Before we get to today’s big event — ten awesome baseball players who did not get a single Hall of Fame vote — we should talk for a minute about Chicago-Cleveland.
The Guardians beat the White Sox 9-5 to force a Game 5 in their American League Division Series. That game will be in Cleveland on Saturday at 8 p.m. Eastern. Neither team has announced their starter, but that’s OK because nobody cares who starts these playoff games anymore. The White Sox pulled their Game 4 starter, Hagen Smith, in the first inning. The Guardians pulled their starter, Parker Messick, in the third. There were fifteen pitchers in the game. Heck, the Guardians brought in Gavin Williams to finish off the game even though:
They had a four-run lead.
Williams was SUPPOSED to be the Game 5 starter.
He might still be the Game 5 starter. This series has been something else … six of the eight starters have been pulled after three or earlier. There are still a few stalwarts out there like the Miz or Yoshi*, but unless you’re one of the teams that can afford a pitcher like that (meaning: “The Dodgers”) or can develop one, every playoff game is a bullpen game.
*Speaking of Yoshinobu Yamamoto, I was talking with someone the other day who had just spoken at length with Atlanta’s legendary pitching coach, Leo Mazzone. My friend said he asked Mazzone what pitchers he admired in baseball today. Leo grimaced. “There are only two,” he grumped. “The Japanese guys. Yamamoto and Ohtani. They’re the only guys left who actually pitch. Everyone else is just throwing.”
But what stood out to me in Game 4 was, yes, José Ramírez. He’s going to be in the Baseball Hall of Fame someday; there’s no doubt in my mind about that, but this year has been rough. He’s been hurt. He’s slumped. He just hasn’t looked like himself at all. Is that surprising? Alas, it can’t be surprising — he’s 34 years old, and he’s 5-foot-9 and 190 pounds, and he plays 150-plus games pretty much every season. The clock ticks fast for players like that. You have to wonder:
Will he ever be THAT José Ramírez again?
We don’t know, can’t know, but I do know this: For the last two days, he has been that José Ramírez again. It isn’t just that he’s gone four-for-nine with a double, triple, home run, stolen base, four runs, and five RBI in those two games. No, he’s just looked spry, energized, as if the years have melted away. On Wednesday, he stole third base and scored on a hard ground ball to second because he got a fantastic jump. On Thursday, he smashed a home run on a 100-mph fastball at the top of the zone — the fastest pitch he’s ever hit for a homer, according to Sarah Langs — and later he came flying around third base to score on a single.
I think about which position players left in the tournament can, if they’re right, single-handedly carry their team to the title. Shohei would normally be at the top of the list, but he’s not right. Jackson Chourio is one, I think. Junior Caminero might be one. Freddie Freeman will have his clutch hits, and Mookie Betts does so many things. Munetaka Murakami has become must-watch TV. Kiké Hernández loves the postseason. Brice Turang is so good.
But if there were a draft, and I had to pick only one — I’d take the José Ramírez, who has looked like his old self.
I’m sending back my first-pass pages for FIFTY SEASONS on Monday, and the more times I re-read it, the more excited I am for it to come out on February 2. I really think you’ll love it. It’s filled with baseball stories and players that, I believe, will ignite your memory (“I remember that Andre Dawson season!”), and make you smile (Joe Wilhoit? Who? How?).*
*Of course, I have to say that preorders are now open everywhere — Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Bookshop.org, Target, our good friends at Rainy Day Books for signed copies, etc. — and that if you preorder now, you will get a special digital gift: The complete list of seasons and stories in the book, plus a bonus chapter about the invention of batting average. All you have to do is click here, scroll down, fill out the form, and you should get your gift automatically.
One thing: The form doesn’t work for international customers. But if you preorder the book internationally and send us your receipt, Kathleen and I will send you a link so you can get your gift.
FIFTY SEASONS is, nominally, a list book. I guess that’s my thing. I’ve always thought in lists, sometimes to my detriment. Years ago, when I was a columnist at The Kansas City Star, I used to write a weekly list column. And one day I was in the office, and my phone rang. It was Tom Watson. Yeah. The Tom Watson. We exchanged pleasantries, and then he said, “I want to ask you something. Do you want to be great?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Do you want to be a great columnist, like Jim Murray?”
“Um,” I said, “yes, of course I do.”
“Then,” Watson said triumphantly, “stop writing those damned list columns!”
But I do think in lists. It’s just a thing. I have a hundred lists sitting around the house — some on scraps of paper, some in notebooks, some on computer spreadsheets. I just can’t help myself.
This week’s list is 10 awesome players who received zero Hall of Fame votes. I’m only going back to 1979 because that was the year the Hall implemented the rule requiring players to get 5% of the vote to be included on the next year’s ballot. But I think 1979 is far back enough.
There are dozens of excellent players who never received a Hall of Fame vote — Reggie Sanders, Cecil Cooper, Dan Haren, Wally Joyner, Carl Crawford, Garry Maddox, Andy Van Slyke, Troy Glaus, Jose Rijo, on and on and on.
But here are the ten who, for different reasons, stand out in my mind.
Here we go:
