Alomar's second to none as Hall fate awaits greats of the '80s

Scott Miller | January 5, 2010

I looked at this year's Hall of Fame ballot and I saw red. Barry Larkin and Cincinnati's shocking 1990 World Series sweep. Remember when the Reds mattered?

I looked and I saw a rock. Tim Raines, owner of the best stolen-base percentage (84.7) of all-time, who re-defined the leadoff spot in the batting order along with Ricky Henderson. And whose percentage of Hall of Fame votes last year (22.6) sadly was nowhere close to that of his thefts.

I looked and I saw a blockbuster. Roberto Alomar and Fred McGriff, two of the 13 first-timers on this year's ballot, indelibly linked again 20 years after the stunning winter meetings trade in which the San Diego Padres shipped Alomar and outfielder Joe Carter to Toronto for McGriff and shortstop Tony Fernandez.

That deal, orchestrated by then-general managers Pat Gillick (Blue Jays) and Joe McIlvaine (Padres) positioned Toronto to win back-to-back World Series in 1992 and 1993 and helped launch Alomar toward what should be a Hall of Fame ending to his career.

At the time, it was called one of the biggest trades in the history of the winter meetings.

"I'll tell you what," McIlvaine told reporters that day of his trade talks with Gillick, "this one was so big that when we first brought up the names to each other, we both laughed. It was like it was too big. Nobody does these kinds of things."

Two decades after digesting their sudden career changes, Alomar and McGriff are chewing their nails through the final hours before Wednesday's Hall of Fame voting announcement.

The deadline for this year's ballot was New Year's Eve, and, among others, I voted for Larkin. I start there because it's where I left off last week.

My 2010 Hall of Fame ballot:

Roberto Alomar: Never have I seen a better defensive second baseman than Alomar, who was poetry in motion while winning 10 Gold Glove awards. Few players throughout the 1990s had the ability to dominate so completely at the plate, in the field or on the bases as Alomar. To me, he's easily a first-ballot Hall of Famer. He was all over the leader boards during his career, from runs scored (he led the AL in 1999) to on-base percentage (fourth in 1992 and 2001) to steals (second in 1989, 1991, 1993 and 2000). People talk about that ugly spitting incident with umpire John Hirschbeck, but aside from that Alomar essentially was a model citizen. One transgression (albeit severe) over 17 seasons? You know that argument folks use that the Hall of Fame isn't reserved for altar boys and saints? That applies here. Yes, Alomar's decline was incredibly swift at the end, and even he didn't understand it. When we talked as he was finishing things with the Mets, he was searching for explanations as thoroughly as anybody. But one thing is clear: Even Mets fans should agree that Alomar belongs in Cooperstown.

Bert Blyleven: Here we go again with one of the most controversial players on the Hall of Fame ballot. Now in his 13th year -- only two left after this -- Blyleven last year received 62.7 percent of the vote. Admittance to Cooperstown is reserved to those who reach 75 percent. This Dutch Master annually gets my vote based largely on two criteria: All-time, he ranks fifth in strikeouts (3,701) and ninth in shutouts (60). Think about that. Evidence based on strikeouts points toward Blyleven owning perhaps the best curveball in history (certainly, at the very least, one of the best). The clock stopped on his career at 287 wins -- had he earned 13 more, he would have been voted into the Hall years ago. He helped pitch two clubs to World Series titles ('79 Pirates, '87 Twins). And to me, his all-time standing in strikeouts and shutouts out-weighs the 13 victories he lacks for 300.

Barry Larkin: I detailed Larkin's case in the aforementioned column comparing him and Alan Trammell. As for the highlights: He won one NL MVP award (1995), was a 12-time All-Star and, offensively, out-performed his contemporaries at historical levels. This speaks to Larkin being one of the most dominant players of his era, which ultimately is the most helpful way of weeding out the Hall of Famers from the near-misses. In Larkin's case, for example, his on-base percentage plus slugging percentage (OPS) was .815, as opposed to the NL shortstop league average during Larkin's career of .678. The only two shortstops throughout the past 30 years whose OPS was that much higher than everyone else at his position was Alex Rodriguez and Nomar Garciaparra. I'm not sure enough people appreciate this aspect of Larkin, and I think he'll probably fall short in this year's voting.

Jack Morris: Here's the deal with Jack Morris, and a few select other players like him: Postseason play most definitely factors into the Hall of Fame picture. Period. Morris won more games -- and completed more games -- than any other pitcher over an entire decade (1980s). For me, that alone is Hall-worthy. Now, critics of Morris say his 3.90 ERA would be the worst of any pitcher currently enshrined. OK, fine. Valid point. But the game has evolved and ERAs in general are higher. Plus, Morris also pitched more complete games (133) than anybody else in the 1980s -- which is one reason the ERA went up a few ticks more than we'd prefer in a Hall candidate. Morris' 14 opening day starts -- which also speaks to his dominance -- rank tied for second in history with all-timers Steve Carlton, Randy Johnson, Walter Johnson and Cy Young. Now, if there is any question left regarding Morris' Hall credentials -- and there shouldn't be -- look at the fact that he helped pitch three different teams to World Series titles ('84 Tigers, '91 Twins, '92 Blue Jays). Hell, he deserves enshrinement based on Game 7 in '91 alone -- the 10-inning, complete-game shutout of Atlanta in as good a World Series game that has ever been pitched.

Tim Raines: The list of players who dramatically changed the game is a short one. On that list is Raines, who, along with Henderson, forced managers and club officials everywhere to re-imagine what a leadoff man can do. Here's the thing with Raines: Though he finished well short of 3,000 hits (2,605), he was an on-base machine. Though Raines never had a 200-hit season, he still reached base more times than Hall of Famer Tony Gwynn (five 200-hit seasons, 3,141 career hits) and ranks 50th all-time in runs scored (1,571). Incredibly impressive for a guy who, at first glance, seems lacking in hits. I usually like my guys to do more than walk. But when bases on balls combine with other key offensive elements to make a player like Raines into such a lethal weapon, how can you not pay attention?

Alan Trammell: Sometimes I feel like I'm alone in my torch-carrying for Trammell and, truth be told, I'm pretty close to it based on his low 17.4 percent showing in last year's vote. But I continue to tilt at this windmill in my belief that Trammell is overlooked. Along with Cal Ripken and Robin Yount -- both Hall of Famers -- Trammell was at the forefront in the 1980s of changing the shortstop position. When the Tigers won the 1968 World Series, their everyday shortstop was Ray Oyler, who hit .135 with a .213 OBP, one homer and 12 RBI in 111 games (mercifully, manager Mayo Smith benched him during the World Series and moved Mickey Stanley in from center field). When the Tigers won in '84, Trammell hit .314 with a .382 on-base percentage, 14 homers and 69 RBI. And he wasn't benched during the World Series, he was named as World Series MVP.