JAWS and the 2021 Hall of Fame Ballot: Andruw Jones
The following article is part of Jay Jaffe’s ongoing look at the candidates on the BBWAA 2021 Hall of Fame ballot. It was initially written for The Cooperstown Casebook, published in 2017 by Thomas Dunne Books, and subsequently adapted for SI.com and then FanGraphs. For a detailed introduction to this year’s ballot, and other candidates in the series, use the tool above; an introduction to JAWS can be found here. For a tentative schedule and a chance to fill out a Hall of Fame ballot for our crowdsourcing project, see here. All WAR figures refer to the Baseball-Reference version unless otherwise indicated.
It happened so quickly. Freshly anointed the game’s top prospect by Baseball America in the spring of 1996, the soon-to-be-19-year-old Andruw Jones was sent to play for the Durham Bulls, the Braves’ Hi-A affiliate. By mid-August, he blazed through the Carolina League, the Double-A Southern League, and the Triple-A International League, and debuted for the defending world champions. By October 20, with just 31 regular season games under his belt, he was a household name, having become the youngest player ever to homer in a World Series game — breaking Mickey Mantle’s record — and doing so twice at Yankee Stadium to boot.
Jones was no flash in the pan. The Braves didn’t win the 1996 World Series, and he didn’t win the ’97 NL Rookie of the Year award, but along with Chipper Jones (no relation) and the big three of Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, and John Smoltz, he became a pillar of a franchise that won a remarkable 14 NL East titles from 1991-2005 (all but the 1994 strike season). From 1998-2007, Jones won 10 straight Gold Gloves, more than any center fielder except Willie Mays.
By the end of 2006, Jones had tallied 342 homers and 1,556 hits. He looked bound for a berth in Cooperstown, but after a subpar final season in Atlanta and a departure for Los Angeles in free agency, he fell apart so completely that the Dodgers bought out his contract, a rarity in baseball. He spent the next four years with three different teams before heading to Japan at age 35, and while he hoped for a return to the majors, he couldn’t find a deal to his liking after either the 2014 or ’15 seasons. He retired before his 39th birthday, and thanks to his rapid descent, barely survived his first two years on the Hall of Fame ballot, with shares of 7.3% and 7.5%. Last year, he jumped to 19.4%, offering hope that with seven years of eligibility remaining, he still has time to get to 75%.
| Player | Career WAR | Peak WAR | JAWS |
|---|---|---|---|
| Andruw Jones | 62.7 | 46.4 | 54.6 |
| Avg. HOF CF | 71.3 | 44.7 | 58.0 |
| H | HR | AVG/OBP/SLG | OPS+ |
| 1,933 | 434 | .254/.337/.486 | 111 |
Jones was born on April 23, 1977 in Willemstad, Curaçao, the capital city of roughly 150,000 of the Dutch-Caribbean island, which lies about 35 miles north of the coast of Venezuela. Father Henry Jones was a catcher for Curaçao’s national team in the 1970s, good enough to play professionally — except that the island wasn’t scouted by major league teams at that time, and attending a major league tryout ended a player’s amateur status. Henry gave Andruw his first glove at age three and his first bat at four, and the kid remained years ahead of the curve at every stage. He went to Japan with a traveling team at 11, one year before Hensley Meulens become the first Curaçao-born major leaguer with the Yankees in 1989. At 15, Jones played against Juvenile League teams featuring kids 16-18 years old. At a tournament in Puerto Rico, Braves scout Giovanni Viceisza, who had been scouring the Netherlands Antilles for Atlanta for five years, recognized Jones’ five-tool talent and summoned longtime Braves director of scouting Paul Snyder, who advised the team to sign him once he turned 16. They paid a $46,000 bonus.
Still shy of his 17th birthday, Jones struggled in the complex-based Gulf Coast League in 1994, but he fared better upon being moved up to the Appalachian League. His raw numbers at the two stops (.290/.368/.412 with three homers and 21 steals in 63 games) were respectable; that he held his own in leagues where the average player was two or three years older was far more important. Just shy of his 18th birthday, Jones ranked 21st on Baseball America’s top prospect list in the spring of 1995, second on the Braves behind Chipper Jones. His performance that year with Macon in the South Atlantic League (.277/.372/.512 with 25 homers in 139 games) earned him Baseball America Minor League Player of the Year honors, and their number one overall prospect ranking heading into the 1996 season. Before arriving in the majors, Jones hit a combined .339/.421/.652 with 34 homers split between 66 games at Hi-A Durham, 38 at Double-A Greenville, and 12 at Triple-A Richmond.
“Andruw was beyond his years, baseball maturity-wise,” Snyder told Baseball America in 2006. “The biggest problem was that we couldn’t find any level that he didn’t dominate… Very seldom do you get a guy like this to come through so quickly.”
The Braves owned a seven-game cushion when they recalled Jones from Richmond on August 14. They’d lost regular right fielder David Justice to a season-ending dislocated shoulder back in May, and wanted to test the teenager before the August 31 deadline to set their postseason roster. Jones went 1-for-5 in his debut against the Phillies on August 15, striking out twice against Curt Schilling but collecting a ninth-inning single off Toby Borland. The next night, facing the Pirates, he homered off Denny Neagle, the first of five he’d hit in 31 games. He started 17 games in right field, and five in center. “Some scouts say he’s on a par with Atlanta’s Gold Glove center fielder, Marquis Grissom,” noted Sports Illustrated’s Tim Kurkjian, less than two weeks after he arrived.
In the postseason, Braves manager Bobby Cox initially used Jones as a defensive replacement for lumbering left fielder Ryan Klesko. He didn’t start until Game 3 of the NLCS against the Cardinals, and didn’t collect his first hits until Game 7, via a two-out RBI single in the first inning, then a two-run homer in the sixth of the 15-0 rout. Then came his big night in the World Series opener, with a two-run homer off Andy Pettitte, and a three-run homer off Brian Boehringer in a 12-1 trouncing. Jones hit .400/.500/.750 while starting all six games, though the Braves lost.
