2015 Baseball Hall of Fame Inductions

As I mentioned in a previous post; this summer, I had the great privilege to return, after nearly 20 years, to the National Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. It was a wonderful experience and something which I need to do more often going forward. Seeing the history of the game, the gloves, the uniforms, the pieces of our shared history on display. I am a huge nerd for the history of baseball. I grew up playing baseball in a baseball-crazy suburb of a baseball-crazy city. I played in my front yard and in parks, on our quiet street, and in a ridiculously opulent Little League complex. I played from 1^st grade until high school, never a threat to go any further, but I loved the game. Studying the game, watching my beloved Red Sox be terrible, then tease with brilliance, only to let us down.

Andre Dawson

Before 2004, I often had arguments with Cubs fans over which was worse; loving the Red Sox or loving the Cubs (since 2004, the Cubs fans pretty clearly win that argument). Little bit of a recap here: the Cubs went to the World Series in 1945, something about a goat, and they haven’t been back since. Yeah, the saga of Steve Bartman is tragic, but he’s not the one who gave up 8 runs. The Sox, on the other hand, went to the World Series in 1946, lost in 7 games on a wild play that is still discussed today. Then the Impossible Dream season of 1967, heartbreak for the underdog (also 7 games). 1975 saw the boys push yet another series to 7 games, losing again. The drama this time coming in the game 6 heroics. Then there’s game 6 of the 1986 World Series, referred to me once as the darkest day in Boston since John F. Kennedy was killed (I’m not kidding. Baseball-crazy town, remember?).  

1986 World Series

True, they lost in 7 games…again, but the series was practically over before the game 6 fireworks of wild pitches and players who shouldn’t even have been in the game. There were more heartbreaks to come, but that one was the day my childhood ended. Not to sound overly dramatic, but years later, in the 1994 movie “The Crow”, Michael Wincott makes a scary, but wonderfully deep line: “Childhood’s over the moment you know you’re going to die”. I realized that the good guys didn’t always win, that sometimes you can work for something and still lose. There was a certain finality in my 10 year-old mind that was brought to the fore. Dramatic playoff losses in the 90s just cemented my feelings of despair. It is said that the Red Sox are the reason why we New Englanders are so cynical. How’s that for you? Over generations, a baseball has impacted the entire attitude of a region. That got away from me a little bit. Bear with me, I’m going somewhere good.

                 

Pedro Martinez

A diminutive Dominican pitcher showed up in Boston and the attitude almost immediately changed. He brought a flair and panache that we hadn’t seen in a long time. It took a few years, but we were allowed to hope again. His fastball was legendary, his style even more so. The 1999 All-Star game, striking out 5 of the first 6 batters he faced. Not scrubs, mind you, but the best the National League had on offer that year. 2000 is still regarded as one of the finest single seasons ever by a pitcher. We’re going to skip over 2003, mostly because it brought back too many of those feelings of despair. 2004, our hope and longing were finally realized. Every Red Sox fan can tell you where they were when Kevin Millar drew the most exciting walk in baseball history, when Dave Roberts stole on Mariano Rivera, realizing full-well that everyone watching knew he was going to run. Bill Mueller driving in the tying run and Roberts spinning with joy as he slid across home plate. David Ortiz finished the lucid dream with a ball that soared into the night sky. It was as if we were living The Natural. This kind of thing didn’t happen to us. Hope springs eternal, we had Pedro, and we had Schilling. We had a self-proclaimed bunch of “Idiots” who didn’t know they were supposed to lose. That season resurrected my childhood. Pedro Martinez did that.

                 

Randy Johnson

Randy Johnson, John Smoltz, Craig Biggio and Pedro Martinez all impacted the game in their own ways. Biggio was a sparkplug who ignited a passion for baseball in a city that became a baseball town. He was consistent, self-sacrificing, the ultimate team player. John Smoltz was a part of, arguably, the greatest pitching rotation the game had ever seen. He was a workhorse, again doing whatever was needed for the team. He has more than 200 wins AND more than 150 saves. That doesn’t happen, at least it isn’t supposed to happen. Randy Johnson overcame location issues to record more than 4800 strikeouts. He earned 300 career wins (more wins in his 40s than in his 20s). All of these players impacted the game in incredible ways.

Craig Biggio

Their numbers make them automatic members of a very exclusive fraternity. More than 18,000 men have played in the major leagues and only 244 players have been inducted into the hall. That’s pretty incredible. Pedro is the one, to me, who had the most direct impact, but the other three are giants in a game which I love. Congratulations to the entire class of 2015.

                  The speeches yesterday all came from the heart and moved me in different ways. I could feel the sense of wonderment as Craig Biggio talked about his career. All of his hard work and all of his sacrifices were being rewarded. John Smoltz made some wonderful comments about young players needing to enjoy the game and not worry so much about having a 12-6 curve before they can drive a car. That seemed to be a theme, the feeling that baseball is to be treasured and enjoyed. Randy Johnson talked about seeing the joy on his son’s face as that 300^th win was being solidified. He, of the permanent scowl, was most impressed by a feeling of joy.

