After a one-year hiatus due to the oddity and non-celebratory feeling of a season truncated by a raging pandemic, we’re bringing back the Elegy series in a streamlined format for a 2021 wrap-up. Think of this as a quick winter preview for each team, discussing the questions that faced each team ahead of the year, how they were answered, and what’s next. Do you like or hate the new format? Let me know in the comments below. We’ve already tackled the AL and NL Central, the NL and the AL West, and the AL East. We wrap up this series for 2021 with the NL East. Read the rest of this entry »

Please note, this posting contains two positions.

Title: Organizational Intern, Baseball Operations Analyst

Reports to: Manager, Baseball Operations
Status: Full-Time Salary Non-Exempt Intern

Position Overview:
The Phillies are seeking passionate and knowledgeable applicants for an entry-level baseball operations associate. This role will provide analytical and administrative support to our baseball operations group and will consist of opportunities to contribute throughout the many facets of the department, including close collaboration with our Research & Development team. Read the rest of this entry »

Position: Associate, Baseball Systems

Locations: Citi Field – Queens, New York; New York Mets Complex – Dominican Republic; NYSEG Stadium – Binghamton, New York; MCU Park – Brooklyn, New York; Clover Park – Port Saint Lucie, Florida; NBT Bank Stadium – Syracuse, New York

Summary:
The New York Mets are seeking eight Baseball Systems Associates. These individuals will be responsible for the oversight of video, technology and administrative needs at any of our Minor League affiliates. Read the rest of this entry »

Please note, this posting contains two positions.

Position: Analyst, Baseball Analytics

Location: Queens, NY

Summary:
The New York Mets are seeking an Analyst in Baseball Analytics. The Analyst will summarize data and build reports that inform decision-making in all facets of Baseball Operations. This position requires strong background in coding, statistics, and data visualization, as well as the ability to communicate findings to both a technical and non-technical audience. This particular analyst will have a focus on short-term questions that require the use of data manipulation and visualization. This offer may be for a full-time or associate role, to be discussed at the time of the offer. Prior experience in baseball is a plus, but is not required. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of a series concerning the 2022 Golden Days Era Committee ballot, covering managers and long-retired players whose candidacies will be voted upon on December 5. For an introduction to this year’s ballot, see here, and for an introduction to JAWS, see here. Several profiles in this series are adapted from work previously published at SI.com, Baseball Prospectus, and Futility Infielder. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Roger Maris

Casual baseball fans know Roger Maris mainly for his toppling of Babe Ruth’s single-season home run record in 1961, when he beat out teammate Mickey Mantle and hit 61 homers. The more hardcore fans might know that Maris actually won back-to-back AL MVP awards with the Yankees in 1960 and ’61, and helped the team to five straight pennants and a pair of championships. While it’s sometimes presumed that these achievements are enough to merit Maris a spot in Cooperstown, a closer look at the slugger’s 12-year career (1957-68) suggests that he’s exactly where he should be with respect to the Hall of Fame: on the outside. Read the rest of this entry »

Every series needs a finale, and the postseason managerial (and front office) report card series is no exception. Unlike nearly every movie franchise in history (Lord of the Rings, you’re excused), the last chapter here is the best. Brian Snitker did a tremendous job managing the Braves through this postseason. He started with a tenuous starting pitching unit, lost Charlie Morton, and managed his way through it anyway.

As always, these rankings are a reflection of the tactical decisions a manager made during the playoffs. I’m not considering roster moves or off-field decisions around keeping players ready to contribute — Kevin Cash and the Rays are the best example of this, but the Giants deserve mention here as well. This is just on-field moves — pinch hitting and lineup choices, pitching decisions, and the like. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of a series concerning the 2022 Golden Days Era Committee ballot, covering managers and long-retired players whose candidacies will be voted upon on December 5. It is adapted from a chapter in The Cooperstown Casebook, published in 2017 by Thomas Dunne Books. For an introduction to the ballot, see here, and for an introduction to JAWS, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Minnie Miñoso

“He played with reckless abandon aimed always at achieving nothing short of total victory; his was flair with a clear work ethic. He stole bases with a game on the line, harassed pitchers with daring base-running ploys, took extra bases and made impossible wall-crashing catches.”—Peter Bjarkman, Baseball with a Latin Beat

In May 2014, the Hall of Fame unveiled “The New Face of Baseball: Osvaldo Salas’s American Baseball Photographs 1950-1958,” an exhibit of the work of a Cuban-born photojournalist who documented the influx of Latin and African-American players into Major League Baseball in the wake of Jackie Robinson’s debut. One of the first photos prominently featured, near those of better-known icons such as Ernie Banks and Willie Mays, is that of Orestes “Minnie” Miñoso, recognized as “the first Afro-Latino big leaguer and the first black player to don a Chicago White Sox uniform.” Not far from the photo is an inscription, set high on the wall:

“Orestes Miñoso was the Jackie Robinson for all Latinos; the first star who opened doors for all Latin American players. He was everybody’s hero. I wanted to be Miñoso. Clemente wanted to be Miñoso.” — Orlando Cepeda⁠

Cepeda’s words are from an interview with the Puerto Rico-born Hall of Fame slugger that plays in the museum’s “¡Viva Baseball!” exhibit, in which Miñoso, “The Cuban Comet,” is prominently featured. While Miñoso’s work as a pioneer is thus acknowledged in the Hall, the fact that he has been deprived of the ultimate honor of induction, despite the combination of his historical importance and his long run as one of the American League’s top players — and before that a star in the Negro Leagues — might rank as the institution’s most glaring injustice.

Some history is in order. Before Robinson broke the color barrier in 1947, dozens of players from Latin America played their part in bending it — 53, according to historian Adrian Burgos Jr.⁠ While darker-skinned Latino players who came to the United States had no hope of crossing the color line before Robinson, a smattering of lighter-skinned ones were signed by major league teams, starting with Cuban-born Esteban “Steve” Bellan, who played with the Troy Haymakers and New York Mutuals of the National Association from 1871-73. In 1910, the Reds signed Cuban players Rafael Almeida and Armando Marsans, with team president and owner Gerry Herrmann convincing the Cincinnati press that the pair were “two of the purest bars of Castille soap that ever floated to these shores.”⁠ Others followed in their wake. In the early 1920s, the Reds’ Dolf Luque became the first Cuban pitcher to gain stardom. Mel Almada became the first Mexican major leaguer in 1933, Alex Carrasquel the first from Venezuela in ’39 and Hiram Bithorn the first Puerto Rican player in ’42.

Still, the majors were off limits to dark-skinned Latino players until Robinson broke through. Cleveland owner Bill Veeck, the maverick who integrated the American League by signing Larry Doby less than three months after Robinson’s debut, signed Miñoso out of the Negro Leagues after the 1948 season, though he didn’t really get a chance to establish himself in the majors until ’51. Once he did, he became one of the game’s top all-around players, a dynamo with speed, an excellent batting eye, considerable pop, and no shortage of flair. Not only did he have to endure discriminatory practices and racial slights similar to what the first wave of Black players encountered, he faced a language barrier and a foreign culture as well. Opponents hit him with pitches and spewed venomous slurs at him. One team released a black cat onto the field in front of him, calling it “Minnie.” Segregated restaurants and hotels prevented him from dining and staying with his teammates.

In the face of such trying circumstances, Miñoso not only avoided intimidation and retaliation — taking great pains not to play into the stereotype of the hot-blooded Latino — but thrived, earning All-Star honors seven times between 1951 and ’64, placing fourth in the AL MVP voting four times, and winning three Gold Gloves. After that run he played and managed in the Mexican League, then returned to the Veeck-owned White Sox, first as a coach, and then in both 1976 and ’80 as a late-season DH/pinch-hitter. Those stints, which carried into his 50s, made him the second major leaguer to have played in parts of five decades (1940s through ’80s). Blocked from further cameos by commissioner Fay Vincent, he made similar appearances in 1993 and 2003 with the independent Northern League’s St. Paul Saints, whose part owner, Mike Veeck, was a chip off the old block.