Jones repeated as Baseball America’s Minor League Player of the Year (the second player to do so since the publication’s 1981 inception) and number one prospect (the first to do so since they began ranking them in 1991). Even so, the Braves didn’t immediately hand him a full-time job. Towards the end of spring training, they traded Grissom and Justice to the Indians for Kenny Lofton, and dealt Jermaine Dye, who had played 96 games with Atlanta as a rookie in 1996, to the Royals for Michael Tucker. Klesko, Lofton, and Tucker were the regulars, with Jones either coming off the bench in the late innings or starting against lefties while Tucker sat, though he did spend six weeks in center field when hamstring and groin injuries sidelined Lofton. For the year, he played in 153 games but started just 96 (55 in right, 41 in center), hitting a modest .231/.329/.416 with 18 homers. Still, his defense — valued at +28 runs via Total Zone — turned enough heads that he finished fifth in the NL Rookie of the Year voting, well behind winner Scott Rolen but ahead of Vladimir Guerrero.
Lofton’s return to the Indians in free agency opened center field for the 21-year-old Jones, who hit .271/.321/.515 with 31 homers, 27 steals, +35 defense (!) and 7.4 WAR, tops on the team and fourth in the league, 0.1 WAR behind Mark McGwire and 0.9 ahead of Sammy Sosa in the year of the pair’s great home run chase. Jones’ first Gold Glove kicked off his 10-year streak. Continuing to provide outstanding defense along with power and speed, he ranked second in the NL in WAR in both 1999 (7.1) and 2000 (a career-best 8.2), and made his first All-Star team in the latter year while hitting .303/.366/.541 with 36 homers and 21 steals. After being ousted in the NLCS in both 1997 and ’98, the Braves drew a rematch against the Yankees in the ’99 World Series, but Jones could muster no magic, going 1-for-13 as Atlanta was swept.
Following that big 2000 season, Jones (and agent Scott Boras) won a record $8.2 million salary in arbitration. After a slightly off 2001 (.251/.312/.461, 4.9 WAR), the 24-year-old ballhawk, who was one year away from free agency, agreed to a six-year, $75 million extension. As Boras told The Sporting News’ Ken Rosenthal, “We’ve had managers and coaches say that Andruw Jones is the best center fielder they’ve seen since Willie Mays. It’s a visual understanding. Andruw’s routes to balls are excellent. His first step is excellent. His ability to come in and go back is excellent. He can catch the ball running at many different angles.”
Jones wasn’t immune to off years such as 2001 and ’04 (.261/.345/.488 with just +8 defense and 3.2 WAR) but even so, his power and glove work guaranteed a substantial baseline of value every year from 1998-2006; he made five All-Star teams during that stretch, homering in the 2003 and ’05 games. Adjusting to a wider stance in which his head stayed lower and moved less, he broke out to lead the NL in both homers (51) and RBIs (128) in 2005, while ranking fourth with 6.7 WAR and finishing a close second in the NL MVP voting behind Albert Pujols, then followed that up with a 41-homer, 5.6 WAR season in ’06. From 1998-2006, he hit a combined .270/.347/.513 for a 118 OPS+ while averaging 35 homers, 21 fielding runs, and 6.1 WAR, trailing only Alex Rodriguez (7.8 WAR) and Barry Bonds (7.5 WAR) in that span.
Read that again: for a nine-year period, only A-Rod and Bonds were more valuable than Jones. If that seems like hyperbole, consider the extent to which the Maddux/Glavine/Smoltz triumvirate prevented runs and collected Cy Young awards despite Smoltz being the trio’s only true strikeout pitcher. Those pitchers needed defensive support, and year in and year out, no defender played a bigger part.
“Andruw was always moving before the ball was even hit,” said Matt Kemp, briefly Jones’ teammate on the Dodgers but before that, a center fielder he studied. “He would read the pitch, anticipate where the ball was going to be hit and already be moving to that spot.”
Jones’ shallow positioning, his quick first step, and uncanny knack for the right routes made for fewer spectacular dives than, say, Jim Edmonds, but those skills translated to a defensive performance that was an estimated 192 runs above average during that nine-year span, 58 runs better than any other player in baseball (Darin Erstad was second). Including the entirety of his Braves’ run — which by the end had seen Maddux and Glavine both depart — Jones was 239 runs above average in the field, miles ahead of the second- and third-ranked Braves, outfielder Brian Jordan (56) and shortstop Rafael Furcal (52).
Note that I’ve cut the 2007 season from the consideration of Jones’ heyday. After clouting 92 homers in 2005-06, his final year before free agency was a disappointment, as he hit just .222/.311/.413 for an 87 OPS+, with 26 homers. Though still 19 runs above average afield, his 3.0 WAR was lower than even his rookie season. He was far from full health, battling soreness in both knees as well as a hyperextended left elbow suffered on May 27, but refused to lean on those as explanations. “I’m not going to make excuses about the injuries that I had,” Jones said in September. “I just didn’t play on a high level.”
Jones left the Braves after 2007, his age-30 season, and signed a two-year, $36.2 million deal with the Dodgers, whose general manager, Ned Colletti, cited the elbow injury as an explanation for the outfielder’s struggles. Boras told the media that Jones had reviewed video suggesting his stance was too wide by four inches, costing him balance.
The deal with the Dodgers began unraveling when Jones showed up to camp out of shape, overweight by 15 to 25 pounds according to various reports. His batting average slipped below .200 in the season’s fifth game, and stayed there. In late May, he went on the Disabled List for the first time in his career, losing six weeks to surgery to repair a torn meniscus and remove a cyst in his right knee, the all-important back knee in his batting stance, which lessened his ability to drive the ball. Inflammation and tendonitis further limited him to just one game after August 9, sandwiched around two more DL stints. With his strikeout rate spiking from 21% in 2007 to 31% in that abysmal campaign, he finished at .158/.256/.249 with just three home runs and an astounding -1.6 WAR in 75 games.
