The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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.

For the better part of his 20s, Hanley Ramirez was one of the game’s top shortstops, at least on the offensive side — the type of hitter capable of carrying a team despite his shaky defense. During the 2006–14 span, he won NL Rookie of the Year honors, made three straight All-Star teams, joined the 30/30 club, claimed a batting title, finished second in the MVP voting, and served as a lineup centerpiece on two division winners. Unfortunately, his career unraveled after he inked a big free agent deal with the Red Sox, the same team that had originally signed him out of the Dominican Republic. Between multiple position changes and a slew of injuries — particularly to both shoulders — he slid into replacement-level oblivion, and played just 60 games after his age-33 season.

Hanley Ramirez was born on December 23, 1983 in Samaná, a town on the northeastern peninsula of the Dominican Republic, to parents Toribio (an auto mechanic) and Isabela Ramirez. Via Molly Knight’s The Best Team Money Can Buy, his mother wanted to name him Juan Jose and call him J.J., but his father objected. His paternal grandmother, a devotee of Shakespeare, suggested Hamlet, which his parents agreed to, but the clerk who wrote up the birth certificate misspelled the name, and the error stuck. “But that’s okay, because I love my name,” Ramirez told Knight.

Ramirez took to baseball quickly. Big for his age — he would grow to 6-foot-2 – he led his Little League team in home runs when he was five. By the time he was 15, he was starring at Adbentista High School and drawing the attention of scouts. According to scout Levy Ochoa, the Red Sox signed him for a $20,000 bonus on July 2, 2000, when he was 16 years old. He was as green as the grass itself. “Let me tell you, before I signed I didn’t know they paid you for playing baseball,” Ramirez told the Miami Herald in 2006. “I played because I loved the game. It was incredible when they told me they were going to sign me and they were going to give me money.” Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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, and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

“What do I do about Félix Hernández?” Even before my 2025 Hall of Fame ballot arrived in the mail in late November, that question loomed over my plans to fill it out. Anticipating a crunch for space but knowing that the former Cy Young winner — who’s on the ballot for the first time this year — is significantly short of the S-JAWS standard, the easy answer of leaving him off was always right there. Yet given years of discussion regarding the changing landscape for starting pitchers (and by extension, starting pitcher candidates), I decided to sit with the possibility of voting for him right up to the point where I reached for my pen.

I’ll take you through my process regarding the Félix question soon enough. This is my fifth year with an actual ballot, but filling one out and having it count still feels like a novelty in the context of 24 years of analyzing Hall of Fame elections, and 22 of doing so while armed with the system that became JAWS (the official 20th anniversary of the metric’s introduction was in January). With so many mentors, peers, and colleagues having come and gone in this racket, I’m grateful to have stuck around long enough to have earned the right to vote, and it’s a privilege I look forward to, even with the accompanying scrutiny and criticism. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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, and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Even as an amateur, Ian Kinsler spent most of his career in someone else’s shadow. At Canyon Del Oro High School in Tucson, Arizona — where he played on two state champion teams — and then at Central Arizona Junior College, he played alongside players who were picked much higher in the draft. After transferring to Arizona State, he lost the starting shortstop job to Dustin Pedroia, who had initially moved to second base to accommodate his arrival. With the Rangers, for whom he starred from 2006–13, he was a vital cog on two pennant winners but took a back seat to MVP Josh Hamilton, future Hall of Famer Adrian Beltré, and perennial All-Star shortstop Michael Young. Even after being dealt to the Tigers, he drew less attention than Miguel Cabrera, Justin Verlander, or Max Scherzer.

