Looking back on the 1992 Hall of Fame Game

Like most of baseball, I went about my day last Monday as I normally would. I didn't take any time out of my day to visit MLB.com and listen to the coverage of the Hall of Fame from Cooperstown, the annual exhibition that used to be played the Monday following Induction Weekend. The Cubs and Padres were to play, but Mother Nature had other ideas and washed out the game.

At first, I didn't care. It didn't bother me that an exhibition game I had barely paid attention to over the past 15 years wouldn't be played anymore. It wasn't until I read Tom Verducci's "Requiem for the Game" that I realized that I will miss it, even if I rarely acknowledged it was there.

The truth is, the Hall of Fame Game has changed twice recently and wasn't what it was in 1992, when my family and I saw the Mets and White Sox face off following the inductions of Tom Seaver and Rollie Fingers. The first was in 1997, when Interleague Play came along and made a Mets-White Sox or any other NL-AL matchup less unique. As a result, baseball relaxed its rules on choosing one team from each league for the game, bringing the Dodgers and Padres to town that year. (In 1986, the Royals and Rangers played the first intraleague HOF Game, but it didn't become a frequent occurrence until 1997.) The second change was in 2003, when the Phillies (with minor league lefty Cole Hamels on the mound) and Rays played on June 16, moving the game off of Induction Weekend.

I was 15 in the summer of '92, so there was no widespread internet, let along blogs (we called them "diaries" or "journals" back then), so I don't know that I've ever written down my memories of that weekend. I do have video of it. We borrowed a camera from a family friend and my buddy Matt and I used it to record some of the induction (it was the first held at the Clark Sports Center on the outskirts of Cooperstown, instead of at the actual Hall of Fame, because of renovations there) and our tour through the museum. Not adept in video editing -- and, again, not having the computer technology of "digital" and "iMovie" -- we created a soundtrack by ... fastening headphones to the camera's microphone with rubber bands, and playing a cassette tape in a Walkman. We called it "Coop '92," and I really need to find out where that is and watch it again.

But as for the HOF Game itself, we hadn't been able to purchase tickets before they sold out, so my mom volunteered to go over to Doubleday Field the morning of the game and wait on line for standby tickets, should any be released because of cancellations or whatever causes people to pass up an opportunity to see Major League players at a town ballfield. While she waited, Matt and I continued to explore town, particularly shops selling baseball cards, and walked around the ballpark. We met up with Mom at a designated time (because, say it with me, no cellphones then, either) and she announced that she had secured three tickets. That's all we needed, because my sister and Matt's had no interest in going, and since they were two years younger, couldn't really be allowed to roam Cooperstown by themselves for three hours, so my dad volunteered to chaperone them.

While standing in line, my mom took note of all the uniformed Mets personnel who walked past her on their way from the dugout to the only men's room at the ballpark, a park-like facility with concrete floors and, I imagine, troughs that was accessible only from the parking lot. I think she was most excited to see Howard Johnson. She was also soon approached by a man who had come to turn in three tickets he couldn't use. There were two pairs (probably a purchase limit) that weren't together, and his wife would be sitting in one of the seats, so after chatting up my mom, he felt comfortable having her sit with his spouse. "It's better than turning them in and not knowing what she'll get," he said. So Mom became friends for an afternoon with some guy's wife, and Matt and I sat only a few rows up from the field down the left-field line.

Bobby Jones -- that would be Bobby J. Jones, the Mets' first-round draft pick the previous year -- was called up from nearby Double-A Binghamton to make the start, and he carried a perfect game into the seventh inning. He and two other hurlers combined on the only one-hitter in HOF Game history. The Mets won, 3-0, on a solo home run by Chico Walker (who, until I looked up the history of this game, I didn't not recall as a Met for a single at-bat) and a two-run double by Daryl Boston, both of which happened in the eighth inning.

Boston played left field, so we saw a lot of him -- particularly late in the game, when he started acknowledging us and getting the crowd along the line to chant his name. He and right fielder Dave Gallagher were engaged in a competition to see who could get the fans on his side of the field to cheer his name louder. I'm pretty sure we won it for Daryl.