Worse than Jones’ performance was the perception that he didn’t care, not that his showing up out of shape could have created any other impression. Caustic Los Angeles Times columnist T.J. Simers called him “the Tubbo” in print on multiple occasions. In one column, Jones continued to answer variants of “I don’t care,” in response to a barrage of unflattering questions, including whether he was bothered by the boos from Dodgers fans. “Don’t you care that the fans in Dodger Stadium have turned on you?” asked Simers.
“No,” said Jones. “That’s their problem… You play for the team, you don’t play for the fans. The fans never played the game. They don’t know.”
Such comments only exacerbated the situation, but the disappointment of Jones’ downward spiral was overshadowed by the mania surrounding the July 31 acquisition of Manny Ramirez, who powered the Dodgers to the NL West flag and all the way to the NLCS before the team fell to the Phillies. Unable to find any takers for Jones in trade, the Dodgers negotiated a rare contract buyout, releasing him while spreading the remaining $22.1 million on his deal over six years; they put some of the savings towards retaining Ramirez. Soon afterwards, the Rangers signed Jones to a minimum-salary deal on the basis of a January 26 workout; he was said to have lost 25 pounds. In part-time duty, primarily against lefties, he hit .214/.323/.459 with 17 homers in 82 games, though he battled hamstring woes.
Jones spent three more seasons in the majors tacking a similar course as a part-timer, one with the White Sox and then two with the Yankees. He hit 19 homers and was worth 1.9 WAR in 2010, his year in Chicago, though his performance with the bat was actually better in his first year in New York (.247/.356/.495 with 13 homers in 222 PA); for as potent as he was, his contributions were limited by pain in his left knee that eventually required offseason surgery. In December 2012, following a disappointing second season in pinstripes, he signed a one-year, $3.5 million deal with the Tohoku Rakuten Golden Eagles of the Japanese Pacific League. Less than two weeks later, on Christmas Day, he was arrested in connection with a domestic dispute. According to the police report, after consuming several drinks, he allegedly assaulted his wife, Nicole, putting his hands around her neck and threatening to kill her. He was charged with battery, and a week later, Nicole filed for divorce. In a sad irony, the Washington Post article reporting his arrest noted that the Joneses had been major supporters of Jaden’s Ladder, a group that helps victims of domestic violence.
The couple attempted to reconcile (though they divorced in 2015). Jones pled guilty, paid a fine, and received probation that allowed him to leave the country to continue his career. In Japan, he hit a combined .232/.392/.441 with 50 homers in 2013 and ’14. He explored a return to the majors in early 2015, but reports of interest from multiple teams failed to produce a guaranteed contract. In early 2016, he officially retired.
…
From a traditional standpoint, Jones’ biggest obstacle to election isn’t his abrupt decline and departure from the majors itself — more on that below — but its impact on his career hit total, since he fell 67 hits short of 2,000. For whatever reason, BBWAA and committee voters have rejected every post-1960 expansion candidate who fell short of that mark, some very swiftly and others much less so. Edmonds, Bobby Grich, Robin Ventura, and Jimmy Wynn went one-and-done on the BBWAA ballot and never got another shot from the Veterans Committee. Dick Allen, Minnie Miñoso, and Tony Oliva never got 50% of the vote from the writers and have failed to break through on the committees despite multiple chances, the most recent of which (the 2015 Golden Era Committee) was agonizingly close; all three were likely to be on the 2021 Golden Days ballot whose proceedings were postponed due to the coronavirus pandemic. Those players all had excellent careers and, Oliva aside, accumulated at least 50 WAR. Someday, one such player will break through, but will it be Jones?
He’s got a few things working against him beyond just the hit total, including his lifetime .254 batting average. Only three Hall of Fame position players are below .260: shortstop Rabbit Maranville (.258), first baseman Harmon Killebrew (.256), and catcher Ray Schalk (.253). Maranville and Schalk played key defensive positions and had strong defensive reputations that predate the Gold Glove era but are at least partially upheld by the metrics, though the former ranks dead last in JAWS among enshrined shortstops, and the latter second-to-last among enshrined catchers. Killebrew punched his ticket to Cooperstown with 573 home runs (not to mention a 143 OPS+) but ranks just 14th among the 21 enshrined first basemen, below the standards in all three categories due to his subpar defense. Jones has stronger defensive metrics in his favor than any of that trio, and at a key position to boot, not to mention 434 homers, but the paucity of Hall of Famers in the .250s doesn’t bode well.
What’s more, though his ample power and patience boosted the impact of that low batting average, Jones hails from a high-offense era. His 111 OPS+, from a .254/.337/.486 line, is lower than 16 of the 19 enshrined center fielders, matching that of Richie Ashburn, and ahead of only Max Carey (108) and Lloyd Waner (99). It’s lower than 52 of the 76 enshrined up-the-middle players (catchers, second basemen, shortstops, and center fielders). Even the 10 Gold Gloves aren’t as big a help as one would expect. While all five 12-time winners are in (Mays, Brooks Robinson, Ozzie Smith, Ivan Rodriguez, and Roberto Clemente), the two 11-time winners (Keith Hernandez and Omar Vizquel) aren’t; the former fell off the ballot without ever reaching 11.0%, the latter, who received 52.6% of the vote in his third year of eligibility, is 18.8 points below the JAWS standard and already the subject of polarizing debate.
As a member of the Braves’ dynasty, Jones saw plenty of postseason action. His .273/.363/.433 line with 10 homers in 279 PA is not a particularly strong showing, however, and it doesn’t help that the Braves went 2-8 in series in which he posted an OPS of .575 or above.