Particularly in the developmental phase of his career, those slights and oversights left Kinsler with a chip on his shoulder, but also a drive to improve — and improve he did. He starred at his third collegiate stop, the University of Missouri, helped the Rangers emerge as an American League powerhouse while making three All-Star teams, added another All-Star selection in Detroit and won two belated but well-earned Gold Gloves. His 48 leadoff home runs ranks sixth all-time. Twice he combined 30 homers and 30 steals in the same season, making him one of just 16 players with repeat membership in the 30-30 club. For the 2007–16 period, he ranked among the game’s most valuable players by WAR via a combination of excellent defense, very good baserunning, and above-average hitting. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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, and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Because of his size — officially 5-foot-9 and 170 pounds, but by his own admission, a couple inches shorter — Dustin Pedroia was consistently underestimated. Though he took to baseball as a toddler and excelled all the way through high school and Arizona State University, scouts viewed him as having below-average tools because of his stature. He barely grazed prospect lists before reaching the majors, but once he settled in, he quickly excelled. He won American League Rookie of the Year honors while helping the Red Sox win the 2007 World Series, then took home the MVP award the next year, when he was just 24.

Over the course of his 14-year career, Pedroia played a pivotal role in helping the Red Sox win one more World Series, made four All-Star teams, and banked four Gold Gloves. Understandably, he became a fan favorite, not only for his stellar play but because of the way he carried himself, radiating self-confidence to the point of cockiness, and always quick with a quip. “Pedie never shuts up, man,” Manny Ramirez told ESPN Magazine’s Jeff Bradley for a 2008 piece called “170 Pounds of Mouth.” Continued Ramirez, “He’s a little crazy. But that’s why we love him. He talks big and makes us all laugh.” Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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, and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

With a foundation that centered upon the Hall of Fame triumvirate of Tom Glavine, Greg Maddux, and John Smoltz, the Braves dominated the NL West and then the NL East, reaching the postseason every year from 1991–2005 save for the ’94 strike season. Nothing lasts forever, though, and as Glavine and then Maddux departed in free agency, the team inevitably had to retool. Among the centerpieces of the next wave of Braves stars was one practically grown in their own backyard, Brian McCann.

A lefty-swinging backstop with rich baseball bloodlines, a strong arm, and a powerful bat, McCann was just 21 years old when he debuted with the Braves in June 2005. Over his first eight full seasons, he made seven All-Star teams and helped Atlanta to three postseason appearances, though the team’s success wasn’t nearly on par with the preceding dynasty. While McCann’s footwork and pitch framing wasn’t initially as polished as that of Russell Martin (who debuted with the Dodgers as a 23-year-old in 2006), he too developed into one of the game’s elite framers, that while providing stronger offense than his West Coast counterpart. Along the way, he also developed a somewhat dubious reputation as an enforcer of the unwritten rules, thanks to high-profile incidents involving José Fernández and Carlos Gómez in September 2013, though both players smoothed things over with McCann. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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, and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Russell Martin was sneaky good. At the plate he combined a compact swing and mid-range power with strong on-base skills and (early in his career, at least) the ability to steal the occasional base. Behind the plate, he was exceptional. Shifted from third base after his first professional season, he took to the new position with the zeal of a convert. Martin combined outstanding athleticism — a strong arm, extraordinary lateral mobility, and elite pitch framing — with an intense competitive drive, an off-the-charts baseball IQ, and a natural leadership ability that was already apparent during his 2006 rookie season with the Dodgers.

The 23-year-old Martin’s arrival went a long way toward turning that squad around. In his first four seasons, he helped the Dodgers to three playoff appearances, including their first two trips to the National League Championship Series since their 1988 championship run. When the tight-fisted team nonsensically non-tendered him after an injury-wracked 2010 season, Los Angeles missed the playoffs in each of the next two years. Meanwhile, the nomadic Martin helped spur his subsequent teams — the Yankees (2011–12), Pirates (2013–14), and Blue Jays (2015–18) — to a total of six straight postseasons.

