The Last Five Candidates

8.  Dave Parker

                Like Steve Garvey only more so, Dave Parker balances above the line that defines where Hall of Fame selection should reasonably begin, with a career won-lost record of 300-201:

                Parker’s career winning percentage, .599, is just a little bit higher than Garvey’s, and in a slightly longer career.    Basically, they’re about the same. 

                I had an exchange of e-mails/posts/etc. with Tom Tango on the subject of Dave Parker’s Hall of Fame standing, and I wanted to review that with you because there is something of substance at issue.    It began with Tom posting this letter in the "Hey, Bill" section:

They may have their hearts in the right place, but this new HOF ballot is abysmal in its representation. First, Dwight Evans easily outclasses Dave Parker (matches him on peak, and destroys him on career). But then you have other outfielders from Parker's era that have as good or better case than he does (Bobby Bonds, Chet Lemon, Jose Cruz, Cesar Cedeno, Fred Lynn, Dale Murphy but still on normal ballot, Willie Wilson, George Foster, Amos Otis, Ken Singleton, depending on C/OF Brian Downing). Given your love for Otis, I'd like to see your comparison of Otis to Parker, especially with Win-Loss Shares.

                To which I replied. . .well, never mind with that; I wandered off topic.   The issue I am trying to reach here is, "How good was Dave Parker, really?"   I agree that Dwight Evans was a better player than Dave Parker, but I’m talking about Parker here, not Evans.   My methods don’t show Amos Otis as being on the same level as Parker, and I got interested in the question of why my methods are (apparently) much kinder to Parker than Tango’s methods are.    Tom’s next post on the subject was:

I agree that the "pile-up" of candidates, if the selection process is something like "vote for at most 4 of these 12" will simply split the vote, and no one gets in. But, if they are allowed to vote for as many as they want (or, similarly, go around the room, and vote on each player one at a time), then that's fine. I don't think people appreciate that the selection method controls the whole flow. Amos Otis is essentially tied with Parker in WAR. In my "Individualized Won-Loss" system, I have Parker at 83-42, and Otis at 79-36. At a 3x conversion rate, an 80-40 record converts to 240-120 Win Shares/Loss Shares.

                To which I responded:

Yes, precisely: People simply do not understand that the selection method controls the whole flow. Perfectly stated. The Hall of Fame itself historically has not understood this, and the public (mostly) cannot comprehend that the reason that one marginal candidate gets in and another is left out has nothing at all to do with how they are thought of by the baseball community, but rather, with the vicissitudes of the selection process. Some candidates find a gate wide open; others find a horde of good candidates trying to squeeze through a small opening.

<​i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">We appear to have several methodological disparities here, so let me see if I can nudge us toward understanding. You are attributing to Dave Parker only 125 games (Decisions) in his career, 83 wins and 42 losses.

Well, every 54 outs is a game, isn't it? If we assume that the responsibility for wins and losses is evenly shared between offense and defense (defined to include pitching), then a player has responsibility for one win or one loss with every 54 batting and baserunning outs (essentially. It might be 53.3 or something.)  Parker made 7,055 batting and baserunning outs in his career. That's 130 games--just based on his hitting and base running. I don't know what portion of the responsibility for run prevention you want to attribute to the fielders, but I use a figure around 12 or 13%. It varies. There is a spread around 50-38-12; the percentage for fielding used to be much higher.

If the hitters on a team are responsible for 50% of the wins and losses and the fielders for 12%, then there is a 50-12 ratio of batting to fielding "games responsible for" in the ordinary case. ..obviously some players have more defensive responsibility than others. But Parker was a right fielder, and right field is in the middle of the defensive spectrum, so he would appear to have a fairly normal ratio of offensive to fielding responsibility. This would suggest that he should be assigned responsibility for another 31 games as a fielder     { (130 * 12)/ 50 = 31}. That makes 161 games for which Parker is responsible. I actually have him with 167 games (501 Win and Loss Shares), probably because (a) the normal ratio of outs to games is slightly less than 54 to 1, and (b) the "fielders defensive responsibility percentage" on his teams may have been slightly higher than 12%.

