2025 Mock MLB Veterans Committee Ballot
Although I wasn’t able to get this out before the announcement of the Veterans Committee inductees to the Hall of Fame this December, I had already made note of who I would have voted for if I were in the room with the group of Hall of Fame members, Paul Molitor, Eddie Murray, Tony Perez, Lee Smith, Ozzie Smith and Joe Torre, five executives and five veteran media members and historians. That group of former players is pretty fascinating, they all seem like interesting, smart, thoughtful people, but five of six were hitters, Lee Smith was a closer and Torre was a catcher for a good chunk of his career. The result of the voting was that the two greatest hitters of the eight nominees were inducted. I agree with those selections, but as a big Hall guy, I would have liked two more.
The two inductees were Dick Allen and Dave Parker, two of the great power hitters of their time, but players whose blackness were very much part of their personas, something that was very much a strength for both men as teammates and icons of the game.
Dick Allen 1B/3B
58.7 WAR, 1848 H, 320 2B, 351 HR, .292/.378/.534, 7x AS, ‘64 ROY, ‘72 MVP,
The interesting thing about both Allen and Parker, is that even though they were both great sluggers of their time, they didn’t have the most eye-popping home run totals in the board view of baseball history, both hitting less than 400 home runs, but they both hit for average and got on base, and slugged plenty of doubles and triples in their careers, using power to place the ball where the fielders weren’t in the years of cavernous ballparks of the late ‘60’s, ‘70’s and ‘80’s. At this point of baseball history the old stadiums were falling apart and expansion teams came into existence, so new, cookie cutter stadiums emerged in MLB cities, capable of multiple purposes for baseball, football and even concerts. But that would mean the fences might be pretty damn deep and the field surfaces were often artificial turf. Dick Allen came into the league in the mid-60’s as the first black superstar of the Philadelphia Phillies. The Phillies had a dark past of integration, known for being one of the teams that were least welcoming of Jackie Robinson when he broke the color barrier. In his first season, Allen led the league in runs (125), triples (13), total bases (352) and strikeouts (138) as any good slugger would. He hit 29 homers while slashing .318/.382/.557 and won the NL Rookie of the Year Award. He had broken into the league with a vengeance, considered a future Hall of Famer even as a rookie, slugging at a time when pitching dominated. Yet, as he was coming up, the Phillies refused to call him by his preferred name, “Dick,” instead, printing his name as “Richie,” a more childlike diminutive. He made it known how he felt about this and was cast in the public role as “thorny” or a “problem” player. He would get into a fight with fan favorite teammate Frank Thomas, not the Big Hurt, who grabbed a bat to strike back at Allen. Thomas would be released as a result of the fight and Philly fans would direct their frustration at Allen as a result.
Ultimately, Allen would be traded from the Phillies in what would be the most consequential trade in baseball history. It involved race and labor relations in baseball and resulted in star players leaving their established teams. In 1969 Allen was traded to the Cardinals with Cookie Rojas and Jerry Johnson for Tim McCarver, Byron Browne, Joe Hoerner and Curt Flood because of his penchant for writing subversive statements at the fans in the dirt around first base. It is widely believed that Flood was traded as a result of his discontent for being paid far less than deserved after a great season, and he would be sent to Philadelphia, a team with a crumbling stadium and notoriously racist fans. Flood refused to show up with the Phillies. This resulted in Flood suing the MLB to end the reserve clause, creating free agency in baseball. This cost Flood his career, only playing a handful of games a couple of seasons after the trade… for the Washington Senators. For Allen, he would play just a single season with the Cardinals, slugging 34 homers and driving in 101, and other single season with the Dodgers where he had a .395 on base percentage, before a trade to the White Sox in 1972 for Tommy John and immediately winning the AL MVP award. He led the league in almost everything: WAR (8.6), home runs (37), RBI 113, walks (99), on base percentage (.420), slugging (.603), and OPS (1.023). He would again lead the league in home runs two years later in 1974 (32) while playing just 128 games. He would return to the Phillies the next season for a couple of years before finishing out with the A’s, but didn’t play another full season after that last season in Chicago. He was outspoken, struggled with drinking and was seen as a controversial figure for decades, his 351 career home runs were not seen as Hall of Fame-worthy for years, but his impact on the game lived between the typical benchmark stats and was more realistically seen as his legend told, as a great power hitter of his time. And a bit more than just that. He had six 30+ homer seasons over the span of his age 24 and 32 seasons, but it was his ability to rack up hits while getting on base well above expectations, a career .378 OBP, a three time league leader in slugging, and a 162 game average of 33 homers and 104 RBI over the span of his career that make his induction well overdue.