While Miñoso’s drawn-out epilogue elevated his status as one of the game’s greatest ambassadors, it may have cost him Hall of Fame votes; for some voters, the gimmickry may have obscured the greatness of his prime. For others, it was simply a matter of the writers most familiar with Miñoso not getting the full opportunity to vote for him. The Hall’s own rules, which prevented voters from considering the totality of his accomplishments on both sides of the color line, cost him as well. Less than three months after falling shy of the necessary votes via the 2015 Golden Era Committee balloting, Miñoso passed away, well into his nineties (that his exact age is something of a mystery figures into our story).

At last, he’s up again, and this time with a twist: His statistics from his three-year stint with the Negro National League’s New York Cubans now count as major league, which serves both to flesh out his statistical record (he’s now credited with over 2,000 hits) and to remind us that he was deprived of a significant chunk of his career.

Miñoso’s most basic biographic details are confusing. The son of Carlos Arrieta and Cecilia Armas was born in El Perico, Cuba, a town near Havana, on November 29 sometime between 1922 and ’25. In his 1994 memoir, Just Call Me Minnie, Miñoso claimed, “I was 19 years old when I arrived in the United States in 1945, but my papers said I was 22. I told a white lie… to obtain a visa, so I could qualify for service in the Cuban army. My true date of birth is the 29th of November, 1925.”

On this matter, however, Miñoso must be regarded as an unreliable narrator. His official website uses the 1922 birth date, while his ’46 Cuban passport shows ’23. Upon news of his passing, the White Sox claimed he was 90 years old, which would put 1924 as his birth year. Baseball Reference, FanGraphs, and the Seamheads Negro Leagues database use 1925. That’s hitting for the cycle — call it The Four Ages of Minnie.

More clearly, the hero of the Four Ages of Minnie was baptized as Saturnino Orestes Arrieta Armas — “‘Arrieta’ for my father and ‘Armas’ for my mother” as he explained in his memoir — but became known as Miñoso because his mother had four children from a previous marriage by that name. “Minnie,” as the story goes, came from a misunderstanding involving a dentist named Dr. Robinson calling for his female receptionist, Minnie. Upon becoming a US citizen sometime in the 1980s, he legally changed his name to Orestes Miñoso.

Growing up, Miñoso worked in the sugar cane fields like his father, and learned baseball while playing in the sandlots with older half-brother Francisco Miñoso. Modeling his game after Cuban star Martin Dihigo (elected to the Hall of Fame in 1977), he played every position at one time or another, including catcher and pitcher. In 1943, he began playing semipro ball for $2 per game for Ambrosia Candy, and worked his way up the sport’s ladder, moving on to cigar manufacturer Partegas’ team, the Marianao winter league team (where he won Rookie of the Year honors in 1945 while making $200 per month) and then the New York Cubans of the Negro National League, who offered him $300 per month. Carrasquel, the aforementioned Venezuelan major leaguer, was the one who signed him.

Encouraged by the Dodgers’ signing of Robinson in October 1945 — heralding the upcoming challenge to the majors’ longstanding color barrier — Miñoso came to the U.S. Playing primarily at third base, he starred for the Cubans from 1946-48, helping them win the NNL pennant in ’47 and starting all four of the East-West Games played in ’47 and ’48. By the data we now have thanks to diligent researchers, Miñoso hit .356/.406/.508 (149 OPS+) in 192 PA in 1947, and .344/.381/.556 (176 OPS+) in 161 PA in ’48; his OPS+ ranked second in both seasons, and his slash stats all ranked among the top five save for his 1948 OBP, which was eighth. The Baltimore Elite Giants’ Henry Kimbro led in all four categories in the former season, and in OBP in the latter, while Miñoso placed ahead of familiar names such as Monte Irvin and Luke Easter.

Acting on a tip from Harlem Globetrotters owner Abe Saperstein, whose players sometimes suited up for Negro League teams to earn extra money, Veeck purchased Miñoso’s contractual rights from Cubans owner Alex Pompez for $15,000 after Miñoso helped the Cubans win the Negro League World Series in 1948. Sent to Cleveland’s Dayton affiliate to finish out the season, Miñoso set the Central League ablaze, going 21-for-40 with nine extra-base hits in an 11-game trial.

That wasn’t enough for him to crack the lineup. Cleveland won the 1948 World Series with All-Star Ken Keltner at third base as well as Doby and hot-hitting Dale Mitchell in the outfield. In addition to Doby, Cleveland’s roster also included Easter and Satchel Paige, two other former Negro Leaguers. Adding another, at a time when three-quarters of AL teams had yet to integrate, may have seemed like a bridge too far, so Miñoso spent most of 1949 and ’50 pulverizing Pacific Coast League pitching for the San Diego Padres, Cleveland’s highest-level affiliate. He did play nine games for the big club in ’49, debuting on April 19 and becoming just the eighth player to cross the color line:

Miñoso went 3-for-20 during his brief stay with Cleveland and was lost in the shuffle after Veeck — who needed cash to settle his divorce from his first wife, Eleanor — sold the team following the 1949 season. He returned to San Diego for the 1950 campaign, and while he broke camp with Cleveland to start ’51, he was limited to pinch-hitting and backing up Easter, the starting first baseman. On April 30, a day after Miñoso went 5-for-8 with a pair of doubles while starting at first for both games of a doubleheader, he was dealt to the White Sox as part of a three-team, seven-player trade that also included the Philadelphia A’s. The newly liberated Cuban Comet announced his presence in Chicago the next day by clouting a two-run homer off the Yankees’ Vic Raschi as part of a 2-for-4 day. In the process, the White Sox became the sixth team to integrate, following the Dodgers, Indians, Browns, Giants, and Braves.

Miñoso split his time between third base and both outfield corners for the Sox in 1951, hitting a sizzling .326/.422/.500 with 10 homers and a 151 OPS+ while leading the league in triples (14), steals (31) and hit-by-pitches (16), finishing second in batting average and fourth in WAR (5.4). Sox fans took to him to such a degree that September 23 of that season became Minnie Miñoso Day, when the rookie was showered with gifts, including a television and a Packard. Thanks to Miñoso’s performance and the maturations of double play combo Nellie Fox and Chico Carrasquel (nephew of Alex) as well as staff ace Billy Pierce, the White Sox snapped a streak of seven straight losing seasons, improving from 60-94 in 1950 to 81-73.

For his stellar season, Miñoso placed second in the AL Rookie of the Year voting behind the Yankees’ Gil McDougald, and fourth in the AL MVP vote behind three of McDougald’s New York teammates, including the winner, Yogi Berra. Many around the game, including venerable New York World Telegram and Sun scribe Dan Daniel and White Sox general manager Frank Lane, suggested that the Yankees’ pennant weighed too heavily in determining the Rookie of the Year. For what it was worth, The Sporting News gave its own AL Rookie of the Year award to Miñoso, based upon a poll of 227 BBWAA writers instead of just the three per city from the BBWAA vote.

Award or no, Miñoso’s stellar rookie season began an 11-year stretch over which he hit .305/.395/.471 (134 OPS+) with an average of 16 homers, 18 steals and 4.7 WAR per year. He was a constant presence on AL leaderboards, ranking in the top 10 in batting average eight times, in on-base percentage nine times (five times in the top five), and in slugging percentage six times. His OBP received an extra boost via his tendency to crowd the plate and get hit by pitches; he led the league a record 10 times in that painful category, and more than a half-century after the end of his days as a regular, his 195 times taking one for the team still ranks 10th all time.

