My VIP experience at the baseball Hall of Fame — aka, why does Bobby Cox think he knows me?

The baseball Hall of Fame will be inducting its latest class today, and I was passed over again. But that’s OK, because my career ended at the T-ball level in 1985, and they only consider you for 15 years after you retire.*

Despite this, the Hall consented to let me visit two years ago as a fan, and not just any fan. I was a guest of my friend Alan, who had just written a book with Tim Raines, one of the inductees that year. That meant we got to go to the VIP reception, which is basically baseball nerd heaven. It’s a special gathering at the Hall the night before the induction ceremony, and just about every living Hall of Famer shows up.

In fact, a few of them serve in official capacities at the event. Longtime Atlanta Braves manager Bobby Cox was the greeter, so he stood in front and shook everyone’s hand as they entered the room, sort of like an overenthusiastic Walmart greeter.** The irony was not lost on me that the man kicked out of the most games in history was the guy welcoming everyone in. I can only imagine they picked Bobby for this job as some sort of punishment, or perhaps because they figured he might have picked up pointers on how to be polite during the few years he managed in Canada.

Bobby was very polite with me. When I went in, he held out his hand and said, “Great to see you again!” That was, of course, a lie, because Bobby had never seen me before in his life, unless of course I shopped at his Walmart at some point. Flustered by this, I could only muster a quick, “Great to see you again, too!” which was also a lie but not as much of one, because I had seen him on TV.

I had seen a lot of people in that room on TV. There was Randy Johnson, relaxed and leaning against a back wall with a bottle of beer in his hand. There was Greg Maddux, idly chatting with Alan, who was thanking him for writing the foreword to one of his books. There was Cal Ripken, standing next to me for 15 minutes. Cal was speaking with one circle of people and I was speaking with another. I really wanted to say something to Cal, but famous people generally hate being recognized, and I didn’t want to be roughly the 2,632nd fan that day who interrupted him to tell him how really awesome it was that he played in 2,632 straight games.

I bet there are a lot of times Cal wishes he took some random day off in 1990. That way, he could just be a regular, run-of-the-mill elite baseball great who, despite his accomplishments, would be best known as Fuck Face’s brother. (This is because his brother, Bill, once appeared on a baseball card holding a bat that had “Fuck Face” written on the bottom of it. I’m not kidding.)

So, after standing next to each other and not talking, Cal and I went our separate ways. But I did get to talk to Billy Williams, who played left field for the Chicago Cubs and led the National League in OPS in 1972. I’m pretty sure Billy doesn’t know he led the National League in OPS, because OPS hadn’t been invented yet in 1972. But, thanks to today’s advanced metrics, statisticians can go back and figure this stuff out, primarily because statisticians do not get laid nearly as much as baseball players do, and they have extra time on their hands.

Billy and I didn’t talk about OPS or getting laid. Actually, I can’t recall exactly what Billy and I spoke about, because I came into the conversation late. Mostly, I just tried to take it all in, knowing that I probably wouldn’t be in the midst of this much baseball talent again unless I experienced a late-career T-ball renaissance and hooked on with a Major League team bent on self-destruction.***

I became more loquacious at the next reception, which was a party thrown in Raines’ honor. A bunch of his old teammates were there, including Bill “Spaceman” Lee, who has almost as much of a quirky streak as you’d have to have to read the footnotes to these columns.**** The guy who used to co-author his books with him used to be one of my editors, and Bill also has a winter home not too far from mine,***** so I chatted him up, and we found out we have a mutual friend. Thus it was that my favorite moment from Hall of Fame weekend involved a conversation with a player who didn’t make the Hall of Fame.

The ceremony the next day was quite memorable. I recall my main concerns were avoiding sunburn, because we were sitting in an uncovered field for four hours in the middle of July, not sweating through my shirt, because we were sitting in an uncovered field for four hours in the middle of July, and staying awake, because I was sleep deprived and also because we were sitting in an uncovered field for four hours in the middle of July. I think I managed to snooze a little during former commissioner Bud Selig’s speech, but I’m pretty sure most people would consider that an appropriate audience reaction.

I was awake for the speeches I cared about, so I left thoroughly fulfilled, and also voraciously hungry, because we were sitting in an uncovered field for four hours in the middle of July.****** I hope everyone has an experience like this at some point in their life. The value of a brush with greatness can’t be overstated, and what better way could there be to learn the importance of wearing a high SPF sunscreen and eating enough at lunch?

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*-But I’m still holding out hope the Veterans Committee will put me in.

**-I didn’t see this happen, but it is entirely plausible that he stopped Gaylord Perry and patted him down for shoplifted items.

***-Otherwise known as the Miami Marlins.

****-There is no evidence, however, that Bill or anyone else actually does.

*****-My winter home is also my spring, summer and fall home.

******-This is me trying to subtly suggest that sitting in an uncovered field for four hours might not be the most comfortable thing anyone has ever done but not wanting to sound like an ingrate about getting a VIP trip to the Hall of Fame.