OK, we come at last to the special cases, to the players who perhaps can’t be evaluated as Hall of Famers strictly by the processes and standards we have laid out as general guidelines, plus a couple of guys I just didn’t know what else to do with.  We’ve got six in this group, which brings our total to 71:

71.   Herb Score (75-58, 562)

70.   Bob Locker  (71-46, .603)

69.   Tony Conigliaro (95-82, .537). 

68.   Johnny Murphy (88-58, .600)  102

67.  Brian McRae  (134-151, .470) 125

66.  Tiny Bonham (111-69, .618)  131

65.  George Case  (138-148, .482)  133

64.  Vince Coleman  (144-166, .465)  135

63.  Steve Gromek (140-120, .538)  150

62.  Sam Chapman (138-152, .475)  131

61.  J. R. Richard (125-97, .565)  141

60.   Scott Fletcher (147-153, .490)  144

59.   Jack McDowell (126-87, .548)  148

58.  Bobby Higginson  (142-121, .540)  152

57.  Jim Ray Hart (130-79, .622)  156

56.   Spud Chandler (123-54, .696) 158

55.   Bob Veale (145-116, .556)  160

54.  Pete Fox  (161-156, .509)  164

53.  Johnny Allen (145-107, .576)  164

52.  Sal Maglie (142-83, .631) 172

51.  Thornton Lee  (158-127, .555)  174

50.   Ray Chapman (154-103, .607)  Win Share Value of 179

            Killed by a pitch just as the Cleveland Indians were near the end of a nine-year battle to reach the top of the American League, Chapman had a defensive won-lost contribution of 36-4 over his last four seasons (19-19 before that), and was an above-average offensive player every season of his career except his injury-plagued 1915 campaign.  Given his performance levels for his last four seasons (29-10, 21-10, 18-11 and 19-10), it is reasonable to think that his career might possibly have reached a Hall of Fame standard, had he been able to continue.   Team Success Percentage:  .701.

49.  Bobby Shantz  (153-99, .607)  180

48.   Firpo Marberry (159-104, .604)  186

47.   Jim Maloney (163-91, .642)  198

46.   Freddy Lindstrom (184-141, .564)  202

45.   Chick Hafey (167-96, .634)  202

44.   Lu Blue (191-163, .539) 205

43.   Rollie Fingers (170-107, .612) 205

42.   Rico Carty (179-112, .615)  213

41.  Allie Reynolds (192-144, .572)  216

40.  Riggs Stephenson (171-81, .671)  216

39.  Danny Tartabull  (175-93, .654)   216

38.  Johnny Pesky (168-95, .640) 205

37.  Addie Joss (167-85, .662)  208

36.  Dizzy Dean (166-80, .674)  208   

35.  Ken Williams (179-106, .630)  217

34.   Ron Guidry (176-95, .650)  217

33.  Dominic DiMaggio (186-127, .595)  217

32.  Don Newcombe (181-96, .653)  223

31.  Smokey Joe Wood  (177-86, .673)  223

30.  Hal Trosky (184-104, .638)   224

29.  Nomar Garciaparra (191-95, .668)  239

28.  Roger Maris (197-88, .690)  Win Share Value of 251

            With a defensive winning percentage of .607, we have Maris scored as one of the best defensive outfielders on this list.   His won-lost contributions in his two MVP seasons are 25-2 and 30-4, and we have him as a quality player until the end of his career, even without his power:

            Team Success Percentage:  .703.

27.  Albert Belle (205-106, .660)  254

26.  Roy Campanella (166-71, .701)   214

25.  Jacques Fournier  (209-102, .673)  263

24.  Dolph Camilli (211-97, .685)  268

23.  Phil Rizzuto (216-133, .620)  258

22.  Ralph Kiner (203-81, .698)  261

21.   Sandy Koufax (216-115, .653)  266

20.  Wally Berger (206-84, .709)  Win Share Value of 267

            Wally Berger hit 38 home runs as a rookie in 1930, which was a record for rookie until finally broken by Mark McGwire in 1987, tied first by Frank Robinson in 1956.    This, really, is all that anybody from my generation knew about him.   I came along as a baseball fan about 20 years after Berger was gone, so he was then sort of where Fred Lynn or Kent Hrbek is now—a short-career player who had left some memory behind, but not a lot.

