If journalists were objective, Roger Maris would be in the Baseball Hall of Fame

The opening night of the World Series seems like a good time to consider Jorge Posada‘s case for his election to the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Posada, starting catcher for four World Series champions, belongs in the Hall of Fame, but I don’t think he will get there. As Yankee catchers go, he doesn’t have as strong a case as Thurman Munson. Just as the baseball writers kept Munson out, they will keep Posada out.

Of the “core four” Yankees from Posada’s time, Mariano Rivera and Derek Jeter are automatic Hall of Famers whose credentials are so strong they overcome the anti-Yankee bias. Posada is more like Andy Pettitte, worthy of the Hall of Fame, but likely to fall short.

Posada has not retired yet, but it’s likely we’ve seen most, if not all, of his outstanding years, so I think we can evaluate him as a Hall of Fame contender.

For catchers, you have to throw out the milestones that play into consideration for players at other positions. No catcher has hit 500 homers or 3,000 hits. (You can’t count Craig Biggio, who moved to second base before he had 500 hits). So it’s more an assessment of the total package that matters. You really have to measure a catcher against his contemporaries and/or against other Hall of Famers.

As I noted in an earlier post, Munson absolutely belongs in the Hall of Fame on both counts. He was one of the two best catchers of his time (Carlton Fisk and Gary Carter played longer, but only Johnny Bench was better when Munson played). He died in a plane crash while active, and his career statistics are closely comparable to Roy Campanella and Mickey Cochrane, two Hall of Fame catchers whose careers were curtailed tragically. But even when you compare him to Hall of Fame catchers whose careers weren’t shortened by tragedy, you see that Munson was clearly better than several and easily belongs in that group.

For Posada, the case is easy to make when comparing him to Hall of Fame catchers, but tougher when comparing him to his contemporaries.

Comparing contemporary catchers

Among Posada’s contemporary catchers, Mike Piazza and Ivan Rodríguez were clearly better, and both will probably make the Hall of Fame (unless suspicions about performance-enhancing drugs keeps Rodríguez out). Joe Mauer hasn’t played as long as Posada (and may move out from behind the plate), but with three batting titles and an MVP award, he is seven years into what appears to be a Hall of Fame career.

It would be unusual for three, or especially four, catchers from Posada’s era to be elected to the Hall of Fame. He will stand at least third in line among his contemporaries, fourth if Mauer stays great long enough.

It’s not without precedent for four catchers from an era to make the Hall of Fame: Five whose careers overlapped for seven years in the 1930s are in the Hall of Fame: Cochrane, Bill Dickey, Rick Ferrell, Gabby Hartnett and Ernie Lombardi. But the Hall of Fame has been especially generous to players from the 1920s and ’30s.

I don’t think the tougher voting today is deliberate racism, but the simple fact is that the Hall of Fame has many more players from the 1920s and ’30s, when it drew its players only from white Americans, than it ever will from later years. Think of it: Five catchers from 16 teams made the Hall of Fame in the all-white 1930s. With African-American, Latino (Posada is from Puerto Rico) and Asian players on 30 teams now, we can expect two or three.

No catcher who played most of his career in the 1960s is in the Hall of Fame (Yogi Berra ended his career in the ’60s and Bench started his in 1967, but in 1966, baseball actually didn’t have an active catcher who was bound for Cooperstown). From catchers playing in the 1970s, only Bench, Fisk and Carter are in the Hall of Fame. For the ’80s, only Fisk and Carter. Voting for old-timers will add a few, but no decade since baseball was integrated will match the five catchers who made Cooperstown from the all-white ’30s. The numbers change with other positions, but the pattern is the same.

No other catchers of Posada’s time beyond the four I’ve mentioned will get any serious Hall of Fame consideration. Biggio, a certain Hall of Famer, was a catcher his first four seasons, but he didn’t start playing like a Hall of Famer until he moved to second base, so I don’t consider him as a catcher and neither will the voters. His catching will be just an interesting note in his story.

Jason Varitek had some nice hype, but he trails Posada significantly in each Triple Crown category, both in career totals and single-season highs, and he wasn’t as durable behind the plate. Jason Kendall is fifth all-time in games caught, with a slightly higher batting average than Posada, but hardly any power. Javy López had a couple outstanding offensive seasons, but didn’t last as long behind the plate as Posada. None of them has a shot at the Hall of Fame.

Comparison with Cooperstown catchers

The only catchers in the Hall of Fame with more World Series championships than Posada are Berra and Dickey. However, championships don’t count at all in Baseball Hall of Fame voting. I’ll blog on this sometime: If you played a key role in an NBA or NFL dynasty, you’re going into the Basketball or Pro Football Hall of Fame. But championships don’t help borderline Hall of Fame candidates in baseball (or some borderline Yankees would be in the Hall of Fame). As I’ve noted before, the Yankees have far and away the most championships,  but two teams have more Hall of Famers.

So I don’t think Posada will make the Hall of Fame. And I don’t think his case is as compelling as several other Yankees’. But it’s still a strong case:

You always know that you’re making a weak case for someone when you start comparing him to the weakest players at his position who are in the Hall of Fame, but Posada measures well against the whole field, ranking in the top half in many offensive statistical measures and only at the bottom in stolen bases (two, but what catcher made the Hall of Fame on his stolen bases?).

Posada hit 275 homers, with a high of 30 in 2003, a higher career total than all but four of the 14 Hall of Fame catchers. (The table at that link does not include Al López, who’s ninth all-time in games caught and held the record when he was inducted into Cooperstown in 1977. While he made the Hall of Fame primarily as a manager, his plaque does cite his catching, so I include him to count 14 Hall of Fame catchers.) Hall of Famers Bench, Berra, Carter and Fisk hit more homers than Posada. Piazza and Rodriguez also have more homers. But the fact is, Posada hit more homers than 10 catchers already in the Hall of Fame.

Six catchers in the Hall of Fame drove in more runs than Posada (1,065). Again, not so impressive to make him an automatic choice (only one season with 100 RBI), but he still outproduced most catchers in the Hall of Fame.

Posada doesn’t have a strong batting average, .273, and he topped .300 only once (.338 in 2007). This is one of the few measures where he’s not in the top half of Cooperstown catchers. But that’s better than five Hall of Fame catchers — Bench, Carter, Fisk, López and Ray Schalk — and just three points lower than Campanella. So an average in Posada’s territory is not a detriment when considering a catcher’s Hall-worthiness.

