So there I was, trying to find the words to describe this weekend in Cooperstown, N.Y., to encapsulate what it meant to watch Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine and Bobby Cox inducted into the Hall of Fame and validate what we in Atlanta rubbed our eyes and thought we saw for 14 straight years.
So I decided to do what I always do: turn to a ballplayer.
Tom Glavine was just about to wrap up his media scrum Saturday afternoon, laughing with a handful of writers lingering at his table, when he let it slip that his son Mason had quit playing baseball.
Of course, when your dad is a Hall of Famer and a 305-game winner, it comes out sounding like a respite.
“He’s taking a year off baseball,” Glavine said of his 13-year-old son, who, like his dad, played both baseball and hockey. “But I think being here this weekend and seeing all these guys has stoked that fire a little bit. Whether or not it propels him to go back and play baseball, I don’t know. I hope it does. But we’ll see.”
And there it was. That’s what these three days here in this little slice of baseball heaven has been about. It’s a postcard to a kid.
Here’s what Mason Glavine, his three brothers and sister, families and friends of other inductees and some 48,000 fans gathered in a grassy field on the outskirts of this quaint New York village got to experience.
They got to see the Big Hurt talk about his Big Dreams, Joe Torre get so caught up in the moment he forgot to thank George Steinbrenner. The Glavines got to see their ever-stoic dad get choked up and say something to his parents that his wife of 16 years, Chris, had never heard him tell them: I love you.
They saw Cox play nice with the umpires — “I can honestly say that I got along really well with the men in blue,” he said — just nine sentences into his induction speech.
And they got to see Maddux in a tie. “First time I’ve ever seen him in one,” said Glavine, sitting to Maddux’s right at a post-ceremony media session.
“I re-used this,” Maddux admitted. “My daughter had a fraternity party back in January and it was still tied so I didn’t have to re-tie it. Second time this year.”
Even wearing ties and with flecks of silver in their hair, Maddux, Glavine and Cox spent the past three days giving Braves fans, front office staff, former teammates — and, well, writers — a chance to make their magical run last just a little longer.
Dale Murphy said it best.
“I think we all feel like we’re going into the Hall of Fame because of the way you feel about these guys,” Murphy said. “I think that’s why Braves Country has showed up so well here. These are the kind of guys you really feel a connection to.”
Murphy could have felt awkward about showing up in Cooperstown after falling off the Hall of Fame ballot. But he was right in the middle of the action, signing autographs on Main Street on Sunday morning.
This was a time to celebrate. Like when a typically buttoned-down John Schuerholz couldn’t wipe the smile off his face at a Braves reception Saturday night, recounting what he called one of the best days of his life because of all the Braves fans who had stopped him to thank him.
Even a tap on the shoulder Sunday afternoon revealed a smiling John Rocker, leading to some scribbling of words like “humbled” and “fortunate” in a reporter’s notebook.
It’s a time when Hall of Famers were fans too, when Glavine got almost as giddy as his wife about meeting Carlton Fisk. “I pretty much had to resuscitate her because she was all like, ‘Oh my god, it’s Pudge!’” Glavine said.
Maddux rubbed elbows with Tom Seaver, a pitcher he cheered for growing up a Reds fans.
“I sat down at Tom Seaver’s table today,” Maddux said. “He said I wasn’t in the Hall of Fame yet because I didn’t have my plaque.”
It’s a day when even a writer trained not to cheer in a press box felt OK about standing up and applauding Cox, Maddux and Glavine. She had woken up to a text message from her brother that said: “Ruth, Cobb, Cy Young, Ted Williams, Mantle, Maddux, Glavine, Cox!”
Now you get to say you know guys whose names hang in that hallowed rotunda and you also know first-hand they made just as much effort to be ordinary guys.
You can smile about the message you got Sunday morning from Braves clubhouse manager Chris Van Zant, who had emailed after midnight and a full work day in Atlanta to respond to a question about one of his favorite Maddux stories.
He writes about the time in October 1996, when he was in his 20s and drove an old car. About how Maddux overheard him talking about his concern whether his car would make it if he drove to St. Louis for the NLCS and his sister’s birthday. Maddux tossed Van Zant the keys to his BMW. His only instructions were to bring it back clean.
Then Van Zant tells you he has a better story, about how Maddux took him out for dinner and to a casino in Montreal once, and how the most memorable part of the evening was Maddux giving him advice on how to be a father that Van Zant uses now with his own three kids.
Then your mind goes back to Mason, Glavine’s son. And you remember to check with Glavine after the ceremony is over and his induction is real. You ask if he thinks Mason will change his mind and play baseball again after all.
“He sent me a text during the thing that said, ‘You stink,’” said Glavine, and it sounded a lot like his father’s wry humor. “’You shouldn’t even be up there, I should be.’ I said, ‘Well, you better start playing again.’”
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