Day 7: From Curveballs to Canton - the Missing Foliage

 I woke up this morning feeling like a true sports fan on a mission. After missing out on the Baseball Hall of Fame yesterday, I made sure to arrive right at the opening bell.

The visit started with a short film featuring Hall of Famers reflecting on their careers. The highlight was Dennis Eckersley’s animated storytelling, as he spoke about the thrill of being on the mound, the art of pitching, and, of course, that infamous Kirk Gibson home run he gave up. You could feel both the pride and the pain.

As I walked through the halls, waves of nostalgia hit me: the ’77 and ’78 Yankees, Bucky Dent’s legendary home run (or as Red Sox fans call him, “Bucky F$#&ing Dent”), the Core Four, and the eternal debate over whether Pete Rose should be allowed in. That brought back a personal memory, being at a Chicago Cubs game in 1985 when Pete Rose tied Ty Cobb’s record with his 4,191st hit. A piece of baseball history I’ll never forget.

Every corner held another flashback: George Brett’s pine tar incident, the Reggie Bar (and the chaos of Yankee fans throwing them on the field after Reggie’s first-inning homer), and Carlton Fisk’s iconic home run that he practically willed to stay fair.

Statues of Babe Ruth and Ted Williams stood tall, but I couldn’t help but discuss that it should’ve been Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio, two of the best pure hitters to ever play the game. Both sacrificed prime years of their careers for military service, Ted Williams in two wars, DiMaggio in one, and they still ended up among the all-time greats. It had been about 25 years since my last visit, and this return trip did not disappoint. 

And yes, I even got to see the Holy Cow, decked out in full Yankee uniform. Phil Rizzuto himself would’ve been proud. Holy cow, indeed! 🐄⚾️

Then it was back on the road, destination: Canton, Ohio, home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame and (hopefully) some fall colors that didn’t look like they’d been through a drought.

Unfortunately, the New York Thruway didn’t exactly deliver on the “scenic” promise. The trees looked like they couldn’t decide what season it was, a few half-hearted oranges, a couple of confused yellows, and way too many overachieving browns. After Vermont and New Hampshire, where every tree looked like it was auditioning for a postcard. 

Tomorrow’s plan: the Football Hall of Fame in the morning, then off to Akron, and onward to Cleveland to complete the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, leaving only the Hockey Hall of Fame to finish off my personal “Hall of Fame Grand Slam.”

The best part? I get to hang out with my good friend Jeff tomorrow. He’s a local, which means I’ll finally have someone to confirm whether I’m pronouncing “Cuyahoga” right, or just offending an entire river system.

So stay tuned. Tomorrow I swap bats for helmets, and maybe throw in a little Springsteen and the Ramones for good measure. “Sheena Is a Punk Rocker,” “Rockaway Beach,” and “I Wanna Be Sedated” are already playing in my head. I still remember seeing the Ramones at CBGB’s back in the late ’70s, loud, fast, and unforgettable.