Click here to subscribe today or Login.
As the wise sage and baseball great Yogi Berra observed, “It’s like deja vu, all over again.” He could have been talking about the election process for the Baseball Hall of Fame, especially when it comes to Dick Allen.
It reminds me of Phil Connors, the weatherman played by Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day, who was forced to live the same day over and over until he finally got it right. We have been down this road before, and twice Dick Allen missed out on being elected by one vote. Remember that whenever you think about not voting in any election.
Eligible players, managers, umpires and executives are first considered for election to the Hall of Fame by voting members of the Baseball Writers Association of America (BBWAA) and may remain on the ballot for up to 10 years if their vote totals merit further consideration.
The Hall of Fame added various committees to consider those with great credentials who were not elected by the writers, as well as players from the Negro Leagues who were not previously considered.
When the Golden Era Committee met and voted on eligible candidates in December 2014, Allen and former Minnesota Twins outfielder Tony Oliva each missed being elected by just one vote. Six years later, the committee, by then renamed the Golden Days Committee (1950-69), elected Oliva to the Hall of Fame but again failed by a single vote to enshrine Allen.
The word prior to the announcement in December 2020 was that Allen, having come so close before and having credentials so similar to Oliva, would also garner that extra vote and join him in Cooperstown. Once again, that did not happen.
Allen played 15 seasons in the major leagues (1963-77), nine with the Philadelphia Phillies, with 1,848 hits, 351 home runs, 1,119 RBIs, and had a career .292 average. He was a complete player who also fielded multiple positions, ran the bases swiftly and effectively, scored 1,099 runs and had a strong throwing arm until suffering a shoulder injury.
Allen won the 1964 National League Rookie of the Year award, the 1972 American League Most Valuable Player award and was a seven-time All-Star.
In comparison, eight-time All-Star Oliva played 15 years (1962-76), was the 1963 American League Rookie of the Year, 1966 American League Gold Glove award winner and had 1,917 hits, a career batting average of .304, with 220 home runs, 947 RBIs and 870 runs scored. He led the American League in batting average three times.
Yet one is in the Hall of the Fame and the other is not.
Allen compares favorably — either equal to or better than — numerous players already enshrined in Cooperstown. He ranks 70th in the insightful Black Ink Test that measures how often players led their league in a number of important statistical categories. That is better than at least 33 current members of the Hall of Fame, including several of his contemporaries, including Ernie Banks (73rd), Lou Brock (76th), Roberto Clemente (88th), Johnny Bench (109th), Billy Williams (132nd) and Willie Stargell (142nd).
As a Black man playing during the volatile 1960s, he stood up to the extreme racism he experienced, and many believe it was his perceived rebellious persona that has prevented his election to the Hall of Fame. Those who knew him — friends, teammates and opponents alike — insist he was a great, humble, funny and supportive man.
“I watched him interact with his teammates on the Phillies, quietly offer advice to stars such a Mike Schmidt, Larry Bowa and Greg Luzinski, and spend hours talking with and helping young players you’ve never heard of,” said Mark Carfagno, who served many years on the Phillies’ groundcrew, was befriended by Allen and was the driving force behind the creation of the “Dick Allen Belongs in the Hall of Fame” movement. “It’s a gross misrepresentation to describe Dick as a malcontent and bad teammate.”
“My father was perhaps the most misunderstood man in the history of professional sport,” Richard Allen Jr. said. “He somehow developed a reputation as a bad teammate, a guy who caused trouble in the clubhouse. I’ve come to understand, though, that he was a dedicated ballplayer whose actions were often misinterpreted.
“Why else would Hall-of-Famer Goose Gossage call him the best teammate he ever played with? Why else would Phillies manager Gene Mauch insist my dad never caused a problem? Why else would the Phillies invite him back to help their young players adjust to playoff competition? And why else would he be credited with saving the Chicago White Sox franchise with his MVP season in 1972?”
Willie Mays said, “Allen was and still is a Hall-of -Famer as far as I’m concerned.”
Mike Schmidt calls Allen “one of the most talented, intimidating, smart, well-rounded, five-tool players in history.”
Tony Perez refers to Allen as “a good friend, great guy, and true gentleman.”
And Chuck Tanner, Allen’s manager with the White Sox, paid him the ultimate compliment, saying, “Dick was the leader of our team, the captain, the manager on the field. He took care of the young kids, took them under his wing. And he played every day as if it was his last day on earth.”
Allen’s last day on earth was Dec. 7, 2020, just as Oliva was announced as the Hall of Fame’s newest member. The Hall now has another opportunity to make things right. Joining Allen on the classic era ballot are Ken Boyer, John Donaldson, Steve Garvey, Vic Harris, Tommy John, Dave Parker and Luis Tiant.
All are worthy of consideration, but it is definitely Richard “Dick” Allen’s time. In fact, he is past due. Let’s hope the committee finally elects him to his rightful place among baseball’s immortals.
(David Jolley is a sports fan and historian, public relations and marketing communications consultant, writer, and author. For more content, please visit davidajolley.com.)