Jones’ Hall of Fame Monitor score of 109, which recognizes his big home run seasons and reaching the 400 plateau, his regular play at key defensive positions on playoff-bound teams, the Gold Gloves and so on, leaves him somewhere between “a good possibility” at 100 and “a virtual cinch” at 130. Among his contemporaries, players such as Jimmy Rollins (121), Magglio Ordonez (114), Nomar Garciaparra and Michael Young (both 112), Matt Holliday (111), Carlos Delgado (110), Edgar Renteria (109), and Jason Giambi (108) show that the distance between those two levels is where Hall of Fame dreams go to die.
Jones’ candidacy does have points in its favor on both sides of the ball. First, the homers: while only 30 of the 51 players with at least 425 homers are enshrined, six others were either active in 2020 or not yet eligible for election. Nine others were connected to performance-enhancing drugs. None of the remaining five besides Jones (Delgado, Adam Dunn, Dave Kingman, Paul Konerko, and Fred McGriff) played a key defensive position. In fact, only three up-the-middle players (Mays, Ken Griffey Jr., and Mantle) top his 434 homers. Meanwhile, Jones’ total of 236 fielding runs not only leads all center fielders, but all outfielders, 51 runs ahead of second-ranked Mays.
It’s fair to be skeptical about the precision of Baseball-Reference’s estimate for fielding value, which for Jones combines Total Zone fielding runs (1996-2002) with the more familiar Defensive Runs Saved. During the 2019 election cycle, in a roundup of various loose ends pertaining to several candidates, I published some data and parts of an email provided by Chris Dial, the inventor of RED (Runs Effectively Defended), a forerunner to other batted ball data-based metrics such as DRS and UZR. While RED is not currently published anywhere (hopefully, that will change), it is included among the alphabet soup of metrics in the SABR Defensive Index, which has accounted for 25% of the Gold Gloves voting in non-pandemic seasons since 2013; this year the SDI was used for the entirety of the Gold Gloves selections because the geographically limited schedule prevented voters from seeing more than a third of the league.
“By every metric available in the late 1990s – Baseball Reference Total Zone, Michael Humphries’ DRA, and RED, which is based on STATS Zone Rating batted ball data — Andruw’s defense was outstanding,” wrote Dial. In his assessment, Jones came back to the pack in the early 2000s, and fell below average defensively from 2003 onward, more or less. Here’s his table comparing the various metrics:
| Season | Weight | Speed | RED | TZ | DRA | UZR | DRS | SDI |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1997 | 170 | 4.8 | 7.8 | 14.2 | 10.1 | — | — | 10.2 |
| 1998 | 170 | 7.5 | 22.2 | 35.3 | 41.0 | — | — | 30.9 |
| 1999 | 185 | 5.7 | 14.6 | 35.7 | 58.9 | — | — | 32.4 |
| 2000 | 185 | 6.2 | 1.4 | 25.0 | 30.6 | — | — | 15.8 |
| 2001 | 210 | 4.8 | 3.3 | 26.6 | 43.7 | — | — | 20.7 |
| 2002 | 210 | 3.1 | -1.4 | 19.2 | 33.8 | 15.7 | — | 14.3 |
| 2003 | 210 | 3.6 | -8.5 | 18.6 | 20.7 | 17.3 | 14.0 | 10.7 |
| 2004 | 210 | 3.8 | -3.3 | 17.3 | 16.8 | 24.4 | 8.0 | 11.2 |
| 2005 | 210 | 3.5 | 0.7 | 18.5 | -5.9 | 26.2 | 15.9 | 11.3 |
| 2006 | 210 | 3.1 | -7.7 | 18.8 | 1.9 | 12.8 | 12.0 | 6.7 |
| 2007 | 210 | 3.8 | -8.6 | 12.0 | 10.1 | 23.2 | 19.0 | 10.6 |
| 2008 | 210 | 2.9 | -1.6 | -7.5 | 1.7 | 0.3 | -6.0 | -2.7 |
| Total | — | — | 18.9 | 233.7 | 263.4 | 120.0 | 62.9 | 172.1 |
Weights via Topps baseball cards, “which are likely conservative,” according to Dial. “Their 2009 card lists him at 240 pounds, which is closer.”
Where the weighted SDI supports’ Jones’ claim on 10 Gold Gloves, Dial’s RED-driven view suggests he should have won only three (1997-1999). According to Dial, the other metrics, both before the arrival of batted ball data and after, aren’t sensitive to the way Jones’ fielding numbers are propped up by discretionary plays, routine ones where more than one player could have caught the ball. “Jones just took all the discretionary plays from the left fielder and continued to do so after he had lost his range. That’s not talent, it’s Kelly Leak,” referring to the ball-hogging star of the Bad News Bears. UZR and DRS “weight plays made by percentage for a position – when Andruw takes a discretionary play, he gets too much extra credit in those systems. Everything else tells us Andruw lost a step or three. His zone ratings (percentage of balls caught), his extra weight, his speed scores, his range factors. How the other metrics miss this, I cannot say,” Dial wrote.
Dial additionally supplied data regarding the chances of the Braves’ left fielders, pointing out that it was the less adept Klesko and Chipper Jones who were playing left field during his peak defensive years (1997-2003). It’s a compelling alternative view, but without the ability to compare Jones on that basis against his cohorts and historically, it’s tough to figure out how to weigh that information. Is Total Zone failing to correct for discretionary plays by Willie, Mickey, and the Duke as well? And likewise for DRS when it comes to Jones’ contemporaries? I don’t have that answer, but I do think it’s noteworthy that the aggregate SDI still supports some measure of Jones’ prowess.
Back to the WAR-based numbers, the strongest point in Jones’ favor is his 46.4 peak WAR, which ranks ninth at the position, 1.7 wins above the standard and second among those outside the Hall besides Mike Trout (65.6, already third all-time!). Due in part to his early retirement, Jones’ 62.7 career WAR is “only” 14th, below 10 of the 19 enshrined center fielders and 8.6 wins below the standard. His 54.6 JAWS is 3.4 points below the standard, but still good for 11th all-time, behind seven enshrinees plus Carlos Beltrán (57.2) and Lofton (55.9), who went one-and-done on the 2013 ballot.
