Jeff at Brew Crew Ball goes so far as to claim that he hates the Hall of Fame. That’s a bit strong for my taste, but I totally understand it.

Here’s how I look at the situation. For me, baseball is almost like religion. The ballpark is my church, and Cooperstown is my Mecca. Okay, technically we’re talking about two different religions now, but just bear with me.

I’ve been to the Hall of Fame twice in my life: once in August 1988, and again this past summer to see Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. inducted. It’s one of the coolest places I’ve ever visited, and I’ll go again the next time it’s feasible for me to do so.

The building, the environment, the history — I’m down with all that. What doesn’t really work for me is the poor attention to details that ought to matter. Doubleday Field? It’s named after a Union general in the Civil War whose connections to baseball are dubious at best rather than, say, the guy who invented the sport.

When I see voters give absurd reasons for letting guys into the Hall or keeping them out, it doesn’t bother me all that much. I figure they’re just keeping in the tradition of poorly documenting our national pastime’s legacy.

Well, okay, that does bother me. But not enough to keep me from enjoying the place when I visit. Does that make sense? Eh, probably not…

Post from: Knuckle Curve

Post from: Knuckle Curve

Post from: Knuckle Curve

On Sunday, amidst a sea of orange, I sat on a field in Cooperstown and watched as Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr. were inducted into the Hall of Fame. As a Padres fan, I was kind of bummed that Gwynn got paired up with a guy whose fans live within a day’s drive of Cooperstown (as opposed to the 3,315 miles I put on my car to get there) and totally dominated the scene. As a baseball fan, though, I couldn’t be happier that those two went in together. Seems that Ripken shared many of the same qualities that made Gwynn such a pleasure to watch and so easy to cheer.

I only saw Ripken play maybe once or twice on television — the one chance I had to watch him in person never quite materialized, as his manager benched him for the Saturday night game the last time he came to Anaheim. I booed pretty loudly that night because I had driven up from San Diego specifically to watch him play. On Sunday, though, I finally got to see Ripken in person and he didn’t disappoint. Both he and Gwynn exuded an almost contagious passion for the game. The folks who voted made two great choices, picking players who accomplished fantastic things on the field and who have represented their communities so well over the years.

Congratulations to Mr. Gwynn and Mr. Ripken on their well-deserved induction into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

Post from: Knuckle Curve

Post from: Knuckle Curve