In fact, here’s the list of Hall of Fame catchers with better career Triple Crown numbers in all categories than Jorge Posada: Yogi Berra. Piazza and Rodriguez also had better career Triple Crown numbers in all three columns than Posada. But that’s a short list. Without question, his career stats match up well with Hall of Fame catchers. Those stats alone would be enough to win a spot in the Hall of Fame for a non-Yankee.

Similarly, his on-base and slugging percentages are better than most Hall of Fame catchers. He’s just below the middle for hits and runs scored.

Awards provide some support for the Posada Hall of Fame case, but he didn’t win a lot of awards: five times an All-Star, five times a Silver Slugger. He never won a Most Valuable Player award (finished third in the 2003 voting, sixth in 2007). Bench, Berra and Campanella were multiple MVP winners. Lombardi, Hartnett and Cochrane each won one, but the other Hall of Fame catchers didn’t win MVP awards.

He was not a great defensive catcher, but he was good for most of his career, and he handled lots of successful pitchers, including the most successful reliever in baseball history.

Longevity matters to Hall of Fame voters and Posada caught 1,574 games, ninth among Hall of Fame catchers. Durability matters in evaluating catchers. Posada had eight seasons catching more than 130 games, one behind Carter, same as Fisk, one ahead of Bench and Berra, and more than all the other Hall of Fame catchers. Rick Ferrell, a mediocre hitter who’s in the Hall of Fame primarily for his defense, caught more than 130 games only three times. Ernie Lombardi never caught 130 games in a season. (The seasons were eight games shorter then, but Lombardi caught 120 games only twice.) Rodríguez, who holds the record for most games caught, had six seasons with 130 or more games caught. Same with Piazza. So only one catcher in the Hall of Fame, or likely to get there, was more durable behind the plate, handling a big catching load year after year.

Think about that: Only two catchers in history won more world championships than Posada. Only one Hall of Fame catcher was across the board better in the Triple Crown categories, and he stacks up well with the Hall of Fame catchers in all three categories and several more offensive categories. He was more durable behind the plate than nearly all the Hall of Fame catchers. It’s tough to picture a catcher who wasn’t a Yankee doing all that and not ending up with a plaque in Cooperstown. But I don’t think Posada will make it there.

Anti-Yankee bias is always a factor when a candidate such as Posada comes up for Hall of Fame voting. In addition to Munson, several other Yankees who are being denied entry to Cooperstown have stronger cases than Posada: Roger Maris, Don Mattingly, Ron Guidry, and Tommy John. Graig Nettles has a similar case (Allie Reynolds, too, though I haven’t written about him yet).

Given the strong case for at least two contemporaries and the strong and consistent anti-Yankee bias of Hall of Fame voters, I think Posada is a long shot to get the recognition he deserves in the Hall of Fame.

Yankees Curtis Granderson and Robinson Canó had outstanding years that merit MVP consideration. So did some non-Yankee position players: José Bautista, Miguel Cabrera, Jacoby Ellsbury and Adrián González.

When baseball writers (MVP voters) discuss the MVP contenders, you hear one of the dumbest statements and one of the strongest biases in baseball, almost as strong as the anti-Yankee bias: Pitchers shouldn’t be considered for the MVP.

That notion — and the fact that it persists so strongly — reveals why baseball writers as a group are too stupid and too biased to decide anything meaningful.

The dim bulbs making this argument generally cite two points: Pitchers have their own award and pitchers aren’t as valuable as every-day players. If the first point really matters, let’s just rename the award Most Valuable Position Player. Batters have their own awards, Silver Slugger and the Hank Aaron Award. MVP should be for the most valuable player of any position.

The second point just reveals the writers’ deep ignorance of the game they cover. Everyone in baseball knows that great pitching is the most dominant force in baseball. So on that level, it’s easy to argue. It’s easy to see the impact a pitcher has: When a great pitcher (or lousy pitcher) is on the mound, the team’s performance varies much further from its normal performance than when any position player is in the game. Verlander’s winning percentage this year is .828, about 200 points higher than any everyday player’s winning percentage.

Yes, it’s hard to compare pitchers to hitters, partly because what they do is so different and partly because of the different impact. A starting pitcher impacts only every fifth game, but he has a huge impact on it. A position player plays every day but only hits four or five times a game. To say that the award should go to someone who plays every day is as ridiculous as it is to say that the award should to to someone who has a huge impact on dozens of plays every game he plays.

Pitching and hitting are equal forces dominating baseball (each much bigger than baserunning and fielding, the other components of offense and defense). It’s crazy to limit consideration of the game’s most valuable players to only the players doing one of the game’s two dominant pursuits.

It’s not an overstatement to say that the pitcher and hitter are the dueling lead players in nearly every baseball play. Base runners and fielders occasionally play a leading role, but usually play a secondary role to the pitcher and hitter.

So let’s look at how many plays Verlander has played one of these leading roles, as compared to each of the other MVP candidates. Verlander faced 969 batters this year. Jacoby Ellsbury had the most plate appearances of the MVP contenders, with 729. Verlander pitched more times than anyone in the A.L. hit. We should be asking whether they played enough to be considered against him.

I’m no sabermetrician. But I think I can show how mathematically that a pitcher has as much impact on his team’s season as a position player who plays every day.

Let’s start with an obvious premise: The outcome of every play rests 50 percent with the offensive team and 50 percent with the defensive team. (There are exceptions, such as balks or wild pitches, but baserunners certainly influence balks, and the hitter may influence some wild pitches.) Each play during a baseball game will count for one play share. So the defense and offense each get 0.5 play shares for each play (even balks and wild pitches, just to be consistent). A play is a plate appearance or anything else that results in an out or a runner advancing.

Obviously, the 50 percent offense at times rests entirely with the hitter (homer, strikeout, walk, no one on base). Other times, the 50 percent offense rests entirely with the baserunner (stolen bases or caught stealing, ignoring that perhaps a busted hit-and-run might cause a caught stealing). Other times, the offensive share is split between the batter and the baserunners (batter contributes most to the outcome by hitting a single, for instance, but the runner makes a notable contribution by scoring from second base). Similarly, a pitcher takes the full defensive credit for the homer or strikeout (yes, the catcher called the pitch, but we’re giving the pitcher full credit here; other aspects of the formula will favor position players). And when the ball is in play, the share is split between the pitcher and the fielders.

I won’t bog this piece down further her by explaining the formula. Go to the end of the piece for that. But here’s the bottom line: Verlander has more play shares than any of the MVP contenders this year: 430.9 to 418.62 for González (the formula gives a slight advantage to first basemen over other position players). In fact, Verlander had more than 100 play shares more than Bautista.

Of course, you can slant the discussion quickly toward the pitcher if you start counting successful plays versus unsuccessful, because baseball isn’t a 50-50 proposition. Pitchers get outs more often than batters get hits, or even get on base.