That wasn’t a coincidence. The general managers of those three teams (New York’s Brian Cashman, Pittsburgh’s Neal Huntington, and Toronto’s Alex Anthopoulos) all recognized that in addition to the softer factors that made Martin such a great catcher and leader, he was consistently among the game’s best at the newly quantifiable and highly valuable art of turning borderline pitches into strikes — an area that landed in the public spotlight with Mike Fast’s 2011 Baseball Prospectus article, “Removing the Mask.” Building on previous research by Dan Turkenkopf and others using PITCHf/x data, Fast showed that the difference between a good framer and a bad one could amount to something on the order of four wins per year, and identified Martin as having accrued more value via framing over the 2007–11 span (71 runs) than any backstop besides Jose Molina. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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 and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Before he’d ever thrown a major league pitch, cracked a prospect list, or reached legal adult status, Félix Hernández had a nickname: King Felix. Dubbed as such by U.S.S. Mariner blogger Jason Michael Barker Dave Cameron on July 17, 2003, when he was just a 17-year-old in the Low-A Northwest League, he was already overpowering much older hitters. Still a teen when he reached the majors, he quickly came to represent the hopes and dreams of a franchise that had fallen short of a World Series despite four playoffs appearances from 1995–2001; parted with superstars Randy Johnson, Ken Griffey Jr., and Alex Rodriguez along the way; and capped that run with a record-setting 116 wins but a premature exit in the ALCS.

Though slow to embrace the royal moniker, Hernández grew into it. His dazzling combination of an electrifying, darting sinker, a knee-buckling curve, and a signature hard changeup propelled him to a Cy Young Award, two ERA titles, six All-Star appearances, and a perfect game. From 2009–14, he was the best pitcher in the American League by ERA, FIP, strikeouts, and WAR, parlaying that into a contract commensurate that made him the game’s highest-paid pitcher. Unfortunately, a heavy workload — more innings than any pitcher 23 or younger since Dwight Gooden two decades earlier — sapped the sizzle from his fastball, with injuries and a cavalier approach to conditioning taking their toll as well. The Mariners struggled to surround him with a quality roster, and changed managers and pitching coaches every couple of years. The team didn’t reach the playoffs once during Hernández’s career, finishing above .500 just five times, with a pair of second-place showings in the AL West as good as it got. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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 and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Before Joe Mauer began starring for the Twins, there was Torii Hunter, and before Chase Utley began starring for the Phillies, there was Jimmy Rollins. Hunter, a rangy, acrobatic center fielder who eventually won nine Gold Gloves and made five All-Star teams, debuted with Minnesota in 1997 and emerged as a star in 2001, the same year the Twins chose Mauer with the number one pick of the draft. The pair would play together from 2004 to ’07, making the playoffs twice before Hunter departed in free agency. Rollins, a compact shortstop who carried himself with a swagger, debuted in 2001 and made two All-Star teams by the time he and Utley began an 11-year run (2004–14) as the Phillies’ regular double play combination. The pair helped Philadelphia to five NL East titles, two pennants, and a championship, with Rollins winning NL MVP honors in 2007 and taking home four Gold Gloves.

Hunter and Rollins both enjoyed lengthy and impressive careers, racking up over 2,400 hits apiece with substantial home run and stolen base totals. From a Hall of Fame perspective, both have credentials that appeal more to traditionally minded voters than to statheads, but in their time on the ballot, they’ve gotten little traction. Hunter debuted with 9.5% in 2021 but has yet to match that since, finishing with 7.3% on the ’24 ballot. Rollins debuted with 9.4% in 2022 and has gained a little ground in each cycle since, with 14.8% in ’24. Both have been outdistanced by their former teammates, whose advanced statistics are much stronger despite comparatively short careers; Mauer was elected this past January, while Utley debuted with 28.8%, nearly double Rollins’ share. Still, it appears that this pair will persist on the ballot for awhile, with enough support for us to keep reliving their careers and discussing their merits on an annual basis. There are far worse fates for Hall of Fame candidates. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2025 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 and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

David Wright is the greatest position player in Mets history, a face-of-the-franchise player who holds the team leads in plate appearances, hits, runs, RBI, total bases, walks, and WAR. A first-round pick out of high school in 2001, the Virginia native spent his entire career with the team, making seven All-Star teams, winning two Gold Gloves, and helping the club to a pair of playoff appearances, including their 2015 pennant.

