The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2024 Hall of Fame ballot. Originally written for the 2016 election at SI.com, it has been updated to reflect recent voting results as well as additional research. 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. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Billy Wagner was the ultimate underdog. Undersized and from both a broken home and an impoverished rural background, he channeled his frustrations into throwing incredibly hard — with his left hand, despite being a natural righty, for he broke his right arm twice as a child. Scouts overlooked him because he wasn’t anywhere close to six feet tall, but they couldn’t disregard his dominance over collegiate hitters using a mid-90s fastball. The Astros made him a first-round pick, and once he was converted to a relief role, his velocity went even higher.

Thanks to outstanding lower-body strength, coordination, and extraordinary range of motion, the 5-foot-10 Wagner was able to reach 100 mph with consistency — 159 times in 2003, according to The Bill James Handbook. Using a hard slider learned from teammate Brad Lidge, he kept blowing the ball by hitters into his late 30s to such an extent that he owns the record for the highest strikeout rate of any pitcher with at least 900 innings. He was still dominant when he walked away from the game following the 2010 season, fresh off posting a career-best ERA.

Lacking the longevity of Mariano Rivera or Trevor Hoffman, Wagner never set any saves records or even led his league once, and his innings total is well below those of every enshrined reliever. Hoffman’s status as the former all-time saves leader helped him get elected in 2018, but Wagner, who created similar value in his career, has major hurdles to surmount. There are, though, fewer hurdles than before: over the past four election cycles, his share of the vote has nearly quadrupled, from 16.7% in 2019 to 68.1% in ’23, not only pushing him past the all-important 50% threshold but also within range of election during this cycle. His advantages over Hoffman (and virtually every other reliever in history when it comes to rate stats) provide a compelling reason to study his career more closely. Given how far he’s come, who wants to bet against Billy Wags? Read the rest of this entry »

Last week I covered the American League half of the flurry of transactional activity that occurred as a result of the 40-man roster and non-tender deadlines. Is any one move here as impactful as signing a Yoshinobu Yamamoto or a Matt Chapman? No, but when your favorite team experiences a rash of injuries in June, whether or not they have the depth to scrap and compete is often dictated by the people and processes that surround this day. Below are my thoughts on the National League, with some quick scouting snippets on most of the added players and thoughts about roster construction where I had something to say.

Arizona Diamondbacks

The Diamondbacks lone addition was lefty Blake Walston, a former $2.5 million high school signee who, despite being young for his class and physically projectable as an amateur, has seen his fastball velocity plateau and slightly decline since he signed. He’s had fits and starts where he’s thrown harder, but for the most part, Walston’s fastball still sits 89-92 mph and his performance peripherals took a nosedive in 2023, though part of that was likely because of the PCL hitting environment. The lanky 22-year-old is still a fair long-term prospect because of his age and what one could reasonably hope will still be late-arriving physicality, but for now, I’d consider him at the very back of Arizona’s 40-man starting pitching depth chart. Read the rest of this entry »

For the 20th consecutive season, the ZiPS projection system is unleashing a full set of prognostications. For more information on the ZiPS projections, please consult this year’s introduction and MLB’s glossary entry. The team order is selected by lot, and the first team up is the New York Mets.

Batters

At the very least, there’s a good sense of clarity when looking at the Mets depth chart. Francisco Lindor and Brandon Nimmo are plug-and-play options — just stick them in, and if they’re your biggest problem, you’re doomed anyway. Pete Alonso qualifies as that as well, though the Mets are not long from having to make a decision on whether it’s better to offer him a potentially ludicrous contract extension or find a new polar bear (they’re endangered after all!). Jeff McNeil will likely have a season somewhere in between his 2022 and 2023. Francisco Alvarez has a hold on the starting catching job now that he’s outlasted his predecessor (Tomás Nido) and the guy who really, really liked playing said predecessor (Buck Showalter). It’s also obvious that this is a crucial season for Mark Vientos and Brett Baty; the Mets don’t have infinite patience. There likely need to be better solutions in left field, and it’s time to start thinking about a post-Starling Marte right field.

While people are looking for the Mets to make big, splashy signings, it’s also a team that could use an extra bat or two in reserve. With questions at third and in left and right, it’s really hard from a roster standpoint to keep a platoon DH with no defensive value hanging around unless he absolutely crushes his side of the platoon (and Daniel Vogelbach really doesn’t). Eduardo Escobar was traded for good reasons, but he was handy to have around. The fixes to the offense might be low-key because of the need in the next section of this article. There aren’t any young phenoms really threatening to seize a roster spot from any of the offensive stragglers; the Mets have four offensive prospects in our Top 100 who are about a year away from making a real impact in the majors. The fifth, Ronny Mauricio, certainly has upside at second, but then the question becomes how much value McNeil really has as a corner outfielder.

