This is Section 2 in a continuing series on the Role of the Hall of Fame in the 21st Century. If you missed section 1 last week you can read it here.

Section II

And now their records averaged to 162 games:

Tony Perez is certainly a Hall of Famer—though comparisons are instructive. In their era, Hernandez and Mattingly both won league MVP awards, and both won batting titles; both were excellent doubles hitters, and both hit for a much higher average than Perez (Hernandez .296, Mattingly .307, Perez .279). In fact, Hernandez’s on base was 43 points higher than that of Perez and Mattingly’s slugging was 8 points higher and his on base 17 points better than those of Perez. Perez hit a mighty 505 doubles (37th all time) but Mattingly hit 442 doubles in nine fewer seasons. While it is certainly true that Perez’s best seasons came in an era of dominant pitching (and again, the Hall of Fame recognizes this achievement, and his longevity—as well it should), he was never considered the greatest hitter in the game during his prime years as Mattingly had been. Keith Hernandez was prone to striking out, but not nearly as often as Perez, who ranks 6th all time, and who struck out over 100 times in a season ten times, his worst strikeout years (at over 120 and even 130 strikeouts) having been paradoxically his most statistically impressive and therefore the strikeouts can, to a degree, be overlooked. Mattingly averaged 40 K’s per 162 games, Perez 109. Mattingly’s strikeout ratio is probably one of the lowest in the modern era for a player to average 20 home runs a year. Just to give an example, Tony Gwynn, easily the best hitter of his era, struck out every 29 times per season and AL hitting legend Wade Boggs took a seat 49 times a year. Moreover, Mattingly won nine, and Hernandez eleven consecutive Gold Glove awards.

To make the Perez-Mattingly comparison more intense, this chart details some career highlights of each player:

Mattingly was not only the 1985 MVP, but finished second in 1986, arguably his better year where he hit .352 - 31 - 113 with an amazing 238 hits—but Roger Clemens finished ahead of Mattingly in the MVP voting with 19 first place votes to 5. That would make Mattingly the MVH—the most valuable hitter two years in a row—Jim Rice finished third that year with .324-20-110 and 200 hits, a superb season, and also his last great one. Mattingly went .327-30-115 in 1987, earning a 7th place MVP finish in an offensively notable year for many hitters. But he also had a 5th place finish in 1984 for winning the batting title on the last day of the season over teammate Dave Winfield—and should have been selected higher. Kent Hrbek came in second that year with numbers clearly inferior to those of Mattingly:

Hrbek also struck out more than he walked. What were people thinking in 1984? Well, they were clearly thinking about (1) the new significance that closers had assumed in the overall framework of the game, and (2) those two pre-established star first basemen, Hrbek and Murray, who came in ahead of Mattingly—and Hrbek’s overall importance to his team (Dave Winfield finished 8th, reducing Mattingly’s importance to his team). Murray had been the runner up in both the 1982 and 1983 MVP voting, so there was certainly some residual sentiment there, as Murray circa 1984 was the established “best first baseman” in the AL. Willie Hernandez, a flash-in-the-pan, one-year sensation, was voted the MVP as closer for Detroit in what today might be an ordinary year for Mariano Rivera. Dan Quisenberry, the closer for KC, was third after Hrbek, followed by Eddie Murray and Mattingly. Murray’s numbers were below Mattingly’s too, though he did walk 107 times to 87 Ks, and played 162 games, winning his last Gold Glove at first. So perhaps Murray is a historically understandable choice ahead of Mattingly, notwithstanding the 40 points of batting average and identical OPS. Certainly Mattingly was hardly that much worse defensively in 1984 than 1985.

One could therefore argue that from 1984-1987 Don Mattingly was the Most Valuable Player in the entire league, or, at the very least, The Most Valuable Hitter in the league, and certainly the most valuable first baseman. With two closers finishing first and third in 1984 and Clemens winning in 1986, Mattingly was the dominant force in MVP voting among non-pitchers for four straight years. Now with Hrbek, Eddie Murray, Keith Hernandez, Will Clark, Glenn Davis, Fred McGriff, Wally Joyner and Darrell Evans (in his later years) as the best of the mid-late 80s (as for Mark McGwire, see Section 3), whom would you pick a the best first baseman in all of baseball from 1984-1989? Let me show you Murray’s fine stats next to Mattingly’s from that six-year period (Will Clark did not enter the league until 1986, and his best years, while truly excellent, are also slightly below Mattingly’s):

This is not at all to disparage Murray, who, as a switch hitter, played extremely well in both leagues, endured for over 20 seasons, overcame injuries to compile 3255 hits and over 500 home runs, was in the MVP top ten 8 times, and is clearly among the most deserving at his position—a welcome new addition to Cooperstown. As the chart shows, Murray was playing well, but Mattingly was through the ceiling. He averaged 203 hits per season, 43 doubles, 27 homers and 114 RBI, in addition to his defense and leadership.

