contemporary Baseball honoree Jeff Kent on July 26, 2026, on the grounds of the Clark Sports Center in Cooperstown, New York. There’s no official word yet on which caps the players will be wearing on their plaques — the Hall has the final word — but odds are they’ll be the ones that you expect. Said Beltrán, who’s currently a special assistant for the Mets, “There’s no doubt that the Mets are a big part of my identity.” Kent has expressed his desire to wear a Giants cap, and Jones is almost certain to wear a Braves cap.

As usual, beyond the topline results, there’s plenty to digest from Tuesday’s returns. So as promised, here’s my candidate-by-candidate breakdown of the entire slate of 27 candidates, 13 of whom will return to the ballot next year. Note that references to percentages in Ryan Thibodaux’s indispensable Tracker may distinguish between what was logged at the time of the announcement at 6 p.m. ET on Tuesday (245 total ballots) and what’s in there as of Thursday at 9 a.m. ET (254 total ballots) Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

When it comes to center fielders and the Hall of Fame, BBWAA voters have been a particularly picky lot. It’s all too easy to say, “This guy was no Ty Cobb,” or “This guy was no Willie Mays.” Who can live up to standards like that? Until Tuesday, just nine center fielders had been elected by the writers, fewer than any other position, but when Josh Rawitch announced the results of the 2026 balloting, two more joined them: fourth-year candidate Carlos Beltrán and ninth-year candidate Andruw Jones.

Beltrán, a five-tool player with 2,725 career hits, 312 stolen bases and the no. 9 ranking among center fielders in JAWS, received 84.2% of the vote, up from 70.3% last year. He had to overcome some initial resistance to his candidacy owing to his involvement in the Astros’ illegal sign-stealing scandal at the end of his career while helping the Astros win the 2017 World Series. Commissioner Rob Manfred’s 2020 report placed him at the center of Houston’s scheme, and it cost him his job as Mets skipper before he could manage a single game. Despite his transgression, he received 46.5% of the vote in his 2023 ballot debut, and followed with three straight years of double-digit gains. Read the rest of this entry »

Last year was my 10th year as a member of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America, so while I’ve voted regularly in the end-of-year awards — nine times out of 10, in fact — this was my first opportunity to cast a ballot for a Hall of Fame election. I’m a huge believer in transparency when it comes to the voting for awards; every time I cast a ballot, I discuss my underlying reasoning at length. Because there is a lot of leeway and wiggle room in the official Hall of Fame election rules, votes come down to the interpretation and philosophy of the individual voters. For that reason, I wanted to take some space to discuss the philosophical decisions I made to determine who ended up with checkmarks on my submitted ballot. This isn’t really an analysis of the individual candidates; for that, you should consult Jay Jaffe’s extensive series, where he goes deep into each player’s career and legacy.

I’ve attached a picture of my ballot. Not the best one in the world since I cut off a few words of my obnoxious, meaningless “signing statement,” but since I sent my ballot off a month ago, there won’t be a better photo forthcoming! Unlike the year-end awards, which are conducted through Google forms, the Hall of Fame balloting process is old school. You physically open an envelope that contains a sheet of paper — made of these things called “trees” — and check boxes yourself before returning the whole thing through the good ol’ U.S. Mail. Thankfully, the whole exercise came with a pre-addressed, postage-paid envelope, as I don’t physically appear to be the owner of any envelopes or stamps. I will also note that I am aware that I have the penmanship of a seven-year-old. My handwriting has always been atrocious.

Anyway, you’ll notice that I voted for the maximum 10 players, and from the signing statement, you’ll see that I would have voted for 12 players if given the opportunity. In recent years, the BBWAA has issued proposals to the Hall of Fame to expand the number of players we’re allowed to vote for and to make all ballots public, but those requests have been turned down.

I’m not necessarily a Small Hall or Big Hall guy, but I do think it is important to keep the Hall consistent. What a Hall of Famer is is determined by who the Hall of Famers are. The obvious, inner circle players like Henry Aaron and Lefty Grove are a small minority of the Hall of Fame. What the Hall of Fame does have is a ton of guys like Ted Lyons and Waite Hoyt and Pee Wee Reese and Goose Goslin, those mid-range Hall of Famers who, if they were on today’s ballots, would be derided as Hall of Very Good Candidates by the extreme section of the Small Hall crowd. There’s this idea that modern inductees have watered down the Hall of Fame when, in fact, what the Hall is drowning in is endless inductees from baseball’s supposed Golden Age. Here’s my updated chart of the yearly percentage of position player plate appearances by future Hall of Famers:

Now, the final ruling hasn’t yet been handed down on those 1990s players, but just because the Veterans Committee exists to catch players who fall through the cracks doesn’t strike me as a good reason to let players fall through those cracks. I find the moral value of a great honor is diminished if the honoree has to wait an indefinite amount of time, or even worse, does not live long enough to receive it. It’s an absolute shame that Ron Santo and Dick Allen died without knowing that their careers would ultimately be recognized with baseball’s most prestigious honor. And with baseball’s increasingly illogically designed Eras Committees, it’s going to be harder to catch the BBWAA’s misses.