But dig a little deeper into the numbers. Verlander struck out 250 batters this year. On that many plays, he was completely successful, beating the batter as badly as a pitcher can by himself (a double play is a bigger success, but shared with the fielders). Because of baseball’s imbalance favoring pitchers, it would be unfair to compare this to the homers (completely successful plays for the batters), though that’s a rout for Verlander, 250 to 43 or less (Bautista led the A.L. in homers). So instead compare his complete successes with the hit totals of the batters, representing a range of success beyond walks and sacrifices: Verlander’s strikeout total far surpasses even the largest hit total of his competitors: 213 by González.

Flip it around: Verlander had 24 plays that were complete failures: giving up a home run. By contrast, each hitter had at least 89 plays that were complete failures: striking out (for that matter, you could add the double plays they grounded into).

If you want to go sabermetric here, Verlander had 8.4 “wins above replacement” (a formula to project how many more games his team won that it would have with a replacement-caliber player from the bench or the minor leagues). Only Bautista (8.5) topped that.

With no dominant hitter — you could make a case for any of six every-day players — it’s really an easy call for Verlander. He has been involved in more meaningful plays for his team than the hitters. And no one, pitcher or hitter, has been anywhere near as dominant.

Interestingly, the last starting pitcher to win the MVP, Roger Clemens in 1986, was actually dead even with the best hitter that year in play shares, rather than having a solid advantage. So why did Clemens win the MVP? Because that year put the most powerful bias of the baseball writers into play: their anti-Yankee bias.

Don Mattingly‘s 1986 season would blow away this year’s offensive contenders. He led the league in hits, doubles, total bases, slugging and OPS. Though he wasn’t known as a homerun hitter,

To see clearly how the anti-Yankee bias works, compare the Clemens-Mattingly race to Ron Guidry and Jim Rice in 1978. When it comes to play shares, Guidry blew Rice away, 467 to 394. Guidry pitched nine shutouts, a level of dominance an offensive player can’t achieve (no hitter can ensure that his team won’t lose in nine innings). Rice had a great season that year, with 213 hits, but that didn’t approach Guidry’s strikeout level. Guidry was completely unsuccessful — giving up a homer — in only 13 plays. (Rice grounded into 15 double plays, if you want a similar measure of failure.) On the other hand, Rice was completely unsuccessful — striking out — 126 times.

Rice and Mattingly had roughly comparable years. Each led his league in hits, total bases, slugging and OPS. Mattingly also led in doubles while Rice led in homers, RBI and triples. Mattingly had a notably higher batting average, .352 to .315, a higher on-base percentage and way fewer strikeouts. They both were lousy at stealing bases, but at least Mattingly never tried (Rice was caught five times). Both scored a lot of runs (117 for Mattingly, 121 for Rice). Each was easily the best offensive player in the American League, Rice with the power edge and Mattingly with the edge in contact. Mattingly was far superior on defense, winning the second of his nine Gold Gloves at first base. Rice was a mediocre outfielder who played designated hitter for 49 games (Mattingly DH’d once). Mattingly was so solid defensively that he played three games at third base, even though he was left-handed. If you discount defense entirely, you can make a case that Rice had the better offensive year, but they were pretty even.

Though Clemens had a dominant year in 1986, it fell short of Guidry’s 1978 in every respect. Each led his league in wins, winning percentage and ERA, though Guidry’s numbers were better in every respect (three-quarters of a run better in ERA). Each was second in the league in strikeouts, but Guidry had 10 more. Guidry was way better in shutouts, with a league-leading nine to one for Clemens.

Guidry had the advantage over both Rice and Clemens with 8.5 wins above replacement, compared to 7.0 for Rice and 7.9 for Clemens (Mattingly had 6.9, confirming my assessment of him as pretty even with Rice).

The comparison is pretty clear: Each time a dominant pitcher was clearly more valuable than the dominant hitter. Usually, the anti-pitcher bias swings that in favor of the hitter. But when the hitter was a Yankee, that was enough to seal the MVP for the pitcher. Even when the pitcher had a bigger advantage over the hitter, both in dominance and in actual meaningful plays, when that pitcher was a Yankee, he had to settle for the Cy Young Award.

Unlike the baseball writers who choose award winners, I recognize my bias. I have a heavy Yankee bias. But not heavy enough to say either Granderson or Canó deserves to be the MVP this year. Verlander should be the runaway winner (like Guidry should have been in 1978).

Below the videos, I explain the play-shares formula.

Play shares explained: I’ve devised a formula to reflect a player’s impact on the outcome of his team’s plays. This is a measure of quantity, not quality: just an effort to count the number of plays in which the player made a significant contribution to the outcome, not whether that outcome was positive or negative for his team.

We’ll recognize that this formula does not fit every play perfectly. For instance, it will not recognize the batter’s contribution to a caught stealing that was a busted hit-and-run. It won’t recognize the fielder’s impact on an out that the centerfielder makes by reaching over the fence to catch a potential homer. But I think it reflects on average the contributions that players make to a team’s success or failure.

For homers, strikeouts, walks and hit batters, pitcher will get .5 play shares and batter .5. Any contributions by baserunners and fielders are negligible. For stolen bases and caught stealing, the runner gets .5 play shares. With no runners on base, the batter also would receive the full .5 play share for the outcome of the play. With any runners on base, the batter still gets most of the credit, .4 play share. Runners would get .1 play share. I’m using year-end statistics, not daily score sheets, so I am trying to simplify here. I will give the batters .45 play share for plate appearances that result in balls in play. This splits the difference. They also will get .1 play shares for every time they are on base. This will give them probably more credit than they deserve. If they reach base with two outs and the next batter strikes out or pops up, they really aren’t involved in the play. If they are on base when someone hits a homer, they aren’t really involved. But other times, they may reach base and be involved in a couple of plays, advancing quickly on a bunt, so the defense can’t go after the lead runner, then scoring on a single. I think .1 for every hit (excluding homers), walk and HBP is generous.

My formula gives the pitcher .4 credit for balls in play, with the other .1 going to the defense. However, defensive statistics make it difficult to apportion that .1. If a first baseman makes a spectacular catch of a line drive, he should get the full .1, but it’s just a putout in the stats. On the other hand, if the shortstop makes a great grab in the hole and throws a strike to the first baseman, he still gets a putout, even though he probably deserves only .01 of the credit. That’s OK, though, I want to reflect the pro-position-player bias of the baseball writers, so I am going to give players .07 for every defensive chance — putout, assist or error, more than splitting the difference. This gives first basemen a slight advantage because of the large number of putouts they get.