Anyway, you have assigned him responsibility for only 125 games--not even enough to cover his performance as a batter. How do you figure? I guess what I really don't understand is, if you assign players responsibility for wins and losses at that low a rate, how can you account for all 162 games in a season?

                Tom responded (previously unpublished):

I should have noted that I removed his "below replacement level" seasons.  Those had a record of 7-24, and in my view, I'd rather zero those out, when interpreting his overall career. Anyway, including those seasons, he's 90-66.  I give out 57% "decision" to nonpitchers, and 43% to pitchers (which is also how many WAR I give out).  This is Parker's page: http://www.tangotiger.net/wonloss/index5.php?retroid=parkd001

                The page in question shows that Tango rates Parker’s 1977, 1978 and 1979 seasons as being even better than I have rated them, but that he rates several other Parker seasons far worse than I would rate them.    Dave Parker’s 1987 season, for example; playing for Cincinnati, Parker hit .253 with 26 homers, 97 RBI, 7-for-10 stolen bases, thirteen outfield assists, and finished 13^th in the National League in putouts in the outfield.   His On Base Percentage was just .311, his OPS just .744 against a league norm of .732.   I have the season scored at 15-18, a .441 winning percentage.    Tom has it scored at 2-8, which would be about 6-24 in terms of Win Shares and Loss Shares.  

                We now understand why I had 167 "decisions" charged to Parker (501 Win Shares and Loss Shares), while Tom had 125.    It is because (1) he was ignoring the seasons in which Parker had no value, and (2) he is attributing 7% of decision to fielding, whereas I am at about 12%, actually 11% in the case of Parker.

                As to the policy of ignoring seasons in which a player has no value. . .that’s a good policy, and I do that as well, for example, when I figure WSAR (Win Shares Above Replacement).    I treat negative seasons as zero-value seasons, on the logic that, if a team chooses to play the player when he cannot perform well, that tells us more about the team than it does about the player.  

                But if you add those seasons back in, Tango has Parker at 90-66, which is 270 Win Shares, 198 Loss; I have him at 300-201.   I still see Parker as being substantially better than Tom does.   Why?

                There are two issues:

                1)   Of the 50% of the game that we allocate to pitching and fielding, what percentage goes to fielding?   I use a number that varies, but averages about 12%; Tango uses 7%.  That’s a huge difference.

                2)  How bad was Parker’s defense?

                On the issue of how much "space" should be allocated to fielding in the split between pitching and fielding, there is as of yet no compelling logic or no convincing research on this issue.    It is, then, an issue not of what we know to be true, but of what we believe to be true.   Tango—if I am following his logic correctly, which is always a risk—Tango believes that 86% of pitching and fielding is pitching.   I place it about 76%.

                It is an issue of what we believe, rather than what we know, but. . .I don’t see how 86% can be the right answer.    John Dewan’s Defensive Runs Saved claims that the Kansas City Royals’ fielders in 2013 were 195 runs better than the Philadelphia Phillies fielders, the Royals being +92 runs, as a team, and the Phillies -103.    It seems improbable that this estimate is accurate, but let’s work with it for a second.    The 2013 standard deviation of runs saved, on a team level, is 51.34, according to John’s data.   The standard deviation of runs allowed by teams (2013) is 69.96.

                  If John’s estimates are correct, then, 54% of the difference between teams in terms of runs scored is accounted for by fielding, which means that no more than 46% can be accounted for by pitching, unless teams which have good fielding tend to have bad pitching and vice versa.    Some of the spread is accounted for by park effects; when you take out the park effects you’ll have less than 46% for pitching.

                OK, well. .. John’s numbers are obviously too large, then—but Fangraphs’ numbers aren’t appreciably smaller.   Dewan says that Andrelton the Great saved the Braves 41 runs; Fangraphs says 32.   Dewan says that Gerardo Parra saved the Diamondbacks 41 runs; Fangraphs says "No no; it was only 27."    Dewan says that Manny Machado saved the Orioles 35 runs this year; Fangraphs says it was only 34.   Baseball Reference has a third set of numbers, which are in the same range.   But my point is this:   in order to get the percentage of pitching-and-fielding combined that is "fielding" down to 12%, you have to assume that the number of runs saved by a good fielder is much, much smaller than any of those numbers.  With my number—12%--there is no room for good fielders saving 25 runs a year.   If the number is 7%, there is probably no room for good fielders saving 15 runs a year; you probably have to stop about 10.