Other than wanting to see Seaver (he ignored me on his way into the ballpark -- my closest chance at getting his autograph in my lifetime) and White Sox third baseman Robin Ventura (who won the pregame home run derby, which I don't remember, so we might not have had our tickets yet), I don't recall what my expectations were for the game. (It wasn't the best of Mets teams, though they did have a former Yankee starting at second base -- Willie Randolph.) I marveled at the houses just beyond the outfield fence, clearly the best real estate in Cooperstown, I believed then -- before I became a homeowner and would have to be concerned about things like broken windows. But if you're going to have your windows broken by an errant baseball, wouldn't you rather it be from someone in a Major League uniform than the neighbors' kid? And before the game, when Matt and I were for some reason separated inside the ballpark, he recounted a scene he witnessed along the right-field line, when the Mets' John Franco took a liking to one fan's hat commemorating the game and traded his team-issued on-field cap for the fan's commemorative lid. Even though he was a Yankees fan, I think Matt felt a little disappointment that Franco didn't notice his hat first and offer the trade.

But now those moments are gone forever. As Verducci and Hal Bodley lamented, the HOF Game was an important link of baseball's present and past. Both writers alluded to the big-shot player who expresses disdain at having to trek to upstate New York during the middle of the season, yet once he arrives and gets a tour and sees the quaint field nestled in the center of the quaint town, reverses course and voices his appreciation at having made the trip.

It's a shame the game has to die, but I can see why. Verducci touches on all of them. But why can't baseball fix it, instead of pulling the plug? The NFL has it right, but making the game a preseason exhibition tied to its inductions. But baseball can't have a preseason game in upstate New York, not when local residents haven't put away their shovels for the season yet in late March. What MLB could do is extend the All-Star break by a day -- some teams get both the Wednesday and Thursday after the game off anyway -- and stage the game on that Thursday. Every team would be off, making scheduling easier. Or simply choose from among the teams that have that extra day after the Midsummer Classic. There are only four games -- that's 22 teams off -- playing that day this year.

Baseball keeps moving further and further away from the small-town, easily accessible game it was long before I was born. Many of these changes are natural, necessary and inevitable. But some of them -- like bringing the big stars of the Cubs and Padres, or any other combo of teams, to a small town in upstate New York where the game is celebrated year-round -- don't have to be made. It's a shame that this one was.

Randolph fired in the middle of the night

In a move stunning and disgusting for its timing and method, the Mets fired Willie Randolph after their 9-6 victory over the Angels on Monday night. Pitching coach Rick Peterson and first-base coach/catching instructor Tom Nieto were also axed.

On the one hand, the team wasn't playing up to its potential. But on the other, it isn't a very well-constructed team to begin with, particularly with so much of it relying on declining veterans.

I think, though, the most shocking aspect of it is that they did it after an inspiring victory, one in which the hitters came through in the clutch with runners on and tacked on runs in the later innings. With the exception of Pedro Feliciano, the bullpen performed well, with Aaron Heilman getting out of a seventh-inning jam by striking out Vladimir Guerrero and Torii Hunter; Duaner Sanchez pitching the eighth and Billy Wagner saving his second straight after three blowups. Plus, Mike Pelfrey had his fourth straight impressive start.

My concern now is that some players who have begun to put it all together -- Jose Reyes and Carlos Beltran have been playing well of late, and then there's Pelfrey -- will regress. That momentum will be gone, that familiarity out the door.

Or maybe they wanted Willie booted. We'll see.

I'm sure I'll have more to say after I've slept on it. I don't want to go too far now on my initial gut reactions, only hours after the announcement.

Way to go, Marlins

Was there any surprise to the last three awards? No, not really.

American League Manager of the Year. Jim Leyland. Of course. He took a team that lost 119 games three years ago to the postseason. His was the best team in the American League. They made the playoffs, so we can overlook that slight slide at the end of the season that had them arrive there as Wild Card entrants rather than AL Central division winners.