Baseball’s conventional wisdom says you steal bases on the pitcher, not the catcher, so I’ll credit pitchers with .3 play share for every stolen base or caught stealing. A pick-off belongs more to the pitcher, though the fielder still has to put on the tag. So I’ll give .4 play share for pickoffs.

Wild pitches and balks probably aren’t a 50-50 proposition, but I think the formula has to keep each play equally divided between offense and defense. I don’t have offensive stats for individual runners advancing on balks or wild pitches, but I have already probably over-credited offensive players for the plays that happen when they are on base. Wild pitches and balks count as .5 play shares for pitchers.

For play shares and other stats on the players mentioned in this blog post, check my spreadsheet (all stats from Baseball Reference).

Some players stand so far above the field that no one is even close.

Rivera today passed Trevor Hoffman to become the all-time career saves leader with 602. But it’s not even close who’s the best relief pitcher ever. Just like it’s not even close who was the best base stealer ever or the best strikeout pitcher or most unhittable pitcher ever.

Look at how these players blew away the field:

Nolan Ryan. He struck out 5,714 batters, 839 strikeouts more than Randy Johnson, who’s second with 4,875. That’s 17 percent more than anyone ever. Give Johnson his best two seasons each one more time, and that’s not enough to catch Ryan. And it’s not just strikeouts. Ryan had seven career no-hitters, 75 percent more than Sandy Koufax, who is second with four. Ryan had as many no-hitters as Koufax and Bob Feller combined. For good measure, Ryan also holds the single season strikeout record, though that one is by a single K over Koufax.

Rickey Henderson was similarly dominant as a base-stealer, finishing with 1,406 for his career, half again (actually 49.89 percent more, if you want to be precise) as many as Lou Brock‘s 938. After breaking Brock’s record, Henderson stole as many bases as Willie Mays stole in his entire career. Then he stole another 130, as many as he stole in setting the single-season record. That record was 12 more (9 percent more) than Brock’s record of 118. Henderson also holds the all-time records for runs and homers leading off a game, and held the walks record until Barry Bonds blew past him.

Babe Ruth‘s all-time homer records have long since fallen: Roger Maris got his single-season record, Hank Aaron his career record, Mickey Mantle his World Series record. But when Ruth retired, he was hundreds of career homers ahead of the field. He still is way ahead of everyone in one category: 12 league homer titles, way ahead of Mike Schmidt, second with eight. And, oh, yeah, Ruth was a hell of a pitcher, too. Of the few major leaguers who pitched and played a position, no one was close to as good as Ruth as a pitcher, let alone as a hitter.

Rivera is similarly unique in baseball history. Don’t compare him to Hoffman, Rollie Fingers, Goose Gossage, Bruce Sutter, Dennis Eckersley, Hoyt Wilhelm, Lee Smith or any other great reliever. It’s just not close. OK, it’s close in career saves with Hoffman, and Rivera doesn’t hold the single-season saves record (Francisco Rodriguez saved 62 in 2008).

Here’s where it’s not close: Hoffman had a 2.87 career ERA and only two seasons with an ERA under 2.00. Rivera has an ERA of 2.22, with 10 seasons under 2.00. (Smith had one season under 2.00, Gossage three, Eck three, Fingers three, Wilhelm six, Sutter two.) Rivera has more seasons under 2.00 than the last three relievers elected to the Hall of Fame combined. 

And we haven’t even gotten to post-season yet. But let’s do that: Rivera’s 42 saves in the post-season are more than double the next-closest pitcher, Brad Lidge at 18. OK, but he pitched his whole career in the era of three rounds of the post-season. So let’s just look at his World Series performance: 11 saves, nearly twice the six saves by Fingers, who’s second. With four pitchers tied at third with four saves, you can’t choose two relievers who can combine to match Rivera’s World Series save total. (Here’s a fun fact: One of those guys with four saves was John Wetteland. Rivera set up three of those saves.)

How about post-season ERA: Rivera is under 1.00 in career ERA for the World Series, League Championship Series, Division Series and, of course, total post-season. He’s had 21 post-season series (out of 31) when he didn’t give up an earned run and only two series with an ERA higher than 2. In 94 post-season games, he lost once (Game 7 in the 2001 World Series, on a bloop single).

Sabermetricians like to pretend they can prove that there’s no such thing as clutch performance (they can’t). Here’s the proof that Rivera has been the greatest clutch performer in baseball history: In 139 post-season innings (two seasons’ worth for Rivera, so that’s plenty of data), facing the best teams in his league or the very best team in the other league, Rivera has a lower ERA by more than a run and a half than his spectacular regular-season ERA.

I’ve watched from the outfield many times, but never before from field level. We ate, drank and watched from The Warning Track party room, right behind the right field warning track, watching through a chain-link fence.

Carlos Beltran and the San Francisco Giants from the Warning Track party room at Coors Field.

That was cool, but not as cool as getting to go up behind the hand-operated out-of-town scoreboard. You climb steep, narrow stairs …

Stairs to the scoreboard at Coors Field

… to a narrow room with numbers …

Behind the Coors Field scoreboard

… and abbreviated team names.

Team names behind Coors Field scoreboard

Workers behind the scoreboard monitor out-of-town games on two TV sets. (I was politely but firmly asked to move when I inadvertently stood between a scoreboard operator and her TV. When someone scores, the operators quickly update the scoreboard.

Posting a new score at Coors Field

And, if you want to feel like a little kid getting away with something, you can watch the game through a knothole.  Not the best game I’ve ever seen (Giants won, 8-5), but one of my favorite ballpark experiences.

Knothole view of Rockies and Giants playing, from behind the Coors Field scoreboard.

Maris died of cancer in 1985, his place in baseball history secure. Just like the asterisk that failed to diminish his most remarkable accomplishment, the continuing arrogance and ignorance of Hall of Fame voters only add to Maris’s luster.

He broke the record baseball’s commissioner and press didn’t want him to break, and the baseball establishment has never forgiven him. He didn’t chat up reporters when he was baseball’s biggest story, and the baseball writers, who held the keys to Cooperstown, stubbornly made him pay.

Babe Ruth was baseball’s iconic figure, and baseball’s powers that were wanted his record of 60 homers in a season to stand forever, or at least to fall to another iconic figure. For a quiet, good player to rise to immortality in a single year didn’t fit the prejudices of baseball’s powerful — neither sports writers, who were too wedded to clichés to recognize that a story for the ages was unfolding before them, nor the commissioner, Ford Frick, who had ghost-written Ruth’s biography. Frick, who is remembered for little more than the asterisk he placed on Maris’ record, was elected to the Hall of Fame in 1970. He is nowhere near as famed among baseball fans as Maris.