Those hit-by-pitches carried a cost. In 1955, three years before the AL began requiring all players to wear batting helmets, a pitch from the Yankees’ Bob Grim fractured Miñoso’s skull, sidelining him for 15 games. “I been hit in head eight times. But I rather die than stop playing. Is best game in the world,” Miñoso told the New York World Telegram and Sun’s Lou Miller, who like many other scribes of the era insisted upon quoting Miñoso in broken English. “My first year in big league in 1951 one team — I no tell who — always call me names. They say, ‘We hit you in head, you black ——.’ I think they try make me afraid.”

Remarkably, given all of the times Miñoso was drilled, the 1955 season was the only one in that 11-year span in which he played fewer than 146 games, and the schedule didn’t expand from 154 games to 162 until the final year of that stretch. Nearly 60 years after that incident, in the final interview of his life, Miñoso illuminated the connection between his propensity for being plunked and a larger philosophy of life:

What was I doing wrong in the game, that they’d purposefully want to hit me? They didn’t do it because I’m nice-looking, and I didn’t do it to get the record. I crowded the plate, because if you only have to look middle-outside, you can kill a pitcher, and if it’s outside it’s a ball.

My father and my mother taught me there was a way to pay somebody back, if they tried to break your arm or break your face: Pay them back on the field with a smile on your face. I used to keep my teeth clean all the time, just to make sure that’s how I gave it back to them.

Beyond the beanings, Miñoso led the AL in steals and triples three times apiece, and in total bases once, with eight other top 10 finishes in that category and eight in OPS+. He earned All-Star honors seven times, starting for the AL in 1954, ’59 (the first of two games) and ’60 (both games), and won three Gold Gloves after the award’s introduction in 1957. He finished fourth in the AL MVP voting four times, and ranked among the top 10 in WAR six times, with his 8.2 WAR leading the league in 1954. His 52.2 WAR over the 1951-61 span ranked eighth in the majors, and second in the slow-to-integrate AL behind only Mickey Mantle. Only Fox and Richie Ashburn collected more hits than Miñoso’s 1,861 in that span, while only Ashburn and Mantle topped his 2,806 times on base.

Miñoso helped the White Sox to seven straight winning seasons from 1951-57, but despite winning as many as 94 games, the team could climb no higher than second place. In December 1957, he was traded back to Cleveland in a four-player deal that sent future Hall of Famer Early Wynn to Chicago. Taking over the mantle of staff ace, Wynn would win the 1959 AL Cy Young award while helping the “Go-Go Sox” — by this time owned by Veeck — to their first pennant since their infamous 1919 one, though they lost to the Dodgers in the World Series.

The Sox reacquired Miñoso as part of a seven-player deal in December 1959, with Veeck granting him an honorary AL championship ring for his role in helping return the club to prominence via the Wynn trade. Again the Cuban Comet made a splash in his first game with Chicago, hitting a pair of homers (including a grand slam) against the Kansas City A’s on Opening Day, thus setting off fireworks on Comiskey Park’s new $350,000 “exploding” scoreboard. Believed to be 37 years old at the time, Miñoso hit a fairly typical .311/.374/.481 with 20 homers, 17 steals and his final All-Star berth.

Miñoso’s performance slipped a bit the following season, and he was traded to the Cardinals in November 1961. Slated to join an outfield that included Curt Flood and Stan Musial, he was limited to 39 games and a meager .196/.271/.278 showing due to a pulled rib cage muscle, then fractures of his skull (again) and right wrist suffered when he crashed into a concrete wall in Busch Stadium. Cardinals trainer Doc Bauman told reporters, “His skull was cracked in five places. It was like hitting a coconut with a hammer.”⁠ A day after being activated, Miñoso was hit in the right eye by an errant warm-up throw.

Just after the season, the Cardinals traded for All-Star outfielder George Altman, making Miñoso expendable. The following spring he was sold to the Senators, who were bound for 106 losses, and struggled in a reserve role. He returned to the White Sox in 1964, but made just 38 plate appearances, mainly as a pinch-hitter, before drawing his release. Commissioner Ford Frick blocked Chicago’s attempt to restore him to the active roster in September, on the grounds that the team had violated the intent of the rules by sending Miñoso to the PCL and then repurchasing him six weeks later.

Still a drawing card in Latin America, and able to play baseball at a reasonably competitive level, Miñoso spent the 1965-74 period in the Mexican League and its minor leagues, generally serving as player/manager. When Veeck repurchased the White Sox in 1976, he hired Miñoso as a coach. Introducing some levity into their 97-loss season, the Sox activated him in September, and Miñoso went 1-for-8 in three games as a designated hitter. His September 12 single off the Angels’ Sid Monge led to a 1977 Topps baseball card celebrating him as the oldest player to hit safely, just short of his 54th birthday, breaking the record of 53-year-old Nick Altrock. That distinction was based on the 1922 birth date; using the ’25 date, he’s merely the fourth-oldest to get a hit. Miñoso remained as a coach through the 1978 season and reappeared for a cameo in ’80, Veeck’s final season of ownership. Though hitless in two pinch-hitting appearances, he joined Altrock as the majors’ only five-decade players.

Vincent quashed the White Sox attempt to reprise that role in 1990, claiming it would be “a publicity stunt that would hurt baseball’s integrity” for a 68-year-old player (as Miñoso was believed to be) to appear in a major league game, and thus not “in the best interests of baseball.” The St. Paul Saints, who as part of the independent Northern League did not answer to Vincent, signed Miñoso to make a cameo in June 1993. In late September that year, after the White Sox had clinched the AL West, acting commissioner Bud Selig and AL president Bobby Brown overturned Vincent’s ruling, clearing the way for another big league cameo, but the Major League Baseball Players Association immediately denounced the plan as “ridiculous,”⁠ so the idea was shelved. Miñoso did make one more appearance for the Saints in 2003, giving him professional appearances in seven decades.

…

On the surface, Miñoso’s traditional stats from his AL/NL days (1,963 hits, 186 homers, 205 steals) don’t cry out for enshrinement, nor do his WAR-based numbers. Including his totals from the NNL — which is now recognized as a major league — does push him past 2,000 hits, which is worth noting, though “The Rule of 2,000” applies to post-1960 expansion era players. No player with fewer than 2,000 hits whose career took place in that period has been elected, while numerous such players who missed time due to segregation or military service have been enshrined.

With the inclusion of Negro Leagues data within major league totals on Baseball Reference, I’ve made a preliminary decision to include the WAR data of players enshrined for their service in integrated leagues within the JAWS set. The impact upon the standards is very minor, as the gains of Doby (7.2 WAR), Campanella (6.0), Robinson (2.1) and Mays (0.0) are hardly drastic. Spread that out over 15 or 20 players at a given position and it’s almost imperceptible.

At this stage, I’ve tabled the usage of the WAR data within the JAWS set for players who spent their entire careers, or the bulk of them, in the Negro Leagues. While we now know more about the careers of Paige, Irvin, and Willard Brown, they played less than 10 years in the AL and/or NL and were elected for their time in the Negro Leagues. They still have comparatively minimal major league data by Hall standards (1,695 innings for Paige, 4,010 plate appearances for Irvin, 1,646 PA for Brown) due to shorter season lengths, and I have yet to settle on a satisfactory methodology for scaling within JAWS, which was not built with this situation in mind. To penalize these players for their short seasons, which were byproducts of the economic realities of segregated baseball — players needed to play an extensive amount of exhibition and barnstorming games to make ends meet, but statistics from those games aren’t considered official — makes no sense within the context of comparative analysis. Referring to Josh Gibson as the 28th-ranked catcher in JAWS on the basis of 38.6 career WAR and 26.9 peak WAR doesn’t do justice to a career that for the moment covers just 598 major league games and includes just three seasons of more than 50.

