How’d He Make the Ballot?

Editor’s Note: This is the fourth post of “Hall of Fame Week!” For more info, click here.

Hall of Fame voting is, of course, ongoing, and baseball writers across the country are handing in ballots with up to 10 players checked off. The ballot this year has 32 people on it, ranging from the great (Ken Griffey Jr.) to the rather mediocre (Brad Ausmus). But even the worst player on the ballot isn’t that bad. The lowest WAR featured on the 2016 Hall of Fame ballot is 16.8, which belongs to David Eckstein – a perfectly respectable total for a career.

It hasn’t always been that way, though. The ballot has featured several players over the years who were never really within sniffing distance of the Hall at any point. Why were they on the ballot? I have no idea. But let’s take a look back at some of the most curious nominees for the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Honorable Mentions

Up until 1968, there was no screening process for the ballot. Any player who played 10 or more seasons in the major leagues automatically was eligible to be voted for, which made for some pretty long ballots. It also allowed some absolutely terrible players to make it on. I guess these ones don’t really count, because unlike the post-1968 ones, nobody actually said, “This man is worthy to be considered for the pantheon of this sport, along with other all-time greats.” (Though I doubt anybody uttered those exact words after 1968, either.) So to make these count more, I only awarded honorable mentions to players who received at least one vote on a pre-1968 ballot.

A note on the format. For each player, you’ll see a table with three rows: “Best Season,” which is the player’s stats from his best season (by WAR); “Aggregate Best Season,” which are the best numbers a player ever put up in each category (in a season with at least 100 plate appearances); and “Career,” which are the career numbers.

With that being said, here are the worst of pre-1968 era.

Honorable Mention 1: Tommy Thevenow

Miksis had a rather unusual career. At the age of 17, he was called up by the Brooklyn Dodgers to play for them while several other players were off fighting in World War II, since he was a bright talent and could play anywhere on the diamond. But then for the next year and a half, he himself served in the Navy instead of playing. He returned to the Dodgers in the middle of the 1946 season, and, despite hitting only .146 with no extra-base hits the rest of the year, was considered by the Dodgers to be their second baseman of the future.

He never really got his chance, though. He was stuck behind Eddie Stanky in Brooklyn, then behind Jackie Robinson when Stanky got traded. Miksis was traded to the Cubs in June of 1951 because he wanted regular playing time. After two and a half poor and partially injury-riddled seasons, though, the Cubs gave the starting middle infield spots to Gene Baker, who wasn’t anything special but was better than Miksis, and Ernie Banks, who Miksis sure wasn’t beating out for a job.

Miksis managed to stick around for over 10 seasons, though, earning him a place on the ballot with a little check box next to his name – a check box which one writer marked off. Although it’s possible (while unlikely) that was an accident; Miksis was sandwiched alphabetically by Joe Medwick and Johnny Mize on the 1964 ballot, both of whom later made the Hall.

Miksis was not quite as bad Thevenow — he had both a higher wRC+ and WAR, and his WAR probably should’ve been higher as by all accounts he was a more-than-capable fielder. But, like Thevenow, he was still well below zero for his career. In Miksis’s aggregate best season, he hit .265, with an OBP of .320 and a 78 wRC+. In 2015, there were 67 hitters who hit at least as well as that, and there are 298 hitters who played in 2015 who have an aggregate career-best stat line at least as good as that. Miksis’s career numbers are at or below the level of current hitters such as D.J. LeMahieu and Jonathan Herrera.

Honorable Mention 3: Moe Berg

Berg, an infielder turned catcher, was a pretty lousy hitter, but his baseball playing really was only one part of his life. Shortly after his retirement, Berg was recruited into the Office of Strategic Services (the precursor to the CIA) and sent to spy on Axis powers in Europe during World War II. It might be for that reason that he garnered the number of votes he did (nine total in two years), because he most certainly did not merit any votes based on his playing ability.

Berg was fairly similar to Thevenow and Miksis in his play – couldn’t hit a lick but could field quite well. FanGraphs’ defensive numbers only give him four runs saved as a catcher, but he was known in his day as a Yadier Molina type: elite at catching would-be base stealers and great with the staff. (He had -6 runs saved as a shortstop, hence the -2 total. He had 36 errors in 84 games there.)

Similarly to how Thevenow was a worse hitter than any other who had as many plate appearances, Berg was a worse hitter than nearly every other. Here’s a histogram of wRC+ for all 2,590 hitters ever with at least as many plate appearances as Berg.

Berg was exceptionally smart; he was fluent in at least seven languages, and he graduated from Columbia law school and passed the New York bar exam. His intelligence helped his teammates, since Berg was adept at providing advice to both pitchers and hitters. But it didn’t help him. As a teammate put it, “He can speak seven languages, but he can’t hit in any of them.”

Berg is tied for the longest career without a single-season WAR above 0.5, at 15 years. (Eddie Miksis is third with 14.) He’s tied for eighth for the longest career without one positive single-season WRAA. It took him until he was 33 to have a wOBA above .300 and a wRC+ above 65.

