Gil Hodges’ players and teammates desperately want him in the Hall of Fame

Every now and then, Ron Swoboda admires his 1969 Mets World Series ring and thinks, “I know that ain’t happening without Gil Hodges.” Other members of those Miracle Mets wonder how many more World Series they might have won had Hodges, their mastermind, not died of a heart attack in 1972, two days before his 48th birthday.

“He would’ve had the Mets as a dynasty for many years to come if he had lived,” says Jerry Koosman. “You can’t really talk about the ‘69 Mets or any of our careers without thinking or talking about Gil. He left a lifetime impression with each of us.

“He shined. He made us all shine.”

That’s why the men who played for and with Hodges are so passionate about Hodges getting into the Baseball Hall of Fame. Some of them can’t believe the beloved former Brooklyn Dodgers’ slugger isn’t already enshrined at Cooperstown, based on the combination of a terrific playing career, managerial acumen and, what many think is Hodges’ best attribute, a stalwart character.

They are hoping his remarkable life will finally push him over the top this weekend. Hodges, a former Marine who served in World War II and was a great supporter of Jackie Robinson, is being considered for the Hall of Fame along with nine others on the Golden Days Era ballot. All made their primary contributions to baseball from 1950-69.

To gain entry to the Hall of Fame’s Class of 2022, Hodges or any of the other candidates would need to be named on 12 ballots from a 16-person committee (75%). Another committee, the Early Baseball Era (pre-1950), is also deciding on a separate group of 10 candidates this weekend. The results for both will be announced on MLB Network at 6 p.m. Sunday.

“He passed away almost 50 years ago and we’re still talking about him,” says Hodges’ 71-year-old son, Gil, Jr. “I live in Palm Beach Gardens and I run into people every week who speak about Dad as if they had dinner with him last month.”

During an 18-year playing career, Hodges batted .273 with a .359 on-base percentage and a .487 slugging percentage. He won the first three Gold Gloves ever awarded at first base. For a time, his 370 home runs were more than any right-handed hitter in National League history, at least until Willie Mays passed him.

Hodges was an eight-time All-Star who had six 30-homer seasons and seven seasons with 100-plus RBI. Teammate Duke Snider was the only player in baseball who had more homers and RBI than Hodges in the 1950s and Hodges led all MLB first basemen in hits, runs and games in that decade, too.

“Being a New Yorker, I remember Gil as a player — he was a star,” says Ed Kranepool, who played with Hodges on the early Mets and for him when Hodges returned as manager. Kranepool credits Hodges with teaching him the nuances of playing first base.

With the Dodgers, Hodges played on seven pennant-winning teams. When “Dem Bums” finally won the World Series in 1955, the only Brooklyn championship, Hodges drove in both runs in a 2-0 victory over the Yankees in Game 7 at Yankee Stadium.

Hodges made significant contributions apart from his play, too, which is why his supporters stress the respect he earned. As Robinson navigated racist attacks on and off the field, Hodges backed him, trying to buoy his friend through the hate. Joan Hodges, Gil’s wife, did grocery shopping for the Robinsons and helped her become friendly with other Dodgers’ wives.

“I don’t know how he went through what he went through,” Hodges, Jr. says of Robinson. “Every single city. I can tell you this — it would’ve been worse without Dad at first base. He broke up skirmishes. No one wanted to go through him to get to Jackie.”

At Hodges’ funeral, the sportscaster Howard Cosell found Hodges, Jr. and asked Hodges, Jr. to follow him to a car. Inside, Robinson was crying. Robinson told Hodges, Jr., “’Next to my son’s passing, this is the worst day of my life.’

“Their relationship wasn’t big in the press, never for publicity,” Hodges, Jr. says “Just tremendous respect between two people.”

Hodges was, as Carl Erskine, his former Dodgers teammate puts it, “a quiet strongman.” And, Erskine adds, Hodges never got booed at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field, a place where even beloved Dodgers might hear catcalls during a bad stretch.

“That’s a true story,” Erskine says. “I never heard it.”

