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August 18, 2005 An Objective Hall of FamePart Four, 1944-1946We're continuing through the 1940s in our attempt to construct an Objective Hall of Fame. Be sure to check out the earlier parts of the series, especially the first one, for more information. The information presented below is the player's name, position, Career MVP score, and, in parentheses, the year he was elected to the real HOF. In the mid-1940s, the real Hall of Fame went on an induction spree, adding a raft full of players from the early 20th century. The mid-40s extravaganza is one of the two periods when the Hall made most of what are regarded as its poorest selections. Regrettably, the objective Hall is going to go meet a similar fate at a similar time. I noted, in the beginning, that there was going to be a fixed allotment of Hall of Famers, based on the number of team-seasons that have been played in major league history. The objective Hall is close to catching up to all of the obviously qualified players of the past, but still has a considerable quota to fill. The players inducted in the seasons right before we catch up to the quota are going to be among the least qualified in the Hall. In addition, as we go down the lists, the players are ranked closer and closer together, so there is less difference between those who just barely make it in and just barely get kept out. These are points to keep in mind as we work through the next couple of articles. Anyway, on to the class of 1944.
One thing we're seeing with this system is a fondness for pitchers who have one or two big years. Red Faber had two huge seasons, conveniently back-to-back in 1921 and 1922, worth 13.9 and 10.6 WARP3. He earned 290 of his 502 career MVP points in those two years, and never had another year better than 6.1. Faber was a spitballer, one of the ones allowed to continue throwing it after 1920, and he kept going until 1933, when he was 44 years old. With the exception of the big years already mentioned, he was an extremely consistent pitcher, throwing 150-200 innings a year with an adjusted ERA just a little bit above average. He missed the 1919 World Series with an ankle injury; since it was the worst season of his career, there's pretty much no way that he would have gotten a start and complicated the gamblers' plans. Fielder Jones, in today's game, would have been a solid leadoff hitter, although his accomplishments are disguised by playing in the deadest of the dead-ball era. “Fielder” was not a nickname, but was given to him by his parents, and as far as I can tell he lived up to it as a player. For the last five years of his career he was also the manager of the White Sox, and he was just as good a manager--.592 winning percentage in those years, one World Series title. He was innovative and intelligent--he had an engineering degree--and was at least as well regarded as his cross-town rival, Frank Chance. So why isn't he in the real Hall as well? It might be because of the way his career ended, when he started Doc White (on one day's rest) instead of Frank Smith (on two day's rest) on the last day of the 1908 season. The Sox were a half game behind Detroit, and the missing game would not be replayed, so it was a winner-take-all game. White lost, badly, Jones was vilified for his choice, the memory of him tarnished--especially since he decided to retire in the aftermath. Paul Hines was a center fielder from the earliest era, breaking in with the National association in 1872. A slugger in a game that didn't reward it, Hines was one of the best players of the National league's first decade, and was a big part of the Providence Grays' two titles. He was 32 years old before he ever played a 100-game season, making him one of the biggest beneficiaries of translating everything out to 162 games. Hines was hit in the head by a pitch in 1886, and lost his hearing; coincidentally or not, his fielding statistics tanked at the same time.
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