The Baseball Hall of Fame has had some form of “Veterans Committee” ballot in its induction process going all the way back to 1939. The committees have taken various forms over the years, but the most recent process breaks up potential candidates into three groups: Contemporary Era players (since 1980), Contemporary Era non-players, and the Classic Era, which includes players and non-players prior to 1980. The committee consists of 16 former players, executives, media, and historians, and players must get 12 or more votes for election.
This year’s ballot includes eight former players, two of whom played in the Negro League prior to integration. Let’s look at their cases and try to determine who should—and who might—get announced as a Hall of Famer on December 8th.
Dick Allen (1963-77), 1B/3B
58.7 WAR, .292/.378/.534, 156 OPS+, 1,848 H, 351 HR, 1,119 RBI, 1972 AL MVP
Allen had a couple things working against his Hall of Fame case. He was viewed by the media as a malcontent and did not have many allies amongst writers. He was also at his best during a time when offense was at its lowest point since the 1910s. That makes his counting numbers look small—1,848 hits are less than Vinny Castilla, and 351 homers are less than Carlos Lee.
But dig a little deeper, and you’ll find that Allen was a prodigious slugger. He was a very patient hitter, he flashed speed early in his career, and he had big power; he twice led his league in homers and finished second with 40 in 1966.
Allen’s combination of power, average, and on-base skills meant he led the league in OPS four times. His massive career 156 OPS+ ranks 21st all time among retired players, ahead of Willie Mays, Manny Ramirez, and Jeff Bagwell, to name a few.
Ken Boyer (1955-69), 3B
62.8 WAR, .287/.349/.462, 116 OPS+, 2,143 H, 282 HR, 1,141 RBI, 1964 NL MVP
During Boyer’s seven-year peak in St. Louis (1958-64), he had a .303/.372/.500 batting line and averaged 6.4 WAR, 26 homers, and 101 RBI per season. He was by all accounts an excellent fielder (modern metrics like him, and he won five Gold Gloves between ’58 and ’63) and he was the 1964 MVP for the pennant-winning Cardinals.
By my count, Boyer is one of the top 15 third basemen ever, and with Adrián Beltré’s induction in 2024, everyone else I’d put ahead of him is already in.
John Donaldson (1908-40), P
Donaldson is a sort of mythical figure from the difficult-to-track landscape of the first half of the 20th century. He is even more difficult to assess because he played only briefly in the official Negro Leagues, with the Kansas City Monarchs for five years from 1920-24. But, bizarrely, he barely pitched with the Monarchs and spent most of that time as a serviceable outfielder.
That brief tenure does not even begin to scratch the surface of Donaldson’s career. Throughout the 1910s, he starred for a variety of barnstorming teams, and there are no shortage of legends around him during this time, like a 27-strikeout game, or a season in which he was 44-3. After his five-year stint with the Monarchs, he continued to pitch in the upper Midwest and in Canada, sometimes as the only Black player on the team, until he was in his late 40s.
Much of this was done against amateur opposition, making Donaldson’s case hard to evaluate in a traditional sense. But he worked through all sorts of racial oppression to become a prototype for Satchel Paige, in that he was a legendary pitcher but also a brilliant showman who could please a crowd (and boost his paycheck).
Steve Garvey (1969-87), 1B
38 WAR, .294/.329/.446, 117 OPS+, 2,599 H, 272 HR, 1,308 RBI, 1974 NL MVP
This is the fifth time that Garvey has been on a Veterans Committee ballot. While I think it’s probably time to give someone else a chance, there are clearly people in powerful positions who want Garvey in the Hall.
On the surface, it makes sense. Garvey was one of the major figures of the 1970s. He made eight consecutive All-Star teams, won four straight Gold Gloves, and won the NL MVP in 1974 and was runner-up in 1978. He was an iron man who played in 1,207 consecutive games—still the National League record—and he had at least 200 hits in six of seven seasons between 1974 and 1980, with league-leading totals in two of those years. He was a postseason star who was the MVP of the NLCS twice and was a lifetime .338/.361/.550 hitter in 55 playoff games.
But modern stats have diminished Garvey’s star a bit. He has only 38 WAR via Baseball Reference, a number that ranks lower than fellow first basemen Kent Hrbek and Mark Grace. Defensive metrics are skeptical of his Gold Gloves. And Garvey didn’t walk much and didn’t hit for the type of power typically associated with star first basemen, so his OPS doesn’t compare well to the big stars at the position.