Though he was surrounded by dysfunction in Queens under the late stages of the Wilpon family’s ownership — the financial tight-fistedness in the wake of the owners’ involvement in the Madoff scandal, the endless micromanagement of injuries, the tone-deaf approach when it came to public relations — Wright stood apart from all of that. Charismatic, exceptionally talented on both sides of the ball, with an off-the-charts work ethic, he was Queens’ answer to Derek Jeter, an icon who avoided scandal, almost invariably said the right thing, and never did anything to embarrass himself or the franchise. Small wonder that he was named team captain in the spring of 2013, and even acquired the nickname “Captain America” while playing for Team USA in that year’s World Baseball Classic. Read the rest of this entry »

DALLAS — The collision of human mortality and baseball immortality is a jarring one that has resonated throughout the history of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, and Sunday night’s announcement of the voting results of the Classic Baseball Era Committee was yet another reminder. Four years after dying of cancer at the age of 78, and three years after falling one vote short for his second straight ballot, Dick Allen finally gained entry. Also elected was 73-year-old Dave Parker, who has been rendered frail while waging a very public battle with Parkinson’s Disease in recent years.

The two sluggers were the only candidates from among a slate of eight elected by the 16-member committee, which met on Sunday at the Winter Meetings here in Dallas. The panel was charged with considering candidates from an overly broad swath of the game’s history. By definition, all eight candidates made their greatest impact prior to 1980, but weighing the merits of John Donaldson, who pitched in the major Negro Leagues from 1920–24 (and for Black baseball teams predating the Negro Leagues as early as 1915), against the likes of Parker, whose major league career ran from 1973–91, is a nearly impossible task, particularly within the limitations of a format that allows each voter to choose a maximum of three candidates from among the eight.

Parker, who had fallen short on three previous Era Committee ballots, received the most support from the panel, totaling 14 votes out of 16 (87.5%), while Allen received 13 (81.3%). Tommy John received seven (43.8%) in his fifth Era Committee appearance. The other five candidates — Ken Boyer, Donaldson, Steve Garvey, Vic Harris, Luis Tiant — each received less than five votes, according to the Hall.

To these eyes, Allen was the most deserving of the non-Negro Leagues candidates on this ballot. In a 15-year-career with the Phillies (1963–69, ’75–76), Cardinals (’70), Dodgers (’71), White Sox (’72–74), and A’s (’77), he made seven All-Star teams; led his league in OPS+ three times, in home runs twice, and in WAR once; and won NL Rookie of the Year and AL MVP awards (’64 and ’72, respectively) while hitting 351 homers and batting .292/.378/.534. Among players with at least 7,000 plate appearances, his career 156 OPS+ is tied with Hall of Famer Frank Thomas for 14th all time.

Allen accrued just 1,848 hits, and so he joins 2022 Golden Days honoree Tony Oliva as the only post-1960 expansion era players in the Hall with fewer than 2,000 hits. The marker has served as a proxy for career length, for better or worse, and in doing so has frozen out players whose careers were shortened for one reason or another, as well as those who built a good portion of their value via on-base skills and defense. BBWAA voters have yet to elect one such player, though Andruw Jones (1,933) is climbing toward 75%, and Chase Utley (1,885) made a solid debut on the 2024 ballot.

Not a particularly adept defender, Allen bounced from third base to left field to first base while traveling around the majors. He accrued his most value while playing third; he’s 17th in both WAR (58.7) and JAWS (52.3) at the position, slightly below Boyer (62.8 WAR, 54.5 JAWS), who had the advantage of a much less controversial career.

