The forgotten KC Royals pitcher who belongs in the Hall of Fame

There are countless reasons Kansas City Royals fans continue to flock to Kauffman Stadium year after year, regardless of the team’s outlook or on-field product. Baseball has a way of promising the extraordinary with each first pitch, and few experiences rival spending a day at the ballpark to cap off the weekend. That same hope and magic filled Anaheim Stadium on May 22, 1994, as 35,915 fans packed the stands to watch the California Angels take on the visiting Royals. It was a picturesque Southern California afternoon — blue skies and crisp spring air, the kind of day sports fans and fishermen alike savor. The game lasted just two hours and 19 minutes, but for Royals pitcher David Cone, it was a masterpiece.

The 31-year-old right-hander dominated that day, tossing a complete-game shutout while allowing just one hit over nine frames. The Angels didn’t register a hit until the fifth inning, when All-Star outfielder Chili Davis broke through with a single. Cone wasn’t overpowering — his 103 pitches featured plenty of deception rather than pure velocity. But his split-finger fastball and slider kept the Angels’ lineup off-balance, and he recorded four strikeouts. It was one of three complete-game shutouts Cone would throw during the strike-shortened 1994 season, a prelude to his later perfect game with the New York Yankees in 1999.

Baseball was a different game 30 years ago, but Cone’s durability and arsenal made him one of the premier pitchers of the post-expansion era. Over a stellar 17-year career, Cone earned four World Series rings, won the 1994 Cy Young Award, and appeared in five All-Star Games. The Missouri native’s 12-year peak was remarkable, amassing 59.8 WAR during that stretch — trailing only legends Roger Clemens and Greg Maddux. That’s elite company by any measure.

Yet when Cone became eligible for the Hall of Fame in 2009, he fell off the ballot in his first year, receiving just 3.9% of votes. It was a brutal year for first-timers — none received the necessary support to remain on the ballot. While Rickey Henderson understandably dominated the conversation, Cone’s exclusion remains puzzling. His lack of traditional counting stats — such as wins or strikeouts — overshadowed his immense value as a pitcher.

Cone’s Hall of Fame snub highlights the era’s bias toward numbers-driven narratives. For much of his career, Cone’s value wasn’t in gaudy win totals or strikeout milestones, but in his adaptability and consistency. Pitching for six different franchises, he often served as the backbone of rotations, carrying teams through playoff pushes or rebuilding phases. His resilience and ability to rise to any occasion defined his career, even if they didn’t always reflect in the stat sheet.

In many ways, Cone’s career parallels the evolution of baseball itself. He flourished in a transitional era that welcomed advanced metrics, which now illuminate his contributions more clearly. Tools like JAWS (Jaffe WAR Score System) rank Cone favorably among Hall of Famers, and his 62.3 career WAR surpasses several pitchers already enshrined in Cooperstown. His seven-year peak, a critical measure in JAWS, cements his place among the game’s elite.

Despite this, Cone remains one of baseball’s overlooked greats, overshadowed by flashier contemporaries or players with longer careers. The context of his career — a decade marked by labor disputes, PED controversies, and shifting standards for greatness — further complicates his legacy. But for Royals fans and baseball purists, Cone embodies the magic of the game: the ability to deliver brilliance in fleeting moments while leaving a lasting impact.

Cone’s career deserves more than a footnote in baseball’s history. It deserves recognition in the Hall of Fame, not just for his accolades but for the way he pitched — with intelligence, determination, and flair. Cone may never have the plaque in Cooperstown he so richly deserves, but his legacy remains untarnished in the hearts of Royals fans and the record books.

Perhaps one day, the Contemporary Baseball Era Committee will reconsider Cone’s case for Cooperstown. Until then, fans can cherish memories like that sunny May afternoon in 1994, when Cone reminded everyone what greatness looks like.