Even so, I don’t think that all of the players who are better than the worst Hall of Famers should be in the Hall. There are lots of pitchers better than Jack Morris and Rube Marquard who still would not get a Hall of Fame vote from me. If we voted in everyone better than Tommy McCarthy, who was essentially the 19th Century Juan Pierre, the Hall would have quite the influx of outfielders. But all 12 players I wanted to vote for in this election were players I felt were better than the bottom quartile of Hall of Fame inductees, meaning that if they were inducted, they would at least be part of the Hall’s large middle class.

One of the most convincing arguments Bill James ever made about the Hall of Fame came when he introduced the concepts of career value and peak value as different kinds of greatness. The Hall’s record of recognizing peak value is very spotty, and while Sandy Koufax, one of the best examples of peak value, was given his due, players like Johan Santana have frequently gotten the shaft. But when we talk about greatness, how good a player was at his best seems to be very important information. Miguel Cabrera would not have attained the 3,000-hit or 500-homer career milestones if he had retired after the 2016 season at age 33, but did anything that happened after 2016 really enhance his greatness on an abstract level? After 2016, he was mostly a DH who hit .262/.329/.381 and averaged nine home runs a year. Cabrera’s peak is what makes his career great, after all.

And that is why I checked the boxes for David Wright and Dustin Pedroia. Wright was healthy enough for about a decade to play full time, and over that period, he was perhaps the top third baseman in the majors.

Cabrera has the edge in WAR, and he had a better postseason record, but he also wasn’t a full-time a third baseman during this period. (He’s second among first basemen in the same years). It’s worth mentioning that Wright received more playing time during his 10-year peak than a lot of the competition, but he also had one of the highest WAR rates over that decade. He’s not the undisputed best third baseman during that span, but he certainly has a strong case for that title. That peak is enough for me. The case for Pedroia is similar.

Neither Wright or Pedroia is a slam-dunk candidate, but each is just over my foggy line.

I’m probably not going to get out of here without discussing how I consider performance-enhancing drug use or general rulebreaking/bending. Even more so than performance, there’s a lot of room for philosophical differences here, so let me emphasize that even though I personally feel that my stance is the best one — after all, why would I not go with what I think is best? — I certainly can’t objectively claim that it’s the right one. Let’s start with the text of the Hall’s so-called character clause, which is actually only just one sliver of a sentence:

Voting shall be based upon the player’s record, playing ability, integrity, sportsmanship, character and contributions to the team(s) on which the player played.

Based on my knowledge of baseball and the Hall of Fame’s history, both in practice and when the rules were being discussed, I function under the belief that we’re talking sportsmanship and character related to their baseball-related life, not so much as a person on a wider level. The rules of the game are pretty important, and so I consider breaking baseball’s rules to be a demerit on a player’s permanent record. In this case, I believe PED rulebreaking to be something I am dutybound to consider after the summer of 2004, when steroid testing was first implemented. I don’t have the same feeling about pre-2004 PED use. Some people cite former commissioner Fay Vincent’s early 1990s memo about steroids as a reason not to vote for PED users in the pre-testing era, but as Vincent himself noted in an interview with Bernie Miklasz, he issued the memo only to make a statement. He pointed out that he didn’t have the power to implement any such rules against PED use without MLBPA approval.

“I sent it out because I believed it was important to take the position that steroids were dangerous, as were other illegal drugs,” Vincent said. “As you know, the union would not bargain with us, would not discuss, would not agree to any form of a coherent drug plan. So my memo really applied to all the people who were not players.”

In other words, Fay Vincent banned Pat Gillick and Dan Duquette from using steroids.

So I consider Barry Bonds’ testing positive for amphetamines in 2006 as a black mark on his résumé, as I do with Alex Rodriguez and Manny Ramirez for failing PED tests. But I also view each black mark as merely a factor to be weighed in a Hall of Fame case, not as a binary “they cheated, so they’re out” scenario. In my eyes, Bonds, A-Rod, and Manny are all worthy Hall of Famers, and a little bit of dirt in their story doesn’t tarnish the tale.

On the other hand, I would not have voted for Pedroia or Wright if they had been found to have broken those rules. I did not vote for Ryan Braun, because I think his performance was on the wrong side of the dividing line, but even if he had a slightly longer peak, I still would not have checked his box because of his situation. I don’t really care about the efficacy of the cheating when it comes to a player’s Hall of Fame case; it makes no difference to me if Carlos Beltrán and the other members of the 2017 Astros actually benefited from their electronic sign-stealing operation. Rather, what matters is that banging on a trash can to relay signs that were stolen in real time via a video camera is a blatant form of cheating. Yet, once again, when considering the totality of Beltrán’s career, he easily belongs in the Hall of Fame, even with the banging-scheme demerit.

