3 Yankees Hall of Fame snubs that look more egregious after 2024 election
Time to reevaluate some cases.
![May 13, 2010; Bronx, NY, USA; New York Yankees designated hitter Jorge Posada (20) before the game](https://images2.minutemediacdn.com/image/upload/c_crop,w_3553,h_1998,x_0,y_66/c_fill,w_752,ar_16:9,f_auto,q_auto,g_auto/images/ImagnImages/mmsport/43/01hn0s7fzfet9qcmdkfd.jpg)
Please. Keep your composure. Now is not the time to mention that Paul O'Neill and Hall of Famer Harold Baines have matching bWARs of 38.8. It is not the time to note that WAR doesn't encompass the total value of a player to history. And it's certainly not the time to mention that, if we do dogmatically love WAR, Bernie Williams falls one-tenth of 1.0 bWAR behind Kirby Puckett for his peak years (and has the October accolades to match). David Cone, with 62.3 career bWAR, is firmly in Don Drysdale/Jim Palmer territory according to the JAWS system, and outclasses fellow inductees Jim Bunning and Don Sutton. Guess you had to be there. Cone was bumped off the ballot in his first year of eligibility, getting less of a look than David Wright. If he had debuted on the ballot a decade later, there's no doubt in my mind he would've had a Mike Mussina-like climb. That's it. Said our peace. Ok, one more. Andy Pettitte's also over 60 bWAR.
But this article's not about these guys. Again, not the time. This one's about the indelible Yankees who didn't receive the same bump as 2024 inductee Joe Mauer, the face of a Minnesota Twins team that never won a single postseason game he participated in, thanks to the Yanks.
Mauer's peak behind the plate absolutely deserved to be recognized in Cooperstown. It's stunning, however, that it didn't take more of a fight. Instead, he became a first-ballot enshrinee despite spending the back third of his career as a solid-not-great first baseman once injuries took their toll.
If Mauer's a Hall of Famer -- and, again, a rubber-stamped, first-ballot one -- then the following three Yankees deserve a longer look.
3 Yankees Hall of Fame snubs who deserve second look after Joe Mauer first-ballot induction
Jorge Posada
Does October only matter as a deterrant? Billy Wagner's egregious postseason performance seems to be keeping him off the ballot by a margin of the exact number of voters that could make his trajectory its most excruciating. But if Wagner's Octobers are disqualifying, why are the men who defined October for a good decade not being given a "fame" bump in the eyes of voters?
Pettitte keeps sticking around because of his October prowess, sure, but it's a courtesy; he's not getting elected by the BBWAA. It still seems odd that the dynastic Yankees are going to be cut off at two Hall of Famers, save for odds and ends like Wade Boggs and Tim Raines. Famously, those Yankees were about the sum of their parts rather than individual greatness, and impactful supporting players like Scott Brosius and Graeme Lloyd obviously don't merit induction.
But the 1998 Yankees, indisputably the greatest team in modern baseball history, going down with only two enshrinees, Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera, is going to feel strange 20-30 years down the line. There's Cone. There's Pettitte. There's Williams. And there's Jorge Posada, a breakout backup catcher on that team who drilled 17 homers in his first high-quality season.
Catcher defense is extremely important, and Mauer was rewarded for his prowess with an additional 13 bWAR. He was a more well-rounded player, and a better hitter at his absolute peak. But Posada was a mold-breaking offensive catcher for longer, sticking behind the plate as New York's primary backstop from 1998 through 2010, when his frame gave out and allowed him to complete only one more season (his 17th) as a primary DH, appearing in just a single ceremonial game at catcher.
This article, again, begins with the premise that Mauer is a bonafide Hall of Famer. But should it have been this easy for him, simply because of his tantalizing peak and his status as the face of a charming, midwestern team? And why should it have been so difficult -- impossible, really -- for Posada, the grizzled face of a five-time World Champion Yankees team, who stuck around in the spotlight from age-24 through 40, to get any look whatsoever with his "paltry" 42.7 bWAR? Five-time All-Star. Two-time top-10 MVP finisher. Passed 20 homers eight times, 30 homers once. A career .745 OPS in the postseason, but in a remarkable 492 plate appearances, a full season for some catchers.