            There are three center fielders from that era who have similar numbers—Earl Averill (1929-1941, 1,669 games, 238 homers, 1,165 RBI, .318 average, .928 OPS), Hack Wilson (1923-1934, 1,348 games, 244 homers, 1,063 RBI, .307 average, .940 OPS), and Berger

(1930-1940, 1,350 games, 242 homers, 898 RBI, .300 average, .881 OPS.)    The other two are in the Hall of Fame.   Berger is not and is not likely to be.

            The irony is that I believe Berger was probably the best player of the three.   His numbers don’t quite show it because of park effects; he played in far, far tougher parks for a hitter than either Wilson or Averill.    He bounced around a little bit—as did Hack Wilson, of course, but Wilson had the big RBI season, which eventually put him in the Hall of Fame.

            You might assume and for all I know I may have told you that Berger played mostly for bad teams, but actually, that’s not true, either; his team success percentage was .618.   Berger played for 5 teams in his career that had highly successful seasons, and four more that had moderately successful seasons, whereas he played for only one team (the 1935 Braves) that had a really poor season.   He played in two World Series—as many as Hack Wilson, and more than Averill.    He played in three All-Star games.   He had three high-impact seasons (1931, 1933 and 1935), and is +122 wins over losses in his career, thus meeting two of the three tests of a Hall of Famer. He just somehow failed to hold the attention of history.

19.   Ross Youngs (202-71, .740)   267

18.  Charlie Keller (191-25, .883)  274

17.   Babe Herman (217-97, .692)  278

16.   Tony Oliva (221-105, .678)  279

15.  Darryl Strawberry (219-87, .716)  Win Shares Value of 285

            Best season 1988 (29-3, .898 Percentage.)    Team Success Percentage;  .744.  The Mets fell apart when they got rid of him.

14.   Kirby Puckett (238-140, .630)  287

13.  Jackie Robinson (211-55, .793)   288

12.   Joe Gordon (229-111, .674) 289

11.  Roy Thomas (232-100, .698)  297

10.  Don Mattingly (243-127, .656)  301

9.  Frank Chance (218-46, .825)  303

8.  Mickey Cochrane (224-72, .757)  300

7.  Larry Doby (233-69, .772)  317

6.   Hank Greenberg (231-55, .806)  319

5.   Johnny Evers (261-133, .662)  325

4.  Joe Tinker (271-146, .649)  333

3.  Shoeless Joe Jackson (252-32, .889)  Win Shares Value of 362

            Shoeless Joe was the best hitter relative to his era in this group, with a career record, as a hitter, of 205+10—more credit than opportunity.   In part this is because his career lacks a decline phase, which would have dragged him down under 1.000.   In part this is because there are special problems in evaluating the hitters of that era.   In the Dead Ball era there were not many runs scored, and, of those runs that were scored, many were created by defensive errors and aggressive baserunning.  This complicates the business of making accurate assessments of hitters.   There were many, many very weak hitters in that era, and a few very dominant hitters like Cobb, Speaker and Wagner.   These hitters measure as more dominant, relative to their era, than modern hitters. 

            But obviously, Shoeless Joe was a great hitter, and obviously he would be in the Hall of Fame today were it not for the Black Sox scandal.   Perhaps he belongs anyway; I’ll leave that up to you.   Team Success Percentage:  .683.