On the subject of Jones’ fade, his 58.0 WAR through his age-29 season ranks 25th among position players, while his 342 homers is tied for seventh with Mel Ott and Hank Aaron, and his 1,556 hits ranks 40th. Remove the Hall of Famers and those not yet eligible from the equation and Jones’ through-29 home run total is tops (Bonds is 10th at 259), while his WAR is second:
| Rk | Player | Through 29 | 30 onward | Above Peak | Above JAWS |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Barry Bonds | 66.5 | 96.3 | Y | Y |
| 2 | Andruw Jones | 58.0 | 4.7 | Y | N |
| 3 | Cesar Cedeno | 49.3 | 3.6 | N | N |
| 4 | Sherry Magee | 48.3 | 11.2 | N | N |
| 5 | Shoeless Joe Jackson | 47.9 | 14.2 | Y | N |
| 6 | Vada Pinson | 47.8 | 6.5 | N | N |
| 7 | Scott Rolen | 45.9 | 24.2 | Y | Y |
| 8 | Jim Fregosi | 45.9 | 2.8 | N | N |
| 9 | Buddy Bell | 44.1 | 22.2 | N | N |
| 10 | Bobby Bonds | 43.1 | 14.7 | N | N |
| 11 | Dick Allen | 42.9 | 15.8 | Y | N |
| 12 | Nomar Garciaparra | 41.2 | 3.0 | Y | N |
| 13 | Bobby Grich | 40.9 | 30.1 | Y | Y |
| 14 | Chuck Knoblauch | 40.8 | 3.8 | N | N |
| 15 | Chet Lemon | 40.4 | 15.3 | N | N |
That’s quite a list. Some of these players acquitted themselves reasonably well after 30, while others flamed out in spectacular fashion. Jones’ drop-off — a gap of 53.3 WAR between the two segments of his career — is the steepest of the bunch. He’s still among the seven who exceed the peak standard at their positions, but not among the four who exceed the JAWS standard.
Between the ballot logjam, the sub-2,000 hit total, the apportioning of so much credit for the Braves’ dynasty via the elections of Chipper and the three pitchers, and the abrupt fadeout of his career, I expected Jones to fare poorly in his 2018 ballot debut. Voters tend to undervalue defense (as was the case for one-and-done candidates Bell and Grich above, not to mention Rolen and one of last year’s honorees, Larry Walker), and beyond the numbers, both his ugly Dodgers tenure and the domestic violence allegation linger in memory. Even overlooking the non-statistical aspects of his case, a voter might have easily concluded that he was the 11th-best candidate in a format that only allows 10 votes. With the ballot similarly packed, I left him off my virtual ballot for 2019, though I restored him last year, and I’m leaning heavily towards including him on my actual ballot this year.
The good news is that Jones has survived three rounds of voting, unlike recent center fielders such as Lofton (10th in JAWS but just 3.2% in 2013) and Edmonds (15th in JAWS, 2.5% in 2016), and that the ballot traffic has thinned out. Going strictly by JAWS, without reference to any PED allegations, 10 candidates were at or above the standards at their respective positions when he debuted in 2018, and 13 had a JAWS of at least 50.0, in “close enough” territory for some votes. Those respective totals dropped to eight and 12 in 2019 and have continued to fall; they’re at five and nine this year.

In recent years, Jones drew frequent mention from voters who published their ballots prior to the announcement of the results via Ryan Thibodaux’s Ballot Tracker and reported that if given more than 10 spots, they’d include Jones. That paid off with last year’s thinning traffic, as he jumped from 7.5% to 19.4%. While only one third-year candidate who eventually was elected received a lower share — Bert Blyleven with 17.4%, albeit when he had 15 years of eligibility remaining — Walker wasn’t much higher at that point (21.6%) and had to contend with more crowded ballots in his climb to 75%.
Jones has a long way to go to match Walker, but given his hardware and defensive metrics, compiled while playing an up-the-middle position on a perennial playoff participant, he’s got a decent elevator pitch. He also has a peak score above the standard and a JAWS among the position’s top dozen. I believe he’s worthy of enshrinement, and I’ve got room for him on my ballot.
Brooklyn-based Jay Jaffe is a senior writer for FanGraphs, the author of The Cooperstown Casebook (Thomas Dunne Books, 2017) and the creator of the JAWS (Jaffe WAR Score) metric for Hall of Fame analysis. He founded the Futility Infielder website (2001), was a columnist for Baseball Prospectus (2005-2012) and a contributing writer for Sports Illustrated (2012-2018). He has been a recurring guest on MLB Network and a member of the BBWAA since 2011, and a Hall of Fame voter since 2021. Follow him on BlueSky @jayjaffe.bsky.social.
Thank you Jay, very cool!
This year’s class is so weak, I assume that will mean more enshrinements for guys who were below the average HoFer, which just means that we may be headed for a day when the “average HoFer” looks a lot more mediocre. Not that it matters. Cooperstown already is an arbitrary and silly museum. But boy, this year’s candidates are one ugly bunch of reprobates with great numbers and below-average muppets.
Below-average muppets?
“A muppet I am. A muppet Andruw Jones is?”
Last I checked, approximately 50% of the players in the Hall could be referred to as “below the average HoFer.” Electing someone who may not be a slam dunk but was still one of the best ever hardly waters down the Hall.
In fact, unless half of those elected are below average, then current eligibles will be held to a higher standard, not the same standard, as those already in.
Andruw Jones is absolutely a Hall of Famer based on the numbers–the guy is probably the greatest defensive center fielder of all time (probably since there are larger error bars around the metrics in Willie Mays’ era). His peak was absolutely fantastic, too.
I don’t know how I’d feel about voting for a guy who beat up and threatened to kill his wife, though. It’s not especially relevant to the baseball playing aspect of it, but I’d feel real dirty doing it anyway.