Now, I wanted to vote for 12 players, but I could only vote for 10. So, I asked myself: What is the purpose of the checkmarks on a Hall of Fame ballot? I view it as getting deserving players into the Hall of Fame. There are three ways that a single voter can impact a player’s chances of making it to Cooperstown: 1) if a vote helps a player reach the 75% threshold required for induction, 2) if a vote allows a player to exceed the 5% mark necessary to remain eligible for future BBWAA elections, and 3) if a vote adds to the percentage of ballots cast in favor of a player from the previous year, thereby building that player’s momentum of support. The last one is kind of weird, but it does seem to be the case that a number of voters wait for the bandwagon to be rolling behind a player before they get on for the ride, so I have to take that into consideration, too.

Ultimately, my final decision came down to the following question: Which two votes of my desired 12 would be the least impactful at getting a deserving player in the Hall of Fame? I concluded those to be for Manny Ramirez and Alex Rodriguez. There was no chance that my vote would get either of them over 75%, keep them over 5%, or build enough momentum for them to eventually get elected. Most baseball writers have already made up their minds about how they will vote for players who used or likely used PEDs, and there aren’t enough new voters in any given year to make a difference. A-Rod and Manny are not Hall of Famers right now because they used steroids, not because writers are unsure about their baseball merit.

So, that’s my ballot, right or wrong. It’s OK to disagree with me — this would be a boring job if everyone agreed with me — but as I said at the top, I feel it’s my responsibility to you, the readers, to explain why I vote the way I do.

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

On Tuesday evening, the National Baseball Hall of Fame will announce the results of this year’s BBWAA balloting. In this age of ballot tracking, we have only a mild bit of suspense on our hands, something less than a true cliffhanger. Based on the published ballots in Ryan Thibodaux’s Tracker (which unfortunately has been experiencing outages due to traffic throttling), both Carlos Beltrán and Andruw Jones are likely to be elected, though there’s still a bit of uncertainty for the latter. If the FanGraphs readers who participated in this year’s crowdsource ballot had their way, Beltrán would be the only one who would make the cut. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Early in his career, Nick Markakis appeared to be a star in the making. In his second and third seasons in the majors (2007 and ’08), the former first-round pick topped 40 doubles, 20 homers, and a .300 batting average while slugging nearly .500. He led the AL in WAR in 2008, his age-24 campaign — not that anyone was aware of it at the time, which helps to explain his omission from that year’s AL All-Star team.

It would take another decade before Markakis finally became an All-Star, and during that stretch, his performances leveled off. He became better known for his durability, his defense (he won three Gold Gloves), and above all, the example he set for younger players while enduring lean years both in Baltimore and Atlanta. He stuck around long enough to help both teams’ rebuilding efforts come to fruition with playoff appearances, racking up so many hits that he generated discussion regarding his potential Hall-worthiness if he persisted long enough to reach the magic 3,000-hit milestone.

Markakis’ retirement after his age-36 season rendered that question moot. He didn’t generate a Hall-caliber résumé or gaudy statistics during his 15-year career, but he received considerable praise for his impact on his teammates. From Braves manager Brian Snitker, who managed him from 2016–20:

“One of the most consistent, professional pros that I’ve ever been around. I’m glad I had the honor to manage him in his last years, because he’s a special player… How consistent he was, how professional he was, the way he played the game, how he grinded every at-bat. He never took a pitch off. And to see what he did late in his career, winning that Gold Glove, and the stabilizing force that he was for our club while I was here. You don’t appreciate a guy like Nick until you manage him. What a great career he had.”

Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2026 Hall of Fame ballot. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Daniel Murphy was not a home run hitter. Over the course of a 12-year major league career that was interrupted by knee injuries, he reached double digits in just seven seasons, topping 20 homers just twice. Like Howie Kendrick — another Jacksonville-born second baseman debuting on this Hall of Fame ballot, one who even played on the same team as Murphy in 2017–18 — the lefty-swinging, righty-throwing Murphy was known for his exceptional bat-to-ball ability. And like Kendrick, he went on a memorable, power-driven October run and won NLCS MVP honors. In 2015, he set a record by homering in six straight postseason games, carrying the Mets to their first pennant in 15 years. While it didn’t culminate in a championship, it earned him an indelible spot in postseason history; without that run, he probably wouldn’t even be on this ballot.

…

Daniel Thomas Murphy was born on April 1, 1985 in Jacksonville, Florida, the oldest of three children of Tom and Sharon Murphy. Tom taught kindergarten while Sharon sold insurance (in one amusing anecdote, an 11-year-old Murphy declared he wanted to be “an insurance person” for his school yearbook). Younger brother Jonathan (b. 1990) was a 19th-round pick by the Twins in 2012 and spent three seasons as an outfielder in their minor league system. Read the rest of this entry »