2.  Dick Allen (272-81, .771)  367

            Heading into the 1964 season, major league baseball had had only one rookie in twenty years who had had 200 hits, that being Harvey Kuenn in 1953, who had 209 hits but no power.   In 1964 both Dick Allen and Tony Oliva had 200 hits as rookies, and both did so with 80 extra base hits—about 40 doubles, about 30 homers.

            Their rookie seasons were very comparable, but, interpreting their batting stats by the standards we understood at that time, we thought Oliva was a little bit better.   The key stats then were the triple crown numbers (Homers, RBI, Batting Average).   Oliva held narrow edges in all three—32 homers to 29, 94 RBI to 91, .323 average to .318.

            We now realize that in fact Allen’s rookie season was substantially better:

            1)  Oliva made 476 outs.   Allen made 452.

            2)  Allen walked almost twice as much, 67 times to 34.

            3)  There were 1 to 2% more runs scored in the American League.

            4)  Oliva played in a part with a park factor of 104; Allen, in a park with a park factor of 96.

            Considering all of those things, we have Oliva with an individual won-lost contribution of 26-6, an MVP-candidate record, but Dick Allen with a record of 30-3.

            For 30 years I have argued against Dick Allen being considered as a Hall of Famer, and, one last time, let me try to explain why.   First, I think that the record documents that Dick Allen was almost universally considered by sportswriters, while he was active, to be not a Hall of Fame player.    Second, I think that a fair and honest reading of the many, many incidents and controversies of his career will show clearly that Allen himself was the source of almost all the trouble that followed him.   Third, I have argued that these incidents had a negative impact on the performance of his teams, and that that negative impact substantially offset the positive impact of his on-field performance.

            I have argued these things for many years, I believe, in an effort to promote understanding, in this way:  That I knew that a time would come when people would look at Dick Allen’s playing record, and demand to know why he was not in the Hall of Fame.   I was trying to say “There is a reason there, if you take the trouble to look.   If you take the time and make the effort to go back and re-construct the full record of his career, you will see that his exclusion was not arbitrary or capricious, but was a natural consequence of Dick Allen’s own choices and his own actions.” 

            OK, that’s the argument that I have made for 30 years, and let us set aside the issue of whether it was true or whether it was false.  The time has come, I think, to put the past away, and to elect Dick Allen to the Hall of Fame.

            Look, 35 years ago I argued that “a time will come in the future when Dick Allen will be a strong candidate for the Hall of Fame.”   At first people thought I was goofy for even suggesting such a thing, but I knew that, in the exact same way that bones endure long after the flesh rots, statistics endure long after the memories of a player have rotted into nothing.    That time has come.   Almost no one really remembers most of the dozens or hundreds of Dick Allen controversies over the years 1962 to 1980 (and now that I think about it, I am certain that it was in fact hundreds.)   These incidents can be divided into those which have been forgotten by 95% of the public, and those which have been forgotten by 99% of the public.  The 99% stack is much taller.

            These.  ..”controversies” is too strong a word.   These awkward moments could be divided, as well, into those for which Allen was responsible, and those for which he was not.   And those for which he was responsible could be divided into those which actually make some negative statement about Allen’s character, and those which were just. . .different.   Writing “Boo” in the dirt to return the Boos of the Philadelphia fans. ..what really was wrong with that?

            And then again, we could divide those incidents for which Allen was responsible and which reflect not the best image of him into some small number which are truly unfortunate, and a much larger number which are merely human.   Holding up the team bus?   The truth is, if I was an athlete, I’d wind up holding up the team bus sometimes, I know I would.   It’s just kind of the way I am.    Some of us don’t fit too well into organized group activities—Dick Allen didn’t, and I don’t, so sue me.    If I was on a sports team and I had to conform my conduct to the expectations of my teammates, I would irritate the living hell out of my coaches and teammates, and there is nothing I could do about this; it’s just the way I am.  Allen in many ways did better than I would.