I understand not voting for someone who choked his wife, but it seems to me that a criterion like that has to be absolute–you either exclude all players known definitely to have abused their partner, or none. So one would have to vote against Bonds, even if there were no PEDs issues.
The problem with not treating sexual abuse as an absolute deal breaker is that it would trivialize the charge. One would be saying, in effect, if Jones hit .275, or had 500 HR, or put up two or three 4-5 WAR years in his 30s, then that would outweigh the fact that he beat up his wife. Or maybe worse, we drag HOF discussions into the courtroom, arguing over how much he really hurt his partner, or how credible her testimony is.
That said, we have to draw a line somewhere. Or do we? Marty Bergen killed his wife and two kids, then took his own life, yet received a HOF vote
Yes. I don’t really know where the line is, either, and I would agree that wherever the line is you just have to treat it as a deal breaker.
Adam Dunn and Paul Konerko as “ballot newcomers” must be a hold-over phrase from last year… might need editing out.
I’ve gone back and forth on Andruw Jones over the last couple of years… but I think he belongs in the HOF. One thing I’ve come to believe is that continuing to play the game should never cost someone their place among the all-time on-field legends. If Andruw Jones had retired after the 2007 season, he’d be a no-doubt HOF’er who walked away from the game at age 30. Even that horrible 2008 season… if, that offseason, he retired and said “My knees are shot and I can’t do it anymore,” he’d be the equivalent of Kirby Puckett – a celebrated career cut short by injury that accomplished enough in 10-12 seasons to be enshrined.
The guy was so far ahead of every other CF of his time on defense, and maybe the best defensive center fielder EVER, and added net positive value with the bat. That’s a Hall of Famer. And I don’t think you can play yourself out of the Hall of Fame. So, since Jones would have been a HOF’er if he retired injured in 2008, he’s a HOF’er even with those horrible last five seasons and 1300 PA’s.
I agree that Jones belongs in the HoF but disagree with the idea that you cannot play yourself out of the Hall of Fame.
That is not to say there is zero inconsistency in how fans view career-ending injury and career-damaging injury, but just because people overrate some players in certain situations doesn’t mean that we should all make the same mistake.
Kirby Puckett’s induction has not aged well and he should not be used to determine any player’s HoF worthiness any more than we can use Harold Baines as a measuring stick.
Felix Hernandez would be a safe bet for HoF if he retired after 2014 due to some career-ending injury.
As it stands, I don’t think he is.
Is that inconsistent? Seems debatable, but I don’t think the answer is obvious.
…just because people overrate some players in certain situations doesn’t mean that we should all make the same mistake.
I agree that we might re-rate players; upon shedding further light, players may be deemed overrated or underrated. But I don’t think anyone is arguing that Jones was “overrated” during his decade of dominance in CF (or, if someone is indeed making that argument, I would strongly disagree).
To me, being best at your position for a decade – and perhaps the best defender at your position of all time – makes a player HOF-worthy. The last five years’ of Andruw Jones’ career were utterly forgettable but they don’t diminish, in my eyes, his utter (and, as a Mets fan, frustrating) brilliance for 10 years before that.
Andruw Jones was seen as the best at his position in his time, and that reputation still holds true today. I don’t think anyone is questioning whether he played CF at the best level we’ve seen in the expansion era, just whether 10 years of world-class defense and a positive-value bat is “enough” to get in.
Felix Hernandez would be a safe bet for HoF if he retired after 2014 due to some career-ending injury. As it stands, I don’t think he is.
Fair point. But while Felix was on a likely-HOF trajectory, he wasn’t in the discussion for best-ever at his position. But I get your point, and maybe mine could be better-worded. When you are considered the best at your position for a full-decade, and perhaps the best at a single-skill for all time at a position, with that level of play sustained for a full decade, no amount of subsequent decline in performance can take you out of the Hall of Fame, in my eyes.
” people overrate some players in certain situations”
I was talking about people overrating players whose career was curtailed due to injury.
As I said, I have no disagreements about the conclusion of whether Andruw Jones specifically belong in the HoF or not.
I just don’t agree with the generalized logic of ‘if Player X had a career-ending injury after year Y, would he be in the HoF? If so, player X belongs in the HoF.’
Lot of players not in the HoF would have a better shot if their career came to a dramatic stop.
Version of Todd Helton who tragically retired after ’07 probably gets more votes.
I fully expect Joey Votto to get elected, but he also would get more votes if his career got short after ’17.
What about Pujols retiring after ’11?
He could be a consensus top 10 hitter of all time, at least much higher than how we place him now.
If you can play yourself out of being a top 10, 20, 30 player of all time, then you can certainly play yourself out of the HoF.
Cool. Agree to disagree. My point is that – yes, perhaps Joey Votto and Todd Helton would have received more votes if they retired at those points. But neither of those guys would have had an argument for best offensive or defensive 1B ever at that point in time, nor would either have any legitimate argument for “best ever” at a particular skill.
On the other hand, Rickey Henderson broke Lou Brock’s SB record in his 12th season and was already, at that point, considered the greatest leadoff hitter of all time. If Rickey Henderson dropped the mic and retired the day he broke Brock’s record, he’d be a Hall of Famer. As a result, there’s nothing in my mind that he could’ve done after that, on the field, that would take him out of the Hall.
Pujols in 2011 had a legitimate claim as one of the all-time best hitters ever, and maybe even as one of the best players ever. To put up 8-9 WAR seasons at 1B, with the positional adjustment on defense stacked against you no matter how good you are, is a testament to just how good he was. In his first 10 seasons, he had a higher WPA than any player going back to 1950. So, yes, Pujols could have released the baseball equivalent of ten straight Hallmark Christmas movies and he’d still be a no-doubt Hall of Famer in my book. If you have a 10-year run as the best ever at something, or in the conversation for the best ever at something, then continuing on playing the greatest sport in the world for as long as the game will let you should not diminish the brilliance of your supernova.