Allen’s career was shortened by what seemed to be a constant battle with the world around him, one in which the racism he faced in the minor leagues and in Philadelphia played a major role. Six years after governor Orval Faubus called in the Arkansas National Guard in order to prevent the court-ordered desegregation of Little Rock Central High School, the Phillies sent the 21-year-old Allen to become the first affiliated Black professional baseball player in the state. Faubus himself threw out the first pitch while picketers carried signs with slogans such as “Don’t Negro-ize baseball” and “N***** go home.”⁠ Though Allen hit a double in the game-winning rally, he was greeted with a note on his car: “DON’T COME BACK AGAIN N*****,”⁠ as he recounted in his autobiography, Crash: The Life and Times of Dick Allen.

The Phillies themselves — the NL’s last team to integrate, 10 years after Jackie Robinson debuted — were far behind the integration curve, as was Philadelphia itself. Allen quickly became a polarizing presence, covered by a media contingent so unable or unwilling to relate to him that writers often refused to call him by the name of his choosing: Dick Allen, not Richie.

Allen rebelled against his surroundings. As biographer Mitchell Nathanson wrote in God Almighty Hisself: The Life and Legacy of Dick Allen, “He refused to pander to the media, refused to accept management’s time-honored methods for determining the value of a ballplayer, and, most explosively, refused to go along with and kowtow to the racial double standard that had evolved within Major League Baseball in the wake of the game’s integration in 1947.”

Allen struggled for support during his 1983–97 run on the BBWAA ballot, never reaching 20%, and he similarly lagged in the voting of the expanded Veterans Committee from 2003–09. However, thanks in part to a grassroots campaign by former Phillies groundskeeper Mark Carfagno, he received a fresh look from the 2015 Golden Era Committee and fell just one vote short of election. The change in Era Committee formats meant that his case wasn’t scheduled to be reconsidered until the 2021 Golden Day Era Committee ballot, but the COVID-19 pandemic led the Hall to postpone that election. In a cruel blow, Allen died of cancer on December 7, 2020, one day after his candidacy would have been considered. Crueler still for his family, he again fell one vote short when the committee finally met in December 2021. Thus his election is a bittersweet moment, one that would have been greatly enriched by his being able to enjoy it.

Whatever quibbles there are to be had with the election of Parker, we can be grateful he’s still around to savor it. A five-tool player whose power, ability to hit for average, and strong, accurate throwing arm all stood out, he spent 19 years in the majors with the Pirates (1973–83), hometown Reds (’84–87), A’s (’88–89), Brewers (’90), Angels (’91), and Blue Jays (’91). He hit 339 homers and collected 2,712 hits while batting .290/.339/.471 (121 OPS+) and making seven All-Star teams, and at his peak, he was considered the game’s best all-around player. In his first five full seasons (1975-79), he amassed a World Series ring (in the last of those years), regular season and All-Star MVP awards, two batting titles, two league leads in slugging percentage, and three Gold Gloves, not to mention tremendous swagger and a great nickname (“The Cobra”).

A 14th-round draft pick out of Cincinnati’s Courier Tech High School — he fell from the first or second round due to multiple knee injuries that ended his pursuit of football, his favorite sport — Parker debuted with the Pirates in July 1973, just seven months after the death of Roberto Clemente. He assumed full-time duty as the team’s right fielder a season and a half later, and appeared to be on course to join the Puerto Rican legend in Cooperstown, but cocaine, poor conditioning, and injuries threw him off course. While he recovered well enough to make three more All-Star teams, play a supporting role on the 1989 World Series-winning A’s, and compile hefty career totals while playing past the age of 40, his game lost multiple dimensions along the way.

Parker debuted with just 17.5% on the 1997 BBWAA ballot and peaked at 24.5% the next year, but only one other time in his final 13 seasons of eligibility did he top 20%. In appearances on the 2014 Expansion Era ballot and ’18 and ’20 Modern Baseball ones, only in the last of those did he break out of the “received less than X votes” group; he got seven (43.8%) that year.