John Smoltz

A man who overcame personal tragedy and adapted the best he could. Seeing him on stage, with his camera, fully embracing the event, was fantastic. And that brings us back to Pedro. One more quote, this one from the classic movie (admit it, you love this movie) Mr. Baseball: “Baseball is a game, and games are supposed to be fun”.  Talk about someone who just embodies Tom Selleck’s insight into the game of baseball. He spent time heckling Kevin Millar, he had a smile that could not be removed. He spoke with passion and a bubbling joy that was plain to see. This is the heart of baseball. The joy of playing a game, and these four players did it as well as anyone ever has…well on par with their 240 legendary peers.

Baseball HOF Class of 2015

The Waiting Game

We are in a bit of a football lull, at the moment. Not too much going on in the way of news or scandal. The draft is long done. Greg Hardy and Tom Brady have both had their appeals. Voluntary camps have closed and now it is a waiting game until camps open up. This is the calm before the storm.

                  For those of us who love football, this can be a trying time of year. Thank God that the NFL network is there for a continuous loop of all things football. I find myself watching that channel more at this time of year than even during the season. I actually spent an hour yesterday watching a ludicrously detailed history of the Super Bowl Halftime show. It was, honestly, pretty interesting. From the first twenty or so games with winter-themed extravaganzas or the cavity inducing, saccharine sweetness of Up With People, to the Fox network stealing viewers and the NFL shooting back with Michael Jackson the next year.

Michael Jackson at Super Bowl XXVII

The Super Bowl was about the game. That’s not to say that the current iteration is worse. It is what it is; a football game with a longer than normal halftime and an absurd amount of focus put on the non-football aspects of the evening. This can, and does, make the game enjoyable for the fans whose teams are not in the mix. It is one way that the league has guaranteed viewership over the last 49 games. All of this is part of what makes the yearly spectacle as grand as it can be. I have watched championship games in multiple sports, with passionate fans, and nothing is on par with the Super Bowl. The closest that I have ever witnessed was watching an Australian Rules Football Grand Final. That was an experience, primarily because I watched it with a bunch of Australians. But nothing else seems to have the immediacy and passion that comes with the Super Bowl. Baseball, Hockey, Basketball…all play a championship series. I am not meaning to take anything away from those. Arguably, a series is a more definitive way to crown a champion. It is fairer. It is a more complete and accurate representation of who was the better team. As the saying goes: “Any given Sunday…” a ball bounces the wrong way, a poor call by the officials, a usually sure handed receiver drops a catch that he would make 999 times out of 1000 (yes, I’m still a little bitter about Wes Welker, although he is obviously not the only reason that particular game was lost). A series gives you a chance to come back and fight tomorrow, until there are no tomorrows left. A single game fills with passion, a fight to the death, a hair-raising drive, and waves of emotion which turn on a proverbial dime.

Chris Matthews TD reception

I cannot begin to describe the highs and lows that gripped me during this past Super Bowl.

Malcolm Butler Interception

I am at a loss to think of many moments in my life that have seen so many ups and downs in such a short span of time. The World Series/League Championship Series or the Stanley Cup Playoffs have been good to me at times. Giving me wonderful memories and more than my share of heart-breaking ones. But one game runs into the next, I remember jumping out of my seat as Koji Uehara picked off Kolton Wong at first, to end the game. However, I struggle to remember exactly which game it was. Now, because I am a giant nerd (and it was only two years ago) I can tell you that it was Game 4. But it took me a second to remember. Dave Roberts stealing second off of Mariano Rivera when everyone in the country knew that he was running.

Dave Roberts stealing 2nd

Tim Thomas standing on his head for 7 games in probably the most lop-sided series, to actually go the full 7 games, in hockey history. The lights going out at Boston Garden in game 4 of the ’88 Stanley Cup Finals. Bird stealing the inbounds pass. My point here is that there are memories of the games that transcend and burn themselves into our minds. A series is more egalitarian, but a single championship game is ruthless, it is brutal. It will tear your heart out and feel joy in your suffering. More than the needed recovery time in football, the reason I believe there is a single game is simple…the fans’ hearts couldn’t take a series.

As a child and teenager, I remember the excitement, the anticipation that went into Super Bowl Sunday. It was almost a religious experience. I rooted for a bad football team that had one good run, then nothing for over a decade, then nothing for another half a decade. The fact that they were so bad was almost endearing. It didn’t change the fact that I waited for Super Bowl Sunday with a level of anticipation normally held only for Christmas. I loved my team, but the fact that they weren’t in the game didn’t matter. The games I remember fondly, but the experiences I remember more so. We always had big parties at our house. Friends, neighbors, sometimes even complete strangers all congregated at our house for the game. I can tell you precise details about almost every one that I witnessed. I can tell you what I was wearing, what we were eating, or who was there. In a series, it is just about the game, but the Super Bowl makes it an all-inclusive ride.

So here we are…back in the waiting game. Everyone has hope of winning this coming year. In a modern example of Schrödinger’s thought experiment, as long as the proof of a result is not witnessed, any outcome is possible.

Browns rookie OLB Nate Orchard

There is endless optimism…even in Cleveland.