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Will Dick Allen finally make the Hall of Fame? Why those close to the late Phillies slugger keep pushing for his enshrinement

Dick Allen will be considered for the Hall of Fame once again. (Icon Sportswire)

Months went by before Dick Allen would finally speak to his son.

One summer, about 10 years ago, as Allen prepared for a family reunion, Richard Allen Jr. headed to a speaking engagement that he knew would not please his father. While the rest of the Allen family gathered, Allen Jr. went elsewhere to a baseball event, grabbed a microphone and told an audience why Dick Allen belongs in the Hall of Fame.

When Allen found out why his son missed the reunion, he was not thrilled. It was a while before they talked again.

“He didn’t have too much to say to me,” Allen Jr. said with a laugh. “But he got by it.”

Although his late father refused to clamor for his own inclusion, Allen Jr. has stayed committed to a campaign with one simple message: “Dick Allen belongs in the Hall of Fame.” Following Allen’s death and two narrow misses in Hall of Fame voting, Allen Jr., friends and family still advocate for his father’s induction.

Allen, who died at 78 years old on Dec. 7, 2020, will have another chance at a posthumous election into the Baseball Hall of Fame next month. He was named one of eight candidates on the ballot for the Classic Baseball Era Committee to vote upon with the results to be announced on Dec. 8 at the Winter Meetings in Dallas.

Recognizing players and other figures for their accomplishments and impact on the game before 1980, the 16 voters will consider Allen, Ken Boyer, John Donaldson, Steve Garvey, Vic Harris, Tommy John, Dave Parker and Luis Tiant for the Hall of Fame’s Class of 2025. Any candidate receiving at least 12 votes will be inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum next July 27 in Cooperstown, N.Y.

Allen, one of the most prolific sluggers of the 1960s and ’70s, spent nine of his 15 big-league seasons with the Phillies between two stints in Philadelphia. The right-handed hitter had a tantalizing, controversial Phillies career. Allen won the 1964 National League Rookie of the Year Award in convincing fashion as he impressed with light-tower home runs like no Phillie before. He dominated the ’60s in Philly, all while dealing with the consequences of being the first Black star to don the red pinstripes.

Facing mistreatment from fans and the media, Allen demanded a trade from the Phillies after the 1969 season, coming back in 1975 and 1976 at a time when he was more appreciated in Philadelphia. Playing for five teams, he hit 351 home runs, had a career .912 OPS and won the 1972 American League MVP Award. His No. 15 is retired by the Phillies.

The labeling of Allen as a problem in the clubhouse early in his career appears to have had a negative effect on his balloting for Cooperstown. Still, he’s come within a vote twice and, shortly, will have his third chance on the ballot since 2014. Allen Jr. is cautious, having been down this road before, but he doesn’t take any of it for granted.

“It’s great,” he said. “It’s great seeing him on that list. I don’t want to say I feel like a veteran at this, but it’s been a long time, 2014 to 2024.”

Allen Jr. will be in Dallas for the announcement in December with a group including his cousins and son, Richard III, with the hope that this ballot will be the one that rewards all their work and cements the legacy of Allen.

Richard Allen Jr. and the late Dick Allen. (Dr. David Fletcher)

Mark “Frog” Carfagno first saw Allen play at Connie Mack Stadium during the seven-time All-Star’s first Phillies go-around. As a teenager, Carfagno sold copies of the Philadelphia Bulletin that included each day’s lineup and scorecard — with Allen’s first name printed as “Richie” instead of his preferred “Dick” by the local press — outside the ballpark. After a few innings, he’d head to the stands and watch the rest of the game.

He was there, taking in the action as fans yelled insults and fired objects at Allen, who began wearing a batting helmet in the field. Despite it all, his production never dropped. To a young Carfagno, Allen’s ability to perform while enduring the cruelty was unbelievable.

“I’d seen him play,” Carfagno said. “I’d seen all the racism that he was subjected to. I’d seen them throw stones, batteries and they threw bottles back then. They even threw a smoke bomb at him. So to be able to play with all that adversity, how did he concentrate? How did he do that? But he did. He played. He played.”

In 1971, the year the Phillies left Connie Mack Stadium and moved into Veterans Stadium in South Philadelphia, Carfagno was hired by the team as a groundskeeper, a position he held for 33 years. It was as a groundskeeper that he befriended Allen, the player he long admired, when he returned to the Phillies in 1975.