                If my logic is correct, which. ..you know; it’s always a risk.     But if I understand this problem, then you can’t argue simultaneously that one fielder is 50 runs better than another fielder at the same position, but that fielding is only 7% of the game.   Either the fielding percentage has to be larger, or the number of runs saved by a good fielder has to be smaller; one or the other.    Even the number that I use—12%--is far too small to be logically consistent with the Runs Saved estimates of Dewan, Fangraphs, or Baseball Reference.   

                OK, the second issue here is, "How bad was Dave Parker’s defense?"    Fangraphs estimates that Dave Parker was 218 runs better than average as a hitter, but believes that he was 159 runs worse than average as a fielder.   In other words, they believe that Parker’s fielding was so bad that it offset 70% of his value as a hitter.   This 159 runs includes, I believe, a positional adjustment; in other words, they are saying (I think) not that Parker in 1984 was thirteen runs worse than an average right fielder, but that he was some number of runs worse than an average right fielder, and, when you include an adjustment for the fact that he was a right fielder, the total is -13.

                But my method includes a positional adjustment, as well, so that isn’t the difference between us.  There is actually a good deal that Fangraphs’ method and Win Shares/Loss Shares agree about, with regard to Dave Parker’s fielding.   Although Parker won three Gold Gloves in his career, both of us regard his fielding as a negative element of his overall game. .. a sub-.500 element.   Both of us agree that Parker’s best defensive season was 1977, and his second-best defensive season was 1975.   Our evaluations of his 1977 defensive work appear to be almost identical.   They have him at +17.2 runs for that season, and I have him with a defensive won-lost record of 7-1, which means that he was positive by about 18 runs.   Both of us agree that Parker’s 1977 Gold Glove was justified by his performance, but that his 1978 and 1979 Gold Gloves were not.   Both of us agree that Parker’s fielding performance over the second half of his career was very poor, and both of us agree that his best defensive season after 1980 was 1985.    I credit Parker with a defensive winning percentage of .608 through 1980, but .362 after 1980; Fangraphs has him at -13 runs through 1980, but -146 runs after 1980.

                But Fangraphs believes that Parker’s defensive work was so bad that it offsets 70% of his offensive value.    My estimate is 3%.    I credit Parker with a defensive won-lost record of 54-57, a .451winning percentage as a fielder.  

                                As was true of the other issue, I don’t believe that there is any compelling logic or any completely convincing research in this area.   It is, then, not an issue of what we know to be true, but of what we believe to be true.   So I will ask you then, what you believe:  do you believe that Dave Parker was such a dreadful defensive player that his defense offsets 70% of his work with the bat, or do you believe that he was a good fielder as a young player, a very poor fielder over the second half of his career, but on balance it’s not really much of a factor?   I’m not telling you what you should believe, but. . .my answer works a lot better for me.

(After finishing the article, I see that this is poorly stated.   The 3% vs 70% distinction is when measuring the player against an AVERAGE, not VALUE.    I list Parker at +102 Win Shares on offense, -3 on defense.  Fangraphs lists him at +218 runs as a hitter, -159 as a fielder.   But these measure the player against an average, and the "average" line is a mythical point of reference with no real-life consequences, whereas the replacement level is an actual floor with meaningful consequences.   Measured against the replacement level, Parker doesn’t offset anything like 70% of his value with his defense, in Tom’s system, and has positive value {above replacement level} in my system.)

                Among the 12 Hall of Fame candidates being considered here, I would list Parker 6^th.

9.  Dan Quisenberry

                My good friend Joe Posnanski makes a passionate argument for Dan Quisenberry as a Hall of Fame candidate, the essence of which, I think, is Bruce Sutter.    Sutter and Quisenberry were both born in 1953, so they are exact contemporaries.  

                Sutter pitched 661 games in his career; Quisenberry, 674.

                Sutter pitched 1042 innings his career; Quisenberry, 1043.

