Hall of Fame week: The visits

 

For the first 20 years of my life, I lived an hour-and-a-half away from the Baseball Hall of Fame.

As close as that is, even in the '70s people didn't travel as often as they do now. So anything farther than 20 miles away seemed far to me as a kid. And the first time I ever went to Cooperstown is a journey in my mind.

But I have been blessed by where I grew up. I have been to the Hall five times in my life, although the most recent visit was more than 25 years ago.

Because of that, my memories of my Hall visits are pretty shaky. I don't remember most details or dates and almost no Hall of Fame displays. But there are a few things that continue to stay with me and probably will for the rest of my life.

None of them are all that exciting, but -- they are exciting to me. And when you have a blog, that's all that matters.

Here are some of the things I recall from those Hall visits:

Approaching the entrance

My first Hall of Fame visit came in 1975 when I was 9 years old. Everything at that age is magnified and the Hall of Fame was no exception. I remember walking up to the entrance with my dad and my brothers just in awe of being able to step into a building that contained nothing but baseball.

 

A glimpse of Doubleday Field

I have only visited Cooperstown during less busy times. I have never seen a Hall of Fame induction ceremony, I have never attended a Hall of Fame game at Doubleday Field. I dislike crowds and, if you know anything about Cooperstown, you know that it's tiny and parking can be a bear.

Doubleday Field is quaint, almost like a Babe Ruth League park, and peering through the gated front entrance was quite a moment.

The no-hitter display

I've forgotten many of the exhibit displays I've seen during the visits, but I do remember the no-hitter display, which I believe is a staple of the exhibits presented. There's just something about it that awed me and sticks with me even though I'm not really someone to marvel over museum presentations. I think I just enjoy pitching performances the most in baseball.

The Dodgers displays

Growing up in Yankee country, all I heard was Yankees. On my TV, my radio, in the newspaper, chatter among classmates and magazines on the newstand. All Yankees. That's why I lit up when I discovered anything in the Hall dedicated to the Dodgers. At last, some acknowledgement of my favorite team!

I know that the Hall has a display of artifacts from the 2020 World Series as it does every year after a new champion is crowned. Sadly, I likely won't see it before a new Series display is created. All the more reason for the Dodgers to win again this year!

The 1975 "wall"

I have brought up this memory several times over the years of the blog. It is the one that stands out for me above all others.

My first visit in 1975, I was able to see the entire 1975 Topps set displayed, card by a card on what I remember as a series of standing display boards that you could walk past and review each of the cards. I remember the display being on the basement level of the Hall.

There were so few "modern" things in the Hall of Fame during that visit and this seemed meant just for me. I was collecting cards for the first time that year and had only enough allowance money for a few packs, assembling no more than a 100 or so cards from the set. To see ALL of the cards in front of my face, I couldn't believe it. A few of those cards stuck in my mind until I finally ordered them through a mail-order catalog -- Ralph Garr and Vida Blue in particular.

 

Spaghetti in the vending machine

Yeah, nothing to do with the Hall but amazing to a kid growing up in the '70s.

During our "long" trip to Cooperstown that first time, my youngest brother, who was probably 4 at the time, got car sick and we had to stop at a laundry mat to clean him up and wash his clothes.

My other brother and I sat and stared, completely bored, until we spotted a vending machine along one wall. To our endless amusement, you could buy spaghetti from the vending machine. We had never heard of anything besides candy and gum coming out of a vending machine. This was before microwaves were a thing, so it was an even more unusual concept. Outside of the actual Hall of Fame tour, that was the happiest I was on that trip.

The gift shop

I probably did not notice the Hall of Fame gift shop the first couple of visits. But by the third time, I couldn't get over it. All gift shops then (and now) were filled with mugs and flower displays, greeting cards and trinkets, nothing I was interested in look at and about as boring as going to a paint store.

This ... this was different. Sure, the Hall gift shop had mugs and clothing. But it was all baseball and there was so much more. The first time I went to the gift shop, I bought as many postcards that I could find that featured players who played or worked for the Dodgers.

Yes, the different Campanella post card bothered me. It also bothers me that I've never gotten the Don Sutton one (or the Lasorda one if the Hall is still doing these).

These were my first gift shop purchases. I never was much interested in the sweatshirts and the like, but during one other visit I bought a St. Louis Browns hat and the old-style pinstripe Brooklyn Dodgers hat. Unfortunately, I don't have either of those anymore.

 

Oh, and like any gift shop, it's too expensive.

The Hall itself

I grew up in a typical middle class family. I did not know any rich people. A couple of my friends had nicer houses than mine, but they were not well-off. Long before "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" popularized gawking at mansions and the like, the coolest thing I knew about a home was my grandparents' house where you could go up the stairs in the kitchen at the back of the house and go down the stairs in the hallway at the front of the house.

So, when I walked into that Baseball Hall, I was astonished. And I didn't know how to act. What do you do in a place that looks so grand? It probably took a couple visits to realize that you simply relaxed and took in the great exploits of these exclusive players.

 

The card shops

I don't know -- because I was 9 -- but I'm pretty certain that there weren't all that many card or memorabilia shops in Cooperstown during my first visit. There probably were a few but it's not anything I saw (a side point: I have never gone to any of the other tourist spots that Cooperstown is known for, the Farmers Museum, the caverns, why would I want to pull myself away from baseball?).

By the late 1980s/early 1990s, however, I was well aware of the shops. I didn't have a lot of money at the time. I recall visiting a couple of shops in 1991. One contained rows of vintage cards, mostly commons but some stars. About all I could afford, that I was interested in, was the above 1960 Topps Roger Craig card. It is in pristine shape and remains one of my tidiest 1960 Dodgers cards.

I believe that same year, I was in a shop with a whole bunch of team sets from recent years. This was the height of the junk wax era, but I was thrilled to find a team set of 1990 Score Dodgers.

I have many of these cards many times over now. But back then, it was a find. I collected almost no cards in 1990, just a pack of '90 Topps, that's it. I was back full force by 1991 so finding these cards from the previous year, never saw Score in 1990, was epic. This was the moment I discovered who Mike Huff was, who Darrin Fletcher was.

Today, you can buy almost whatever kind of baseball card you want at the memorabilia shops in Cooperstown. I know of collectors who make regular trips to the area and come away with great cards.

I still live pretty close to the Hall of Fame but have not taken advantage of it over the years, mostly because of raising a family and holding a busy job.

A couple of years ago, when my daughter moved away to go to college, my wife and I decided we would take a trip to Cooperstown, finally. My sixth visit. That didn't happen because of COVID and we haven't returned to the thought.

But I'm sure in the next year or two, I'll take a long-overdue trip -- not during induction time.

There has been a lot of noise about the Hall and people who should be in the Hall of Fame that aren't. And then there are those who think too many people are getting in. I'm pretty sick of that kind of talk, and I do hold the Hall responsible for a lot of it.

But I still like the Hall itself and Cooperstown. People call the village quaint. And it is. But it's also the Southern Tier, the area where I grew up. The rolling hills in the background. It's not just beautiful. It's home. And it's baseball.

 

I've got to get back.

 

(Tomorrow: Hall of Fame week continues, but the post is not about a Hall of Famer).