Where would the Phillies have been had they hired Leyland before the 2005 season instead of Charlie Manuel? Philadelphia finished second in the two years under Manuel, compiling 88 and 85 wins and missing the Wild Card by no more than three games in either year. Considering the talent the Phillies already have, you'd have to think they'd have played postseason ball one of those years, if not both. But the Phillies cut Leyland out of consideration rather early, and he surfaced a year later in Detroit.

National League Manager of the Year. Joe Girardi. Everyone knew this was coming. When the Marlins fired Girardi right after the season, it was talked about as firing the NL Manager of the Year. In his first stint as skipper, Girardi took a rookie-laden squad from 20 games under .500 back to the break-even mark by Labor Day and even had his young Fish in the Wild Card hunt until mid-September. How can you overlook that? That the Marlins couldn't get along with Girardi and chose to fire him is the team's fault, and they'll have to live with that when next year's squad doesn't improve. We'll see what happens, but even if the Marlins can't reach 80 wins in 2007, I wouldn't lay the blame on new skipper Freddi Gonzalez.

That the Mets' Willie Randolph was second was also no surprise. Randolph didn't win the award for the same reason Joe Torre's only award came in 1998, when the Yankees established a new American League record with 114 wins (and Lou Pinella got it in 2001 when the Mariners broke that record). Like Torre in '98, Randolph had too many tools at his disposal. The Mets' payroll and their lineup of All-Stars essentially precluded Randolph from collecting the hardware, because he had so many resources. That the Mets demolished the National League and were the best team from start to finish wasn't enough. Had they won 100 -- actually, they probably would've needed to win 105 or 110 -- games, Randolph probably would've taken it. (More wins for the Mets likely would have also meant a better record against the Marlins than the 11-8 the Mets put together, which may have reduced Girardi's star some.)

American League Cy Young. Johan Santana. For the second time in his career, Santana won the award with 100 percent of the vote. Another unanimous winner in a year that wasn't quite as good as his first Cy Young campaign -- but that's splitting hairs. This time, too, his competition wasn't as strong. As best as I can tell after a quick look at the voting totals, Santana is the first pitcher to win each of his first two Cy Young Awards unanimously since the voting went to first-second-third in 1970, rather than just one vote for a pitcher.

Today, we'll get the most up-in-the-air award of the postseason -- or second-most, after NL Rookie of the Year. Will Albert Pujols retain the NL MVP, or will Ryan Howard come away with it? My guess is that the writers stick with Pujols, but I'm not so sure he should get it. Hopefully, I'll have time to break down some numbers before 2 p.m. If not, I'll look into the results after the announcement.

Guide them to a new name

Up in Connecticut, the Norwich Navigators have decided that since half the minor-league teams in the country are either relocating or redesigning their logos that they, too, need a new identity. And they're going all-out, planning a new nickname and logo for the 2006 season.

Apparently, the link to the city's seafaring history along the Thames River is no longer exciting enough, nor is the shortened Gators moniker. But in today's minor-league landscape, 11 years is a long time to stick with a nickname.

So where will they go from here? Coming up with a new team name can be difficult because of the marketing licenses and money involved. You can pretty much consider any current nicknames in the four major sports off-limits to start with, and that would carry on down through the minor leagues and colleges. If, for example, Norwich wanted to go with "RiverRats," in a nod to the Thames and other scenic rivers in their southeastern corner of Connecticut, they'd probably need to get permission -- and then pay licensing to -- the New Jersey Devils' affiliate. And they won't want to do that, because they'll want to keep all the merchandise revenue, rather than having to split profits with another team. Don't be fooled -- the potential cash flow is the main reason behind this campaign. Certainly, Giants will be out, because that's just boring and won't bring in any money.

I love the quirky names and logos of minor-league teams, so I'm interested in this switch. Fans can submit as many requests as they'd like to the Navigators website, so let's see if they take any of mine.

Norwich Steamers. Applies to both the area's maritime history (though that's probably something they're trying to move away from by ditching the Navigators name) and clams -- and when you think of Connecticut, maybe you think of seafood.

