"COOPERSTOWN"

 “COOPERSTOWN”

I’ve been writing about the great trip that Caroline, Susan, and I took to central and upstate New York to tour human rights sites – Harriet Tubman, Frances Miller Seward, Susan B. Anthony, Gerritt Smith, Mother Ann Lee and the Shaker Heritage Center, and John Brown.  In between those powerful visits, we went in for a bit lighter fare – the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY.  We were staying in an Airbnb near Auburn, New York, where Harriet Tubman’s home was, and we drove 120 miles east to Cooperstown, a small town of 1900.  When we got there, it definitely looked like the small, rural town that it is – except for 3 or 4 blocks that surrounded the Baseball Hall of Fame.  For those 4 blocks, it was as busy as a commercial center anywhere.

The Baseball Hall of Fame (HOF) started in Cooperstown in 1939, because it was the hometown of Abner Doubleday, who was credited then with inventing the game of baseball.  That turned out not to be true, but it stuck, and the HOF prevailed there.  I grew up loving the game of baseball, and though I never dreamed that I would make it to the HOF, there we were driving up to it on a Tuesday afternoon.  Our son David had long had the HOF on his bucket list, so when he found out about our impending trip there, he arranged his schedule so that he could join us.  He and spouse Erin were on their way to NYU to pick up granddaughter Zoe who had been at arts camp/workshop there, and we were delighted that he could join us.  

The HOF did not disappoint – all things baseball, mostly white males but strong and numerous exhibits on the Negro Leagues and women’s baseball.  There are exhibits scattered around featuring all the Major League teams, and I was glad to find my place beside the St. Louis Cardinals (my childhood team – I still cheer for them, unless they are playing the Atlantans), the Chicago White Sox (another childhood team), and the Atlanta team (they still need to change their name).  It did not take long for that 12 year old Nibs to emerge – I could feel the vibrations and the thrill of baseball that had such a hold on my heart and spirit for so many years in my childhood and youth.  Until I got to be a young adult, I could name every World Series opponent and winner for every year from 1953 through 1975.  I loved Stan Musial of the Cardinals, and I remember having endless arguments with my pastor and mentor Reverend Harold Jackson about who was the better hitter – Musial or Ted Williams of the Red Sox.  

My favorite player, however, was Nellie Fox of the Chicago White Sox.  He was a small player and a second baseman for the Sox, and that was my position in my baseball playing days.  He was a very good player, named the Most Valuable Player of the GoGo Sox pennant winners in 1959. But, it took him a long time to get into the HOF, because he was not a power hitter or a spectacular player.  After many failures, he was finally voted into HOF in 1997.  I was delighted to have my photo taken in the HOF in front of his plaque.  

The HOF had strong exhibits on baseball cards also, and that one I definitely felt the pull on my conscioiusness.  My friends in Helena and I were fierce collectors, always going to the 5 & 10 cent store, looking for the new cards, which at first were just a throw-in for bubble gum.  Once the passion got us, we just threw away the gum and leapt into the cards.  In our area, Stan Musial’s was the hardest card to get for a long time – it was like the pearl of great value.  There were many baseball card stores in Cooperstown, and my 12 year old self said:  “Buy them all – you are in baseball heaven.”  When I was a young adult, I sold some of my baseball cards to finance a trip out West with a college buddy, Sidney Cassell, and though I hated to lose them, I have never regretted it.

Our son David has inherited the remainder of my baseball card collection, and in that honor, in Cooperstown, he bought four packages of cards, one for each of us.  He asked us to pick which one we wanted, and the baseball gods saw fit to steer Susan, who is the least baseball fan in the family, to the pack with the most valuable card, an autographed card that David said was already worth $30. He urged her to get a special plastic pack to keep the card in.

I am still a baseball fan, though I no longer give it quite the spiritual value that I once did.  One reason that I continue to like baseball is that it is a game not governed by a clock – though they have instituted a pitcher’s clock this year.  It also is a game that is filled with players who must deal with failure.  The best hitters in baseball fail 60% of the time – indeed, no one has averaged 40% in getting hits since the aforementioned Ted Williams did it in 1941.  In baseball (and in life), if you don’t learn from your failures, you will not come close to succeeding.  Though baseball is not as physically demanding as some sports, there is nothing that demands more skill than hitting a baseball being thrown at you at 100 miles per hour from a pitcher who is 60 feet away.  So whether you like baseball or not, give a cheer for this used-to-be national pastime and its continuing hold on our thoughts and our hearts.