I’m not equating Andruw Jones with Rickey or Pujols… but his brilliance in CF as an all-time legend is more comparable to them than to King Felix, Todd Helton or Joey Votto.
I don’t know if I entirely agree with the specific examples. I’d argue that Jones, having put up 54 fWAR (or something like that) in 9 seasons, only needs a little bit else to put him over the top. Hernandez’s run of dominance was a bit shorter–about 6 seasons. If he had done that for even one more season I think you could start to argue for him in the same category as Jones (given the shorter lifespan of pitchers these days), and for two more seasons I definitely think you could.
I do think that, however, if Hernandez had torn his everything in 2015 and could never pitch again, that he would get strong hall consideration. Our estimation of the counterfactual would be incorrect, but we’d have good reason to be incorrect. I’m trying to think of an equivalent Hall of Fame example. Dave Parker had a ridiculous peak but only did it for about 4 years. David Wright only had 5 years, and they weren’t all bunched together like Hernandez. Andrew McCutchen has a weaker case than Hernandez; Chase Utley has an actually good case (much better than Hernandez, probably close to Jones) because he also had another 2-4 all-star level seasons, but he had five absolutely dominant seasons early on. Evan Longoria and Hanley Ramirez declined quickly enough that we would have been skeptical.
Hernandez is just a total anomaly.
Slight bias here, he is my favorite player ever, but its because his defense was the best I have ever seen. The Hall should recognize those who are the best at something in the game, he was the best defensively. If they are going to recognize the guys with the best speed, the best power, the best strikeouts, etc. defense needs that same respect.
Jones should be in the Hall.
In a weird way I see him as similar to Vince Coleman. Coleman was the best base stealer when he came into the league ( sorry Rickey ) and looked like he was on his way to becoming the all time leader but he just kind of fell off in his early 30’s and was gone. It was a mix of injuries and off field stuff but in the end as good as he was early on it just wasn’t enough to get into the HOF. Jones is much like that with the glove, 434 homers is nice but it also came in a very homer heavy era so it doesn’t really stand out. He’s 47th all time and going to be passed by a couple guys next year while Coleman is 6th all time in steals with nobody even close to him.
But Vince Coleman was literally a one trick pony… even with the stolen bases he barely provided any overall offensive value since he didn’t get on base nearly enough. He also had no power and was a defensive liability. So, he ran with wild abandon for three years (and scored a lot of runs when he could actually get on base) and ran pretty wel for two or three more… but that was it.
For me, that’s very different in terms of impact and duration than ten straight gold gloves, top 2 or 3 defensive CF of all time, and a 400+ home run bat.
My comparison was that they both dominated at their strengths early on but fell off completely before they really should have. In terms of OBP they’re close, the difference being most of the time when Coleman got on base it turned into 1 or 2 more bases and a greater chance to score. Neither were really more than an average hitter but one had power and one had speed. Coleman was much better historically with his speed ( 6th all time in steals ) than Jones was with his power( 47th all time in homers ). Jones was the superior defender. Again, the only similarity was that they both fell off earlier than they should have.
From 1998-2007, Jones won 10 straight Gold Gloves, more than any center fielder except Willie Mays.
Calling Andruw Jones the “superior defender” compared to Vince Coleman is like calling Mike Trout the superior Angel compared to Jeff Mathis.
Now, that may be a wonky analogy, but I have no idea how to compare 6th in all-time steals to 47th in all -time homers other than to say that I don’t think they are comparable at all.
Neither were really more than an average hitter but one had power and one had speed.
Jones, 111 wRC+. An above-average bat and one of the two or three best defensive centerfielders of all time.
Coleman, 86 wRC+. A well-below average bat and one trick pony. Influenced games with his speed for a couple of years. A player worth remembering especially for his role on some memorable Cardinals teams… but not anywhere near average with the nat.
Jones hit .254 with a .337 OBP. Coleman hit .264 with a .324 OBP. Both average hitters. The comparison wasn’t in the players it was in the fact that both were really good early on and both dropped off considerably at a fairly young age. The steals to homers comparable is that Coleman was better all time at steals than Jones was all time at homers. Coleman was considered one of the best stolen base guys ever while Jones is not considered one of the best power hitters ever.
Both were not average hitters, horrible take. If you’re going to ignore their slugging numbers and pretend they’re equal, then you might as well ignore their stolen base numbers too. Both average baserunners. The difference between their value with the bat is 200 runs, whereas the difference between their value in baserunning is only 80 runs.
Also steals to homers is not comparable because you’re taking Coleman’s best attribute and comparing it to Andruw’s power which was not his best attribute. Although it doesn’t really matter if Coleman was considered more elite in his best skill than Andruw was in his, since we can calculate how valuable each one was. And Coleman’s baserunning value pales in comparison to Andruw’s defense. I’d rather have a defender who saves 250+ runs than a baserunner who creates not even half of that value.
They were average hitters. Slugging doesn’t make someone a good to great hitter, see Steve Balboni or Rob Deer, guys who could slug but were really terrible hitters. A good to great hitter is someone who can successfully put the ball in play more often than not. I know the sabremetrics community doesn’t think much of batting average or stolen bases for that matter but they are a part of the game that helps make a team successful. A really good base stealer is more valuable than the numbers show. Back in the day guys like Coleman or Henderson would get on base and add value not seen or measured. They would throw a pitcher out of his rhythm ( I watched a pitcher throw to first 8 times during an at bat where Raines in his heyday was on ), cause the defense some uneasiness and were able to find ways to create runs. I think too many people get caught up in the analytics and don’t fully understand baseball.