Dave Parker, RF
40.1 WAR, 2712 H, 526 2B, 339 HR, 1493 RBI, .290/.339/.471, 7x AS, 3x GG, 3x SS, ‘78 MVP, ‘79 & ‘89 WS.
The death of Roberto Clemente was devastating for Pittsburgh. It wasn’t that they lost production on the field, 3000 career hits and one of the best throwing arms right field has ever seen, they lost the statesman leader of two World Series Championships. The season after his death pitcher Steve Blass had a case of “the yips” so bad that he became the first face of the odd sports psychology phenomenon. As far as I know, his decline from two straight sub-3.00 ERA seasons and a second place Cy Young finish to his year-31 season with an ERA over 9.00, a WHIP over 2.000 and the league lead in balks. His playing career never recovered. Dave Parker came into the league as the brash, loud mouthed, life of the party replacement to a legend at only 22 years old, platooning for his first two seasons. He was a perfect fit with Willie Stargell’s raucous clubhouse and he made a run for being the loudest of the loud. His bat proved to be the loudest of the loud, and 1975, the first season that the platoon tag was lifted, Parker broke out with his first 100 RBI season at just 24 years old, a mark that Clemente wouldn’t reach until he was 32 years old.
Parker was big. Six foot five and 230 pounds, he could hit for power, steal bases, and had a strong throwing arm to continue Clemente’s legacy in right field, Parker was also very skilled at collecting hits. In 1977 Parker led the league in hits (215), batting average (.338), and doubles (44) and got onbase at a .397 clip. He was the batting champ (.334) in ‘78 as well, led the league in WAR (7.0), slugging (.585), and OPS (.979) and won the NL MVP after two third place finishes in ‘75 and ‘77. The Cobra, as he would come to be called, would become a bit of a leader himself, his loud, humorous energy he would poke fun at a player to give constructive criticism or give confidence needed to beat the world, often rallying his team back into the win column during the dog days of summer.
Parker is known for sporting a tee shirt stating "if you hear any noise, it's just me and the boys boppin'," a line from a Parliament song that Parker loved, he had the shirt printed up to inspire the team with pure cockiness. "I thought that if my teammates saw me strut into the clubhouse, cool and confident, wearing a badass message that there would be nothing to worry about. Because that's the mindset you need to succeed at this level." He had a tee shirt guy that he paid to make up the shirt, and only had one made, but it is a concept of motivation that every team uses these days, shirts with slogans starting in spring training, into the dog days and deep in the playoffs for warm ups.
At one point in 1978 Parker cut above his eye, and broke his cheekbone on a headfirst slide but demanded his way into the lineup the next day. He ended up on the disabled list which kept him out of the All-Star Game, but returned early, batting in a horror movie looking hockey mask for a couple of games ultimately switching to a football-style facemask when he couldn’t see out of the holes. He would keep the facemask for the next season. In 1979 his Pirates would win the World Series to the tune of “We Are Family,” and his 25 homers, 20 steals, .310 average and third career Gold Glove Award would be major contributors to hoisting the trophy.
In the 1980’s Parker was a key controversial figure in the Pittsburgh Drug Trials, and his own issues with drugs became front and center in baseball along with several other prominent players. Parker left for his hometown Reds in 1984 and powered his way to a second place finish in the NL MVP race in 1985. As he got older, his bat slowed down and he wasn’t as dynamic as his younger days, but he was still a power threat, and an important clubhouse leader. The A’s brought him in for the 1988 and ‘89 seasons as a veteran presence along with Rickey Henderson, resulting in two trips to the World Series and a dominant Championship run in ‘89. The next season, the Brewers sought him out as a trade target to mentor their young third baseman, Gary Sheffield. This was a team with two established future Hall of Famers already on the team, Paul Molitar and Robin Yount, and Milwaukee brought in Parker, whose left handed swing looked very similar to Shef’s incredibly quick right handed power swing. Parker hit 21 homers in that season, and the 21 year old Sheffield broke out on his way to 509 career homers. Parker was the team’s lone All-Star in that second to last season in the bigs. His image would be complicated for some time due to the Drug Trials, but he never stopped contributing to the game through coaching and mentorship even after his diagnosis of Parkinsons in his retirement.
I love that the two Veterans Committee inductees for this year are the most deserving hitters on the ballot, the two other players that I would have voted for if I were in that room are pitchers.
Luis Tiant, RHP Starting Pitcher
66.1 WAR, 229 W, 3.30 ERA, 1.199 WHIP, 49 SHO, 2416 K, 3x AS
Luis C. Tiant, “El Tiante,” was known for his graceful pirouetting windup, a style of pitching inherited from his father. The elder Tiant, who also went by Luis, was a twenty-year star of the Cuban and Negro Leagues, playing until he was 41 years old in 1947. If a pitcher can master one of the spitter, knuckler or screwball, they are destined to be a legend, and the lefty Luis Eleuterio Tiant threw them all while twirling on the mound. He also had a great fastball, curve and slider and had a tendency to bust hitters inside to keep them on their toes. It would be hard to know what the hell was coming at a hitter. Hall of Fame outfielder Monte Irvin claimed that if Luis E. Tiant had the chance he would have been a “great, great star.” He had such a great pickoff move that he would enjoy walking Hall of Famer Cool Papa Bell, perhaps the fastest player of the Negro Leagues, “just to put on a show trying to keep him from stealing.” It is debatable to decide which of the father and son were the better pitcher, but also which of the two is perhaps the best pitcher ever to come out of Cuba. When both were asked, they both claimed the other was the better pitcher.