Allen was traded to the Cardinals before the 1970 season, to the Dodgers in 1971 and again to the White Sox in 1972. He dazzled in three seasons in Chicago before a falling out with the organization in late 1974 resulted in a brief retirement. Philadelphia got Allen to come back the next May and play there for two more seasons.

As Allen fulfilled his media and public relations duties at the Vet on the day he re-signed with the Phillies, he sought out Phillies employee Pete Cera, a trainer who helped Allen navigate Arkansas as a minor leaguer in Little Rock in 1963, less than a decade after the Little Rock Nine integrated the city’s Central High School. Soon after, Allen tracked down Carfagno and introduced himself.

He had heard about Carfagno’s tough upbringing, that his father died when he was 10 years old and his mother when he was 17. Allen offered the groundsman his condolences and to let him know if he ever needed help. And he meant it.

“He said, ‘Listen,'” Carfagno remembered, “‘if you ever need anything, feel free to ask me. I mean anything — if you need to borrow a car, if you need money.'”

Carfagno insisted he didn’t need any assistance. Allen pushed back.

“If I hear you do and you don’t tell me,” Allen told him, “I’m going to whoop your butt.”

Carfagno would later find $100 bills slipped into his grounds crew locker and accompany Allen on trips to the star’s farm in Bucks County. The two grew close as Allen enjoyed a happier, more comfortable stay in Philly. While the first baseman was painted as a troublemaker and malcontent for much of his career, Carfagno saw a person who endeared himself to teammates and the “little people” around the stadium alike.

Following his second stint with the Phillies, Allen played one more season with the Oakland Athletics in 1977 before retiring for good. He first became eligible for Hall of Fame voting via the Baseball Writers’ Association of America balloting in 1983, but received just 3.7% of the vote. He peaked at 18.9% voting in his 14 years on the ballot, well short of the 75% threshold needed for election. This was no shock to Carfagno, who felt that Allen was a Hall of Famer but figured he was a long shot on the BBWAA ballot due to his reluctance to give interviews as a player.

After Allen fell off the writers’ ballot in 1997, Carfagno began penning letters to different Hall of Famers and mailing them to Cooperstown, urging the Hall of Fame to include Allen on the Veterans Committee ballot. For years, he argued and argued that Allen was a deserving candidate and had the statistics to back it up. Then in 2013, Allen Jr. approached Carfagno about becoming the official campaign manager and leading the effort to get his father on the ballot and inducted.

Allen was placed on the Golden Era Committee ballot in December 2014, but fell just one vote short of enshrinement. Carfagno was there in San Diego for the disappointment, then again in December 2021 — a year after Allen’s death — as he finished a vote shy for the second time in Orlando, Fla.

The results were heartbreaking for all those who were close to Allen and all those who worked on the campaign. Carfagno, as involved as anyone, will not be present in Dallas this time around. “I’m just not up to it, physically or mentally,” he said.

Carfagno plans to watch the announcement on MLB Network from his home in Southwest Philly and hopes to possibly get an early call from Allen Jr. with some good news. Despite the past devastation, he’s still pushing, still waiting to hear his friend’s name called alongside the greats of the game.

“If you knew him,” Carfagno said, “you would understand why people are so adamant about getting him in the Hall of Fame.”

While his resume is extremely strong as is, it’s hard not to wonder what Allen’s career numbers might’ve looked like if he had just been able to focus on baseball early in his days as a major leaguer. The best evidence to show what kind of boost he might’ve seen came in his first year with the White Sox.

After a tumultuous exit from Philadelphia and two seasons of bouncing around, Allen landed in Chicago in 1972 and was an instant force. Dr. David Fletcher — a practicing occupational medicine specialist and the co-author of “Chili Dog MVP: Dick Allen, the ’72 White Sox and A Transforming Chicago” — was “mesmerized” as a teenager in the suburbs as Allen brought a directionless White Sox team into the spotlight.

“He was Michael Jordan in Chicago before Michael Jordan,” Fletcher said. “He was that electric. He brought fans back to Comiskey Park and a lot of minority fans back to watch him. But he was just a leader.”

