You know how teams have their guy? Some of them are easy to pick out. Frank Thomas is obviously our guy. Paul Konerko? Mark Buehrle? Maybe shy of Hall of Fame standards, but they’re our guys. Derek Jeter is a Yankee. The newly-elected Trevor Hoffman is a Padre. He’s their guy, even if he bounced around toward the end of his career. Sammy Sosa is a Cub (even if the Cubs don’t want to admit it).

No, Thome, part of the four-player 2018 Hall of Fame class revealed Wednesday, won’t don a White Sox cap on his plaque this July in Cooperstown. That makes sense. Thome spent only 3 1/2 years with the White Sox. Just 20 percent of his career plate appearances came while wearing a White Sox uniform.

Thome isn’t our guy in the same way as Thomas or Buehrle or Konerko. Thome is Cleveland’s guy. A franchise legend. 13 of his 22 seasons were spent in Cleveland. He spent his prime mashing dingers alongside fellow Hall of Fame-caliber players Roberto Alomar, Manny Ramirez, and prime talents like Kenny Lofton, Omar Vizquel, Sandy Alomar Jr., David Justice, Matt Williams, and Albert Belle on teams that somehow never won a World Series. He has a statue at Progressive Field, is in their Hall of Fame, and his number will almost undoubtedly one day be retired by the team.

Thome is a Cleveland Indian before he’s a Chicago White Sox. He may even be a Philadelphia Phillie before he’s a White Sox. And yet, when his name was announced as part of this year’s class, it still felt like something worth celebrating. And not just in a sense of “he’s a guy who played for the White Sox so yay because of that.” Thome has always kind of felt a little bit like our guy, too, despite the brevity of his time with the White Sox.

It’s easy to understand why. Thome, a Peoria, Ill., native, embraced Chicago immediately, calling the trade “a blessing” before even suiting up for a game.

“For Jim to be able to tell his dad on the phone that he had been traded to Chicago–Chicago!–that might have been the most special thing about this.” —Andrea Thome to the Chicago Tribune on Nov. 29, 2005

Thome’s 2005 season in Philadelphia was injury-plagued and unproductive. He was an aging slugger, 34 years old, and it wouldn’t have shocked anyone if that year was the beginning of the end in terms of Thome being an asset on the field. After the trade, he rebounded to the tune of .288/.416/.598 with 42 home runs. He made the last of his five All-Star appearances that year and finished seventh in AL MVP voting.

He remained productive throughout his tenure in Chicago, and provided the most recent famous White Sox postseason moment almost 10 years ago.

Moments like this, as well as his walk-off 500th career home run make it easy to understand why Thome is so beloved despite the briefness of his tenure. He’s stayed around the team since retiring and currently serves as special assistant to the VP/general manager. During my brief time around the team in Glendale, Ariz., last spring it was easy to sense the aura of his presence. This was JIM THOME spending time around the next bunch of players hoping to carve out careers even half as successful as his.

One of the greatest players of all time. Not only a great player, but a great guy off the field too! Not a more deserving person out there! Incredibly blessed to have gotten to know him over the last year! #HOFhttps://t.co/5gMYvHJs8m

— Jake Burger (@Burgatron13) January 25, 2018

The appreciation for Thome extended beyond the field, as well. The aforementioned article from 2005 is ripe with vivacity over the opportunity to play for what’s practically his hometown team, with Peoria just a short 2 1/2 hour drive away. He and his wife regularly hosted benefits for the Children’s Hospital of Illinois, and his general warmness that’s been talked about across baseball throughout his career and well into retirement was and continues to be felt throughout the White Sox community.

So when Jim Thome walks across the stage and gives his induction speech this July in Cooperstown, fans in Cleveland will celebrate the inclusion of one of their heroes receiving baseball’s ultimate honor. Fans in Philadelphia and Minnesota will undoubtedly cheer and remember the good moments he spent with their teams. White Sox fans will join in the celebration, because while Jim Thome might not really be our guy, it kind of feels like he is.

Lead Photo Credit: Ron Vesely/Chicago White Sox

• The slam dunk candidates like Jim Thome and Chipper Jones;
• The no chance but fun guys like Johnny Damon;
• Defense-driven careers and weird profiles;
• The candidates who will infuriate Nick for unhealthy reasons!

All of this and more.