            The question, then, is “How do we feel about the fact that all of these things have been forgotten?”   And I have to say:  I’m OK with it.   Let’s forget them, let’s bury them, let’s move on.   We’ve argued about them long enough.   Heal the wounds?  The wounds have all healed long ago.   All that is left now is the anger that can be re-generated without limit from the recountings of past wrongs.   We don’t carry those things forward forever; wise people don’t.   Normal people don’t.   At some point you throw them away like worn-out luggage.    The statute of limitation has lapsed on holding up the team bus.   The time has come to set aside Dick Allen’s failings or the allegations of them, recognize the excellence of his performance on the field, and put the man in the Hall of Fame.

            I have introduced here a concept of “team success percentage”. .  ..I’ll run through Dick Allen’s year by year, as it may be of some interest.   Dick Allen played briefly for the Phillies in 1963.   We credit (or charge) him with a won-lost contribution for that season of 0-1, but the team had a highly successful season, a “5” season on the 1-to-5 scale, so Allen’s Team Success Percentage starts off at 1.000 (average team success, 5.00.)

            The Phillies in 1964 had a catastrophic failure at the end of the season, which tends to blind the memory to the fact that it was, until mid-September, a dream season for them.    The end-of-season tank job makes the season a “4”, rather than a “5”, but still, it was on balance a season in which the Phillies exceeded expectations.    Allen’s won-lost contribution was 30-3—incidentally the second-best season that he would ever have—so we add those together, making 33, multiply by 4, making 132, and add that to the totals from the previous season.   That makes 137/34, a 4.03 average, which is a team success percentage, at that point of .758 (3.03 / 4).

            Allen didn’t play as well in 1965; his won-lost contribution was “merely” 27-6, but more to the point, the team did not have much of a season, either.   Having won 87 games in 1963 and 92 in 1964, they dropped off to 85 wins, 1.1 wins under expectation, which makes it a “3” season on the 1-to-5 scale.   27 + 6 is 33, 33 * 3 is 99, 99 +137 is 236, 236/67 is 3.52, 3.52 minus 1 is 2.52, 2.52 divided by 4 is .630. . .Allen’s Team Success Percentage, through 1965, was .630, actually .633 if you carry more decimals.

            In 1966 Allen hit .317 with a career-high 40 homers, despite missing some time with an injury.   His individual won-lost contribution was 26-1.   The team, however, had another “blah” season, finishing 87-75, which we put (again) into the “3” category.    Allen’s individual won-lost contribution is now 84-11, but his Team Success Percentage has dropped to .595.

            In 1967 the Phillies fell off to 82-80, which was 2.3 games below expectation.   It’s another “blah” season, another “3” season.    Off the field, Allen was enmeshed in one controversy after another after another.   On the field, his won-lost contribution was 23-2.   His team success percentage was still .575, which is still pretty good.

            In 1964 the Phillies had been looked upon as a team of the future.   That future had never arrived, and in 1968 the Phillies finished 76-86, more than six games below expectation, even though expectations for the team were falling.    Fairly or unfairly, Allen was widely blamed for the failures of the team.   We place that team in group “2”.   Allen, with an individual won-lost contribution of 22-8, has a team success contribution for the season of 30 * 2.    His team success percentage dropped to .509.

            The 22-8 record makes a Win Shares value of 30, and this represented the fifth time in his five-year career that Allen had reached the “30” level that we have described as a “high impact season.”   His totals were declining—44, 38, 38, 34, 30—but he already had five high-impact seasons.  A Hall of Fame career needs at least three.   Allen would have only two more high-impact seasons the rest of his career, but those two make a total of seven—far above the minimum standard for a Hall of Fame candidate.

            In 1969, another year of unrelenting disruptions, the Phillies finished 63-99.    That was a bad year; no saving that one.   Allen’s team success percentage dropped to .440.   His individual won-lost contribution was 17-7.

