These Honored Dead

Deacon White

It was my twelfth annual trip to Cooperstown to attend the induction ceremonies for the new Hall of Famers. But for the first time in many years, there were no living inductees--the Baseball Writers of America did not elect anyone (75 percent is required for election), and the veteran's committee, which considered individuals from the pre-integration era, chose three men who have all been dead for more than 70 years. Thus, the ceremony had the overall effect of an elegy.

When the BBWAA passed on electing anyone, a chill must have descended on Cooperstown. Induction weekend is the biggest tourist draw of the year. But this year the place seemed almost deserted. I had no problem finding a parking spot--in fact, I don't think any of the parking lots filled all day. It was easy to get a seat at a restaurant, and the field at the Clark Athletic Center, which has resembled a small city in some years, had maybe only a few hundred people. The seniors at Cooperstown High School, who work the concession and use the proceeds for their senior trip, got a shitty draw--they tried to hustle soda and hot dogs, but at times it seemed there were more kids than patrons.

This turn of events all stems from the plague of PEDs. Without their taint, Barry Bonds, Roger Clemens, and Sammy Sosa would have been sure first-ballot HOFers. But the writers are sending a strong message. The appropriateness of this message can be debated--Bonds and Clemens, for sure, would be Hall of Famers despite their use of banned substances (for Sosa it's not so clear). Instead, as the years go by, other players, notably Alex Rodriguez, will probably be turned away, as writers will stand like Cerberus in front of the gallery to keep out the cheaters.

Not only did the general public stay away, but the returning Hall of Famers were low in number as well. Only 32 showed up, most of them of recent vintage. Perennial attendees, such as Whitey Ford and Al Kaline, were nowhere to be found.

The ceremony itself was delayed about 45 minutes by rain, and when it started, Hall of Fame Chairman Jane Forbes Clark was almost apologetic. Yet the show went on, with three descendants of the new Hall of Famers on hand. Hank O'Day was an umpire for many years in the first decades of the twentieth century. He umpired ten World Series, including the very first in 1903. He also managed a few years. His most famous call was on Merkle's Boner (he surely is now the only man to have the word "boner" on his plaque), when in 1908 Giant Fred Merkle, on a walk-off hit, failed to touch second and a sharp-witted Cub retrieved the ball and forced him out.

Jacob Ruppert was the owner of the Yankees from 1915 to 1939. He turned a franchise that was almost always in the bottom half of the league into the pre-eminent franchise in American sports. He did it by hiring Miller Huggins as manager, Ed Barrow as general manager, and buying Babe Ruth from the Red Sox. In 1923 the Yankees, which had been evicted from the Polo Grounds, opened Yankee Stadium.

James "Deacon" White was a nineteenth-century star, who is credited with having the first hit in professional baseball. He was a catcher in the days when no gloves were used (his great-grandson described his hands as feeling like gnarled tree branches) and then switched to third base. He had a .312 lifetime batting average, and played for several clubs. He got his nickname of Deacon for his religious beliefs and his abstemiousness, a departure from most of the players at that time.

To make the ceremony even more of a celebration of the dead, the plaques of about a dozen players who were not formally inducted due to travel restrictions during World War II were read aloud. Most of these players were nineteenth century men, except notably for Rogers Hornsby and Lou Gehrig. Living Hall of Famers read their plaques aloud, and it was kind of touching to hear Cal Ripken read Gehrig's plaque, while Joe Morgan, the greatest second baseman of the second half of the century, read the plaque of Hornsby, the greatest of the first half.

There were a couple of anniversaries being celebrated as well. It is the 125th anniversary of the publication of Ernest L. Thayer's poem "Casey at the Bat," and the 75th of Abbot and Costello's classic sketch, "Who's on First?" Throughout the day in the museum the poem was recited and the sketch was enacted by pair of very good impersonators. I've heard "Who's on First?" dozens of times, but it never fails to make me laugh.

Next year, there may be an abundance of inductees. Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine, two 300-game winners, without a hint of controversy, should be elected easily. Craig Biggio, who should have gotten in this year, may move up. And the veteran's committee will have three managers to consider--Joe Torre, Tony LaRussa, and Bobby Cox, all who deserve induction. So maybe the town will bounce back next year.

I had a bonus on this year's trip. My nephew, who is 12 and baseball mad, came up with his team to play in a tournament at Cooperstown Dream Park, just down the road from the Hall of Fame. My sister came up to watch the games, and I got a chance to see two of them. The complex is amazing, with over a dozen pristine fields and dormitories for the kids. Teams from all over the country attended, and the ball flew out of the park--in one game my nephew's team had three home runs in a row. My nephew had a three-run dinger, which I didn't get a chance to see, but I saw him pitch and lay down a perfect bunt. My 15-year-old nephew suggested the amount of home runs was due to the higher altitude; I just hope it wasn't PED use.

Anyway, it looked like the kids were having a great time. My nephew's team is 4-0 after two days of competition, so I'll be keeping an eye on them. You can actually watch some of the games on live-streaming video. They are the Wayne Wolfpack, for anyone interested.