Barry Bonds and the Hall of Fame

It had to begin with Barry Bonds.

It had to begin with Barry Bonds for two reasons: first, it had to begin with Bonds because this blog is named after Barry Bonds.

More importantly, it had to begin with Barry Bonds because my first solid memories of caring about baseball are of Barry Bonds in 2002. Not 2001, when he hit 73 home runs, but the 2002 postseason, when pitchers refused to pitch to him, when Bonds and Jason Schmidt carried the team into the World Series. My father and grandfather were New York Giant fans, and I abandoned my then-liked Red Sox for my first baseball love: Bonds and the 2002 Giants team.

So it had begin with Barry Bonds. I think I can safely say that right now the most divisive thing about Bonds is his Hall of Fame candidacy. And, in the spirit of a man defined by hyperbole, it isn’t a stretch to say that Bonds’ candidacy will be the most divisive ever.

The subject has been written about before, and likely will be written about again, by better baseball minds than mine. It will likely be written about by better scouts, by better number crunchers, and by those with a better sense of the history of the sport. Nevertheless, I had to begin with Barry Bonds, so, at this particular moment, it makes sense to begin with his Hall of Fame candidacy.

From what I have seen and read, there are three main groups among baseball fans and writers when it comes to steroids and the Hall of Fame. The first believe that using steroids was wrong, both morally and legally, and think that any player who used steroids should be disqualified based on the “integrity, sportsmanship, character” section of Hall of Fame eligibility.

The second group, not strongly separated from the first, believes that steroids inordinately improved players ability to hit (and, one might assume, pitch) and that using players should be kept from the Hall of Fame because their success, to paraphrase, was based only on their dosage level. Finally, there is the third group that believes steroids to have been part of an era and would induct players from the era just like they would induct great players from the era of greenies or segregation.

Because I believe that the concerns of the first group have been addressed more thoroughly than I can manage by writers such as Rob Neyer and Joe Posnanski, I will focus on the intricacies of the second argument against Bonds. Let’s start with the traditional numbers (and Bonds’ rank) all courtesy of Baseball-Reference and Fangraphs:

G	R	H	2B	HR	RBI	SB	BB
2986 (10)	2227 (3)	2935	601 (14)	762 (1)	1996 (4)	514 (33)	2558 (1)

Guess what? If you exclude Pete Rose, every person ahead of Bonds in games, runs, doubles, and RBIs is already in the Hall of Fame. So we know that he was a productive player for a very long time. And, as is so frequently pointed out, he’s the only person with 500+ home runs and 500+ steals. To summarize, Bonds ranks top twenty in six of our eight (nine if you want to count triples) counting stats. For comparison, Willie Mays also ranks in six; Hank Aaron in seven; Pete Rose, five; Babe Ruth, four; and Rickey Henderson, three. Now for slightly more advanced:

BA	OBP	SLG	OPS	TB	IBB
0.298	0.444 (6)	0.607 (6)	1.051 (4)	5976 (4)	688 (1)

The batting average isn’t exceptional, but it is the 52^nd career mark since the end of World War 2 (if we’re choosing arbitrary end marks, 1946 makes more sense than any), tied with Jim Rice and Mickey Mantle. Incidentally, both of them are in the Hall. In his other slash stats, Bonds ranks top ten across the board, and every person above him (except, in slugging, Albert Pujols, who is, yes, that good) is in the Hall. The same is true with total bases; as for intentional walks, well, Bonds would have ranked second ever after the first ten years of his career. Hank Aaron, the only person with more than that, played for 23 years. His 293 mark is still less than half of the 688 that Bonds ended up with.

Nor should we forget the accolades: Bonds won seven MVPs, most all time and more than twice as many as anyone else; he also finished 2^nd twice (1991, 2000), and should have won at least one more between 1994 and 1998, when he finished outside of the top ten only once. Between 1990 and 2004, he was never not listed on a ballot. He also owns the most Silver Sluggers ever, with 12, and is tied for 8^th among outfielders with eight Gold Gloves.

What we have a picture of so far is a picture of maybe the greatest, most complete player ever. He lasted longer than Mantle and Gehrig and Ruth, had better per year numbers than Henderson or Aaron or Frank Robison. Moreover, Bonds was a more complete player—with great defense, power, baserunning, and ability to get on base—than anyone ever seen with the possible exclusion of Willie Mays.

But, of course, if you don’t believe that Bonds is a Hall of Fame quality player then you know that already. You likely think that all the numbers above are corrupt because, well, he cheated: he used substances that improved his performance. Which is why, tomorrow, I’ll tell you why Bonds should be in the Hall of Fame even if you accept the premise his ability to produce was almost entirely conditional upon his steroid usage.