Norwich Oysters. Connecticut's official state symbols don't offer many options, unless you want to go with Robins or Charter Oaks.

Norwich Whalers. The NHL's Carolina Hurricanes probably still hold the rights to this one, and since it looks like professional hockey isn't dead, that could be a problem. But the Canes could be persuaded to relinquish their rights in exchange for one-time compensation. This one fits the state symbol idea.

Norwich Witches. Of course. It rolls off the tongue ... but I can't take credit for it. There was a minor-league team with that name in the Connecticut State League from 1899-1907.

Norwich Bonbons. Now we're getting somewhere. Again, sadly, not my idea. Another throwback to a previous team.

Norwich White Whales. Take the Whalers idea and make it more specific. Would provide the second-best literary reference in professional sports, behind the NFL's Baltimore Ravens.

Norwich Blokes. So many New England towns are directly named after burgs back in England, so why not acknowledge that? I suppose it doesn't make sense, considering the sport of baseball has no connection whatsoever to England, but it's not a bad name.

Norwich 95ers. Or Ninety-Fivers, if you prefer. Why not pay homage to the great New York-to-Boston highway with a baseball team name? The logo could be a ribbon of highway with two lanes of cars strung together bumper-to-bumper, not moving. The mascot would be a state trooper or a tow-truck driver.

Norwich Blackberries. Named for the nearby river but also has the added connection to the pinacle of portable personal organizers.

Norwich Traitors. It's the birthplace of Benedict Arnold and since one way to go with team mascots is to have them be mean and threatening, what could be more intimidating than a traitor?

I'll let you know which ones are chosen for the vote.


I don't mean to brag, but I must have decent foresight. Or, at the least, I have a damn good feel for this team and/or Willie Randolph's thinking. I'd like to draw your attention to my previous post (below), dated Monday, July 18, an off-day on the schedule for the New York Mets. Now, if you'd be so kind, peruse the Mets' lineup for tonight's game of Tuesday, July 19. And then take a look at just about any Mets game story or notes column and see what they're talking about.

Hey Willie! Free Wright!

There are still a few things about Willie Randolph's managerial style that confuse -- and frustrate -- me. For one thing, I can't understand why he's so stubborn about batting Mike Piazza ahead of David Wright, yet Jose Reyes is entrenched at the top of the order.

At the end of spring training, Randolph batted David Wright eighth and said that could be Wright's home for a while.

"You do have to pay your dues," Randolph said, alluding to Wright's status entering his first full season in the big leagues.

But then, Reyes didn't have to pay any dues. I understand that Reyes has been in the big leagues for part of the last two seasons, but because of his injury history, it didn't seem to me like he had fully paid all of his dues. Yet, despite just 13 walks all season and an on-base percentage under of .284 -- barely higher than Willie's career average. Randolph had a career OBP of .373. You'd think he'd understand how important it is. But then, it couldn't have been much of a plan, because Wright hasn't batted eighth all year. Randolph did say it "wasn't set in stone." Apparently, it was merely written in the sand. Right along the water. At low tide. Half an hour before high tide. Under a full moon. You see what I mean.

Still, Reyes continues to frustrate Randolph at times but holds onto his No. 1 spot in the batting order. Back before the All-Star break, when Reyes hit seventh in one game, I hoped it would last the week. It lasted one game.

As for Wright and Piazza, the young third baseman has put up offensive numbers as good as any third baseman in the league outside of Houston's juicebox, but has found himself batting sixth or seventh in all but 16 of his team-high 90 games. Wright leads the team in average, is second in home runs and second in RBI. Looking back at Thursday's first game of the second half, Wright drilled two solo home runs in his first two at bats off of Atlanta's Horacio Ramirez -- solo because he led off one inning after Piazza had ended the previous one with two runners on base, and the other because Piazza led off the inning by flying out. In his third at bat, he led off the seventh with a walk because a Piazza double play had ended the sixth. When Piazza came up in the eighth, my friends and I rooted for a strikeout when the count went to 0-2 so that Wright would have a chance with two runners on in a tie game, rather than a double play to end the inning. At least Piazza came through then.