                Sutter had a career ERA of 2.83; Quisenberry, 2.76.

                Sutter was an estimated 123 runs better-than-league in his career, park adjusted; Quisenberry was 148 runs better. 

                Sutter’s winning percentage was .489; Quisenberry’s was .549.  

                Sutter was the Closer for one team that won the World Series, and Quisenberry was the Closer for one team that won the World Series.   Quisenberry, however, was the Closer for four teams that made it to post-season play; Sutter, only the one. 

                The only significant stat in which Sutter has any advantage is Saves, and that is not a large advantage, 300 career Saves to 244.    Dan Quisenberry saved 45 games one year, which was a major league record at the time, and then saved 44 the next year.

                On what rational basis, then, can Bruce Sutter be put into the Hall of Fame, and Dan Quisenberry excluded?

                I will give you the answer that I think Joe would give you.   It’s not a rational basis; it’s image.   Sutter had more the image of a star, based on:

                1)  His famous splitter,

                2)  His strikeout rate,

                3)  His phenomenal first halves in 1978 and 1979 (he collapsed both times in the second half of the year),

                4)  Quisenberry’s lack of a fastball, and

                5)  Dan Quisenberry’s self-effacing manner.

                Quisenberry was most famous, while active, for his wit.  (Asked what happened to his sinker when it didn’t sink, Quisenberry said that "I still get a ground ball; it just takes a little longer to hit the ground.   Reggie Jackson hit one against me last week that is still burrowing its way to St. Louis.")

                And a sixth thing:   Sutter won a Cy Young Award; Quisenberry should have won at least one and perhaps two, but the voters shafted him.    But based on performance, Joe argues. ..if Sutter is in, Quisenberry should be in.

                I am. . how should I say. . .disinclined to argue with Joe Posnanski, and disinclined to argue against Dan Quisenberry.   My method does not show Quisenberry as a Hall of Famer, but then, my method doesn’t show any reliever as a Hall of Famer, except possibly Mariano. I don’t know how to make the Win Shares system show Closers as comparable in impact to starting pitchers or other position players.   

                Here are the Win Shares and Loss Shares for Quisenberry and Sutter, Quisenberry first:

                The gross weight of Sutter’s career is greater than the gross weight of Quisenberry’s career, because

(1) Sutter had more strikeouts and walks,

(2)  the DH Rule in the American League removes one avenue by which pitchers can contribute to their teams, and

(3) he had more Saves, which indicates that he was used more times in high-leverage situations.  

However, Quisenberry’s winning percentage is 75 points higher than Sutter’s, so Quisenberry is credited with 72 more Win Shares than Loss Shares, whereas Sutter has only 68—consistent with Joe’s pro-Quisenberry argument.  

                Among the 12 candidates listed here, I would rank Quisenberry 5^th.  

10.  Ted Simmons

                With regard to Ted Simmons, it appears that I may need to revise my previously expressed opinion.   With regard to Simmons and the Hall of Fame, the argument I have long made is this:

                1)  Simmons actual defensive performance is much better than his defensive reputation, and

                2)  Simmons’ is one of the best-hitting catchers of all time.   

                As to Simmons’ defense. .. .it is hard to remember that in the early 1970s there were no publicly available statistics about runners thrown out or stolen bases allowed by catchers, and this allowed catchers to be judged by reputation and appearance.    When you play for a non-contending team, it hurts your reputation—particularly at catcher.   When Simmons was a young player the Cardinals were not competitive.   They lost 90 games in 1976, 93 games in 1978, and played about .500 baseball most of the 1970s.  

                Simmons’ defense was often compared to Johnny Bench, two years older than Simmons, which, you know. . .it’s like comparing me to Shakespeare.   There were no stats about Catcher’s ERA in that era, and none of the other pretty good methods we have now to understand what catchers are doing.   Catchers were being "seen" in the dark, in a sense.    Those who played for championship teams were assumed to be good catchers; those who didn’t, weren’t.  