            Allen was traded that winter to the St. Louis Cardinals.   Allen got along well with St. Louis manager Red Schoendienst, who never had a bad word to say about him, but the Cardinals did not have a good year.    Allen did not have a great year, with an individual won-lost contribution of 16-10.  The Cardinals finished 76-86, more than ten games below expectations for a team that had won 285 games over the previous three seasons.  That’s another “1”.   Allen’s team success percentage dropped to .385.

            The figure, however, had bottomed out.   Allen was traded to Los Angeles that winter, to the Dodgers.   Allen hit “just” .295 in LA with “just” 90 RBI, but those numbers are deceptively good, remembering that it was Dodger Stadium.   The Dodgers finished 89-73, which was a “4” season, and Allen finished 24-8.   His team success percentage moved up to .435.

            Allen was traded again, this time to Chicago, the White Sox, for Tommy John.   In 1972 the White Sox had a great year, and Dick Allen—beloved by his manager and teammates that year--won the MVP Award.   The White Sox, who had lost 106 games in 1970, went 87-67 in the strike-shortened 1972 season, exceeding expectations by 15 and a half games.   Allen’s individual won-lost contribution was 30+2, a Win Shares contribution of 46—an MVP-level performance, beyond any doubt.   It was his greatest season, and his team success contribution moved up to .496.   It was also to be his last high-impact season.

            Allen was hurt in 1973, or, depending on who you believe, just didn’t feel like playing.   Actually, I believe Allen; Allen’s reputation was so poor that he got no breaks from the press, but. . .it’s really just an injury.  His individual won-lost contribution was 12-1, but the White Sox had a disappointing year, 77-85, which we score as a “2” on our 1-to-5 scale.   His team success percentage dropped to .484.

            He came back in 1974, played well most of the year, “retired” late in the season.  The White Sox went 80-80, a “3” season.   Allen’s won-lost contribution was 19-6.   His team success percentage edged from .484 to .485.

            Coming out of retirement over the winter, Allen returned to the Phillies.    Allen had his first poor season with the bat, hitting .233 with 12 homers, but the Phillies won 86 games, exceeding expectations by 7.4 games, which is a “4” season.   Allen was 10-15, but his team success percentage vaulted over .500 for the first time since 1968, up to .506. 

            In 1976 the Phillies won 101 games.   Allen played OK as a part-time player (10-8), but the high-level success of his team (a 5) increased his team success percentage to .532.

            Granted free agency that November, Allen signed with the Oakland A’s.   Neither Allen nor the A’s had a good year.   Allen hit .240 with 5 homers in 54 games, a 4-6 won-lost contribution.    The A’s lost 98 games, a “1” season.    Allen’s team success percentage dropped to.517.

            .517 is average.   Allen’s Team Success Percentage, at the end of his career, was .517, which is the average.   Allen’s teams, over the course of his career, were neither notably successful nor notably under-performers.   They were right exactly in the middle of the spectrum.

            You may note that Allen’s Team Success Percentage was lower than anyone else in the top 20 spots on this list.    (Don Mattingly’s Team Success Percentage, which I think I forgot to include in his comment, was .585.)   Everybody else around here did better than Allen.   If one wishes to argue that the record suggests that Allen’s “presence” was not a positive, I don’t think that’s inconsistent with the record.   Perhaps another time, I might have made that argument.

            But that’s in the past, and I’m done with it.   Maybe I was right before; maybe I was wrong.  I don’t know.  On the field, Dick Allen was a major talent, easily surpassing all of the Hall of Fame tests that I have laid out.   In my view the time has come to put the other stuff away, and recognize the quality of his contribution on the field.

1.  Joe DiMaggio (322-45, .876)  460

            At this point I’m done with this series of articles as I had originally planned it, but I’m going to stretch it out one more article by looking at Fibonacci Win Points for these players, and at the best players in the group by age.     I have not written that up yet and I have a busy day tomorrow, so I’m not sure I’ll get that posted by Saturday, but I will try.  Thanks for reading.