The upshot for Miñoso is that because he’s being considered for his time in the integrated leagues, I’m including his 3.5 WAR from the NNL, which pushes him from 25th among left fielders to 20th, 11.9 wins below the standard and ahead of just seven out of 20 non-Negro Leagues Hall of Famers (Jim O’Rourke, Joe Kelley, Ralph Kiner, Heinie Manush, Jim Rice, Lou Brock, and Chick Hafey). His peak WAR makes a stronger case, as he ranks 13th, 2.0 wins below the standard, but still ahead of 11 out of the 20 enshrined, including Joe Medwick, Willie Stargell, and Jesse Burkett. Miñoso’s 46.7 JAWS ranks 18th at the position, up from 22nd previously, and ahead of just seven Hall of Famers.

The big question is how much of Miñoso’s major-league career is missing due to circumstances beyond his control, namely baseball’s color line and his age when it was broken, given the uncertainty surrounding his birthdate. The 1922 date that was assumed to be correct during his career places him at 28 years old when he got his first shot at full-time play in 1951 (the same age as Robinson when he debuted), while the ’25 date would make him 25. Given his performances against PCL pitching (.297/.371/.483 in 1949, and .339/.405/.539 in ’50) it seems clear that Miñoso was deprived of at least two big league seasons, and he may have lost as many as five, given his star-caliber play in the NNL, though the 1946 game-by-game data uncovered by Seamheads (.227/.301/.376, 94 OPS+) is at odds with older data from The Biographical Encyclopedia of the Negro Baseball Leagues that says he hit .309 that year. Without getting too hung up on that, it’s worth remembering that Miñoso put up 5.1 WAR in in his first full AL season and 4.1 WAR in his seventh-best season within that aforementioned peak; it seems entirely plausible that he could have bettered that while increasing his total value had he arrived earlier.

Alas, the long coda to Miñoso’s major league career caused his Hall of Fame candidacy to slip through the cracks in a variety of ways, but not before one of the stranger clerical errors in the modern history of the voting. Though he had been out of the majors for just three years instead of the necessary five, Miñoso was mistakenly included on the 1968 ballot. For as forgettable as his 1963 and ’64 seasons may have been, they did count. Miñoso didn’t get any votes in ’68, but when he was listed again the following year, he received six stray votes.

Miñoso did not appear on the 1970 ballot, the one on which he would have made his debut under current rules. Because the Mexican League, in which he was playing at the time, was (and is) considered part of organized baseball, he was still considered an active player and under a rule in place at the time could not be placed on the ballot. That same rule, only in effect for a few years, delayed consideration of Hall of Famers Warren Spahn and Robin Roberts. At that point, Hall voters of any stripe had not yet begun to consider players on the basis of Negro League accomplishments; the Committee on Negro Baseball Leagues that elected Paige wasn’t established until 1971.

Miñoso’s 1976 and ’80 returns to the majors both reset his eligibility clock, so that he didn’t reappear on the writers’ ballot until ’86, more than two decades removed from his time as a regular. By that point, many if not most of the voters were far more familiar with his cameos than his brilliant prime, to say nothing of the conditions under which he broke in; whatever credit he was due as a pioneer dissipated. He never received more than 21.1% before his BBWAA eligibility finally lapsed after the 1999 ballot. The Veterans Committee, which radically expanded to include all living Hall of Famers, Spink and Frick Award winners (for writers and broadcasters) in 2001, gave Miñoso just 16 out of 81 votes in 2003, his first year of consideration. He fared even worse on the 2005, ’07 and ’09 ballots, none of which elected a single player whose major league career began after 1943.

Miñoso was also bypassed by the Special Committee on Negro Leagues Baseball, which in 2006 elected 17 players to the Hall from a panel of 39 finalists, following half a decade of extensive research into the history of the Negro Leagues and pre-Negro Leagues Black baseball. Neither Miñoso nor Negro Leagues star and manager (and major league scout) Buck O’Neill, the only two candidates still alive at the time, were among the 17. As Burgos, who was a member of the committee, later wrote, voters could not consider Miñoso’s accomplishments in the major leagues in this context, a rule he termed “arcane.” He added:

The end result is that a player who ranks as one of the definitive stars of baseball’s integration era has repeatedly fallen short of election.

Enforcement of this rule has harmed Miñoso and fellow integration pioneer Dodgers pitcher Don Newcombe, more than any other candidates from the “Golden Era” of baseball history. Both Miñoso and Newcombe performed three years (or more) in the Negro Leagues, and then waited several seasons in the minors, and not because they lacked big league skills. Rather, they were victims of the slow pace of integration in the majors. Moreover, they had the ironic misfortune of having signed with big league organizations (Cleveland and Brooklyn) that were aggressive in signing talent from the black baseball world… It is an injustice that should have been remedied by the suspension of this rule when it comes to those men who were integration pioneers.

Indeed, the Hall’s insistence upon pigeonholing its honorees worked against Miñoso, since candidates have been classified as Negro Leaguers or major leaguers, players or managers/executives. While Paige, Irvin, and Brown played in the majors, they didn’t have the requisite 10 years in the AL or NL to be considered in that context, so they were elected as Negro Leaguers. Robinson and Doby, on the other hand, did have at least 10 years, but while the former was elected at the first opportunity in 1962, the latter wasn’t elected until ’98, 51 years after he made history, 39 years after the end of his career and just five years before his death. Doby, who began playing in the Negro Leagues in 1942, five years before his MLB debut, had a comparable on-field impact to Miñoso:

The VC recognized Doby’s historical importance, albeit belatedly, while placing his short-career numbers in the context both of his peers (against whom he more than held his own) and the obstacles that he faced (which shortened his career). They ought to have been able to do the same for Miñoso, particularly in light of testimonials such as those of Cepeda, Cuban-born Hall of Famer Tony Perez, and more recent Cuban players such as the White Sox’s José Abreu and Alexei Ramirez, for whom Miñoso’s success in the majors set an example. “Without Minnie, without his courage to leave Cuba for the major leagues, without his willingness to accept taunts and slights, none of us would be major leaguers,” said Ramirez in 2015.

After the VC was overhauled in favor of the three era-based committees, Miñoso received nine out of 16 votes from the 2012 Golden Era Committee while Ron Santo was posthumously elected. On the 2015 ballot, Miñoso received eight out of 16 votes; nobody from among the 10 candidates was elected. At the press conference to announce the results, voter Steve Hirdt said the committee’s disappointment over the failure to elect anyone “is mitigated to some degree by the fact that there will be another day for the candidates,” a load of hogwash that not only stood as a bitter reminder of Santo’s fate, but foreshadowed Miñoso’s. “Don’t tell me that maybe I’ll get in after I pass away,” Miñoso said in his final interview. “I don’t want it to happen after I pass. I want it while I’m here, because I want to enjoy it.”⁠

Alas, Miñoso died on March 1, 2015, meaning that at best, the Hall of Fame will have to write another chapter in its cruel history of belatedly bestowing baseball immortality on all-too-mortal candidates. Given not only his statistical accomplishments but his cultural and historical importance, his omission stands out like a sore thumb. He belongs in Cooperstown alongside Robinson, Doby, Clemente, Banks and the other pioneers and icons who changed the face of baseball. The presence of four players who received more votes in 2015 on this ballot as well (Dick Allen, Jim Kaat, Tony Oliva, and Maury Wills) will make the competition for votes a fierce one. Miñoso shouldn’t take a back seat to any of them, for he’s that important to the story of baseball.

After a one-year hiatus due to the oddity and non-celebratory feeling of a season truncated by a raging pandemic, we’re bringing back the Elegy series in a streamlined format for a 2021 wrap-up. Think of this as a quick winter preview for each team, discussing the questions that faced each team ahead of the year, how they were answered, and what’s next. Do you like or hate the new format? Let me know in the comments below. We’ve already tackled the AL and NL Central, as well as the AL East and the NL West. Today, we’re looking at the AL West.