Tony Perez is remembered mainly for his longevity, his consistent run-producing ability (especially in a pitcher’s era), and as the clutch-hitting cornerstone of the Big Red Machine. Perez’s closest MVP year was 1970 (3rd place finish), beaten by second-place Billy Williams’s equally superb season and Johnny Bench’s monster year (.293-45-148 with .932 OPS). Perez was .317-40-129 in 1970 and probably would be equally deserving if Bench weren’t running the show behind the plate while posting previously unseen numbers for a catcher. Perez was 8th in 1967 and 10th in 1969; he also finished 7th in 1973, a year that saw four of the Big Red Machine in the top 10—but no regular finishes at the very top. During Perez’s prime years of production he was clearly among the best ten, and arguably among the five most productive hitters in the league, but he was not the best. I have already spoken of his strikeouts, so let’s look at his big strength—RBI. Clearly he had more RBI opportunities than just about anyone, hitting in the middle of what is probably the best-balanced offensive team in history with guys like Rose and Morgan hitting 1-2. Ok, so how did he do, with those two hustling, base stealing, high OB% guys in front of him? Quite well. From 1967-1976 he finished in the top ten in RBI every year with an average finish over that span just under fifth place (at 5.3). He finished second once, third twice, and fourth once and is 19th career all time. Mattingly had five years in the RBI top ten from 1984-1989, averaging third place. Then his power began to decline as his back pain increased.

Most baseball writers presently seem to agree that Mattingly simply did not play well for “long enough” to merit induction—hence his 13.71% in this year’s balloting and Hernandez’s miserable 6.05 (even Fernando Valenzuela garnered more interest!). More surprising is Steve Garvey falling again to 27.82%. But was Garvey really better than Mattingly? Or are the falling numbers everywhere the result of the “McGwire effect” and the renewed obsession with home run hitting? Garvey had longevity on his side—19 seasons with a .294 average and seven times over .300 (Mattingly also 7 times over .300). But his on base was only .329, averaging about 33 walks and 70 strikeouts per season. In his prime years (from 1974-1980) he put up excellent numbers, averaging about 23 homers, 104 RBI and .311 in a pitcher’s ballpark. Despite Mattingly’s fewer seasons, and his less productive period in the early 90s, he still averaged more hits, doubles, homers, runs and RBI than Garvey per 162 games over his career. By this measure Keith Hernandez falls fall short of Mattingly as well. But here’s the rub—although Garvey never won a batting title (he finished second in 1978 with .316) he did win an MVP, and he did win five gold gloves. Clearly, Garvey gets votes for his longevity and consistency, the glove, as well as a few outstanding seasons, but Mattingly’s glove and his supreme excellence during peak playing years do not seem to enough for most. Hernandez, because of his lack of power at a traditionally power-centered position, gets the big snub by the voters. Here’s the voting history by year:

It seems clear that the voting sportswriters really do not consider the “Gold Glove” to be of great significance for first basemen—though players at all of the other infield positions benefit greatly from good defense in Hall of Fame voting. Sure, Gold Glove voting needs to be revised dramatically, and occasionally results in weak selections or embarrassing travesties (like Rafael Palmeiro winning at first base in 1999 when he played 135 games at DH and only 38 at first base!). But I cannot argue strongly enough that a player of Mattingly’s caliber—or even a “near miss” like Hernandez—should not be considered more strongly by dint of their defensive supremacy. These were not merely excellent first basemen, as Garvey was, but the two best ever to play that position defensively—the Ozzie Smith and Luis Aparicio of first baseman—the Brooks Robinsons of First Base. Mattingly’s instincts, strong and accurate arm (rare at first base) and 3-6-3 double plays were as memorable as any Frank Thomas home run—even more so, since Mattingly could hit homers too, and Thomas plays first base as if he were wearing a boxing glove (and thus, plays it no more).