Maris has been dead 26 years, his record was broken 13 years ago, and still he remains one of the most famous baseball players of all time. He belongs in the Hall of Fame. He belonged there while he was alive and he certainly belongs there when he remains more famous than most Hall of Famers 50 years after he left his mark. That he isn’t there says far more about the Hall of Fame than it does about Maris.

I’ve already made the case for Maris to be in the Hall of Fame. It’s an easy case to make. Let’s examine just how famous he is, compared to his peers.

I count 33 Hall of Famers (let me know if I overlooked someone) who were playing in 1961: Hank Aaron, Luis Aparicio, Richie Ashburn, Ernie Banks, Yogi Berra, Lou Brock, Jim Bunning, Orlando Cepeda, Roberto Clemente, Don Drysdale, Whitey Ford, Nellie Fox, Bob Gibson, Al Kaline, Harmon Killebrew, Sandy Koufax, Mickey Mantle, Juan Marichal, Eddie Mathews, Willie Mays, Bill Mazeroski, Willie McCovey, Stan Musial, Robin Roberts, Brooks Robinson, Frank Robinson, Red Schoendienst, Duke Snider, Warren Spahn, Hoyt Wilhelm, Billy Williams, Early Wynn and Carl Yastrzemski.

How many of them did anything that will even be noted on its 50th anniversary? The 50th anniversary of Maris’ 61st homer, coming up Oct. 1, will be featured on Sports Center and in countless blogs and newspaper columns and baseball broadcasts and probably on the nightly network news. It will be a big deal, trust me. Certainly Aaron’s 715th homer will be similarly celebrated on its 50th anniversary, but nothing else will be close. Clemente’s death will probably be noted 50 years later. I don’t remember much being made of the 50th anniversary of Mazeroski’s World Series homer. Maybe a few others — Koufax’s sudden retirement, Drysdale’s scoreless innings streak — will receive trivial notice. Update: Illustrating my point, I just found a blog that’s tracking the Maris-Mantle chase of Babe Ruth’s record day by day. Um, anyone doing that for Al Kaline, Eddie Mathews or Robin Roberts 50 years later?

How many of those Hall of Famers were famous enough to be the subject of an Emmy-winning movie (61*)? I can’t think of one.

How many of those players are better known than Maris 50 years later? Aaron, Mantle, Mays and Musial for sure. Maybe Berra, Gibson, Koufax and Clemente. Maybe Banks, Frank Robinson and Yaz. The list is short and it’s a list of baseball’s very best, each of them a no-doubt Hall of Famer. If you’re on that list when it comes to baseball fame, you belong in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

How many of those players won two Most Valuable Player awards (Maris was the MVP the year before he broke Ruth’s record)? Only Mantle, Berra, Musial, Mays, Banks and Robinson.

Injuries cut Maris’ career short. In football, part of Jack Youngblood‘s legend in football was his toughness in playing a game with a broken bone. Yankee doctors misdiagnosed a broken bone in Maris’ hand, but he played on in 1965 and was never a great player again. If longevity is the only criteria for selection to the Hall of Fame, he doesn’t belong there. But the Hall of Fame made room for other comets who flashed across baseball’s sky: Dizzy Dean, Hack Wilson and Koufax, to name a few.

If joviality were the only criteria for selection to the Hall of Fame, Maris would not belong. But the Hall includes such surly greats as Ty Cobb, Ted Williams and Steve Carlton.

If high batting averages were required for the Hall of Fame, Maris would not qualify with his .260 career average. But Mazeroski had the same average and Killebrew (.256) and Rabbit Maranville (.258) had lower averages. Aparicio, Ozzie Smith and Reggie Jackson all hit .262.

Maris was dismissed by some sportswriters as one-dimensional. But he was a Gold Glove outfielder. His great play on a double by Willie Mays in the ninth inning of Game Seven of the 1962 World Series kept Matty Alou from scoring the tying run, setting up Bobby Richardson’s famed Series-ending catch of Willie McCovey’s line drive.

When baseball writers feel like it, they dote on players they perceive as performing well under pressure. Few players faced anything approaching the pressure Maris did (Aaron certainly endured a similar spotlight, with a racial factor added, but he didn’t face the deadlines Maris did; as long as he kept playing and hitting homers, he had his shot at Ruth’s career record). The clutch players writers love act cool under the pressure, as if they don’t feel a thing. But Maris obviously felt the pressure: He was openly cranky and losing his hair in clumps. He looked for all the world like a guy who was going to fall apart. And under all that pressure, still he hit homers. Still he set a record that stood for 37 years, longer than Ruth’s record did.

One of the ways critics diminished  Maris’s achievement was that he set the record against diluted pitching in an expansion year. But baseball expanded again in 1962, ’69, ’77 and ’93, with no threat to Maris’ record. That was always a bogus rap. If it was somehow easy for Maris to hit homers that year, it would have been easy for everyone that year or every time baseball expanded. Six American Leaguers hit 30 or more homers that year. Leagues had more players with 30 homers lots of times before and since, even before the homer explosion of the 1990s. The American League had 20 hitters with 30 or more homers in 1987, but the league leader fell a dozen homers short of Maris.

The A.L. homerun king that year was Mark McGwire, who underscored Maris’s greatness in needing to cheat to break his record. I thought Maris might get into the Hall of Fame as attention focused on him in the 1990s as McGwire and Ken Griffey Jr. started flirting with his record. Though McGwire and Sammy Sosa soared past 61 homers in 1998, the special year that resulted really showcased Maris’s unique place in baseball history. And, of course, the accomplishments of McGwire, Sosa and Barry Bonds, who broke McGwire’s record with 73 homers in 2001, have all been tainted by accusations of using performance-enhancing drugs.

So Maris’ record has a different type of asterisk now, the all-time record by a clean player.

I’m no fan of Bud Selig, but I was pleased to read that at this year’s All-Star Game, Selig noted that Maris belongs in the Hall of Fame. Maybe 50 years after one commissioner shamed himself and the game by trying to diminish one of its all-time achievements, another commissioner will help the Hall of Fame recognize a player whose fame endures 50 years after his year in the spotlight.

Related links:

Get Roger Maris in the Baseball Hall of Fame Facebook page

Get Roger Maris in the Baseball Hall of Fame petition

It’s Time: Roger Maris Belongs in the Hall of Fame

Why Isn’t Roger Maris in the Baseball Hall of Fame?