In 1968 Luis C. Tiant was fourth in strikeouts, winning 21 games, and led the league in ERA (1.60) and shutouts in ‘68. In one game he struck out 19 in a ten inning complete game, and ended the season with an 11 strikeout one-hitter. At one point he threw four straight shut-outs, one shy of the then-record. The next season it all fell apart, Tiant lost 20 games, and led the league in home runs and walks given up and found himself with a one-way ticket out of town. He eventually found his way to the Red Sox in his early 30’s where he became a star again, leading the league in ERA, becoming a postseason star with the 1975 AL Pennant team and establishing himself as one of the most beloved Red Sox stars.
Tiant was the ace of the Indians and the Red Sox for over a decade, he led the league in shutouts three times and ERA twice, posting marks under 2.00 in both of those seasons.
El Tiante had a whirling pitching motion that had him described as “the Fred Astaire of baseball,” by the slugger Reggie Jackson or coming “from everywhere except between his legs,” by the eyebrow raising Curt Gowdy. He started using his pitching motion as a rookie with the Indians in 1964 and was a great pitcher from the start. His 1968 season he won 21 games and led the league with a 1.60 ERA and 9 shutouts. The next season was his first where his team did not allow him to play winter ball in the Caribbean and he lost 20 games although his ERA was under 4.00. His herky-jerky whirly-bird pitching motion not only brought out clumsy descriptions, it also caused Tiant to break his shoulder blade in 1970 during his only season with the Twins. His doctor told him and he had only seen that injury in javelin throwers and never baseball players. The next spring, he was cut by the Twins, cut by the Braves and signed with the Red Sox. The next year he won 15 games, had a 1.91 ERA and was the Comeback Player of the Year. He followed up that effort three 20-win seasons in four years helping him to 229 career wins. He had a career 3.30 ERA and 1.199 WHIP, three-time All-Star and was the Red Sox ace to lead them to the 1975 AL Pennant.
Tommy John, LHP Starting Pitcher
61.6 WAR, 288 W, 3.34 ERA, 1.283 WHIP, 46 SHO, 2245 K, 4x AS
While there might be more of a push for Dr. Frank Jobe, John’s surgeon, to enter the hall of fame, the titular patient probably deserves more of a look for his on-field achievements. Perhaps he already has that recognition, the replacement surgery is named after him, for the success that he had in recovering and coming back to his pitching career, much like naming an award after a player like the Cy Young or Hank Aaron awards. However, no baseball player wants to learn they’ve earned a “Tommy John.” Johns recovery was nothing close to a sure thing in 1974/75 when he was recovering, the Dodgers brought him back to throw the first pitch of a playoff game and he used right, non-throwing, hand to make the toss as it was expected that he wouldn’t pitch left-handed again. There was a work stoppage in ‘76 and John didn’t get much of a chance to prove himself in spring training, but he was still able to come back throwing 85 mph with a 3.09 ERA over 207 innings. In 1977, John was a 20 game winner, in ‘79 he had 17 complete games and ‘80 he led the league with 6 shutouts. He ultimately played 26 seasons, until 1989, winning 288 games, 91 with the Yankees over two stints, and posted a career ERA of 3.34. The average Hall of Fame pitcher has 251 wins and a 2.99 ERA for their career.
I feel like it is a bit of a disservice to lump in the two Negro League players onto this ballot. John Donaldson, born in 1891, played at a time when it was really difficult to measure how good he was because of the level of competition and stat keeping at the time was unreliable. He was a force in the league at the time so his skill was undeniable. Vic Harris was a decent player on amazing teams of the ‘30’s and ‘40’s, and a player manager of great teams, pennant winners and the final Negro League World Series ever. It’s a bit unfair to these players and the others to measure against each other, to not vote for one of these guys would be to say their their league, as equally recognized as it is, was not equal in the depth of stars. But it is also really difficult to properly weigh these players compared to players of the ‘70’s and ‘80’s that played after integration.
The final two players on this ballot are more “nice baseball card” players than Hall of Famers. Ken Boyer was a key member of the Cardinals in the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. He was a fine hitter but was especially known as the best fielding third baseman of the NL during his peak. He was quite notable, but in this class of players he doesn’t quite stand out. Steve Garvey appears to be a sure thing Hall of Famer on paper, an All-American figure that racked up loads and loads of hits, many trips to the All Star Game, an MVP and a World Series Championship with the Dodgers. He was awarded several Gold Gloves as a first baseman based on low error numbers, a fact that was only achieved after ceased throwing the ball when he became so inaccurate that he was unable to hit any target. He wasn’t so squeaky clean, either, he became infamous for infidelity off the field and after his playing career he disowned his own child who came out as trans. He didn’t regret this move, he ran for office on it. It’s rather unfortunate to lump Boyer in with Garvey’s despicable personal behavior. There’s a case to be made to induct everyone but Garvey.
This was a reference heavy post, so here is my very unscholarly bibliography, including links to previous posts on some of these players.
The Biographical Encyclopedia from Total Baseball with bios for every player
Comments