Pitchers

There’s a lot of work to be done here. Kodai Senga is written in with permanent marker, and while ZiPS is very lukewarm — to be nice — about José Quintana, he’s certainly going to be in the rotation as well. After that, the Mets have a deep stable of just-a-guy types; the rotation is probably the biggest hurdle preventing the team from having a nice little bounce-back season. Not to pick on Mike Vasil, who I think will be a serviceable fourth/fifth starter for a while, but if Mike Vasil is this high in the projections, you’ve got some slots to fill. The Mets may have been relieved of the worry of Max Scherzer and Justin Verlander’s inevitable aging curve cliffs, but even if their time with the team didn’t go exactly to plan, without them, the rotation looks like a smoking crater. The good news is that while the free agent market has a real lack of impact bats, starting pitching is well-stocked, even before you consider the availability of Yoshinobu Yamamoto and Shōta Imanaga.

A healthy Edwin Díaz is a boon for the bullpen, though he’s not enough to single-armedly make this a plus unit. The relief corps is less of a smoking crater than the rotation, and ZiPS is more or less is cool with the rest of the group in Brooks Raley, Drew Smith, Trevor Gott, and Phil Bickford. ZiPS sees Josh Walker as a pretty decent swingman option, if a very low-ceiling one. Still, there’s room to improve. I don’t think the starters who fail to make the rotation next spring have electric enough stuff to be overly enthused about their bullpen chances, so the Mets will likely need to find an arm or two here. It doesn’t have to be a Díaz-like arm — good luck finding that — but a couple of mid-tier relievers might keep the wheels from coming off this apple cart.

Ballpark graphic courtesy Eephus League. Depth charts constructed by way of those listed here.

Players are listed with their most recent teams wherever possible. This includes players who are unsigned or have retired, players who will miss 2024 due to injury, and players who were released in 2023. So yes, if you see Joe Schmoe, who quit baseball back in August to form a Belgian Death Metal Skiffle Band that only plays songs by Franz Schubert, he’s still listed here intentionally. ZiPS is assuming a league with an ERA of 4.33.

Hitters are ranked by zWAR, which is to say, WAR values as calculated by me, Dan Szymborski, whose surname is spelled with a z. WAR values might differ slightly from those that appear in the full release of ZiPS. Finally, I will advise anyone against — and might karate chop anyone guilty of — merely adding up WAR totals on a depth chart to produce projected team WAR.

As always, incorrect projections are either caused by flaws in the physical reality of the universe or by the skillful sabotage of our friend and former editor. You can, however, still get mad at me on Twitter.

Brooks Raley has been an effective reliever since returning to MLB in 2020 after five seasons as a starter with the KBO’s Lotte Giants. He’s been especially good for the past two. Taking the mound for the Tampa Bay Rays in 2021 and for the New York Mets this past season, the 35-year-old left-hander has logged a combined 2.74 ERA and a 3.21 FIP over 126 relief appearances. Moreover, he’s allowed just 81 hits and fanned 122 batters in 108.1 innings. Working primarily in a setup role, he’s been credited with a pair of wins and nine saves.

Raley is also a bona fide pitching nerd. That wasn’t the case when he got cups of coffee with the Chicago Cubs in 2012 and ’13, but then came a career-altering adoption of analytics when he was overseas. Looking to optimize his talents, the Texas A&M University product schooled himself on how his pitches played best, and what he could add, subtract or tweak in order to attack hitters more effectively. The result was a successful return to the big leagues, and not only has he put up a good FIP and a solid SIERA, but he also knows exactly what those acronyms mean.

Raley discussed his analytics-influenced evolution as a pitcher when the Mets visited Fenway Park this summer.

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David Laurila: You played five years in Korea. What was that experience like?

Brooks Raley: “I loved it. I learned a lot. We’re talking analytics, and I went over there not very polished. I was a starter but didn’t have a changeup or a cutter, so I started watching YouTube videos of all the different shapes, spin rates, tilts, extension — all that stuff. For a little bit, I tried to throw like Chris Sale. I kind of leaned over and tried to create some different angles and see what kind of shapes I could get. I really got into that side of the sport. I found my cutter, found my arm slot, and then the sinker got better. My slider also got better. That all happened when I was in Korea. It’s how I got back [to MLB].”

Laurila: Why hadn’t you gotten into analytics and begun making changes prior to going to the KBO?