Re-Examining Roger Maris’ Hall of Fame Candidacy

Virginia Man Campaigning for Roger Maris’ Induction into the Hall of Fame

Roger Maris: The Greatest Slugger the Press Box Hacks Won’t Let in the Hall of Fame

My friend Jay Rosen faults journalists who cite arguments that people supposedly make without quoting or linking to examples of those arguments. The arguments against electing Roger Maris to the Hall of Fame have been going on for 50 years, especially in the 1970s and ’80s, when he was eligible for election by the Baseball Writers Association of America. That was long before such arguments were made online. I have linked a few pieces that represent some of the anti-Maris arguments mentioned above:

A King Without a Crown

Does Roger Maris Belong in the Hall?

For 50th Anniversary of Maris’s 61, No Asterisk Is Required

Roger Maris for the Hall? No, It’s Still Not a Good Idea

Actually, it’s a great idea and decades overdue.

Update: And here’s the most moronic of the anti-Maris takes I’ve found:

Plenty of duos have the look of M&M boys

Actually, dude, your lame take proves that no one ever had the look of the M&M boys. And, by the way, no one else on your list will be noted 50 years later the way you just noted Maris and Mantle. That’s fame. Case closed.

All the other Yankee greats — Roger Maris, Whitey Ford, Reggie Jackson, Don Mattingly, Ron Guidry, Thurman Munson, Lefty Gomez and so on — start a rung below those seven.

And it’s pointless trying to rank those top seven: How do you rank DiMaggio’s hitting streak or Mantle’s World Series homers or Gehrig’s consecutive-game streak behind anyone? But Babe has to be first, doesn’t he? And you can’t compare Rivera’s late-inning dominance with all these hitters. And no one won more World Series than Berra, whose masterful handling of the pitching staff again defies comparison. No, it’s a seven-way tie for first place as the greatest Yankee ever. No one gets dethroned at the top of this list, they just make room for another legend.

If you want to figure where Jeter ranks all-time, consider his standing among all the great shortstops of baseball history. More specifically, is he the greatest shortshop ever? Now, that’s a debate worth having, especially the day that he topped 3,000 hits with an amazing 5-for-5 day.

Three possible contenders in this discussion need to be eliminated pretty early: Alex Rodriguez, Robin Yount and Ernie Banks are certainly in your top 10 best shortstops ever. But you can’t be the best shortstop ever if you played eight years and counting at third base (A-Rod), nine years in the outfield (Yount) or a decade at first base (Banks).

Cal Ripken Jr. played five years at third base late in his career. But he played 14 full seasons and most of another at shortstop, 2,302 games. Jeter just passed him this year in games played at shortstop. Ripken certainly is a contender.

Honus Wagner is the only other member of the 3,000-hit club who played substantial time at shortstop. He played 1,887 games at shortshop and nearly 900 games at the other infield positions and the outfield. Though he’s nearly 500 shortstop games behind Jeter, he played there hundreds more games than Rodriguez, Yount and Banks. Wagner merits consideration.

Luke Appling, Dave Bancroft, Lou Boudreau, Joe Cronin, George Davis, Travis Jackson, Hughie Jennings, Rabbit Maranville, Phil Rizzuto, Joe Sewell, Joe Tinker, Arky Vaughn, Bobby Wallace and John Ward were Hall of Fame shortstops who played fewer games at shortstop than Jeter and came up significantly short of Jeter’s offensive achievements. They don’t belong in this discussion of who’s the greatest shortstop ever. Barry Larkin probably will join them in Cooperstown, but didn’t play as many games at shortstop as Jeter and also ranks behind him in most offensive categories.

Five shortstops deserve consideration as the greatest shortstop ever: Jeter, Ripken, Wagner, Luis Aparicio and Ozzie Smith. The case for each:

Luis Aparicio: If Ozzie Smith had never played, you could make a case for Aparicio being the best defensive shortstop ever: 2,581 games at shortstop (second all-time, behind Omar Vizquel), nine Gold Gloves, second all-time in assists for a shortsop, six times leading the league in assists, six in fielding percentage and four in putouts. His value as a base stealer (nine straight seasons leading the American League, 506 for the career) is the only basis for arguing that he would be better than Smith. But Aparicio was a mediocre hitter: .262 batting average with little power and few walks. He belongs in the conversation, but he doesn’t hold up long in the conversation.

Ozzie Smith. The Wizard of Oz was the greatest fielding shortstop ever by any measure: far and away the career leader with 8,375 assists, 13 Gold Gloves, eight times each leading the league in assists and fielding percentage. And he was a better offensive player than Aparicio. Though Smith never led the league in steals, he actually stole more bases, 580, than Aparicio. He was a weak hitter, having only one .300 season and one season with more than 100 runs. If you value defense more than offense, you can choose Ozzie as the best shortstop ever. But you almost have to discount offense entirely.

Honus Wagner. You really can’t compare defensive stats from Wagner’s area of short gloves. He committed 676 errors at shortstop, more than three times as many as Jeter in fewer games. So the case for Wagner is entirely an offensive case, and it’s a heck of a case: eight batting championships, five RBI titles, two 200-hit seasons, seven 100-run seasons, led the league seven times in doubles, three times in triples, five times in stolen bases, twice each in hits and runs. With 723 stolen bases, a .328 batting average, .391 on-base percentage, .467 slugging percentage, 3,420 hits, 1,733 RBI and 1,739 runs scored, he was one of the best hitters in major league history. His 101 homers don’t compare with Ripken or Jeter, but remember, he played in the dead-ball era. He played before baseball chose most valuable players, or he would have been a multiple winner. You’ll get no argument from me if you call Honus Wagner still the best shortstop ever.

Cal Ripken Jr. Ripken was a good defensive shortstop, winning two Gold Gloves and leading the league four times in fielding percentage, seven times in assists (eighth all-time with 6,977) and six times in putouts. Offensively, he was even more impressive: 3,184 hits, 431 homers, 1,695 RBI, 1,647 runs, .276 batting average, .340 OBP, .447 slugging, two 200-hit seasons, three 100-run seasons, four 100-RBI seasons. He led the league in hits, runs and doubles in 1983, one of his two MVP seasons (and the year after he was Rookie of the Year). And, oh yeah, he showed up to play every day. Not only did he play every day, he played shortstop every day, leading the league in games played at shortstop 12 seasons. Again, I have no problem if you call Ripken the best shortstop ever.