But Minoso’s lack of counting stats is also a byproduct of another key component of his candidacy–Minoso was a pioneer.  Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in 1947, a titanically important and heroic achievement.  However, Robinson’s first game in the majors wasn’t the flicking of a light switch wherein baseball went from “hostile to minorities” to “fine” overnight.  The struggle of integration persisted for decades, and there is a case to be made that it is still ongoing.  The Red Sox would not employ a black player until 1959–after Jackie Robinson had retired.  And for perspective on how recent the preliminary phases of integration were, Larry Doby was the first black player in the American League in 1948.  His rookie season was the last year the Cleveland Indians won the World Series.

Minoso was attempting to break into the majors in this world.  Before he became the first black Cuban in the major leagues, and the White Sox’ first black player, Minoso was left to waste his age-23 and 24 seasons accumulating almost 1,300 plate appearances in AAA.  He earned the opportunity to languish in the minors after being an All Star in the Negro Leagues.  Indeed, in 1950 despite hitting .339/.405/.539 in AAA, he didn’t get called up for even a cup of coffee. The Indians clearly weren’t averse to playing black players in the absolute sense, given the presence of the aforementioned Doby, and in many ways Minoso was blocked.  Al Rosen had third for Cleveland in ’50, and those Cleveland rosters were pretty robust top to bottom.  However, in ’49 they ran out a mediocre Ken Keltner, and in ’50 a corner outfield slot was also pretty underwhelming.  One need not attribute Minoso being blocked by fungible veterans to racial animus, but I wouldn’t rule out the lack of finding room for a versatile defensive player with an elite bat being a result of unfair skepticism either.

Then, after a trade to the White Sox in 1951, Minoso immediately posted a 7.5 WARP season in his rookie year, finishing 4th in MVP voting and 2nd in Rookie of the Year. I think it is fair to posit that if he had been allowed to play a full season in the majors in 1950 when he was obviously ready he would have been a 4 or 5-win player, and it isn’t unreasonable to suggest he would have been an above-average major leaguer in 1949 as well.  Given that he averaged 7.5 WARP over his first four seasons in the majors, these estimates may be conservative.

Even without the benefit of these two lost years in his 20s, Minoso’s career WARP sits at 65.1.  For reference, Carlos Beltran is currently at 67.9 and Tim Raines was at 70.4, while Andre Dawson posted an even 60.  Minoso was their equal on the field, and given that MLB teams were not required to have Spanish translators until 2016, it is easy to underestimate his other contributions.

By Jay Jaffe’s JAWS metric, Minoso ranks 22nd All Time amongst left fielders, which puts him about even with Lance Berkman, ahead of Hall of Famers Joe Kelley and Jim Rice, and only slightly behind Hall member Ralph Kiner.  Another thing to keep in mind when looking at this ranking is that some of the most absurdly dominant players of all time were left fielders. The top four at the position by JAWS are Barry Bonds, Ted Williams, Rickey Henderson, and Carl Yastrzemski.

A common fallacy in Hall of Fame debates is the, “You had to be there” argument for a player who isn’t qualified on paper, an appeal to style over substance. “Sure, Mickey Morandini had a sub-.700 OPS but you should have seen him lay down a sac bunt!” Setting aside the fact that Minoso’s high-OBP was likely not as appreciated in his day as it would be now, and that he is qualified, Minoso was so freaking cool that it leaps off the stat page. After all, he lead the league in triples three times, stolen bases twice, caught stealing six times, and in hit-by-pitch ten times. I am too young to have seen him play live, but I can appeal to his style because his panache is there in the numbers.

It is also true that arguing for someone to be in the Hall because they are better than its weakest members–like Jim Rice–is not very persuasive. Two wrongs don’t make a right.  Kiner is an interesting point of reference in that he had approximately 1,000 fewer PAs than Minoso playing in roughly the same era.  For what it is worth, I think Kiner deserves to be in, partially because I think a blinding peak is worth quite a bit, which JAWS attempts to capture above and beyond just adding up a player’s career WAR.

I will point out, however, that Minoso’s JAWS score, 45.0, is essentially identical to that of Hall of Famer Enos Slaughter who weighs in at 45.1.  In the Jackie Robinson story, Slaughter has been cast as one of the leaders of the faction of regressive sneering racists standing in his way.  There is dispute over what actions if any Slaughter took to stop Robinson, but it is undisputed that Slaughter spiked Robinson at first base during his rookie year.  Whether or not it was intentional is something that we cannot know.

The consensus, however, is that Slaughter was probably a jerk.  By contrast, Minoso was an absolute delight, playing with tremendous flair and infectious charisma, paving the way for Latin players and Cubans specifically in MLB.  The former is in the Hall and the latter is not.  Minnie Minoso passed away in 2015, and so the opportunity to induct him into the Hall during his lifetime has irretrievably been lost.  But the individuals with the power to do so should correct this error as soon as they’re able.