Houston Astros (95–67)

The Big Question
Could the Astros bounce back from a surprisingly disappointing season and do so while almost playing the heel as fans returned to the park? Despite being awash in offensive talent, this was easier said than done due to the possible lack of pitching depth; any team would have had a difficult time replacing the starters that have left since the team’s 2015 breakout. Even ignoring the smaller losses like Dallas Keuchel or Brad Peacock, making good on the departures of Gerrit Cole and Charlie Morton, as well as the de facto one by Justin Verlander, was an extremely tall order. Further complicating efforts was that Forrest Whitley, Houston’s top pitching prospect, required Tommy John surgery in March.

How It Went
As with the Nationals, Dusty Baker continued to be the perfect manager at the right time for the Astros. Sometimes you want a Michelangelo to paint the Sistine Chapel, but sometimes it’s 10 degrees outside and you have a burst pipe in your house, and you need a highly-skilled craftsman rather than a transcendent artist. And honestly, Dusty showed a bit of the Florentine in 2021, managing a young pitching rotation of raw talent quite well and adjusting when Lance McCullers Jr. was injured in the playoffs. Coupled with Zack Greinke showing signs of decline and suffering a late-season neck injury, it was a technical challenge for him to balance the roster, and he did pretty well. He didn’t earn his first managerial World Series ring (he has one as a player with the 1982 Dodgers), but I think you can make a case that this season was his finest hour.

The sign-stealing controversy, meanwhile, didn’t magically go away, but it didn’t seem to faze the Astros at all. They played just fine on the road in the regular season and playoffs, showing little sign that the derision of the crowds had any effect. On the contrary, the offense roared back to pre-2020 levels, Jose Altuve demonstrated he was far from done, and Carlos Correa had his healthiest season in a long time. With the lineup rocking the house, the pitching staff just had to avoid being terrible to make the Astros one of the AL West favorites. They did far better than that. One raw arm, Framber Valdez, officially shed the “raw” descriptor by building on 2020’s improvements. Another, Luis Garcia, is one of the favorites to win the AL Rookie of the Year award (he would have been mine). Cristian Javier isn’t polished yet, but he performed well in various roles, and when he could locate his slider, it was scary.

What’s Next?
There’s still a lot of work to do. Correa is much harder to replace in-house than George Springer was. Greinke may be in his decline phase, but he also gave the Astros 171 good innings in 2021, something that is hard to replace. That’s doubly so if it turns out that McCullers’ injury does end up costing him time in 2022. The team does have some payroll room to work with — a little more if Aledmys Díaz or Rafael Montero are non-tendered — and the highly encouraging 2021 cameo from Jeremy Peña after returning from injury helps the shortstop situation. As solid a success as 2021 was in the pitching department, the team would be well-served to aggressively go get more this winter.

Player Projection Spotlight: Kyle Tucker

A ZiPS favorite for a long time — it had him pegged as a league-average outfielder as early as 2018 — Tucker built on his 2020 season, hitting .294/.359/.557 and finishing with just under 5 WAR. His solid plate discipline improved in the best way, as he became even more aggressive at swinging at pitches in the strike zone without suffering contact issues or reduced power. Only two players in the top 10 for zone swing percentage were also better-than-average at avoiding swings at out-of-zone pitches: Tucker and Freddie Freeman. Derek Fisher didn’t become a thing in Houston, but Tucker and Yordan Alvarez are building blocks for this franchise.

Seattle Mariners (90–72)

The Big Question
Did the Mariners have enough pieces they could put together to challenge the top of the division? Seattle’s roster looked a bit like one of those baskets from Chopped: a lot of intrigue, but it wasn’t obvious how the whole thing would work together without ending up as a nice frosty bowl of cod liver ice cream for dessert. The right side of the infield looked particularly problematic, with Evan White and Shed Long Jr. having miserable 2020s, but these were two players who required playing time, not 33-year-old journeymen you could simply replace without risking losing future contributions.

How It Went
It went pretty well, actually. A big assist came from the run differential, but considering this looked like a team that should have been happy to finish with a .500 record, Seattle has to be pleased with the final standings. Not ecstatic, as the M’s were eliminated from the playoff picture after losing two of three to the Angels in the final weekend, but the year ought to be considered a success. But neither White nor Long answered questions about them positively, and 2020 Rookie of the Year Kyle Lewis was done after May due to a knee injury.

Luckily for them, the Mariners received enough pleasant surprises elsewhere to make up for it. Mitch Haniger hit just as well as he did before his long string of injuries, and Chris Flexen’s solid season will likely have even more teams looking to Korea for rotation help.

What’s Next?
The Mariners won 90 games rather than the 76 implied by their run differential, and while mean statheads aren’t taking those off the scoreboard, there’s literally almost no correlation in baseball history for teams outperforming run differential one season and then doing it the following year. The magic didn’t carry over in 2019 or ’10, and it’s unlikely it’ll do so in ’22.

Another troubling thing is that Seattle’s success in 2022 was derived mainly from older players. In addition to the young players mentioned above, Jarred Kelenic struggled in his debut, Taylor Trammell lost his starting job in a month, and Justus Sheffield struggled with injuries and command. Logan Gilbert was solid, but he was an exception. Paradoxically, though, that gives Seattle some additional upside here. Most of those players are young enough to turn things around, so the Mariners could easily draw their flush with some breakouts that help compensate for a more normal Pythagorean record. Helping matters is that it looks like president of baseball ops Jerry Dipoto appears to have the ability to add payroll this winter.

Player Projection Spotlight: Jarred Kelenic

I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t have some worries about Kelenic, but they ought to be milder than his performance in the majors suggests. Where you should really panic are those cases when a player fails to hit in the majors and then goes back and continues to struggle against minor league pitching. That wasn’t the case for him; he hit pretty well for Tacoma, and when you combine his major league line and minor league translation, ZiPS sees his 2021 as a .215/.293/.403 line. That’s not good, mind you, but it’s less of a disaster, and similar to his translation from 2019 of .226/.281/.411.

It’s troubling if Kelenic’s not better at 21 than at 19, but he’s still very young, and the loss of the 2020 season prevented him from going through trials by fire as he moved up the ladder, each rung featuring pitchers more able to adjust to hitters than the one before. I still think Seattle made a mistake not getting him playing time that year.

Oakland Athletics (86–76)

The Big Question
Could the A’s continue to find enough free or cheap talent to remain relevant given the thinning out of their farm system? After ranking in the middle of the pack prospect-wise entering the 2019 season, they steadily dropped in the rankings over the next two seasons. By 2021, they had sunk to 28th, ahead of just the Rockies and Nationals. And that wasn’t solely due to graduations to Oakland’s roster, which were basically just Jesús Luzardo and Sean Murphy. Coming off a year in which there was no minor league season, which made it trickier to string the fishing pole with waiver wire than usual, some good news on this front would be a pretty big deal.

How It Went
The results here were mixed. Luzardo, rather than developing into the ace the team hoped for, struggled with his command far more than in 2020, and by the end of the season, the Lizard King was a Marlin, traded for Starling Marte. But Sean Manaea was healthy and effective, as was James Kaprielian. The cobbling together of the roster mostly worked yet again, from Cole Irvin being picked up very cheaply and being a solid innings-eater to a lineup that hardly disappointed, except for Matt Chapman (at least offensively). Less successful was the bullpen, which combined for just 1.5 WAR, better than only a single Oakland relief corps over the last two decades. As such, the A’s were that rare team that actually saw their use of relievers drop relative to recent seasons while the four-inning and five-inning specials became more common league-wide.

