A few weeks ago, I was asked how I thought John Olerud would fare in this year’s Hall of Fame vote.
“Really?” I said. “John Olerud is eligible for induction this year?”
The question had been answered with that question.
Olerud’s first-year Hall of Fame candidacy mirrors his personality as a player: quiet, content to remain in the background, unobtrusive to the point you barely can tell he’s there.
Despite Olerud’s local ties – the graduate of Interlake High in Bellevue went on to star at Washington State, and later, after making the rare jump from college straight to the big leagues, he was a key cog in the last two Mariners teams to reach the playoffs – I’ve discussed Olerud in terms of the Hall of Fame only once. And that was in Spokane, en route to the Apple Cup.
A year ago, Edgar Martinez, another unassuming sort with no ambition to see his face on a TV screen or his name in a newspaper headline, created an uncharacteristic stir when he finally became eligible for the Hall of Fame. During the days before the deadline – ballots must be submitted by Dec. 31 – voters around the country were asked which way they were leaning. Responses varied from “sure thing” to “no way.”
Such a disparity of opinions was due, of course, to Edgar’s position, or lack thereof. The debate hinged on the extent a designated hitter should be penalized by voters for not occupying a defensive position.
Martinez, who had a chance to become the first DH enshrined in Cooperstown, ended up with 195 votes from the 539-person electorate. Although his 36.2 percent total was well below the 75 percent necessary for election, it was well above the 5 percent minimum needed to keep his case alive.
Olerud inspires no such debate. His career offensive statistics, while solid, are not spectacular. There’s no magic number that jumps off the page and catches the eye.
He didn’t retire with at least a .300 batting average. (It was .295.) He didn’t finish with 500 home runs. (He finished with 255). He didn’t accumulate 3,000 hits (he had 2,239), or 1,500 RBI (he had 1,230).
Although a fundamentally flawless first baseman whose ability to scoop throws out of the dirt was unrivaled by his peers, he contributed all that stellar defense at, well, first base – during an era when first basemen were primarily valued for their power. Perhaps that’s why Olerud was named to but two All-Star Games, and received MVP consideration only twice: With the Blue Jays in 1993, when he was third, and with the Mets in 1998, when he was 12th.
Hall-of-Fame voters generally hold one of two philosophies. Some espouse a small Hall, a shrine open to only the best of the best.
http://www.thenewstribune.com/2010/12/1 ... o-but.html
Good read.