Derek Jeter. Joe Posnanski doesn’t make the claim that Jeter is the best shortstop ever (read his piece, it’s much better than this), but he does say this:

Jeter, more than anyone else, is the personification of 3,000 hits. How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice, practice, practice. How do you get to 3,000 hits? Line drive after bloop after scorcher down the line. Seven times Derek Jeter got 200 hits in a season. No other shortstop has done that more than four. Eleven times he hit .300 or better … that’s as often as Clemente. Jeter hit double digit homers 15 times, most ever for a shortstop. Jeter stole double digit bases 15 times, most ever for a shortstop (tied with Ozzie Smith and Luis Aparicio). Jeter scored 100 runs 13 times, most ever for a shortstop. He has been unrelenting and undeniable.

Here’s where Jeter blows the other shortstops away: He has played 147 post-season games, hitting .309, with 185 hits, 20 homers, 57 RBI, 101 runs scored, 63 walks and 17 stolen bases. He has hit over .400 in a post-season series 10 times. Post-season play was only one round during Wagner’s and Aparicio’s careers and two rounds for most of Smith’s and Ripken’s careers. So just compare Jeter’s World Series play to the other contenders: .321, 50 hits in 38 games, 32 runs, nine doubles, three homers, nine RBI, four stolen bases, 13 walks. Jeter played in seven World Series to one for Ripken, three for Smith, and two each for Aparicio and Wagner. Combined, they played in more World Series games, 51 to 38. But Jeter had 50 hits to their combined 42, 32 runs to their 16. None of them ever homered. They did combine for 15 RBI, more than his nine.

Jeter’s defense is a subject of some debate and criticism. I’ll grant that his five Gold Gloves may be more than he deserved. But he did lead the league in assists and putouts once each (different years) and fielding percentage twice. And none of the other contenders can claim a clutch fielding play as big as his highlight-reel play to nail Jeremy Giambi at the plate and save the 2001 playoff series with the Oakland A’s. Granting that Jeter is not the defensive shortstop that Smith and Aparicio were, the gap between his offense and theirs is way bigger than the gap between their defense and his.

And Jeter isn’t finished yet. He is easily one of the four best shortstops ever based on regular-season performance. But baseball is about winning, and when you count Jeter’s championship play, you can make a strong case that he is the best shortstop ever.

We’ll acknowledge but then move past the first comparison that probably came to your mind: Gehrig hit all his homers without the aid of performance-enhancing drugs. And perhaps the second thing you thought of (if not the first) was that maybe A-Rod has hit better in the clutch than you realized.

What really stands out to me about A-Rod’s spot among the grand-slam leaders is that he is the only player in the top eight in career homers as well as career grand slams. Go to the top 10, and you can add Babe Ruth and Hank Aaron, who both hit 16 grand slams. But for the most part, the leaders in grand slams are not who you would think they’d be: great sluggers mostly, but not the greatest.

In fact, five of the six leading grand-slam sluggers played with hitters who were more feared than they were, or at least as feared. Five of the six leading grand-slam sluggers followed feared sluggers in the batting order for significant stretches of their careers:

• Gehrig hit behind Ruth in the Yankees’ famed Murderers’ Row batting order.
• Manny Ramirez, third with 21 grand slams, hit behind Albert Belle, Jim Thome and David Ortiz at different times in his career.
• Eddie Murray, with 19 grand slams, followed Cal Ripken Jr. in the Baltimore Orioles’ lineup.
• Willie McCovey, with 18, hit behind Willie Mays.
• Robin Ventura, the outlier in this group with only 294 career homers but 18 grand slams, hit behind Frank Thomas for the White Sox and Mike Piazza for the Mets.

To be sure, Ventura was a good slugger and the others were great ones: Ramirez, Murray and McCovey each with over 500 homers and Gehrig with 493. And I haven’t done (and won’t do) the research to figure out how many of their homers followed walks to the feared sluggers they followed. (I did confirm from multiple randomly chosen box scores that they hit behind the feared sluggers.)

I will note, though, that the sluggers these hitters followed walked a lot: Ruth was third all-time, Thome ninth and Thomas tenth. Ortiz, Thome, Thomas, Mays and Ruth led their leagues in walks some seasons they were teammates with grand-slam leaders. Ripken got 1,129 career walks, including 107 intentional walks. Piazza drew 146 intentional walks.

Belle was more of a free swinger. But he hit 50 homers and 52 doubles in 1995, with Ramirez hitting behind him. I don’t care how much a pitcher or manager feared Manny, Belle was not going to see a strike with men at second and third and first base open.

Of the grand-slam leaders, perhaps Murray was more feared than Ripken at times. He hit 73 more homers and was a switch-hitter. But Ripken won two MVP awards (Murray never did). And Murray grounded into 315 double plays (6th all-time; Ripken was first with 350, though it doesn’t appear that stat goes back very far). You may be more afraid of Murray with the bases loaded than of Ripken with the bases loaded. But you’d rather face Murray with the bases loaded than give Ripken a good pitch to hit with men on second and third and first base open.

A-Rod was the most feared slugger on the Rangers and Yankees for virtually all of his time with either team, though he played with lots of excellent hitters. While he was a Mariner, Ken Griffey Jr. was the more feared hitter. But Rodriguez hit in front of Griffey in all the box scores I checked, except for in 1999, when he did follow Griffey, who is tied for 12th at 15 grand slams. (They were the only teammates in the 600-homer club.)

Clearly grand slams are an intersection of ability (no singles hitters high on the grand-slam charts) and random opportunity, influenced by batting order, pitching performance and strategy. Just as clearly, if you are a great slugger who happens to follow a great slugger in the lineup, you get more opportunities to hit grand slams. And these batters delivered notably in those opportunities.

As you might expect, Yankees do really well on the grand-slam leaderboard: Gehrig and A-Rod at the top and Ruth tied for ninth. Don’t forget that Ventura played two seasons for the Yankees, too. (Dave Kingman, tied with Ruth and Aaron for ninth, was also a Yankee for eight games, if you want to count him). Jason Giambi (who spent a few years hitting behind A-Rod) is tied for 15th with 14 grand slams. Joe DiMaggio and Gary Sheffield check in at 13, Don Baylor at 12 (I saw a couple of those), Reggie Jackson, Tino Martinez, Danny Tartabull, Bernie Williams and Dave Winfield at 11.

The oddest fact about Yankees and grand slams: Don Mattingly holds the record for most grand slams in a season with six, hit in 1987 (Travis Hafner matched that feat in 2006). And those were the only grand slams Mattingly ever hit. That’s one of two home run records Mattingly holds, though he hit only 222 for his career and never more than 35 in a season. He also shares (with Griffey and Dale Long) the record for most consecutive games with a homer, eight.

Someone named Chris, blogging as Carrot League Baseball Today, dropped a link to a blog post in the comments on my post about why Graig Nettles belongs in the Hall of Fame.

