Ken Griffey knows, and embraces, that he’s part of baseball history, joining a select few, now and forever.
COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Permanence and exclusivity.
Those are the daunting elements that invariably overwhelm each new member of the Baseball Hall of Fame: That their legacy will be enshrined for eternity. And that so precious few of the thousands of major-leaguers ever achieve this honor.
“There’s only 69 living. Only 69 of us right now,’’ Hall of Fame catcher Carlton Fisk said on Saturday. “Is there any other profession that has only that many guys that are considered that talented to be involved in such an exclusive fraternity? I don’t think there is.”
Ken Griffey Jr. is the latest baseball immortal to mull over this weighty new life detour, the first to go in as a Mariner. And at age 46, he is duly humbled.
Griffey, who will be inducted along with former catcher Mike Piazza on Sunday, bringing the total Hall of Fame members to 312, had steadfastly refused to step foot into the Hall of Fame museum until he was a member of that fraternity.
On Friday evening, with his family in tow, he finally entered that hallowed ground, and became the latest honoree to be dumbstruck by its power.
“It was pretty impressive,’’ he said, “and a little scary.”
Scary in the sense that your plaque will outlast you, just as it has for the ghosts of baseball’s glory days, from Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig to Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio.
“Knowing from here on out, I’m going to be in there,’’ he said. “I went down the rows (of plaques) and looked at the guys I played against, and my dad and I played against. It was pretty interesting to look at that and look where I’m going to be for the rest of my life, and then some.”
Finally, Griffey understands why his father, former major-leaguer Ken Griffey Sr., had been so moved by their back-to-back homers in 1990, a feat that may never be matched.
Junior saw it as a great moment in the course of a game, while Senior realized its greater significance.
“I didn’t understand until later on when I was 35, 36, what he was feeling,’ Griffey said. “As I passed guys on the home-run list, I started to get it. He understood the magnitude of history.”
It is that magnitude, and that history, that marks the Baseball Hall of Fame, all condensed into a quaint town in upstate New York that the great third baseman Mike Schmidt aptly described Saturday as “a model-train village.”
For new members, it is a time for reflection, but also, because this is Griffey, a time for a bit of humor. Asked how he will display his Hall of Fame ring, particularly in light of lifelong ribbing from Ken Griffey Sr. over his three World Series rings to none for Junior, he went off on a classic Griffey riff.
“I’m going to put it front and center of the house,” he said, eyes shining. “Might be on that gate when you ring it. There’s going to be a lot of people seeing it. It might be like the Stanley Cup. I might take it around with me, do some things like that. Brush my hair with it. I’ll figure out something, but it will be seen.”
He and Piazza talked of their “rookie hazing” by other Hall of Famers, Piazza being made to sing and play drums in a karaoke performance.
“They tried that (with him). I acted like I had to go to the bathroom,’’ Griffey said. “They just told me to keep my speech under five minutes. If I’m speaking a little fast, it’s on behalf of the 48 other guys behind me.”
It is the palpable presence of those 48 – the Hall of Famers who are here to watch the ceremony, seated on stage on folding chairs behind the inductee — that provides some of the pressure that each inductee feels as he gives his speech.
One shrewd piece of wisdom Griffey received from his soon-to-be fellow Hall of Famers: Next year will be much more fun, when you can relax and not fret about addressing the throngs at the Clark Sports Center.
Hall of Fame pitcher Rollie Fingers said that it’s the toughest part of the entire weekend.
“If you get through your speech, it’s like they lift an anvil off your shoulder,’’ he said. “My advice is, ‘Take your time, go ahead and be emotional,’ because you’re not going to get through it without being emotional. It’s the toughest speech I ever went through. It’s going to happen. I’m sure Piazza and Grif are going to be taking a couple of deep breaths here and there.”
Piazza called it “a euphoric weekend,’’ and Griffey is eager to share in the euphoria. It’s the coronation of a career that was stamped for greatness from virtually the first major-league game he played – or even before. Hall of Famer George Brett remembered the “aha” moment when he saw Griffey as a rookie.
“You knew it was going to happen the first time I saw him play — a three-game series in Seattle or a three-game series in Kansas City,’’ Brett said, hazy on the details but not the impact.
“You say, ‘Who the hell is this guy?’ And now we all know who he is.”
Griffey knows, and embraces, that he’s part of baseball history, joining a select few, now and forever.
Permanence, and exclusivity.