What’s Next?
It’s likely that another round of cost-cutting is about to wallop Oakland. The A’s already let Bob Melvin, manager for the last 11 seasons, go to the Padres without any compensation just months after extending his deal for another year. That saved them $4 million, and unless they change their philosophy, there’s likely to be more soon. Manaea and Chris Bassitt, keys to the rotation this year, are both entering their final year of salary arbitration, and Chapman, Matt Olson, and Frankie Montas are all free agents after 2023. These are a lot of losses to replace simply by being clever with underappreciated Triple-A talent; the Rays do this, but their farm system churning out pitcher after pitcher has been key to them punching above their weight in the AL East.

Without replacing anyone they’re losing this year or have already lost, the A’s already have to make significant cuts to the payroll to get them back down to last year’s payroll. No sense in not playing pauper now, I guess, before they’ve squeezed a fancy new stadium out of the city to replace WhateverIt’sCalledThisYear Coliseum.

Player Projection Spotlight: Matt Chapman

A .210/.314/.403 line is decidedly unimpressive, but the good thing about Chapman is that his glove is so good that to be a drag, his offense has to be scraping the bottom of the barrel. The A’s may have to be satisfied with a rebound that features a low batting average, as his drop-off in play isn’t fueled by a freakishly low BABIP. His contact numbers really have gotten worse, as he’s become far more vulnerable to breaking pitches than he used to be. The dropoff across the board in exit velocity is a concern, but ZiPS still sees Chapman as young enough that this isn’t fatal — yet.

Los Angeles Angels (77–85)

The Big Question
Could the Angels build some semblance of an adequate team around Mike Trout? That’s been the question for the last decade, but one they need to answer affirmatively given how valuable their franchise player has been. That they haven’t done so successfully — they last made the playoffs in 2014 and last had a winning record in ’15 — is an organizational disaster; all they’ve gotten from the peak of the best player they’ve ever had is an ALDS sweep and a parade of bland 75–80 win seasons.

How It Went
Like the reboot of a movie franchise, the old superstar was injured, but a new superstar rose from his ashes in Shohei Ohtani. Now, he’s been a contributor before, but this was the first season we got to see that glittering promise of what happens if a player is a full-time star pitcher and a full-time star hitter simultaneously. Babe Ruth did both, but consecutively rather than at the same time, and Wes Ferrell only received scattered playing time when he wasn’t pitching. And yet the Angels once again generally stunk around their big star.

What’s Next?
The challenge remains the same. Now, the Angels can hope to have both Ohtani and Trout on the roster for the entire 2022 season, but even both of them might not be enough given the roster around them. Adding another six wins to the 2021 squad doesn’t get the Angels to the playoffs, and you can’t expect that kind of magical season to be Ohtani’s baseline, so a few of those wins, at least, are coming back off the tally. Meanwhile, Trout turned 30 in August and is no longer as durable as he once was.

If the Angels — or more accurately, ownership — have any sense, they will be among the most prominent players for free-agent talent this winter. The Albert Pujols contract is no longer available as an excuse, and Justin Upton’s $28 million disappears from the books in another year. After Trout and Anthony Rendon (also someone who is hopefully healthier for 2022), there are no gigantic long-term commitments once Upton is gone, aside from the obvious need to extend Ohtani, unsigned past 2023. Los Angeles has some good secondary talent on the offense, but there are a lot of needs on the pitching side of the equation. Steamer only sees two average starting pitchers and a thin bullpen, and while ZiPS isn’t official yet, it’s not any more optimistic (and arguably is even less so). It’s an exciting challenge for GM Perry Minasian, but only if he’s given free rein by owner Arte Moreno.

Player Projection Spotlight: David Fletcher

Fletcher has never been a star, but he’s a lot of fun as a throwback to an older style of hitter — no power, high contact — that is seen far less often in the modern game. After all, who wants to lose a fantastic term like “punch and judy” to the aether? He remained as good at connecting with the ball as he usually was, but he perhaps took it too a little too far in 2021. In the past, he had been very selective at the plate, but he started swinging at a lot more pitches of all types this year. Unfortunately, the decline in his discriminating taste largely led to worse outcomes when he actually hit the ball. Nobody would confuse Fletcher’s power with Javier Báez’s, but his average exit velocity of 82.3 mph was below that of the average pitcher at the plate (83.2).

In the end, Fletcher lost 44 points of isolated power from 2020 and saw his walk rate cut nearly in half, and that was not compensated with comparable increases in batting average. I’m actually more optimistic than ZiPS is here, as I see his 2021 issues stemming not from a lack of ability but from leveraging that ability in a way that utilizes it to the fullest. You can fix an approach better than you can fix a lack of talent.

Texas Rangers (60–102)

The Big Question
Unfortunately, the biggest question for the Rangers — just how long a full-scale rebuild would have to be — was one that could not possibly have been answered in 2021. Their attempted quick retool to coincide with the opening of the new stadium failed miserably, resulting in the need to start from scratch. And with the cupboard nearly empty of major league talent and a farm system that was still only middle of the pack, Texas’ goal in 2021 was simply to remain moderately interesting for the fans as the front office addressed some serious long-term problems.

How It Went
Texas assembled a reasonably competent bullpen, but one made up of journeymen and veterans rather than the farm paying out dividends. Neither Jordan Lyles nor Mike Foltynewicz showed enough life to fetch a return in a trade this summer, but Texas was able to turn Kyle Gibson into Spencer Howard once the Phillies grew desperate for pitching. Adolis García filled the fun side of the equation by hitting 31 homers and driving in 90 runs, but he’s already older than Joey Gallo, rather one-dimensional, and more likely to fill Renato Núñez’s role with the Orioles a few years ago rather than be someone who is one the roster three or four years from now. Nathaniel Lowe showed life at times, but not so much that he’s obviously the long-term answer at first base. Willie Calhoun still hasn’t shown he can actually hit in the majors, and Nick Solak remained as inconsistent as he was in 2020.

What’s Next?
The biggest concern about the Rangers — and the same one that has hindered Baltimore’s rebuild — is how few answers they got about their young hitting. No position players on the major league roster took the type of step forward to make you say, “OK, now that is a franchise guy.” Outside of Josh Jung, Yohel Pozo, and Justin Foscue, there are scant few hitters in the system I feel better about now than I did in March. That doesn’t mean the rebuild is a failure, but it means that the Rangers still are very, very early in that sorting-out process; little so far has stuck to the wall. At this point, Texas needs to hoard young talent like it was premium toilet paper in March 2020 and hope for the best.

Player Projection Spotlight: Dane Dunning

It wasn’t quite the season for Dunning that Texas hoped for after his triumphant return from Tommy John surgery for the White Sox in 2020. He missed time due to injury, but at least it was an ankle problem this time around rather than a scarier elbow or shoulder issue. ZiPS sees him as a good bit better than his 2021 ERA and doesn’t think that he “earned” his poor .338 BABIP based on his play-by-play data.

The next step is to stay healthy for 150 innings or so, which would be good news for a franchise that has suffered from a woeful lack of it lately. I think the key for Dunning to take the next step is better consistency from his changeup; his sinker is impressive, but it’s more the vertical type rather than one with the notable fade of Morton’s or Blake Treinen’s, and it could be a consistent tool against lefties. Please, no sinker versus two-seamer wars in the comments!

Position Title: Baseball Technology Fellow

Employment Type: Full-Time
FLSA Classification: Exempt

All applicants are encouraged to apply online through the Guardians website for consideration. Please click here to apply directly.

Primary Purpose
The Cleveland Guardians Fellowship program is designed to accelerate the pace of development and impact for prospective candidates. Fellowship roles are focused on complex challenges, which involve developing new approaches, tools, and techniques to meaningfully drive the organization forward.

