Over dinner a few months ago, I was watching a conversation between two co-workers about how every summer he brought his son up to Cooperstown to tour the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Only during that conversation it had struck me that in spite of growing up two-plus hours south of the town, I had never visited baseball's shrine to the greats of the game.
After being mesmerized by all of the names and things my co-workers listed one by one, I put my foot down and told myself that I'd make the trip up this summer. Nothing would stop me.
I grew up in a Yankee-mad household. I pride in telling people that I'm a third-generation Yankee fan. I've bred a fourth generation fan in my daughter and my wife is now a fan, more likely dragged into the clan. How could I call myself a fan of baseball if I had not been to Cooperstown yet? That was my dilemma as I planned out my trip to coincide with a planned trip to north Vermont a couple of weeks ago.
My wife had business to attend to in Vermont, so it was just my daughter and I. A perfect outing for father and daughter. My sister was in town, so she came along and it turned out to be a mini-family trip of sorts.
A two-hour drive up on the backroads and county routes through the middle section of the state brought us to Cooperstown. Situated on Otsego Lake in upstate New York, the town is named after the father of James Feinmore Cooper (also known as the literary giant who wrote The Last of the Mohicans and The Deerslayer among other pieces of literature).
Driving up Main Street -which resembles a small town road, not a busy main interchange that one may find in a city or large suburb-we were fascinated with the 19th century homes, all of the baseball memorabilia stores, and restaurants themed after a baseball icon or just the game itself. One can shop for baseball jerseys (of modern stars and stars long gone), books, and souvenirs.
We had arrived a little after ten in the morning; early enough to get parking spot on Main Street several blocks up from the Museum. The Museum, which has been on its present site since 1939, has over two hundred and sixty plaques commemorating the players, managers, and executives enshrined. This summer out of the six individuals to be inducted, there is only one player, Goose Gossage. Such an honor is rare, but special.
After paying admission, my daughter, my sister, and I entered the Hall of Fame gallery that displays all of the plaques. After taking photos of every single Yankee player, we proceed to view the exhibits on the third and second floors, taking in the sights that were present over the entire museum.
You could see Babe Ruth's original locker from Yankee Stadium (along with his uniform, bat, belt, and shoes), a World Series ring from every year back to when they started giving out rings, baseball cards from the early part of the 20th century (including a copy of the fabled 1909 Honus Wagner T206 card). I couldn't tell if this was heaven, but it sure felt like it.
After sitting in actual bleacher seats left over from the old Polo Grounds in New York City, my daughter and I spent nearly an hour in the Museum's Store, looking twice, perhaps thrice, at the items for sale and drooling over what we wanted to buy and gaping wide open at the prices stuck to the items for sale. I settled on an embroidered banner of the logos of all four All Star games at Yankee Stadium. My daughter bought a mini-bat.
We chose to eat lunch at a restaurant across the street on the corner called The Shortstop. One guess and you'd figure out that it was decked out in baseball memorabilia and signed mementos by restaurant patrons. We signed our museum map: "Two generations of Yankee fans were here on 7/1/08" and placed it under the plexiglass on our table.
While touring the Museum, I was actually pleased to discover that all of the television programs we watched had either closed captioning or subtitles on, giving me (and other patrons) access to what was being said. I inquired of my sister whether there were any auditory or ambience noises in the Museum and she said there were none - so I felt like I was getting everything out of my experience there.
Prices are a bit high -- $16.50 for adults and $14.50 for kids over the age of seven, but it's definitely worth it. There's no other place on earth that honors the past greats and the current players of the national pastime as Cooperstown does. Driving back home that afternoon, I couldn't help but sigh in contentment. I had finally achieved one of my childhood dreams and visited a place that I will never forget.
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