But the whole spy thing is pretty cool.

The “Top” Five

In 1968, the Hall wised up and added a requirement for players to be nominated by at least two out of six members of a screening committee before they could be placed on the ballot.

This should eliminate players like Thevenow from being on the ballot, right? Well…

5: Jimmy Stewart

Stewart, who shares a name with the famous actor, had a considerable bit less success in his profession. He was a utility man for his entire career, playing every position but pitcher (and playing all but pitcher and catcher for at least 50 innings). Despite that, his -15 career runs saved indicate he wasn’t great in the field. Stewart’s hitting was nothing to write home about, either, as he never had a wRC+ greater than 90 and never higher than 83 in a season with at least 100 PA. He did steal 38 bases in his career, but he also was caught 20 times.

His best season, 1964, was not good. While got on base at a decent clip – a .331 OBP in a year where the league average was .309 – he couldn’t hit for any power. His slugging percentage (.316) was lower than his OBP, and it was far worse than the league average of .379. That led to a sub-.300 wOBA and a 83 wRC+. Throw in subpar defense, and it added up to just 0.4 WAR, the highest of his career.

In the three years that followed, Stewart put up wRC+’s of 66, 40, and 10, with WARs of -1.0, -0.2, and -0.4. In his 10 years, he never had a positive Wins Above Average (the sum of the batting, baserunning, fielding, positional and league values, not including replacement).

Ninety-eight batters with at least 100 plate appearances in 2015 had more home runs and a higher batting average, OBP, wRC+, and WAR than Stewart’s aggregate best season. Ninety-eight! That group included surefire future Hall of Famers such as Clint Robinson, Corey Dickerson, Brett Wallace, John Jaso, Jason Rogers, and Ryan Raburn.

4: John Boccabella

Boccabella had a better WAR than Stewart, but that was only because he was a better fielder. A part-time infielder/part-time catcher, he only played 100 games once in his career. Dan Johnson – the currently active journeyman first baseman – has played as many seasons as Boccabella did, and Johnson has more career plate appearances and almost double the wRC+.

Boccabella was a decent fielder, with a +16 career rating, and first-hand reports corroborate that. Hitting, though, was another story. If it doesn’t look that bad in the first two rows of the table above, that’s because he had one decent season, in 1970, where he slashed .269/.321/.407. But for his career, he put up a measly .219/.267/.317 line with a 57 wRC+. And it’s not like he provided great value on the basepaths, with three career stolen bases against seven times caught stealing.

In 1969, he had, somehow, a -10 wRC+ in 40 games. If you take all player seasons (excluding pitchers) in the World Series era in which the batter played at least 40 games, Boccabella’s 1969 is the 0.127th percentile for wRC+ — as in 99.873 percent of all seasons were better than that. If you take all careers ever (again excluding pitchers) with at least as many games as Boccabella, he’s in the 1.4th percentile for wRC+. This man was not a good hitter.

The list of players from 2015 who had years as good as Boccabella’s aggregate best isn’t as long as Stewart’s (taking the same categories). But it still is 73 players long and includes some rather odd names, like Andres Blanco, Mikie Mahtook, Danny Valencia, and Martin Prado. Valencia has played six seasons. Should he be on the Hall of Fame ballot if he plays four more? No? Well, he already has more hits, home runs, walks, and plate appearances than Boccabella did, as well as a wRC+ that’s 43 points higher.

3: John Kennedy

Here we have the lowest WAR ever to be featured on a Hall of Fame ballot since 1968. Kennedy – who, just like Stewart, was nowhere near as successful as the more famous man he shared a name with – played 13 seasons in the majors on the left side of the infield and was flat-out terrible.

His career started out auspiciously: his first major league at-bat was a pinch-hit home run that broke up a no-hitter. But it was all downhill from there. His only season as an everyday starter was 1964, and all he could manage to do was slash .230/.280/.324, which translated to a 68 wRC+. But it was at least better than the year before (.177/.261/.226 in 69 PA) and the year after (.171/.243/.229 in 120 PA).

Despite the atrocious numbers FanGraphs gives him for his fielding, he wasn’t particularly bad. He was good enough to be put in as a defensive substitute toward the end of both Sandy Koufax’s perfect game and Game Seven of the 1965 World Series. So maybe his WAR should be a little bit higher.

But much like many of the others on this list, nothing changes the fact that he couldn’t hit. Kennedy played in 13 major league seasons and broke the Mendoza line in just seven of them. His 32 career home runs are the highest on this list, but he also had over 700 more plate appearances than the next highest; his career HR/PA mark is third out of the five. He grounded into 48 double plays, stole 14 bases and was caught 10 times.

I struggled with where to put Kennedy on this list. I initially had him at No. 1 because he had the worst WAR of everyone. Eventually, though, I decided I couldn’t fault him for earning more playing time than the current Nos. 1 and 2, and for this list it’s worse to have his kind of numbers in far fewer plate appearances. It makes more sense to put someone on the ballot when they’ve been in the majors for a while and earned consistent playing time. So even though the next player may have been slightly better when he did play… well, you’ll see for yourself.