Raley: “I wouldn’t change anything about my career, but coming across analytics and what defines your strengths better… when I was coming through the minors, it was ‘sinkers down and away are safe’ and ‘ground balls over strikeouts.’ But I actually and naturally pitch better inside. That’s to both sides. To righties, I throw the cutter and the slider and have the changeup and sinker to keep them honest. To lefties, I’ve got the running sinker. It’s been inconsistent this year, I can’t really figure that out, but it’s been between 14 to 19 horizontal and probably anywhere from eight to two vertical. It’s kind of a unique pitch because it spins 2,400 [RPMs] or so. It’s got some life and late dart to it.

“I always struggled with changeups before I went over there, because I’d always try to throw the 10 miles an hour off [from the fastball]. Now I throw a Viulcan change, so I don’t really kill spin but I put it on the horizontal axis. I get around 19 and I’m either on the line or under the line. Basically, I found some unique shapes to really broaden my left and right, because I can throw a slider at 22 inches of horizontal and a changeup at 20 [in the opposite direction].” Read the rest of this entry »

The first of MLB’s major awards to be announced for 2023, the Rookie of the Year awards, were given out Monday evening, with Arizona’s Corbin Carroll and Baltimore’s Gunnar Henderson taking the laurels in the NL and AL races, respectively.

Getting inappropriately annoyed with year-end awards — more specifically in 1995, the year Mo Vaughn beat Albert Belle in the AL and Dante Bichette confusingly finished second in the NL — was one of the things that got me reading Usenet. A high schooler at the time, I had little idea that it was the start of a surprising career path. And even back then, I was frustrated that the writers who voted for these awards didn’t always make convincing arguments about their picks and, occasionally, offered no justifications at all.

I still believe that this kind of transparency is crucial for the legitimacy of any type of award. This is ostensibly an expert panel; if it’s not, there’s no purpose for the award to exist. As such, a secret ballot is not appropriate the way I believe it is for, say, a presidential or parliamentary election. So, as usual, this is my explanation (or apologia depending on your point of view) of why I voted the way I did. I don’t expect 100% of people to agree with my reasoning, which I doubt has happened for any opinion I’ve expressed ever, but that doesn’t mean I don’t owe you, the reader, the details of my vote.

This is my fifth Rookie of the Year vote. Previously, I gave my first-place votes to Spencer Strider, Trevor Rogers, Pete Alonso, and Corey Seager. This year, my ballot, starting at the top, was Carroll, the Mets’ Kodai Senga, and the Reds’ Matt McLain. Let’s start at the top. I’m also including preliminary 2024 ZiPS projections because, hey, why not? (They didn’t have any bearing on my vote, nor did the preseason projections.)

The Easy Part: Corbin Carroll

My last two first-place votes were close for me, and it took a while to decide on them. But this one was the easiest since Seager in 2016 (and I’m not forgetting Alonso versus Michael Soroka). Everyone expected Carroll to steamroll the league, and that’s just what he did. And while he didn’t have a Mike Trout-esque rookie season, who does?

For much of the season, Carroll logically was part of the MVP discussion, though by the time September rolled around, Ronald Acuña Jr. and Mookie Betts had an obvious advantage, with Freddie Freeman and Matt Olson being clearly superior, too. But if I had voted for the NL MVP, Carroll would have still landed somewhere in the back of my ballot. He hit .285/.362/.506, clubbed 25 homers and stole 50 bases, and played all three outfield positions at least respectably. He is the type of player for whom the phrase “speed kills” makes sense, because his skill set is broad enough that he can actually weaponize that speed. For the season, he was seventh in sprint speed, had dominating baserunning numbers beyond stolen bases, and in 90-foot splits, he was bested only by Elly De La Cruz.

The Still Pretty Easy Part: Kodai Senga

I’m inclined to like Senga considerably more than his WAR simply because he has a significant history of outperforming his peripherals in Japan as well, so there’s more basis for believing in his ERA than for the typical pitcher in this position. Because of that, I’m closer to bWAR on Senga (4.4) than I am to fWAR. If forced at gunpoint to name the Dan’s Brain WAR for Senga, I’d probably put him at 3.8–4.0 or so. Also, that’s a very weird use of a firearm.

There’s always a writer or two who complains about Japanese players being eligible for the RoY award, but I think the idea that they shouldn’t be is preposterous. Nippon Professional Baseball appears a bit closer to the majors than Triple-A ball in the U.S. is — something like Triple-A 1/2 — but it’s a very different kind of league. While Triple-A hitters may be easier than NPB hitters, you’re also facing a rather different style of play and plate approaches, and now that some of the recent rule changes have hit in the majors, Triple-A ball is roughly a not-as-good MLB.

