At Hall of Fame, Day Dedicated to Two Icons

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/30/sports/baseball/30halloffame.html

July 30, 2007
At Hall of Fame, Day Dedicated to Two Icons, Not Controversy
By RICHARD SANDOMIR

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y., July 29 — The induction of Cal Ripken and Tony Gwynn into the National Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday was notable for many reasons — among them an estimated record gathering of 75,000 fans — but primarily because no one mentioned Barry Bonds’s race to supplant Hank Aaron as the career home run leader.

Not a word about baseball history at a ceremony that celebrates it.

Aaron, who rarely joins his enshrined peers at the annual induction, was not here, but 53 other Hall of Famers were. Commissioner Bud Selig was here, on a stage in a meadow, welcoming new members into the Hall and posing beside them with their plaques.

Gwynn, his suit soaked with perspiration after three hours in 82-degree heat, told reporters afterward, “What a great day today was.” Pause. “Seventy-five thousand people.” Pause. “Unbelievable.” Smile.

Ripken added: “It’s a great celebration for baseball, a way to step back from the controversy. Maybe we’ll be back to reality tomorrow.”

Their day may have been a way to suspend the reality of suspicions about Bonds’s use of performance-enhancing drugs and the mixed emotions outside San Francisco concerning his attempt to break Aaron’s record.

Or they simply preferred not to let discussions about Bonds ruin a day that they had been anticipating since their election in early January if not much earlier.

They were in for two surprises before their induction began. As they arrived at the Clark Sports Center in a bus with other Hall of Famers, they saw the makings of a huge crowd. “I didn’t know if they were kidding me, but they said, ‘Oh my God, look at all the people on the hill!’ ” Gwynn said.

And, because of the threat of thunderstorms, Gwynn and Ripken were told that they would be delivering the first and second speeches of the program, not the third and fourth, as originally scheduled.

But the storms never materialized, and under sunny skies, they could absorb the turnout with fans applauding and displaying signs like “3000 Miles for 1 Hero” and “My Son Is Named Cal Because of You.”

The fans, more of them from Baltimore than San Diego, were there for two controversy-free athletes who played their entire careers (Gwynn for 20 seasons and Ripken for 21) for one team, despite playing in an era of free agency. Ripken won a World Series with Baltimore and Gwynn’s Padres twice won the National League pennant, but both players were on two last-place teams as well..

Both men had more than 3,000 hits. Gwynn finished with a career batting average of .338. And Ripken broke Lou Gehrig’s streak of 2,130 consecutive games in 1995, sitting at 2,632. “Thanks for Saving Baseball,” read a sign held aloft in an ocean of Orioles orange.

Ripken has said he never projected if his career was Hall worthy, but Gwynn did. In his speech, he said that upon getting his 2,000th hit on his mother’s birthday in 1993, he thought, “If I could get 1,000 more, I had a chance of making the Hall.”

His mother took sick in Cooperstown and could not attend.

“Don’t feel bad about not being here,” he said, hoping she was watching the coverage on ESPN Classic from her room at the Otesaga Hotel.

They have moved on in their baseball lives. Gwynn is the baseball coach at his alma mater, San Diego State, and Ripken’s businesses include running youth camps and amateur leagues. Both have been hired by TBS as analysts.

Ripken said that two weeks ago, a 10-year-old camper offered him a lesson in humility that that his father, Cal Sr., would have loved.

“He said, ‘So, did you play baseball?’ ” he recalled. “I said, ‘Yes, I played professionally.’ ” The boy asked which team, and Ripken told him that he played for the Orioles.

“Which position?” the boy asked.

“Mostly shortstop but a little third base at the end,” Ripken said. “And he began to walk away and he looked back and said, ‘Should I know you?’ ”

Gwynn, who earned the nickname Mr. Padre, offered another lesson, taught by the San Diegan and Red Sox great Ted Williams when they met for the first time at the 1992 All-Star Game at Jack Murphy Stadium

“I had a bat in my hands,” he said. “He said: ‘Tony, how you doing? Give me your bat.’ I gave him my bat and he started picking his teeth with it. And if you’re worth your salt as a hitter, your mind starts to race, it starts to tick, and really what Ted really made me do, he made me think about the art of hitting a baseball.”

Gwynn finished his speech without tearing up, but Ripken choked up as he talked about his daughter, Rachel, and son, Ryan; he wiped his eyes while thanking his wife, Kelly. Then he executed a nifty Ripken-to-Ripken exchange, lifting a rose out of a jacket pocket, then asking for help from his son, who took an identical rose from his jacket pocket and handed it to his mother.

“My life in baseball,” Ripken said, “has been one giant blessing.”