DALLAS -- Hall of Fame president Josh Rawitch surely had good cause for his preamble before announcing the results of the Classic Baseball Era committee voting Sunday night. The process behind Hall of Fame committee voting can be labyrinthine, the decisions are weighty, and explaining it all to the viewing audience is a worthy endeavor.
But as Dick Allen's son, grandson and nephew sat huddled around a television in the Hilton Anatole, rocking back and forth in their chairs with anxiety while surrounded by supporters and media, the time drew out like a blade.
"All of this time, it boiled down -- that was a long five minutes, I’ll tell you," said Richard Allen Jr., son of the late 1972 AL MVP, and now a Hall of Fame slugger. "The reaction was a big sigh of relief, mainly. That's the main thing I would have to say. Long overdue, long overdue."
The shouts of elation and forceful hugging broke out before Allen's name was read, as Rawitch started rattling off accolades that his family members had long memorized. Three years after falling a vote short in a committee vote, Allen was inducted with a vote to spare, named on 13 of the 16 ballots to clear the required 75 percent. Allen's close friend Dave Parker will be inducted alongside him thanks to 14 votes, while legendary Negro League pitcher and trailblazing White Sox scout John Donaldson saw his support dwindle to under five votes.
“It’s wonderful to see Dick get elected to Baseball’s Hall of Fame,” said former teammate Steve Stone in a statement. “Being enshrined in Cooperstown is the ultimate individual honor for a player. It’s well deserved, and I’m sorry he’s not here to see this great honor.”
“Dick Allen's historic exploits during his seasons with the White Sox in 1972-74 enjoy a legendary, almost mythical status across this city and within the Sox organization even to this day. Dick was just that good and that dominant in the batter's box. His prodigious strength and jaw-dropping power are still talked about to this day. Dick's 1972 Most Valuable Player-winning season remains one of the best ever produced by any player in a White Sox uniform, particularly his league-leading 37 home runs in what at the time was a very pitcher friendly ballpark. So much credit goes to Dick, Roland Hemond and Chuck Tanner for making his time in Chicago such a success. We send our congratulations to Willa, Richard Jr. and the entire Allen family as many White Sox fans join with them in applauding the Hall of Fame recognition for Dick.”
--Statement from White Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf
A Phillies Dick Allen jersey was on display at his family's watch party, copies of "Chili Dog MVP" were scattered across the room, and his grandson wore a cap with "Wampum Walloper" written on the side to build a scene that clearly expected triumph from the outset.
But the Allen family had plenty of reason to doubt. That the legendary slugger died in 2020 not only robbed Allen of a chance of enjoying his ultimate career honor in person, but signaled to his family that the people who remembered his greatness would soon follow him out the door. Every year saw new players passing Allen on all-time home run lists, and fewer working baseball writers who watched him play in person. Supporters on hand repeatedly referred to getting Allen into the Hall of Fame as a full-time effort, and the effort could only remain fully staffed but for so long.
"At one point I kind of lost some faith," Allen Jr. said, noting that the black-and-white video highlights playing in the background were the closest many in attendance could come to seeing his father play. "I kind of thought that eventually he'd be forgotten."
There's a cruel element to watching Allen family members wipe tears from their eyes, knowing that the man they are bursting with pride for died while the value of his legacy was still being coldly assessed. But they described a man who was always uncomfortable with being the center of attention. Allen's son recalled that his father had his 1972 MVP trophy mailed to him, because he was too shy of the limelight to pick it up in person. Allen and three-time NBA MVP Nikola Jokic rarely get compared to each other, but apparently they both preferred talking about horses than the sport in which they starred. When the Phillies retired Allen's jersey shortly before his death in 2020, the closest he got to enjoying the feeling of being honored at this level while he was still alive, his son said his father was taken by surprise.
"He just kept saying, 'Yeah, but they didn't have to do that,'" Allen Jr. recalled. "That’s his humbleness. So for this, I think he's happier that I would be doing this and not him."
Although he can barely imagine it at this stage, what with how hard it was just to put his emotions into words to a dozen reporters on hand, Allen Jr. will have to prepare a speech for his father to give in Cooperstown next summer. There's no decision yet on which hat Allen will have on for his plaque, and their emotions are clearly split. The room was so full of Pennsylvania natives that there was light applause when the Eagles officially clinched a playoff spot a few minutes before the announcement, but Allen Jr. also proudly recalled former White Sox GM Roland Hemond telling him that his father saved baseball on the South Side. Neither chapter of his career deserved to be overlooked.
Allen's grandson was uncertain about attending the watch party at one point, but his father insisted: "We're going to share it." As bashful as the great Dick Allen could be about his accomplishments, as reticent to share stories of his playing career, another side could be uncovered by his family in private, in quiet conversations over Heinekens at the end of the day. And so, on the night that the Hall of Fame took a step to ensure that Dick Allen's greatness will be remembered, his family will keep his ritual going as well.
"We're going to get some green ones," Allen Jr. said. "This would've been big for him. He could hide it and fake it all he wants. But he'd get back, when we're alone, he'd have the green ones and talk about it."