We are seeking Fellows to join our Baseball Technology department. Each Fellow will work full-time with one of our minor league affiliates and report to the Baseball Technology, Player Development, and Baseball Operations departments. This position will be based at an affiliate and will include travel to away games. Fellows will be expected to manage the collection of multiple data streams and operate as a resource for both coaches and players. Fellows will gain exposure across multiple departments and have access to and be encouraged to use a suite of internal, proprietary resources. Read the rest of this entry »

The following article is part of a series concerning the 2022 Golden Days Era Committee ballot, covering managers and long-retired players whose candidacies will be voted upon on December 5. For an introduction to this year’s ballot, see here, and for an introduction to JAWS, see here. Several profiles in this series are adapted from work previously published at SI.com, Baseball Prospectus, and Futility Infielder. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.

Ken Boyer

One of three brothers who spent time in the majors, Boyer spent the bulk of his 15-year career (1955-69) vying with Hall of Famers Eddie Mathews and Ron Santo for recognition as the NL’s top third baseman. An outstanding all-around player with good power, speed, and an excellent glove — but comparatively little flash, for he was all business – Boyer earned All-Star honors in seven seasons and won five Gold Gloves, all of them during his initial 11-year run with the Cardinals. In 1964, he took home NL MVP honors while helping St. Louis to its first championship in 18 years.

Boyer was born on May 20, 1931 in Liberty, Missouri, the third-oldest son in a family of 14 (!) children. He was nearly four years younger than Cloyd Boyer, who pitched in the majors from 1949-52 and ’55, and nearly six years older than Clete Boyer, also a third baseman from 1955-57 and ’59-71; four other brothers (Wayne, Lynn, Len, and Ron) played in the minors. The Cardinals signed Ken as a pitcher in 1949, paying him a $6,000 bonus. While his pitching results weren’t awful, he took his strong arm to third base when the need presented itself on his Class D Hamilton Cardinals team; he hit .342, slugged .575, and showed off outstanding defense.

Boyer’s progress to the majors was interrupted by a two-year stint in the Army during the Korean War; he didn’t play at all in 1952 or ’53. Upon returning, the 23-year-old Boyer put in a strong season at Double-A Houston in 1954, then made the Cardinals out of spring training the following year, and even homered in his major leagued debut, a two-run shot off the Cubs’ Paul Minner that trimmed an eighth-inning lead to 14-4. That was the first of 18 homers Boyer hit as a rookie while batting .264/.311/.425 (94 OPS+); he also stole 22 bases but was caught a league-high 17 times.

Boyer came into his own in 1956, batting .306/.347/.494 (124 OPS+) with 26 homers and making his first All-Star team. It was the first year of a nine-season run across which Boyer would hit a combined .299/.364/.491 (124 OPS+) while averaging 25 homers and 6.1 WAR; seven times, he ranked among the NL’s top 10 in WAR while doing so five times apiece in batting average and on-base percentage, and four times in slugging percentage. Boyer set career highs in home runs (32), slugging percentage (.570) and OPS+ (144) in 1960, then followed that up with highs in WAR (8.0), AVG, and OBP while hitting .329/.397/.533 (136 OPS+) in ’61. He made the All-Star team every year from 1959-64, including the twice-a-summer version of the event in the first four of those seasons.

The Cardinals were not a very good team for the first leg of Boyer’s career; from 1954-59, they cracked .500 just once. With Boyer absorbing the lessons of Stan Musial and helping to pass them along to a younger core — first baseman Bill White, second baseman Julian Javier, center fielder Curt Flood, and later catcher Tim McCarver — the team began trending in the right direction. The Cardinals went 86-68 in 1960, and continued to improve, particularly as right-hander Bob Gibson emerged as a star. After going 93-69 and finishing second to the Dodgers in 1963 — a six-game deficit, their smallest since ’49 — they matched that record and won the pennant the following year, spurred by the mid-June acquisition of left fielder Lou Brock; they beat out a Phillies team that closed September with 10 straight losses. Boyer hit .295/.365/.489 while driving in a league-high 119 runs. In a case of the writers rewarding the top player on a winning team with the MVP award, he took home the trophy, though his 6.1 WAR ranked 10th, well behind Willie Mays (11.0), Santo (8.9), Phillies rookie Dick Allen (8.8), Frank Robinson (7.9) et al.

Though Boyer hit just .222/.241/.481 in the seven-game World Series against the Yankees and his brother Clete, he came up big by supplying all the scoring via a grand slam off Al Downing in the Cardinals’ 4-3 win in Game 4. Additionally, he went 3-for-4 with a double and a homer in the Cardinals’ 7-5 win in Game 7. His brother also homered, to date the only time that’s happened in World Series play.

Hampered by back problems, Boyer slipped to a 91 OPS and 1.8 WAR in 1965, his age-34 season, after which he was traded to the Mets for pitcher Al Jackson and third baseman Charley Smith. Boyer rebounded to a 101 OPS+ and 2.9 WAR, albeit on a 95-loss team going nowhere. The following July, he was traded to the White Sox, who were running first in what wound up as a thrilling four-team race that went down to the season’s final day. The White Sox were managed by Eddie Stanky, who had been at the helm when Boyer broke in with the Cardinals. Though Boyer didn’t play badly, he appeared in just 67 games for the team before being released in May 1968. He was picked up by the Dodgers, spending the remainder of that season and the next with them.

After his playing days were done, Boyer managed in the minors, then took over the Cardinals from early 1978 to early ’80; in his one full season (1979), he guided the team to an 86-76 record and a third-place finish. While he moved into a scouting role and was slated to manage the team’s Triple-A Louisville affiliate in 1982, he was diagnosed with lung cancer. He died on September 7 of that year, at age 52.

Boyer never got much traction in the BBWAA voting, either before or after his death. From 1975-79, he maxed out at 4.7%, and was bumped off the ballot when the Five Percent rule was put in place in 1980. He was one of 11 players who had his eligibility restored in 1985, only five of whom cleared the bar and remained on the ballot, along with Allen, Flood, Santo, and Vada Pinson. He remained on the ballot through 1994, topping out at 25.5% in ’88, nowhere near enough for election. Neither did he fare well via the expanded Veterans Committee in the 2003, ’05, and ’07 elections, maxing out at 18.8% in the middle of those years. Similarly, on both the 2012 and ’15 Golden Era ballots, he finished below the threshold where they announce the actual vote totals so as not to embarrass anyone.

All of which is to say that within this Golden Days group, Boyer might feel like ballast, here to round out a ballot without having much chance at getting elected. That’s a shame, because he was damn good. For the 1956-64 period, he ranked sixth among all position players in value:

That’s a pretty good group! Of course the comparison is manicured perfectly to Boyer’s best years, but even if I expand the range to cover the full extent of his career, he’s ninth on the list, in similar company (Kaline, Clemente, and Banks passes him), and one spot ahead of Santo. Boyer was a better fielder than Santo (via Total Zone, +73 runs to +21), and a better baserunner (+19 runs to -34, including double play avoidance), though not as good a hitter (116 OPS+ to 125).

Even having lost time to military service, Boyer ranks 14th among third basemen in JAWS, just 1.4 points below the standard, with a seven-year peak that ranks ninth, 3.2 points above the standard. At a position that’s grossly underrepresented — there are just 15 enshrined third basemen, not including Negro League players, compared to 20 second basemen, 23 shortstops, and 27 right fielders — that should be good enough for Cooperstown.

If I had a ballot for this group, Boyer would be one of my four choices. I don’t expect that enough voters will see it that way, but I do appreciate that he’s being kept in the conversation, and will get his due someday.

Maury Wills

A switch-hitting shortstop in the majors for 14 seasons (1959-72), mostly with the Dodgers, Wills is generally credited with reviving the art of the stolen base, a particularly useful tactic in the run-parched environment of Dodger Stadium in the early-to-mid 1960s. The electrifying Wills led the league in steals every year from 1960-65, setting a since-broken major league record with 104 in ’62 — a performance that helped him earn NL MVP honors — while playing a significant role on three Dodgers world championship teams.