Chris makes a lame attempt to argue that Nettles doesn’t belong in the Hall of Fame. He compares him to some good third basemen who aren’t in the Hall (Ron Santo, Buddy Bell and Darrell Evans), cherry-picking the stats that look worst for Nettles (RBI and walks not included). I always think it’s better to compare someone to people in the Hall of Fame and see whether Nettles belongs there (and he absolutely does), as my blog post showed. No need to re-argue that.

Santo, Bell and Evans may or may not be worthy of Hall of Fame induction (I expect Santo to get in soon). But they aren’t being kept out by any kind of bias. They were good players who made it into that borderline area where some players get in and some don’t. Nettles surpassed the defensive and offensive achievements of most Hall of Fame third basemen and is being kept out of the Hall of Fame because of anti-Yankee bias that keeps many worthy Yankees out of the Hall of Fame.

Chris inadvertently provided a great statistic that helps prove this bias. He says, as though addressing Nettles, that his exclusion from the Hall of Fame “has nothing to do with you being a Yankee (as many NY fans claim) as they have 15 players enshrined, good for 3rd among teams with players represented.”

I haven’t verified that stat (and I’m not sure how he assigns players to their primary teams), but I found it in Baseball Almanac. I love that he cites the fact that the Yankees rank high in Hall of Fame selection as proof that the process isn’t biased against the Yankees.

The Yankees have won 27 World Series, more than twice as many as any other team (the Cardinals are second with 10). Wouldn’t you think that the team that is far and away the best in baseball history would be first in Hall of Famers. The Giants, with 23, are way ahead of the Yankees (and just won their first World Series in nearly 50 years, their sixth overall). The Cardinals, at 16, are also ahead of the Yankees. The Cubs, who haven’t won a World Series in a century, are just one behind the Yankees. Supposedly the Yankees win all these World Series because they can “buy” the best players. But somehow those “best” players aren’t good enough to make the Hall of Fame.

As I’ve noted again and again on this blog, comparing achievements of Yankees not in the Hall of Fame to players from other teams in the Hall of Fame, many Yankees worthy of Hall of Fame selection have been excluded: Roger Maris, Ron Guidry, Thurman Munson, Don Mattingly, Tommy John. I haven’t gotten around to making the case for Allie Reynolds yet, but he certainly belongs on the list.

I can’t find similar lists of basketball or pro football Hall of Famers broken down by team, and no team in those sports has dominated its sports championships through the years the way the Yankees have dominated baseball. But the great teams in football (Packers, Bears, Steelers) have lots of Hall of Famers. And the Celtics and Lakers, who have dominated NBA championships, have lots of Hall of Fame selections.

I suspect the Yankees are the only team in pro sports history with more championships than Hall of Famers. (Can you name another?) Thanks, Chris, you didn’t make your case very well. But you certainly helped make mine.

He probably should but he probably won’t. Yankees who should be automatic Hall of Famers (see Ron Guidry, Roger Maris, Thurman Munson and Don Mattingly) get rejected from Cooperstown, so a borderline candidate like Pettitte has little chance.

Beyond whatever achievements he had in his career, Pettitte will face two strong biases that influence the baseball writers who hold the keys to the Hall of Fame. He is a Yankee, and Hall of Fame voters consistently vote against borderline Yankees (see Graig Nettles and Tommy John). And he used performance-enhancing drugs. We don’t have much history of how the drug scandals of his generation will influence Hall of Fame voting. But clearly the drug issue is keeping out Mark McGwire, who would be a lock otherwise. It has to hurt a borderline player.

I’ll make the case for Pettitte: He is the winningest post-season pitcher of all-time. This tells you two important things about Pettitte: He helped his teams get into the post-season, and he helped them achieve post-season success. Those are the two goals of every player every season and few have succeeded as clearly as Pettitte.

You can note that earlier generations didn’t have three rounds of post-season, and, of course, that’s true. But Pettitte pitched in an era with lots of great pitchers: Greg Maddux, Roger Clemens, Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez, Tom Glavine, John Smoltz. They all had the same chance Pettitte did to get into three rounds of post-season play again and again. And he won the most. Against the great teams you face in the post-season, Pettitte had a 19-10 record. When Smoltz goes into the Hall of Fame, you can be sure they will cite his 15-4 post-season record, as they should. So Pettitte should make the Hall of Fame on the strength of his 19-10 record.

He helped his teams win a lot of championships. The Yankees won five World Series with Pettitte as a mainstay of their rotation. The Astros won their only National League championship ever with Pettitte anchoring their rotation. If he were a football player, he would be a lock for the Hall of Fame. Comparable Packer and Steeler players were voted to the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

While Pettitte didn’t pass the 300-win barrier that ensures Hall of Fame election, most pitchers who reach 240 make it to Cooperstown. You certainly don’t need to make an exception to let him in. He had more wins, and a much higher winning percentage, than Don Drysdale and Catfish Hunter, for instance, and Drysdale and Hunter pitched in an era of four-man rotations when pitchers got more starts and wins. While this year’s new Hall of Famer, Bert Blyleven, won more games, Pettitte averaged 17 wins a year, three better than Blyleven.

Pettitte probably should have won the Cy Young Award in 1996, when he had more wins and fewer losses than Pat Hentgen, the winner, and led his team to a division title. When a Yankee pitcher does that, his achievement is diminished because he plays on a great team. But when Maddux, Glavine and Smoltz did that, they got credit for leading their teams to greatness.

But I can’t be outraged if Pettitte doesn’t win election to the Hall of Fame. I already cited half a dozen contemporaries who were clearly better. And you can add Roy Halladay to that list. If you’re at best the eighth-best pitcher of your time, you’re a borderline Hall of Famer. He only made three All-Star teams and except for leading the league in wins with 21 in 1996, he never led the league in any important statistical measures. In fact, I’d put another Yankee teammate ahead of him: David Cone, a Cy Young winner and five-time All-Star who does belong in the Hall of Fame.

It would be interesting to see how the drug issue played out if Pettitte was otherwise a lock for the Hall of Fame, say if he had won 300 games. Would his use of human growth hormone keep him out because voters punish everyone who used performance-enhancing drugs? Or would his ready admission of drug use, and his testimony against close friend and teammate Clemens, get him a pass.

But frankly, I think Pettitte is a long shot for the Hall of Fame without considering the drug issue. Hall of Fame voters do not place much importance on post-season performance. Pettitte didn’t reach the dominance of Guidry or Catfish Hunter (a better comparison, since Catfish made the Hall of Fame) and he didn’t pitch as long as Blyleven. Throw in the voters’ longstanding bias against Yankees, and I think Pettitte is unlikely to get that call from the Hall of Fame.