Sorry – one off-topic point…
Even the 10 Gold Gloves aren’t as big a help as one would expect. While all five 12-time winners are in (Mays, Brooks Robinson, Ozzie Smith, Ivan Rodriguez, and Roberto Clemente), the two 11-time winners (Keith Hernandez and Omar Vizquel) aren’t; the former fell off the ballot without ever reaching 11.0%, the latter, who received 52.6% of the vote in his third year of eligibility, is 18.8 points below the JAWS standard and already the subject of polarizing debate.
Vizquel’s vote total suggests he will ultimately get in. This makes Keith Hernandez even more of a glaring omission, and one that I hope one of the “Veterans Committees” will someday fix. Of the top 50 first basemen in JAWS, he’s the only modern 1B with positive dWAR and has the legit case as best defensive 1B ever.
After Todd Helton, Keith Hernandez is the best non-enshrined eligible 1B in the non-steroids division (with all due respect to the Crime Dog, Fred McGriff, who I also think is deserving, but isn’t even the hitter that Hernandez was, before even factoring in defense, while their screen credits, of course, are equal, between Seinfeld and Tom Emanski’s videos…)
Actually McGriff was a very underrated hitter and probably better than Hernandez. Defensively it’s not that close but at the plate The Crime Dog was better.
Given the fact that some guys like Jones have substantially higher fWAR (67) vs. bWAR (62.7) have you thought about adjusting JAWS to incorporate this fact. There are some players where it would make a huge difference, especially for pitchers.
The struggle I have is that I don’t see much difference in career value versus Jim Edmonds. Their peaks overlapped and I might have preferred Edmonds. So Andruw is borderline in my mind. Or, Edmonds got seriously overlooked.
Offensively Jones and Edmonds can often be compared as there are a lot of similiarities, but defensively Jones was way of Edmonds. Edmonds made the Sportscenter highlights on the regular, but those plays are what set Jones apart. Jones made the difficult defensive plays often look routine.
You just can’t compare Jones and Edmonds offensively. Edmonds’ slash line was 284/376/527. Jones’ was a 254/337/486. I do agree that Jones was significantly better defensively even though Edmonds was very good. However, I’d say that the fangraphs’ WAR is just about right on both of them: Jones had 67, Edmonds 64.5. Jones had 700 more plate appearances though, so the WAR totals are basically the same on a rate basis.
I should add that if Omar Vizquel is a hall of fame candidate based on his supposedly elite defense (which is not accurate) then Andruw Jones should skate in easily since he was a better defender and provided much more with the bat as well.
You can’t just look at those numbers when you compare players offensively. They played at similar times and their careers spanned a similar amount of time, thus looking at the totals for a wide variety of stats can tell the story and show how they compare very nicely on the offensive side.
Jones/Edmonds: HR – 434/393, 2B- 383/437, 3B- 36/25, SB- 152/67, CS- 59/50, R- 1204/1251, RBI- 1289/1199, G- 2196/2011, PA- 8664/7980, BB%- 10.3/12.5, K%- 20.2/21.7, IBB- 69/91, SF- 71/65, HBP- 97/49.
Some numbers are very similar, while they each have their share they have an advantage in. In the end, very comparable. It is the defense that sets them apart.
So you’re just going to ignore that Jones had 700 more plate appearances and 180 more games? I said that in my post but you’re pretending that it didn’t happen by using mostly counting stats. That’s more than a full season of playing time that Jones had yet you’re acting like their playing time was equal.
Edmonds’ batting average and OB% are 30 and 40 points better than Jones’. That’s a huge difference. The fact that their counting stats are at all similar with Jones having so much more playing time only proves my point. Edmonds was a distinctly better hitter and according to fWAR, his advantages as a hitter make him just about equal to Jones considering Jones’ advantages as a fielder.
I look at the fact that Jones got more games and more plate appearances as a positive. Never said their playing time was equal, within about a years worth of playing time is similar when looking at a long career. Totals matter over a long career. Their totals over their careers are similar with some advantages going to each. One area where Jones has a huge advantage over Edmonds is stolen bases. That right there makes up for some of the other numbers where Edmonds has the advantage. Even if you want to say Edmonds was slightly better offensively, Jones being the Best defensive centerfielder makes it not a contest.
Nice to see Delgado’s name come up. He should still be on the ballot ( or in ). Too many years buried on some mediocre to bad Toronto teams.
Carlos Delgado’s numbers don’t stand out because he played in the same era as the roided up Bonds, McGwire, Sosa, and Giambi; hurts his case more than it should.
For 8 years (1998- 2006) the only people with a higher WAR are PED users. How is he not a first ballot slam dunk? Because he didn’t play as a shell of himself for 5 more years to accrue the counting stats?
GOAT defensive CF, 400 HRs. Hall of Famer.
Jones, to me, is a Hall of Fame caliber baseball player. Where it gets complex is his history of domestic abuse. I found David’s ballot highly problematic – in that he openly voted against Schilling for off-field behavior, but failed to even mention Jones’ (and others’) troubled history. This is why the character clause is so overly-complicated – voters can determine which offenses were more or less severe (ie fascist/Nazi rhetoric vs domestic abuse). Who are we to compare and contrast things like that? If we highly count that character clause, you need to leave both off the ballot. If we choose one over the other, we are making a statement that one abhorrent act is worse than another. And if we vote both, character clause is irrelevant.
Again – as a baseball players, he’s a shoo-in. It just interests me more than anything else how voters make these decisions when it comes to character. I appreciate you bringing to light also
For me, the character clause only comes in to play when it is something that is related to baseball. All of those things outside of baseball as you said bring so many other components into the discussion and seem irrelevant for a Baseball Hall of Fame. If their actions impacted the game in some way, then apply the character clause.
The only thing about those age-based stats above are that Jones came into the league at a time when players from foreign lands were routinely lying about their ages to get better contracts. He was physically mature when he entered the majors at a supposed age 19 and, like Pujols, Furcal, Juan Gonzalez and Vlad Guerrero, his age/ performance curve makes perfect sense if you add a couple of years to it.
Cesar Cedeno. As a Houstonian, that is one hell of a name