Despite facing different types of hitters, a spate of different rules, and against the backdrop of New York pressure and a collapsing team behind him, Senga was one of the few players who could really be counted on there. He had some issues with walks early on, and to his credit, he adjusted. But it wasn’t actually his control that was the issue; he actually threw more strikes earlier in the season! Instead, the issue was that after putting up an out-of-zone swing rate above 30% in each of his last two seasons in Japan, he was down in the low-20s early on with the Mets. As time went on, he got a better feel on how to lure MLB batters to their doom; in the second half, his 31.1% out-of-zone swing rate was right where it was in Japan.

The Excruciating Part and the Fifth Wheel: Matt McLain versus Nolan Jones versus James Outman

I don’t see Rookie of the Year as necessarily meaning Most Valuable Rookie, but as Best Rookie. As such, in a kind of small-scale examination of Hall of Fame candidates’ peak versus career numbers, I don’t necessarily think measures against replacement are as important as in the MVP voting, which has directions that more strongly imply an emphasis on quantity.

Outman was probably the most valuable of the three hitters I listed above, but he also got a lot more playing time, winning the job from the start. Both McLain and Jones out-hit him from a quality standpoint, with a 128 wRC+ from McLain, a 135 from Jones, and a 118 from Outman. I might discount this if there were evidence from their minor league time that the major league time was flukier, but both played in Triple-A just about how you’d expect from their actual major league performances. Outman was an excellent player and a big part of why the Dodgers survived the loss of a lot of players, but I would have him fifth in a larger ballot because he wasn’t quite as good as McLain or Jones. Per WAA on Baseball-Reference, both McLain and Jones were well ahead of him.

McLain versus Jones was very difficult for me, and I went back and forth on it the entire Sunday I made my vote (the last day of the season). And it still wasn’t an obvious result, more a 51%–49% judgment; if asked on a different day, I might have said Jones instead of McLain. But at the end of the day, I had to pick one. McLain hit almost as well as Jones did and played the hardest non-catcher defensive position. I don’t like deciding based on small things, but it’s inevitable if the big things can’t settle the score. The slight nudge to McLain comes on the balance of having the more valuable defensive versatility (2B/SS for him versus 3B/OF for Jones) and the fact that he played for a team that was playing higher-leverage games all season, with a deep roster of prospects that could push him off a job at any time. The Rockies, meanwhile, were a basement dweller without a lot in the cupboard.

Jones may have just missed my ballot, but it’s no negative reflection on what was an excellent season. I was quite perturbed that he didn’t start the season in Colorado, with the Rockies apparently deciding that Mike Moustakas was nine years better in age than Jones, but they at least weren’t stubborn after he crushed pitchers in the Pacific Coast League. That wRC+ of 135 was an OPS+ of 138 if you like the simpler approach, and both numbers are park-adjusted, so he was Actual Good, not merely Coors Field Good.

Short on Pitching: Bobby Miller, Eury Pérez, and Andrew Abbott

Outside of Senga, no pitcher was close to making my ballot, though these three came closest. The Dodgers should be greatly pleased about having Miller’s services, but his numbers weren’t enough to balance out a rather low innings total. Pérez not being called up until May was a handicap, and while the Marlins being cautious with his workload to the extent of giving him a bit of a mini-vacation in July may be good for his future, it’s hard to give a Rookie of the Year vote to someone who threw less than 100 innings. Abbott’s mid-rotation performance was absolutely needed by the Reds, but again, not quite enough.

The Sixth Man: Patrick Bailey

Of the rest of the field, the closest to making my ballot was Bailey, who was absurdly good defensively in 2023. I could have voted for a player short on playing time; I clearly did with McLain and was close with Jones. But to vote for a hitter at any position who slashed .233/.285/.359 over Outman, McLain, and Jones, I’d need a lot more certainty with defensive numbers than I have. We’ve made great progress in evaluating defense, but it remains extremely volatile, meaning that we simply can’t count on a small sample of defensive data to the same degree as a small sample of offensive data.

I have little doubt that Bailey is an elite defensive catcher, but just how elite is crucial to advancing him over the others with only 97 games played. And it was just a bridge too far for me; if he had been the catcher at the start of the season, there would have likely been a little more flexibility on how to deal with a defense-only candidate.

The Best of the Rest: Spencer Steer, Francisco Alvarez, Elly De La Cruz, Ezequiel Tovar

Steer played the entire season but was basically a league-average starter — something that had value, but he was clearly behind several others in quality. Alvarez hit a lot of homers (25) but was rather one-note in his offensive contributions, though he really surprised with his framing numbers. Tovar was brilliant defensively, and it was nice to see him as a Gold Glove finalist, but his offense was well behind his glove.

De La Cruz was arguably the most exciting of the prospects, maybe even more than Carroll, but he still has some serious holes in his game that were exposed with time in the majors. At the very least, he’s going to need to shore up his plate discipline or become better at effectively connecting with junk in the way Tim Anderson was able to do at his peak.