Hodges, a devout Catholic, was so respectful, he did not argue with umpires. Once, Erskine says, someone offered Hodges $100 if he’d jaw with an ump. He wouldn’t. “He never did get that $100,” Erskine says.

One day, Dodgers manager Walter Alston saw five players at a race track, which was against the club’s rules. Leave $50 on my desk, Alston told his team, not naming the players. “Dad went in to his office and gives him $50,” says Gil Hodges, Jr. “Alston said, ‘Today’s your lucky day — I didn’t see you there.’ Dad said, ‘That’s OK, the other five saw me.’ He put $50 on the desk and walked out.

“That’s who he was. That’s who he was everywhere, every day.”

Hodges likely would have enhanced his career totals if he hadn’t missed time while in the Marines. He made his MLB debut in 1943, playing one game at third base, but wasn’t back in the majors for good until 1947. He did not play at all in 1944-45. Instead, he fought in World War II, earning a Bronze Star in the Battle of Okinawa.

Hodges went West with the Dodgers and, in 1959, had his final double-digit home-run season, smacking 25 for a team that went on to win the World Series. Three years later, he was an Original Met and slugged the first home run in franchise history. After he managed the Washington Senators from 1963-67, leading a recently-born expansion club to a higher win total in each season, the Mets brought him back to New York.

The Mets were lovable losers when he arrived and went 73-89 in 1968. But the next year, the team shocked the world against 100-1 odds. “He knew his players, knew the game and was always thinking ahead,” says Art Shamsky. “We wouldn’t have won without him leading the way.”

Hodges instituted a platoon system, squeezing the most he could out of the roster. Shamsky split playing time in right field with Swoboda and starters at multiple other positions depended on whether a righty or lefty was pitching against the Mets.

“Nobody liked the platoon,” Shamsky recalls. “It didn’t help our careers. But we did it because we respected him so much. And it was working.”

“That was something Hodges figured out and, with our pitching, here we go,” adds Swoboda. “It was an incredible managerial job. He was analytics. His brain.

“Gil was our algorithm.”

After the Mets had beaten the heavily-favored Orioles in the World Series, Hodges wanted his players to bask in the accomplishment, recalls outfielder Rod Gaspar.

“All these pictures of all these players with Mayor Lindsay, you never saw Gil in them,” Gaspar says. “Once we won it, he went into his office. Tom (Seaver) went in there and poured a little Champagne on him, but Gil stayed out of the limelight. He wanted us to enjoy it. I’ve got a lot of the pictures because I’m in them and I was a big ham. Gil wanted us to get the credit. He called us ‘his boys.’

“But he deserves the credit.”

Whenever the ‘69 Mets get together, whether it was Kranepool and Shamsky meeting for lunch last week in Florida or at the ceremony last summer where the Mets retired Koosman’s jersey, inevitably someone brings up Hodges and the Hall of Fame.

They know Hodges is, as Swoboda puts it, “in some tough company now.” Minnie Miñoso, Dick Allen, Jim Kaat, Roger Maris and Tony Oliva are among the strong candidates on this ballot.

Hodges has been considered on multiple committee ballots in the past and spent 15 years on the BBWAA ballot, topping out at 63.4% of the vote (75% is required for entry) in 1983, his final year. On that ballot, Hodges got more votes than seven players who eventually gained enshrinement, including Billy Williams and Orlando Cepeda.

Other than players who are still on the writers’ ballot, Hodges is the only one to get at least 50% of the BBWAA vote without eventually getting in.

As Gaspar notes, “as the years go by, guys who were pushing for him, like Henry Aaron and Tom Seaver, they’re gone now...It’s sad that he’s not in, especially since Joan is still alive. It’d be awful nice for her.”

Joan Hodges, who is 95, still lives in Brooklyn. “I talk to her three or four times a day,” Hodges, Jr. says. “She’s an Italian girl from Brooklyn who knows baseball. It would mean a lot to her and to me. But it’s not up to us. We need 12-of-16.”

Adds Swoboda: “Nothing would slap a smile on my face more than to hear Gil get the nod.

“That’s forever.”