2: Jim Beauchamp

If you think Boccabella or Stewart didn’t have anywhere near as many plate appearances as one needs to be considered for the Hall of Fame, then I’d love to know what you have to say about Beauchamp. (Pronounced “BEECH-um.”) He only came to bat 730 times in his career, something that has been done 45 times in a single season since 2000. (Most recently, Derek Jeter and Ian Kinsler both did it in 2012.)

Beauchamp wasn’t quite at Mike Hessman levels of minor league success and major league futility, but that was mostly because he wasn’t at the same level of minor league success. The major league futility certainly was there. He hit 192 minor league home runs in parts of 12 seasons on the farm, but whenever he got to the majors, he always struggled mightily.

His best season by WAR (and his only year with a positive WAR) was 1968… when he had 0.3 WAR. I didn’t count his 1968 numbers in the “Aggregate Best Season” row in the table above, though, because he didn’t have 100 PA. And that year was in large part fueled by luck anyway. His BABIP that season was .351, whereas his career mark was only .273.

Other than that one year, Beauchamp never was above replacement level or an above-average hitter, and even including that year, he never was an above-average fielder. He had 153 career base hits, which is one fewer than Kris Bryant has already. Beauchamp’s career high in hits was 38. There were 24 38-hit months by a single player this past year. Four hitters did it twice.

Beauchamp grounded into nearly as many double plays in his career (11) as he hit home runs (14). He had nearly as many strikeouts (150) as hits (153). He had more errors (20) than doubles (18). And he was a below-average defensive first baseman, which really only can fly if you’re great offensively, because first base is undoubtedly the easiest position to play.

I can only imagine his minor league heroics won him a spot on the ballot, because otherwise it’s hard to see how two or more people agreed that he belonged there.

1: John Stephenson

Unlike Beauchamp, who had his minor league track record going for him, I cannot find anything that might make Stephenson a reasonable Hall of Fame candidate. He did nothing of note during his career…except strike out to end Jim Bunning’s perfect game. His Wikipedia article is a mere 88 words.

Stephenson gets the top (bottom?) spot here because he played very little, just like Beauchamp, and was even worse than Kennedy. He barely cracked 1,000 career plate appearances. He posted a lifetime 63 wRC+. His career slash line was .216/.271/.296. And unlike most of the other players, where there was some kind of bio on the internet that at least touched upon the player’s defensive merit, there was nothing for Stephenson, so we’re left to assume the -23 runs saved attached to him is roughly accurate.

Stephenson’s aggregate best season isn’t actually all that bad. Most of that is powered by his 1972 campaign, as you can see. Credit to him, that was a decent season. (It’s sure as hell better than I can do.) But everything surrounding it is a nightmare.

Stephenson never tallied more than 308 plate appearances, 61 hits, four home runs, or 25 RBI in a season; he never stole a base (he was thrown out once); he never played 100 games. In 2015, 184 players had at least 308 PA, 61 hits, fou4 home runs, 25 RBI, one stolen base, and 100 games; 14 of them were below replacement level while doing so. Chris Owings, who had a 52 wRC+ and -1.4 WAR last year, met all those criteria, including five out of the six with ease.

Stephenson had a similar Mendoza-breaking percentage to Kennedy, with just six out of 10 seasons above a .200 average. He grounded into a double play more times than he hit a double; he had twice as many sacrifice bunts as sacrifice flies; he had over twice as many errors as home runs.

So for him more than any others, I ask: how’d John Stephenson make the ballot?

Random Observations

• Everybody in the top five began his career in either 1962, ’63, or ’64 and ended it in either ’73 or ’74. That jumped out to me and seems weird. Why is that? I suspect that after 1980 (the year the last of these people was on the ballot), the screening committee started getting more strict. Given the ballot size shrunk from 61 names in 1980 to 39 in 1981, I think that’s it. That reasoning doesn’t necessarily mean that there couldn’t have been players who retired between 1964 and 1972 to make this list, since they would have been on the ballot post-1968, but that I think is just a coincidence.

• All of the top five have a first name that starts with a J. Not surprising. Nothing good ever comes out of those kinds of people.

• All of the top five and all the honorable mentions are batters. I assume that’s a combination between a bias in the screening and a bias in my selection. It does make some sense – a pitcher can be good in more than one sense (good ERA-wise or good peripherals-wise), so since it’s usually easy to defend a pitcher in some way, it’s difficult to say a pitcher is a bad choice to put on the ballot. For example, Mitch Williams, who made the Hall of Fame ballot, had -2.2 fWAR but also a 91 career ERA-.

• If Bill Bergen had played while the Hall existed, he would’ve been automatically eligible for the ballot. That would have made the honorable mention section much better, because there are so many fun things to say about his career. Disappointing.

References and Resources

• Baseball-Reference for the ballot history, minor league stats, and pre-1973 box scores
• SABR for player bios on Miksis, Berg, Boccabella, and Kennedy
• FanGraphs for player stats