Because his defense declined to the point that he was relegated to DH duty, Parker ranks just 41st in JAWS among right fielders (38.8), 17.9 points below the standard. Still, this is not Harold Baines Redux. While Baines collected 2,866 hits — and might have reached 3,000 if not for the two players’ strikes that occurred during his career — he never put up much black ink or finished higher than ninth in MVP voting, spent the vast majority of his career as a DH, and ranks 77th in JAWS among right fielders (30.1). He was never close to being considered the best hitter in the game, let alone the best all-around player. His 2019 election was a shock, and a result that felt engineered given the makeup of the panel.

As I noted in my write-up of Parker, the contemporary whose case bears the most resemblance to his is that of Dale Murphy, for as different as the two were off the field — and you can’t get much further apart than the distance between Parker’s drug-related misadventures and Murphy’s wholesome, milk-drinking persona. A two-time MVP, Murphy — who fell short on the 2023 Contemporary Baseball ballot and will be eligible again next year — had a peak that’s vaguely Hall-caliber, but he’s ranks 27th in JAWS among center fielders, 14.4 points below the standard, because myriad injuries prevented him from having much value outside that peak.

I had Allen atop my list as the most deserving non-PED-linked position player outside the Hall. While I was lukewarm on Parker, it’s impossible not to feel some amount of empathy for his hard-won wisdom — his autobiography Cobra: A Life in Baseball and Brotherhood, written with Dave Jordan, is frank and poignant — and his battle with Parkinson’s, not to mention his prominent role in raising money to fight the disease. Again, it is far better that he is alive to enjoy this honor than to have it granted posthumously, as would have been the case for Tiant, who died in October at age 83. Boyer died in 1983 at age 52. John is 81, Garvey 75. For as tiresome as it may sometimes feel to see their candidacies reheated every three years or so, one can understand the desire to honor them while they’re alive — but then again, the same goes for the candidates they’re crowding off the ballot.

The most frustrating aspect of this election is how little traction the two Negro Leagues candidates had, as they were the top returning members from the 2022 Early Baseball ballot, with Harris — the most successful manager in Negro Leagues history — having received 10 votes (62.5%) and Donaldson — a legendary pitcher who spent most of his playing years barnstorming endlessly out of economic necessity — getting eight (50%). The 16-member panel did include two bona fide Negro Leagues scholars in Larry Lester and Leslie Heaphy. However, in my opinion and those of many Negro Leagues experts, it would be far better for a full panel of such researchers and scholars to consider these candidates and the unique and difficult context of their careers without having to battle for attention and space with much more famous players from a relatively recent past.

Appointed by the Hall’s board of directors, this ballot’s 16-member committee consisted of Hall of Famers Paul Molitor, Eddie Murray, Tony Perez, Lee Smith, Ozzie Smith, and Joe Torre; major league executives Sandy Alderson, Terry McGuirk, Dayton Moore, Arte Moreno, and Brian Sabean; and veteran media members/historians Bob Elliott, Steve Hirdt, and Dick Kaegel as well as Heaphy and Lester. In contrast to years past, this group had far fewer obvious connections to candidates, with Torre having played with Allen in St. Louis in 1970, Alderson serving as the general manager of the A’s when they traded for John in mid-’85 and Parker in December ’87, and Sabean in the scouting department of the Yankees when John had his second go-round with the team starting in ’86. [Update: As readers have pointed out, I missed that Perez and Parker were teammates in Cincinnati from 1984–86, and Molitor and Parker were teammates in Milwaukee in ’90.] Where both the 2023 and ’24 Contemporary Era Committees (the latter for managers, executives, and umpires) had just three media members/historians, this one had five.

The Era Committee process is an imperfect one, and by some measures these were imperfect candidates. If they weren’t, they probably wouldn’t have been relegated to Era Committee ballots in the first place, though not necessarily through their own fault. The voting results won’t please everyone, but hopefully even critics of the process can see some value in Sunday’s result.