Leatherstocking Tales

For the tenth year in a row, I spent a lovely July weekend in Cooperstown, New York to attend the induction ceremony for the Baseball Hall of Fame. This year three new members were added to the illustrious list of greats. But this year I also spent more time appreciating the surroundings, aided by a GPS and some great weather (it was at least ten degrees cooler up in the mountains than the sweltering state of New Jersey).

Cooperstown is not the birthplace of baseball, even the museum admits that. It was a myth that seemed right, and the real birthplace is too complex to pinpoint (Hoboken, New Jersey has a stronger claim, as that is where the first official game was played). But long before anyone had heard of Abner Doubleday, Cooperstown was known as the home of author James Fenimore Cooper, the author of the adventures of Natty Bumpo (aka Hawkeye), and where the Mohicans roamed.

If Cooperstown is not the historical home of baseball, it is certainly an appropriate stand-in for it. It's a fantastic little village, and when my ship finally (finally!) comes in I wouldn't mind living there. It's full of gingerbread houses and quiet lanes and I'm sure it's pretty sleepy except for one weekend a year (the year Derek Jeter gets in will be intense. Intense.) This year, due to using a GPS, I was able to get off the beaten path. The Garmin seems to be programmed to bypass Interstate highways when not necessary. When one normally plans a trip to a place one is unfamiliar with, the easiest route is the Interstate, because it's simple to navigate. But with a GPS, I was guided along lovely back roads, past farms and meadows and weathered to dilapidated barns. With my windows rolled down the piquant smell of cow manure occasionally wafted in, and every so often I'd slow down to cruise through a small town that seemed to have bypassed time--it was hard to believe I was in the same state that was home to the Bronx and Greenwich Village.

This year the ceremony was cleaved in twain. A part dubbed "the Awards Ceremony," which doles out honors to a sportswriter and broadcaster, were ghettoized to the day before the induction ceremony. Held at Doubleday Field, it seemed to me to be the same as how the Academy of Arts and Sciences broke out their honorary awards, giving them out a dinner and not during the telecast. Perhaps the brain trust of the Hall decided it was too much for people to sit in the broiling sun to listen to writers and broadcaster give their speeches. This year it was Philadelphia sportswriter Bill Conlin and Expos and Marlins broadcaster Dave Van Horne who were honored, as was Roland Hemond, a long-time general manager with many clubs, who received the Buck O'Neill lifetime achievement award.

Before those awards were handed out, Terry Cashman was on hand to sing his ubiquitous "Talkin' Baseball," which he wrote thirty years ago. The famous refrain of "Willie, Mickey, and the Duke," seems to be more poignant, as Duke Snider died this year. Willie Mays, the sole survivor of that trio of New York centerfielders of the 1950s, was not on hand the entire weekend.

After the awards ceremony, the second-annual parade of Hall of Famers down Main Street took place. This is a fun event, with many HOFers in attendance, waving from the back of pickup trucks. Reggie Jackson, for some reason, was on his cell phone, no doubt making some sort of deal.

The next day was the induction ceremony. There was drizzle in the morning, but bright sunshine by the afternoon, but not too hot. Fans in lawn chairs strike up conversations about baseball (a hot topic was whether Jack Morris deserves induction--opinions were split). I was surrounded by Canadians, who were down to witness the first player to enter the Hall as a Toronto Blue Jay--Roberto Alomar. That same player also drew many proud Puerto Ricans, as he is the fourth from that island to be inducted. Bert Blyleven drew legions of Minnesota Twins fans, and though both he and Alomar were well-traveled in their careers, those were the only two teams that supplied many fans.

Also inducted was general manager Pat Gillick, who kicked things off with a stately speech. He has won where ever he has been--he constructed the World Champion Blue Jays of 1992-1993, the current Philadelphia Phillies, and also playoff teams in Baltimore and Seattle (including the Mariners team that tied the record for most wins in a season--116).

Alomar was next, delivering some of his speech in Spanish and giving major props to his father, Sandy Sr., who was a major league player, and his brother, Sandy Jr., who was a major league catcher for many years. There was no mention of either expectorant or John Hirschbeck.

Blyleven ended the proceedings with a playful but heartfelt speech. His bitterness over having to wait fourteen years to be elected was well documented, but he put that aside and was gracious and funny. He promised not to anything "stupid or silly," which thankfully included mooning.

On the drive home I listened to the Tigers beat the Twins on Sirius/XM radio, ending a perfect little trip and another visit to the magic baseball village of Cooperstown. Every baseball fan should visit at least once.