The same argument that feels pertinent whenever Derek Jeter's range at shortstop is mentioned merits introduction here to describe Posada's defense. It didn't seem to hurt the Yankees much at the time. Maybe with a real whiz back there, they would've won eight World Series. Posada gets dinged for his low hit total (1,664) and his slow-footedness and the fact that he's not Rivera or Jeter. But while he might not be a Hall of Famer in the end, he (and several of his teammates) deserved a far longer look.
As a friend wisely noted this week, if baseball treated their shrine like the Basketball Hall of Fame, he'd be in already.
Don Mattingly
Cases No. 1 and 3 in this list aren't examples of anti-Yankee bias; they're counterarguments insinuating that the Hall of Fame should maybe be something it's not.
Case No. 2? A clear example of anti-Yankee bias, where nobody wants to induct the most famous man in baseball at his peak because ... he got injured too soon? So did Mauer, a decidedly less renowned player than Don Mattingly. Let's have the conversation, especially since the two were offensive clones, both before and after their respective injury breakdowns.
Mauer began his career as a mega-star catcher, then became a solid first baseman in a last-ditch attempt to preserve the bat, which didn't play as well at his new position. Mattingly? He was a first baseman all the way, burning bright before flaming out (though, again, during the flameout, he still won Gold Gloves and batted equivalently to Mauer).
Was Mattingly a stellar fielder, in addition to his .327/.372/.529 line through the age of 27? If elected, he would be only the third Hall of Fame first baseman to have captured a Gold Glove, following behind Jeff Bagwell and Eddie Murray. He won nine of them.
To those of us who didn't watch him live, who didn't bask in his mega-watt glow, who are only reading defensive anecdotes and staring at 161 OPS+ follow-ups to 156 OPS+ MVP seasons, it's impossible to believe his bWAR of 42.4 accurately reflects his contributions. For those who want to use the metric to dismiss him on sight, you're more than welcome to. Everyone else has, including the Veterans Committee that denied him entry last winter and pushed his next opportunity to 2026. The man didn't walk much. Sue him.
Mattingly's peak WAR, though, proves he was not the also-ran his total portrays him as. For his peak seven years, his 35.7 mark rivals Fred McGriff (36.0) and Tony Peréz (36.5), while outclassing slam-dunk inductee Orlando Cepeda (34.5) and accused steroid user David Ortiz (35.2), who did not play defense and was welcomed into the hallowed halls smiling.
Mattingly, the rare Yankees Captain to never win a World Series or postseason series, deserves a more nuanced appraisal of his short-term wizardy, which made him an icon and still leaps off the page today.
Thurman Munson
Again, what matters to you? Should the Hall of Fame reward a long-term dedication to accruing counting numbers? Should it accurately tell the story of baseball? Should it grant entry to heroes who transcended on-field play, spreading their story? It should probably do all three.
So it's an odd oversight that Thurman Munson, the snarling face of the 1970s Yankees-Red Sox rivalry -- in its absolute heyday -- remains unrecognized.
When the game's other icons have passed away startlingly young, the Hall has opened its doors to them early, almost as a method of grievance. When Munson was tragically taken in a 1979 plane crash, the Hall didn't hold a special election, but waited until the 1981 cycle. He peaked at 15.5%, then dipped for 15 years before dissolving in the rain. Guess Munson should've compiled a decade's worth of middling seasons in the '80s like Carlton Fisk instead of passing away.
Munson's 11-year career might've been slowing down anyway at the time of his death, if his aching knees had anything to say about it. The 32-year-old had already built up an extremely impressive body of work, however, supplementing his iconography with 46.1 bWAR, a Rookie of the Year win, an MVP, two other top-10 finishes, seven All-Star Games, and batting averages of .529, .320 and .320 in his three World Series.
When the 1977-1978 Yankees needed a big hit, they relied on either Reggie Jackson to leave the yard or Munson to put together a grind-it-out at-bat to punish a tired pitcher. Both men earned their places in Cooperstown, and it's completely bizarre that no tragic exception was made for Munson. The voters made their voices heard for the 15 years from 1981-1995 and, quite frankly, they got it wrong.
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