Well removed from the constant jeering and ridicule, Allen found a place where he was accepted and wanted with the White Sox. He responded with a career year, leading the American League with 37 home runs, 113 RBIs and a majors-best 1.023 OPS on his way to winning the MVP.

With the club in danger of relocating, Allen helped keep the White Sox in Chicago with his magical first year with the team, but a broken leg spoiled his 1973 season. The next year, Chicago struggled to contend, even as Allen enjoyed success at the plate. Hampered by injuries and in the midst of a feud with Ron Santo in the Cubs great’s lone season on the South Side, Allen left the White Sox in September 1974.

It was a prideful decision, one that Allen later considered his biggest regret. But it was all part of the story of who he was, influenced by his experiences as a young player.

“That’s what makes him a really interesting person,” Fletcher said. “He was a real human being. He was very complex.”

Fletcher, through his work with the Chicago Baseball Museum, helped bring Allen back to Chicago for a two-day reunion to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the 1972 season. The White Sox presented Allen with his MVP trophy that he had left in the city.

Wanting to rebuild the connection between Allen and the city of Chicago, Fletcher met Allen through the 2012 event and the two developed a friendship. Fletcher was the only person from Chicago in attendance for Allen’s jersey number retirement by the Phillies at Citizens Bank Park in 2020. He later spoke at Allen’s funeral and served as a pallbearer.

Since meeting Allen, Fletcher has joined the campaign calling for Allen’s induction into the Hall of Fame. He’ll be in Dallas with Allen Jr. and has a good feeling about this year’s chances. He believes Allen’s election would be a significant win for the sport.

“It’s important because baseball is about forgiveness, about history — re-examining things,” Fletcher said. “And he was a pioneer. … I think it’s coming full circle. And again, he was a very proud man, and he wasn’t going to have other people tell him what to do. And I think he was a pioneer for that.”

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Carfagno can rattle off all the statistics from memory and is fully loaded with graphics showing just how valuable Allen was compared to his contemporaries.

The numbers are convincing. While Allen’s home run total (351) and even his career WAR (58.7) don’t jump off the page due to his relatively short prime, there is a clear and convincing Hall of Fame case to be made. From 1964 to 1974, Allen’s OPS+ — an offensive rate stat adjusted for league average and ballpark factors — was 165, the highest mark among qualified hitters during that span. His career 156 OPS+ is the 25th best in major-league history, tied with Hall of Famer Frank Thomas and just ahead of legends Henry Aaron, Joe DiMaggio, Willie Mays and Mel Ott.

“I said, ‘Wow, Dick Allen’s in with them guys? He must be a hell of a player!'” Carfagno said.

The dichotomy is interesting, and charming in a way. Some of the key figures in Allen’s corner are old-school baseball fans with personal, emotional connections to the player, but they rely upon objective and advanced measures to make their best pitch. And those stats show that Allen had as much prowess with the bat as almost anyone during his peak.

“He’s the best offensive player of his generation,” Fletcher said.

Phillies managing partner John Middleton instantly cited slugging percentage and OPS when recently asked about Allen’s Hall of Fame candidacy, making his statistical case for Allen as well.

“I am clearly one of Dick’s biggest supporters for this honor,” Middleton told Phillies Nation. “I’ve been pushing for it for decades. I think it’s long overdue. I’m really hopeful this year he gets over the hump and gets in.”

Middleton grew up watching Allen at Connie Mack Stadium, well before owning any stake in the club. In 2020, he broke a loosely held, unwritten club policy to retire Allen’s No. 15 without him being a Hall of Famer. Now, Middleton is ready to see Allen make it to Cooperstown at last.

“I just don’t know why he’s not in there already, so I’m excited,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it. We’ll see. I’ve been disappointed before. I thought the year for it was at least 30 years ago. So, yeah, it’s past the year for it.”

Allen was never big on advocating for his own Hall of Fame status and didn’t quite understand why others bothered. He knew what he was capable of on a baseball field, and the great players of his day knew that he was right there with them. But his son eventually broke through one day with a particular explanation.

“Dad, it’s like standing in line for a movie and you’re next,” Allen Jr. told his father, “and everyone keeps jumping in front of you. You should be going in there.”

Through the letdowns and difficult moments, Allen’s family and friends have continued to fight misconceptions and shed light on his achievements, trying to prove that he deserves to be a Hall of Famer. Maybe this time will be Allen’s turn in line.