Lead Image Credit: Dennis Wierzbicki // USA Today Sports Images

It was also likely the last time for the foreseeable future we’ll see a player enter Cooperstown with a White Sox cap adorned on his plaque.

Despite a lack of team success for the better part of the team’s history, the Sox are far from deficient when it comes to inductees in the Baseball Hall of Fame. 12 different players have gone into the Hall of Fame with the White Sox as their primary team (this is including Carlton Fisk, who has a Red Sox logo on his cap but whose primary team is listed as the White Sox), tied for the seventh most all-time.

In fact, since the first Hall of Fame class in 1936, the White Sox have never gone more than 14 years between Hall of Fame inductees, with Thomas breaking the latest streak after 14 years between him and Fisk.

That said, after Thomas, finding the next White Sox Hall of Famer is an incredibly difficult exercise.

There are plenty of players who have or will enter soon who spent some of their careers with the White Sox, mind you. Tim Raines had four successful seasons in Chicago, and Jim Thome will likely join him in his first year of eligibility next year. But logos for the Expos and Indians will likely don those two caps.

So, who is the next White Sox inductee? That’s pretty tough to figure out.

The recently retired

The only two players from recent White Sox history who will generate any sort of Hall of Fame discussion are Paul Konerko and Mark Buehrle, and, unfortunately, both likely fell short of Hall of Fame-worthy careers by varying degrees.

Both are incredibly beloved on the South side, and that’s perfectly fine. Statues, number retirements, all that is great! Konerko and Buehrle are White Sox legends, but that doesn’t necessarily make them baseball legends.

When guys like Fred McGriff, Larry Walker, Mike Mussina, and Curt Schilling are having trouble sniffing 50 percent of the vote, Konerko and Buehrle just aren’t going to cut it.

The recently traded

The most obvious candidate for next White Sox Hall of Famer until about six weeks ago was Chris Sale, and even then, it still might be!

Sale spent the first seven years of his career with the White Sox, tossing 1,110 innings, won 74 games with a 3.00 ERA while accumulating 31.1 WAR. The path to him entering the Hall as a member of the White Sox is tricky, however.

Step 1: Become a Hall of Famer. This one’s easy. While Sale has been stellar through his first seven seasons, it will take a lot more before we start buying tickets to Cooperstown.

Step 2: Bounce around. It’s safe to say if Sale spends more than seven years in Boston, that’ll wind up where he’s most remembered.

Step 3: Don’t be too good for Boston (or wherever he plays after Boston). Randy Johnson played 10 years in Seattle and eight in Arizona, but he wore a Diamondbacks hat in his plaque because, as good as he was for the Mariners, Johnson won four straight Cy Young awards and a World Series in Arizona. That stuff matters. If Sale only plays a few years in Boston but rips off some Cy Young seasons and a World Series or two, it’s game over.

So, yeah, a lot needs to happen. But the chances of Sale wearing a White Sox hat at his 2032 Hall of Fame ceremony are still there.

The current roster

It’s safe to say if someone on the White Sox as currently constructed winds up in Cooperstown it will take quite a bit of A) luck and B) time.

There’s Jose Quintana, of course, and there’s at least one alternate reality out there where he spends the rest of his career with the White Sox. He’d have to become a Hall of Famer, of course (I’m going to stop pointing that out for the duration of this article, because you get it).

Tim Anderson, Yoan Moncada, Lucas Giolito, Michael Kopech, Reynaldo Lopez, etc., etc., you get it. If one of these guys becomes a Hall of Famer, it won’t be until, say, 2037 at the earliest. A 23-year drought!

The actual answer

The next player to enter the Hall of Fame with a White Sox cap on his plaque will be Minnie Minoso. Some how, some way, Minoso, who died in 2015, will be elected to the Hall of Fame. And it will be long overdue.

Despite a worthy resume, not to mention his significant cultural impact to the game as the first black Cuban to play in the majors and the first black player in White Sox history, Minoso never garnered more than 21.1 percent of the vote from the BBWAA ballot before falling off the ballot after the 1999 cycle.

The most recent opportunity the Hall had to elect him was in 2014 when the Golden Era committee failed to elect any of its 10 candidates. Minoso garnered eight votes from the 16-person committee.

Minoso’s next opportunity will come when the Golden Days committee votes again in 2020 (the Hall recently altered its Veterans Committee standards), and unless those panels come to their senses sometime soon, the next time we see a Hall of Famer come from the White Sox is likely far, far away.

Lead Photo Credit: Rob Grabowski-USA TODAY Sports