                Simmons was in fact a far better defensive catcher, as a young player, than he was given credit for being.   Simmons threw out 39% of potential base stealers in 1970, 42% in 1971, 44% in 1973, 44% in 1976, and 36% in 1977, 1981 and 1982.   These are not only "adequate" numbers; they’re very good numbers.   They’re not Johnny Bench numbers, but they’re really good.  

                Simmons was very much underrated as a defensive player, and he was one of the better-hitting catchers of all time.    That’s all true.    But my thinking about Hall of Fame standards is better organized now than it was ten years ago, or five years ago, and I am no longer certain that Simmons meets a Hall of Fame standard.     While his defensive contribution as a young player was very good, his defensive contribution over the second half of his career—as is true of many players—was very limited.     Simmons was in the majors for 21 years.   I credit him with a defensive winning percentage of .676 for the first seven seasons, .558 for the second seven seasons, .271 for the last seven seasons.    That’s a common pattern.   For his career as a whole, his defensive winning percentage is .528.   

                As to his offense. . .well, his impact with the bat is similar to that of Dave Parker or Steve Garvey, a little less.   The critical issue is whether catchers have to be treated differently, in Hall of Fame evaluation of their won-lost impact, than other position players.

                It is certainly a reasonable argument that catchers do have to be treated differently than other players, because catchers get their bodies beat up so much by foul tips and squatting and carrying around 20 pounds of gear.    It is not fair to look at catchers as if these things didn’t happen. 

                Ted Simmons was a better ballplayer than Ray Schalk, Rick Ferrell or Ernie Lombardi, all of whom are in the Hall of Fame.     But one doesn’t need to make special rules for Bill Dickey or Gabby Hartnett or Yogi Berra or Johnny Bench or Ivan Rodriguez to make him a Hall of Famer.    Their careers are short, yes, but they still manage to qualify easily by the standards applied to other positions—300 career Win Shares, or 100 more Win Shares than Loss Shares.   Ted Simmons was a significantly better player than Ernie Lombardi, but I wouldn’t have voted for Ernie Lombardi.    It is not clear to me at this time that Ted Simmons’ career meets a Hall of Fame standard, and I would rank him 7^th out of these 12 candidates.  

11.  George Steinbrenner

                I don’t really have any organized way of thinking about whether an owner should be in the Hall of Fame.   Steinbrenner probably had more impact on the game than any other owner since Walter O’Malley, perhaps more than O’Malley.   He did what all fans want their owners to do:  he committed himself absolutely to the success of his team.  He did that for an extremely long time.   Intuitively, I think he is an obvious Hall of Famer, and I would rank him 3^rd among these 12 candidates.

12.  Joe Torre

                It is my opinion that Joe Torre had a Hall of Fame career as a player, and that he had a Hall of Fame career as a manager.   Among the 12 candidates on the Expansion-era ballot, I would rank Torre #1.

                As a player, Torre’s career is very similar to Ted Simmons’, almost certainly more similar to Simmons than to any other player in history.   As a catcher he threw extremely well.   He threw out more than 40% of base stealers six times, as a regular, including 49% in 1961 and 1966.   He did, as Simmons did, have some trouble catching the ball. ..that is, some trouble dealing with potential wild pitches/passed balls.    Torre and Simmons were teammates from 1969 to 1974, and Torre moved away from the catcher’s position so that Simmons could catch.

                The difference between Torre’s playing career and Simmons’ career is this:  that after he gave up catching, Torre had an MVP season at third base.   Simmons gave up catching at about the same age, but he never had a great season after he stopped catching.   If Simmons had had an MVP season as a first baseman or DH in 1984, he would be a Hall of Famer, but he never had that season, never came close to it.  

                As a manager, Torre’s record exceeds the minimal standards of a Hall of Fame career by about 77%.

                My ballot:   1. Joe Torre (yes), 2.  Bobby Cox (yes), 3. George Steinbrenner (yes), 4.  Tony La Russa (yes), 5.  Dan Quisenberry (yes), 6.  Dave Parker (maybe), 7.  Ted Simmons (maybe not),  8. Billy Martin (maybe not right now), 9. Steve Garvey (probably not), 10. Tommy John (I’m afraid not), 11. Dave Concepcion (no).  Marvin Miller. ..certainly not right now; we can talk about it in a few years.