A Hall of Fame vote that could have been

One regret about my journalism career (actually, there are many, but this is the one bugging me today): for two years I was the sports editor in Longmont and for two years I was a member of the Baseball Writers Association of America. If I had just been able to stick it out for another eight years, I would be voting for the Hall of Fame. Stressful jobs come and go; a Hall of Fame vote lasts a lifetime.

So, if I had a vote, this is who I would vote for this week:

Bert Blyleven: The common knock on him is that he was never really viewed as the best pitcher in baseball at any point during his career. But he played in an era without Sportscenter and ESPN.com, and considering how hard it is to get news out of those sources that doesn't involve an East or West Coast team now, how much harder was it during Blyleven's time to notice a pitcher who spent his career with the Twins, Rangers, Pirates, Indians and Angels? He won 287 games with a 3.31 ERA and 3,701 strikeouts for mediocre teams. If he had pitched for the Yankees, Red Sox, Dodgers, Orioles or Phillies for even five of his 22 seasons, he would have won 320 games, a Cy Young, be considered one of the best pitchers ever and be a lock for the Hall.

Roberto Alomar: I'm not as convinced by his credentials as others and his career seemed to fade from greatness to average pretty dramatically at the end. But no doubting that during the prime of his career, 1991 to 2001, he was one of the best hitters in the game with speed and some power, and he has great numbers at a position that hasn't produced many great hitters.

Jeff Bagwell: No single number stands out and his best years were overshadowed by the strike and the ridiculous numbers that followed, but he was a great hitter — .297, 449 home runs, 1,529 RBI — who played his entire career with one team, played well every year until his body couldn't take it and he left, suddenly, after only 15 seasons. The best argument that statistical milestones do not tell the whole story.

Barry Larkin: He's a victim of injuries and timing. He lost big chunks of the 1989, 1993, 1997, 2001 and 2003 seasons. Give him back the 300 or so games he lost, and there wouldn't be a debate. But worse for Larkin, just as people started to realize he was as good as Ozzie Smith, along came Alex Rodriguez, Derek Jeter and Nomar Garciaparra, who changed the offensive expectations of a shortstop. But despite the injuries, Larkin remained one of the best shortstops ever.

Lee Smith: I can still be convinced the other way on Smith. He walked a lot of batters and blew a lot of saves. But he pitched before the era of the one-inning specialist and worked as a closer from 1982 to 1995. While other closers of his day like Dan Quisenberry and Steve Bedrosian had good seasons then faded from overwork, Smith kept going and helped define what a closer is. He retired as the all-time leader in saves and now sits third with 478, having been passed by Trevor Hoffman and Mariano Rivera. I can think of two, maybe three, closers currently working who have even an a remote chance of passing him on the list. Numbers aren't everything for a closer, but they do mean something. There are better closers with fewer saves, like Bruce Sutter, Dennis Eckersley and Rollie Fingers, but not many. Smith helped set a standard by which we judge all others.

Fred McGriff: I can be talked out of McGriff, too. Like Bagwell, no single number stands out, but unlike Bagwell my lasting impression of McGriff is not of a great hitter, but of a very good hitter. Yet my gut tells me that this lasting impression of McGriff has been altered by the numbers other hitters put up after his best years had passed. My vote here would not follow the best logic, but it's the best I can do: if Jim Rice is a Hall of Famer, then so is McGriff.

Who I wouldn't vote for:

Rafael Palmeiro: While I'm glad to see that writers like Buster Olney aren't taking a knee-jerk reaction and punishing him just to punish him — there are players recently elected to the Hall of Fame who took steroids and there will be more elected in the next few years who not only took steroids, but were held up during their playing days as shining examples of good, clean, honest ballplayers — I still need to be convinced. I have a bigger issue with him being a designated hitter and that the huge numbers he put up don't match my lasting impression of him as an above average hitter. In the end, I would probably vote for him. But I need more time to think about it and do feel the need to punish him, too, not for taking steroids, but for lying about the obvious.

Mark McGwire: Count me among those who believe the numbers aren't good enough. We need to get past the idea that 500 home runs means automatic induction. During a three-year span in the '90s he hit .231, .235 and .201. Not many Hall of Famers who didn't also do backflips on the way to their position can make that claim. Later revelations do not change how much I loved the 1998 season and I don't think it's right to punish a guy because he was taking something baseball hadn't banned at the time. But I don't think he's a Hall of Famer either. I believe he was a great home run hitter, a better person than his actions suggest, but I would vote for Don Mattingly first.

Edgar Martinez: He was a good hitter for a long time. But he played barely a quarter of his career at any position other than designated hitter and if I'm going to vote someone in for just being hitter, the numbers need to be better. 2,247 hits and 309 home runs don't cut it.

Larry Walker: So, so close. Oh, so close. Like Mattingly, for about a four- or five-year stretch, there were few hitters in baseball who compared, and Walker could also run, throw and play a stunning right field. But like Mattingly, the injuries dramatically reduced his credentials. Walker was not a creation of Coors Field — he would have hit anywhere. But it's hard to deny that despite his temporary greatness, if not for the extra boost provided by the thin air, his numbers would have looked a lot more like Mattingly's. He's one of the best examples of a player with Hall of Fame talent who didn't quite live up to Hall of Fame expectations.

Tim Raines, Dale Murphy, Alan Trammell, Jack Morris, Don Mattingly: When I first started paying attention to baseball in the mid-'80s, these guys were among the best. Problem is they didn't stay there. Raines had a long career, but aside from his stolen bases didn't do anything great. Murphy had a couple great seasons, but faded dramatically late in his career. My lasting impression of Trammell is far more favorable than his numbers. As for Morris, I go back and forth each year. This year I'm thinking not. Maybe next year I'll convince myself again. With Mattingly, I wish it were so, but just can't find an argument that justifies it.