Born on October 2, 1932 in Washington, DC, Wills starred in three sports at Cardozo High School, earning all-city honors in all three, and drew particular interest from colleges as a quarterback and safety, but “baseball was my true love,” as he later said. The Dodgers, on the hunt for Black players in the wake of Jackie Robinson’s breakthrough, signed him in the summer of 1950 for a bonus of just $500, far short of the $6,000 Wills and his family envisioned.

Wills toiled in the minors for parts of nine seasons (1951-59), twice leaving the Dodgers’ organization via conditional deals; he spent 1957 playing for the Reds’ Triple-A affiliate, the Seattle Rainiers of the Pacific Coast League, and went to spring training with the Tigers in ’59. The turning point for Wills actually came in 1958, after the Dodgers reclaimed him from the Reds, when Triple-A Spokane Indians manager Bobby Bragan encouraged the righty-swinging Wills to learn to switch-hit, moving him even closer to first base.

With Hall of Famer Pee Wee Reese having retired after the 1958 season, the Dodgers’ first in Los Angeles, the team was in search of a shortstop. With neither Don Zimmer nor Bob Lillis panning out, and with Wills batting a sizzling .313/.387/.391 with 25 steals at Spokane, he was called up in early June. By early July, he was the regular. While his .260/.298/.298 (55 OPS+) showing was subpar, it still represented an upgrade over the even weaker performance of Zimmer, and he sizzled in September (.345/.382/.405) as the Dodgers won a three-way pennant race over the Giants and Braves, beating the latter twice in a best-of-three tiebreaker series at season’s end. Wills started all six World Series games as the Dodgers beat the White Sox.

Finding a home atop the batting order midway through the 1960 season, Wills used his skills as a bunter and base thief to ignite Los Angeles’ offense. He hit .295/.342/.331 while stealing a league-high 50 bases in 62 attempts, good for 2.5 WAR. After stealing 35 bases the following year while making his first All-Star team, Wills swiped a whopping 104 — a mark that stood until it was broken by Lou Brock in 1974 — in 117 attempts in 1962. He surpassed Ty Cobb’s single-season record of 96 in the Dodgers’ 156th game, the same number Cobb needed in 1915 (his Tigers played two tie games), satisfying commissioner Ford C. Frick’s ruling on whether his feat would count as the major league record.

The frequent running took a physical toll on Wills, amplified by opposing groundskeepers adding sand to the clay around first base to make traction more difficult. Still, he hit .299/.347/.373 with 10 triples and 130 runs scored; including his 19 baserunning runs (the highest single-season total in B-Ref’s database) and average-ish defense that nonetheless earned him a Gold Glove, he finished with 6.0 WAR, good for fourth in the league. His performance was such a unique throwback that he beat out heavy-hitters like NL home run and WAR leader Willie Mays and teammate Tommy Davis (.346/.374/.535, 230 hits, 27 homers, 153 RBI) to win the NL MVP award.

Alas, the Dodgers lost the pennant via a playoff versus the Giants — which did enable Wills to set a still-standing record of 165 games played in a regular season — but they would win the World Series in 1963 and ’65, with Wills hitting for a career-best 112 OPS+ (on a .302/.355/.349 line) in the former year and stealing 94 bases in the latter before making a stellar showing (.367/.387.467) against the Twins (starring Golden Days ballot-mates Jim Kaat and Tony Oliva) in the Fall Classic.

Wills made five All-Star teams from 1961-66, but he fell out of favor with his sinking batting averages and on-base percentages, not to mention his going AWOL to play banjo with Don Ho and Sammy Davis Jr. during the Dodgers’ post-1966 World Series trip to Japan to play a exhibition games. With Walter O’Malley already in a foul mood due to the sudden retirement of Sandy Koufax, the Dodgers’ owner ordered general manager Buzzie Bavasi to trade Wills.

Bavasi complied, sending Wills to the Pirates, for whom he had two very good seasons, hitting for a 98 OPS+, stealing 81 bases, and totaling 7.8 WAR. Drafted away by the Expos in the expansion draft in late 1968, he became increasingly unhappy to the point of briefly retiring in early June, but was soon dealt back to the Dodgers along with future pinch-hitting legend Manny Mota in exchange for Ron Fairly and Paul Popovich. He stuck around until 1972, the year that Bill Russell emerged as the regular shortstop and the first piece in place for what would become the game’s longest-running infield.

Wills retired with 586 steals, 21 more than any other player from 1920-72; today, his total ranks 20th all-time. Though he ranked among the league’s top 10 in stolen base percentage eight times from 1960-68, by modern standards his career 73.8% success rate is nothing special. Even so, he was 55 runs above average on the basepaths and another 21 above average in double play avoidance; his combined total for the aforementioned 1920-72 period ranked second only to Luis Aparicio, and overall it’s still 22nd.

For all of that, Wills’ batting line was pretty unremarkable even given the adjustments for his low-scoring environment; his 88 OPS+ is one point ahead of that of Ozzie Smith, but he was merely average defensively, no small accomplishment for a 14-year career at a premium defensive position, but no wizard. Even accounting for his baserunning, he dented the WAR leaderboard only in 1962. He ranks just 48th at the position in JAWS, below every enshrined shortstop as well as current BBWAA candidate Omar Vizquel; Carlos Correa (34.2) will pass him next year. Even giving Wills a subjectively sizable bonus for restoring the stolen base to prominence, and for the level of excitement and entertainment he must have created with his speed and small-ball skills — an aspect that’s not very well captured in WAR — I just don’t see where he’s a strong enough candidate for election.

Not every voter has felt that way. Wills debuted on the 1978 ballot with 30.3% of the vote, a share that portends a reasonable chance of eventual election. By 1981, he climbed to 40.6%, but then things took a turn. The Mariners named him as their manager on August 4, 1980, to take over for the fired Darrell Johnson. Wills’ lack of experience — he had passed up a chance to manage in the minors at Bavasi’s encouragement, though had managed in Mexican winter leagues for a few years — quickly showed. Not only did the Mariners go 20-38 in the remainder of that season and start the next one 6-18, but he made “unconscionable strategic mistakes, third-grade, sandlot mistakes. And he compounded his mistakes by claiming to know all or by blaming somebody else,” to use the description of Steve Rudman of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. His brief tenure was a veritable fiasco.

It turns out Wills had a bigger problem: cocaine. Accounts vary as to whether it was the spring of 1980 before he was hired, or the following spring, after a longtime romantic relationship ended with his partner running off with another ballplayer to whom he’d introduced her during the 1980-81 offseason. After being fired, he spiraled downward, freebasing cocaine, drinking daily, and covering his windows with blankets. He had already left a rehab program prematurely when in December 1983 he was arrested for driving a car reported as stolen, and possessing an estimated $7 worth of cocaine. Both charges were eventually dismissed, and Wills eventually cleaned up, with former Dodgers pitcher Don Newcombe and executive Fred Claire both playing parts in getting him help. He returned to baseball as an instructor (I spotted him tutoring Dodgers neophytes in bunting in Dodgertown in the springs of both 1989 and 2003, and at an Ogden Raptors game in 2010).

Electorally, the damage was done as far as the writers were concerned. Wills spent 15 years on the BBWAA ballot but didn’t even reach 30% after 1981, and only intermittently broke 25%. He topped out at 40% on the expanded Veterans Committee ballots in 2007, but receded to 23.4% two years later and wasn’t included on the 2012 Golden Era ballot. He did receive 56.3% on the 2015 one, however, placing him fourth behind Allen, Oliva, and Kaat, and so it’s fair to say that he’s got some momentum coming into this ballot. Again, I think he’s far from the best choice available, but if Harold Baines can get elected by a 16-member committee, so can Wills, who at least left a bigger mark on baseball history. We’ll see.