Many observers were surprised when Jeff Kent was the only candidate elected to the Baseball Hall of Fame in last weekend’s vote of the Contemporary Era committee.
Dale Murphy? Don Mattingly? They were expected to get strong support. Maybe Roger Clemens would even get some votes. But instead, it was Kent alone. A situation Jeff Kent is familiar with in baseball.
For much of his professional baseball career, Kent was an isolated man, a mostly aloof, always intense individual. He didn’t make a lot of friends in the game, as much as he earned respect. Ultimately, his 377 home runs, and the record 351 he hit as a second baseman, were enough to get him the votes that result in a special invitation to Cooperstown.
Ironically, Kent will make a speech and accept a plaque before his former teammate Barry Bonds, whose name was also on the same ballot last Sunday. But while Kent got 14 of 16 possible votes, Barry received fewer than five. As a result, Kent may forever be honored as a Hall of Famer, while Bonds could forever he shut out.
There was a time when such a development would have delighted Kent. Famously, Bonds and Kent were not friendly during their six seasons as teammates. But still, so far in the hours and days after Kent’s election, he’s been favorable in his comments on Bonds. He’s also been a changed man.
When Kent was a player he didn’t like the media. That’s an understatement. He hated the media. He didn’t really like anything other than the game on the field. He didn’t feel it was his job to be nice to writers, or fans, or anyone else who wasn’t in uniform. Intensity is one way to phrase it. Or another would be to call him an asshole.
Once at an All-Star Game week warmup session, I was on-field taking photos in my capacity with MLB. This was the day before the All-Star Game. For most players it’s seen as a time to chat with players from other teams, to go through the motions. It’s a fun environment. Kent was alone, isolated near the batting cage. He was leaning on a bat, just blankly staring around the ballpark. I snapped several photos, great shots of Kent in his NL All-Star uniform and isolated. Then his eyes met mine, and he glowered. I snapped a few more, then looked again, this time outside the viewfinder of my camera. Kent was glaring, and his hand on the bat had one finger extended, one significant finger that we all extend for a specific purpose to get a point across.
Middle fingers or not, Kent was a very good baseball player. I could see an argument for his Hall of Fame election. I could also see where his career was not quite good enough. For my money, Lou Whitaker is a better candidate, and so is Bobby Grich (by far). Chase Utley was a much superior second baseman.
Consider this:
- Jeff Kent was a fine hitter, but a basic zero on defense. He had five seasons of 4+ WAR, the same as Chuck Knoblauch.
- Bobby Grich had eight seasons of 4+WAR, and Ian Kinsler had 9, compared to Kent’s five.
- Lou Whitaker had 10 4+ WAR seasons, twice as many as Jeff Kent.
The Hall of Fame committee liked Kent’s peak. They liked his 30-HR seasons and 100-RBI seasons. And that’s fine. But, these other second basemen, players who were better all-around players, deserve to be elected. In the case of Grich, Whitaker, and Utley, all of them had better careers than Kent did.
Mid-career surge propelled Kent to Hall of Fame
Only 26 percent of Kent’s career value came before he turned 30 years old, the lowest total among the top 50 second basemen. Three teams, the Blue Jays, Mets, and Indians, gave up on Kent, who failed to impress them with his glove or his habit of swinging at any pitch near the plate. He was a storm cloud in the clubhouse too, a curmudgeon. Kent bristled at the hazing he received as a rookie. When he was with the Mets he allegedly challenged veteran teammates to fights after they picked on him. His prickly personality made it impossible for him to be one of the guys.
Kent was traded twice in 1996, the second time in a six-player deal that sent him to the Giants in exchange for Matt Williams. At that point, Kent had never driven in more than 80 runs in a season, never been an All-Star. He was moved to third base briefly because of the robotic way he turned double plays at second. In San Francisco he joined a clubhouse dominated by Bonds.
Kent vs Bonds: Baseball’s prickly feud
The two teammates never liked each other: Bonds was a moody prima donna; and Kent was stubborn and refused to kiss ass. The problems between the two stars began almost immediately when Kent refused to vacate Bonds’ special seat in a van during a spring training trip. Kent didn’t like the casual way Bonds treated team calisthenics, and he was especially perturbed at how Barry admired his home runs. More than once, Kent was delighted when an opposing team threw at Bonds for being a showboat. Later, when Kent served as union representative for the Giants, he was required to lead meetings. Once when he was explaining a new policy, Barry, sitting in his $3,000 massage chair, interrupted from his corner and said, “Nah, that’s not going to happen, this is my clubhouse.” Kent, like others who stood in Bonds’ egomaniacal shadow, saw Barry for who he was. “Off the field,” Kent said, “I don’t care about Bonds, and Bonds doesn’t care about me…nor anyone else.”
It was inevitable that the enemies would clash physically, which happened in 2002 during a game in San Diego when Kent chastised a teammate for a gaffe and Bonds stood up for the teammate. The teammates got nose-to-nose in the dugout before Barry sent a forearm into Kent’s neck.
While Kent and Bonds each benefited from the other being in the lineup, neither of them would admit it. Probably no prominent teammates hated each other so much since Ty Cobb and Sam Crawford. Bay area sports writer Ray Ratto wrote of Kent vs. Bonds: “The one who lives longer will attend the other’s funeral just to make sure he’s dead.”
But now, with Kent a Hall of Famer, the former second baseman is speaking much softer about his former teammate, and about his time in the game. If you believe Kent, he’s just a simple Texas rancher now, thankful for everything, with kind words for everyone. Fair enough. But some of us remember.