Mattingly made 64 errors at first in his entire career. How good was Mattingly? The great Hernandez had about 1650 double plays in approximately 2000 games at first; Mattingly had 1500 in almost 25% fewer games. How can such great defense be overlooked? If a shortstop is regarded by his defense, how many errors does a Hernandez or Mattingly prevent? How many DPs are turned because of their quick glove or superb arm? How many runners are killed, tagged, picked off? How many sacrifice bunts or squeeze plays fail, and how many balls fated for the stands are snatched away at the last moment or rocket line-drives snared down the line? Both players showed uncanny intelligence and alertness on the field, to say nothing of their leadership. If other position players in the infield are regarded for their defense, why do the baseball writers continue to live in a bygone era, where Hall of Fame first basemen hit homers, drive in clutch runs, and are simply expected “to make the routine plays” without tripping over their own two feet (or falling on their gimpy knees)? Today, for every Jim Thome, Mo Vaughn and Frank Thomas is a smooth glove man waiting to be recognized, a Mark Grace, a Doug Mientkiewicz, or a J.T. Snow. The idea that first base is not a legitimate defensive position—especially when first basemen must execute defensively on a disproportionately large number of all infield plays—is ludicrous and untenable. When they begin to have stats like “errors saved” and “double plays started” for first basemen, we’ll begin to understand their true value.

Many writers that I know feel that a player like Frank Thomas, while dominant at the plate, presents the classic antithesis to Mattingly. Even if Thomas continues his great offensive game again for three or four seasons, and dominates the league offensively, his election to the Hall will be as nothing but a hitter, defined by his inability to play “ even first base,” spending at least half of his career at DH. Mo Vaughn is another once great hitter who now takes a ribbing for his “D.” Since joining the Yankees, Jason Giambi has been suddenly criticized for being “barely average” (or below average) at his position, although he makes the routine plays well, and shows composure, confidence, toughness and leadership on the field, even if his range is limited (i.e., nobody questioned his defense until he signed the big money contract). Aha! So defense at first base really does matter after all—but only if you are really bad. Are Mattingly’s nine gold gloves any less relevant that Omar Vizquel’s? I often hear people say that Vizquel, if he had better offensive numbers, say like Larkin’s—would be a first-time ballot automatic. So if this is true of the best defensive shortstop of his era in the AL, how could one deny a Mattingly, who has the offense to boot, and was the best player in the league for half a decade? Whom would you rather have in their prime, Mo Vaughn or Don Mattingly? Thomas or Mattingly?

Those who downplay the value of defense at first base have their sense of reason mired by antiquated prejudices and received truths of the baseball traditionalists. “This is the way it’s always been, it’s the nature of the position…” “That’s what a first baseman does…” “In the end it doesn’t matter, that’s not how we look at the position…” “Those are the standards we’ve always had…”—these are the weakest, laziest arguments one hears again and again, bowing to an established, “sacred” interpretation of the position. What if Boog Powell played first the way Brooks Robinson played third? Or, better yet, what if Keith Hernandez played second base as well as he played first? You know he’d be in the Hall of Fame.

If Ryne Sandberg, whose career was also derailed by chronic injuries, will be probably enshrined for his nine gold gloves, his MVP, and his all-around excellence (Sandberg received 49.2% in his first year of eligibility this year), despite a drastic decline in performance during his last three years, why should not Mattingly also receive the call to the Hall? Simple: because voters are obsessed with benchmark career numbers that reward limited longevity or unexpected “power” from the middle infield; because older voters are locked into irrational statistical typecasting by position, something increasingly irrelevant to the 1980s and especially the 1990s-present day, when shortstops and second basemen can lead the league in home runs and RBI—and we are not speaking merely of one exceptional player like an Ernie Banks—or a Sandberg—but we have Boone, Soriano, Kent, Biggio, Rodriguez, Tejada, and Garciaparra. Sandberg stands out as an unusual player in his era, a power-hitting second basemen with great hands—whereas Mattingly was a first baseman who couldn’t sustain “first baseman numbers” for long enough. Rot.

Sandberg, like Ripken and Larkin, was the beginning of a new trend that is now full blown in middle-infields all across the majors. If we look again quickly at Ryne Sandberg, whom we profiled in the last essay, and determined to be a sure-fire Hall of Famer, we see that he hit over 20 points below Mattingly’s career average, twenty points below Mattingly’s career slugging, and struck out almost twice as often as he walked. If you look at Sandberg’s first 14 seasons (Mattingly played 14), he only hit 25 more home runs than the ailing Mattingly, and in his 16 seasons and 1382 more ABs, drove in fewer runs. Yet both were the best at their position for quite a while—both won 9 Gold Gloves, an MVP (Sandberg never won a batting title)—you get my point. Did you ever see Mattingly run the bases? He was the best base runner I ever saw with “average” speed. In his entire career, I think Mattingly was tagged out once trying to get to an extra base, and I doubt he was ever picked off—you can look it up and prove me wrong.