Dave Parker (1973-91), RF
40.1 WAR, .290/.339/.471, 121 OPS+, 2,712 H, 526 2B, 339 HR, 1,493 RBI, 1978 NL MVP
Parker, the Cobra, has more hits than Billy Williams, Nellie Fox, and Ted Williams, more homers than Hank Greenberg and George Brett, and more RBI than Eddie Mathews and Jim Rice. He’s got a great peak: he had three top-three MVP finishes in four years from 1975-78 (with a win in 1978), and he was outstanding in 10 games in the Pirates’ successful 1979 postseason run. After his age-28 season, he looked like a Hall of Fame lock.
But Parker got tied up in drugs and the 1985 Pittsburgh drug trials and his performance suffered badly in the first half of the 1980s, when he should have still been in his prime. He did bounce back later in his career; at 34 years old he had a renaissance season for the Reds in 1985 in which he led the league in doubles and homers and finished second in MVP voting, and later he had some solid counting numbers for the Athletics and Brewers.
But advanced metrics are not kind to Parker. He’d been a deserving Gold Glove outfielder early in his career, but his defense in the ‘80s was an atrocity before a switch to DH in 1988. He was walk averse and had just a .322 OBP from 1980-91, and he had one or less bWAR in nine of those 12 seasons.
He’s a polarizing case; big numbers, Hall-of-Fame talent, but many squandered years in the middle of his career. Clear Hall-of-Fame nickname, though.
Vic Harris (1922-47), OF/Manager
Harris was a very good outfielder and spent much of his career as the player-manager of the Homestead Grays, with whom he was a player from 1935-45 and manager for 11 years between 1936 and 1948. The Grays won three Negro League World Series and nine Negro National League pennants with Harris at the helm, and he was a six-time All-Star as a player.
Harris’s playing career alone wouldn’t be enough to put him in the Hall, but when you combine it with his work as the manager of the second NNL’s most successful franchise, there’s a very compelling case.
Tommy John (1963-89), SP
61.6 bWAR/79.4 fWAR, 288-231, 3.34 ERA (111 ERA+), 3.38 FIP, 2,245 K
John is most famous for the medical procedure that bears his name, which he had when he was 31 in 1974. He ended up playing until he was 46.
When you pitch that long, you compile a lot of numbers—his 288 wins are the most for any player after 1900 who is not in the Hall of Fame. The argument against John is that he didn’t have a strong enough peak. He did put up four straight top-eight Cy Young Award finishes in the late 1970s, but he never had a season worth more than 5.6 bWAR. Fangraphs is a bit sunnier on John, a good control pitcher who threw a sinker that induced a lot of weak contact and limited homers. His career mark of 79.4 fWAR is definitely near a Hall of Fame level, and his best season via Fangraphs is a more respectable 6.9 WAR.
Luis Tiant (1964-82), SP
66.1 bWAR/54.8 fWAR, 229-172, 3.30 ERA (114 ERA+), 3.47 FIP, 2,416 K
Tiant unfortunately just passed away last month. He was a joyful player, a real character with some of the best facial hair in baseball history. But don’t let that overshadow how good he was.
In 1968, Tiant didn’t get any Cy Young votes because Denny McLain won 30 games, but when you look with modern eyes, Tiant was the best pitcher in the AL that season, in which he led his league in ERA, shutouts, FIP, and H/9.
Tiant’s career didn’t follow a traditional arc, and he went through the wilderness a bit over the next few seasons before finding himself again in Boston in 1972, when he won his second ERA title. He had two top five Cy Young finishes over the next few years and had a huge postseason in 1975.
Despite his twisty career path, Tiant finished with 229 wins and a 114 ERA+, which for comparison is more wins than Catfish Hunter and a better ERA+ than Nolan Ryan.
Who gets in?
I’d put these players in three groups, and I’ll here point out that I’m a “big Hall” person. To me, Allen, Tiant, and Boyer (in that order) are players that I would put in the Hall of Fame purely on their playing careers. Harris, Donaldson, and John are players whose whole stories make them figures who deserve enshrinement. Parker and Garvey, for me, fall a bit short.
But each member can vote for only three people (making the mathematical max four inductees), and the baseball world seems more conscious of putting in players who are still with us (which, in this group, includes only Parker, Garvey, and John). Knowing the history of these committees, my official guess is that Donaldson, John, and Allen—who was one vote short in 2015 and 2022—will get in.
