The Oddity In Hall Voting

In the wake of the big reveal on this year's Hall of Fame election, we can quibble, even gladiate, over who, among those on the ballot, deserved a bust in Cooperstown. Those whose enshrinement is being debated were among the greatest baseballers on Planet Earth, regardless of whether or not they make your cut or mine.

I can't plausibly argue that Sammy Sosa doesn't deserve consideration, even though he doesn't get my vote. Nor can you argue likewise against Tim Raines or Curt Schilling. It's not as if F.P. Santangelo's immortality is at issue here.

In fact, the one concept about which nearly everyone agrees is that this year's ballot positively bulges with legitimate candidates. It's the very basis of Jayson Stark's complaint. In a previous post, I counted 12 certifiable no-doubters, without even taking into account several who merited further consideration.

Yet the average voter only selected 8.4 names. How could that be?

Some Theories That Don't Hold Up
I understand that a couple of writers handed in blank ballots. However, it would have taken 85 blank ballots to skew the results so low.

I understand that much of the electorate refuses to check the box next to the names of known steroid users, like Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens, even though they were the best in the game before they evidently began using. (I mean, I don't understand it, but I understand that it is the case.) Nonetheless, there were available down-ballot candidates to fill their spots, like Edgar Martinez (the greatest DH of all time), Alan Trammel (one of the 15 best shortstops of all-time) and Mike Mussina (every bit as good as John Smoltz except he never accumulated stats out of the pen).

I understand that not everyone with a BBWAA card can comprehend, or come to terms with, those newfangled sabermertronics invented by Billy Beane in Moneyball. So they vote on standards -- like 300 pitching wins -- that were actually discredited by Bill James starting in 1977. In other words, before Ronald Reagan was president; before Germany was one country; before Microsoft existed; before today's 54-year-olds graduated high school.

I understand that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for Mike Piazza, or Jeff Bagwell, or Raines. Presumably some of those who would (inexplicably, to be honest) eschew one or more of those three would find some merit in Jeff Kent, Mark McGwire or (the transparently unworthy) Lee Smith. One way or another, it's hard to fathom failing to find 10 qualified candidates from among this gaggle.

The "Me" Decade
So how do these voters average one-and-a-half blank spaces? It appears that as the number of voters has grown, now above 570, the number of voters seeking their own unique identity has ballooned. There is some significant minority of voters who want to stand out, or make a stand, or stand aside. They vote exclusively for steroid suspects, or exclude anyone with a PED whisper in his dossier. (How else to explain the lack of support for Bagwell, a guy with a 149 OPS+, a great glove at first, 202 stolen bases at a 72% success rate and MVP votes after 10 seasons?)

Or they employ some pretzel logic that would make Michele Bachmann blush, so as to appear cooly contrarian, enigmatically erudite, or just plain inscrutable. Swathed in the downy comfort of 570 other votes, their franchise has become an expression of their individuality, rather than a referendum on the players' Hall of Fame credentials.

In short, it appears that for a small but growing number of BBWAA members, the Hall of Fame vote is about the voter and not the Hall. And it's going to cost some all-time greats their place in Cooperstown.