Should centerfielders also be subject to this absurd double standard? If Andruw Jones hits .275 for his whole career with 375 homers and 1300 RBI, and maybe 2260 hits, and an MVP season, will he go to the Hall of Fame if he wins 12 Gold Gloves? What if he hits 450 homers but with a .254 average? Probably, but not without a lot of grumbling. Or what if Jones has five or six big years, including an MVP, and wins only 9 gold gloves before a career-ending injury, finishing with “only” 330 homers and his present .267 batting average? Will he be “near miss” like Mattingly, or will the best center fielder of his era—perhaps ever—be simply ignored by baseball writers? Obviously if Jones continues to hit 30 homers/100 RBI per year, his chances are much better, because he is a center fielder, and they are “not necessarily supposed to hit home runs”—but should have some power (like Puckett). The 1950s and 60s saw the great era of slugging centerfielders, less common today (Griffey Jr. our best example). But if your inclination for awarding baseball merit is not based upon great defense, perhaps you are simply afraid of the unquantifiable — for what is more unquantifiable than our own myths? Or perhaps our myths simply need the empirical persuasion of armchair statisticians and their tidy, antiquated taxonomies.

While voters have never considered Hernandez worthy, Mattingly’s promise for enshrinement has declined this year, while interest in Garvey has been roughly the same over five years. But consider this: on the 1999 ballot, 2003 inductee Gary Carter received only 33.8% of the vote, with Garvey only three points behind him at 30.2% (75% is required for induction). A good tiding? Carter is now in the Hall of Fame, and support for Garvey is at a five-year low. In that same year, 1999, Jim Rice received only 29.4% and Bruce Sutter 24.3%; but in 2000 Rice went up to 51.5% and Sutter to 38.48%, both well ahead of Garvey’s static 32.06% of support (Carter jumped to 49.7 that year as well). Then in 2001 Carter was much closer at 64.85% with Rice gaining to 57.86 and Sutter up to 47.67%. Last year Carter was nearly elected at 72.67% with Rice steady at 55.08% and Sutter now over 50%. The interest in the role of the closer was now also clearly a factor in the voting. With Goose Gossage a consistent attention-grabber for the past four elections, Sutter went up to 53.63%, behind only this year’s elected members—Carter and Murray—while Gossage remained popular, hitting consistently over 40%.

In 2003 Jim Rice dropped slightly to 52.22%, but has remained over 50% for four years straight and was 4th in balloting this year. With 2004-2006 somewhat weak (Paul Molitor and Wade Boggs are the only certain Hall of Famers in the bunch until McGwire and Ripken make a splash in 2007, among a number of interesting marginal players), next year could be a big year for Rice. But does Rice really deserve to be “in the Hall”? We’ll take that up in a few articles once we move on to the very big subject of outfielders. In the meantime, Mattingly’s stock continues to drop, and I assume that the Veteran’s Committee will one day rectify this. If Rizzuto can get into the Hall with 13 seasons, 3 of them bad, Mattingly should probably find sway with his peers, even if he was the greatest Yankee never to win a World Series.

So what about Steve Garvey? I’m really not sure. Bill James ranks him 31st, mainly, I think, because James doesn’t like him (McGriff is at #21). I never met Garvey, and I personally don’t care about his tabloid paternity suits or his personal life—but James says some very important things about Garvey in his Baseball Abstract: Garvey almost never went into a slump and he drove in runs like crazy in a pitcher’s park. The first comment strikes me as true—he always seemed to be hitting. And although he won gold gloves, he had a lousy arm. However, he was a big part of the Dodgers success during that period and I cannot but think that the veterans will one day vote him in. But as Gil Hodges failed to get elected again, maybe the standards are just getting tougher by the year. If Giambi, Bagwell and Delgado finish their careers with 500+ homers (and especially if Giambi and Bagwell finish with high batting averages) on the heels of Palmeiro, McGriff and Thomas, the trend of slugging first basemen will be secure for another generation.

Let’s take a quick look at a fine Hall of Fame first baseman, Jim Bottomley, who played for St. Louis most of his 16-year career and holds a lot of funny records too. He has the record for most unassisted double plays in one season with eight. Bottomley was the NL MVP in 1928, and finished second twice in the batting race, and had 100 or more RBI six times. Compare his numbers to Mattingly, and you’ll see why voters are less impressed with Donnie Baseball—poor Sunny Jim was voted in by the Veterans Committee in 1974, twenty-five years after he died:

And now their records averaged to 162 games:

One can only speculate, and hope that if Mattingly does get elected, it won’t be 25 years after his death.

---

Add this page to your favorite Social Bookmarking websites