Since that at bat? Piazza's 0-for-9 with four strikeouts. The at bats -- as well as Wright's, batting behind Piazza -- are as follows:

Friday, July 15 vs. Atlanta and John Smoltz
Struck out leading off the second. Wright homered.
Grounded out with one out in the fourth. Wright lined out to right.
Grounded out leading off the seventh. Wright walked.
Grounded into a double play in the ninth with the Braves ahead 2-1. Wright flied out to the warning track in right to end the game.

Sunday, July 17 vs. Atlanta and Mike Hampton
Struck out to end the first with a runner on second. Wright led off the second with a single.
Grounded out leading off the third. Wright singled to right.
Struck out to end the fourth with a runner on. Wright led off the fifth with a groundout to third.
Grounded into a fielder's choice to end the sixth. Wright led off the seventh with a pop out.
Struck out with one out in the eighth. Wright popped out to end the inning.

In three games (13 at bats) since the start of the second half, Piazza has ended innings with runners on base five times, forcing Wright to lead off the following inning. Wright had two hits and one walk in three of those five at bats. There were another three times Piazza made an out ahead of a Wright single or walk, and one more in which Piazza got himself out with a runner on ahead of Wright (the double play in the ninth of the 2-1 game). In all, of 13 at bats, Piazza made an out ahead of a Wright hit or walk six times, and erased runners on base six times -- though some of the at bats apply to both instances.

In the end, I think what bewilders me most about the intricacies of Randolph's managing -- and I do understand this is his first go at it -- is how Reyes continues to lead off despite not getting the job done, and Piazza continues to hit fifth despite not getting the job done, yet Wright comes through time and again, yet his chances are watered down (read: come with fewer men on base) because Piazza's making outs in front of him.

All Willie needs to do is look across town. There, his mentor, Joe Torre, has faced the harsh reality of pushing Bernie Williams down-down-down in the batting order because his bat has slowed and age has rendered him nothing like the player he once was. Williams is batting ninth tonight. Ninth! Piazza's situation is the same, yet Randolph -- who has no long-time allegiance to Piazza, so it's not like writing his name in the fourth or fifth spot in the order is something he's been doing for years and is second-nature to him -- can't seem to break free from the rut.

Hair today, gone tomorrow: New changes for the New Mets

In addition to all the big changes around the Mets during the offseason, Willie Randolph (himself one of the changes) ushered in a new one on the first day of workouts in Port St. Lucie.

Taking a cue from his former employer over in the Bronx, Randolph dictated that there will be no facial hair (see last note), other than mustaches, on the Mets.

Call them the New Razor Mets.

At least Mike Piazza won't have to make any more decisions on how to wear his face.


This just won't cut it ...


Neither will the ridiculous fu-manchu ...


And, mercifully, no chance of the man-gina returning.

The Mets have also changed spring training (and, we can only assume, batting practice) jerseys. I've expressed my displeasure with their black jerseys in the past, and these just look ridiculous.


The NHL season may be cancelled, but the team sweaters were recycled.

The black swatch on the shoulders makes them look like hockey sweaters.

As ridiculously garrish as they were, I prefer the orange ones they wore the past two seasons.


Though shades of the Houston Astros c. 1982, I liked the orange-and-blue.

*****
The college baseball season has begun in earnest, in my mind, because the top northern schools have made their first trips south to open their seasons.

Notre Dame charged out of the gate with an 18-3 win in Orlando. Their nine hit batsmen were one short of an NCAA record.

New Jersey's top team, Rutgers, also opened with a victory in the college debut of former Little League World Series star Todd Frazier (see third story in link for a picture of little Toddy). The infielder, who was drafted by the Rockies last summer, went 3-for-4 and homered in his second at bat. I'm not sure yet if his move to third base was because of the incumbent at RU or more for Frazier's benefit, but it will be interesting to see how well he develops and how high he climbs when it comes time to call his name again on draft day.