I don’t have much time. I’m scrambling here at the office to finish up a couple of projects (or at least find a safe place to hide them for a few days). Tomorrow I leave for Cooperstown and the baseball Hall of Fame (aka the HOF). Before driving to Cooperstown, I’m hanging out for a couple days in New York City, where I’ll be sure to marvel at the immensity of it all and kill a few brain cells along the way. Manhattan is a place. It’s also a cocktail. Or so they tell me.
In any event, I’m going to Cooperstown to witness the one-and-only Rickey Henderson get inducted into the Hall of Fame. Yeah Jim Rice is going in too. And so are some other folks. But really this should have been the year when they said the induction ceremony belongs to one man, and that one man is Rickey Henderson. Rickey was elected on his first ballot (of course he was), even though a few morons didn’t vote for him. And for that they should be flogged as the opening act—right before Rickey delivers the most highly anticipated acceptance speech in HOF history.
“Speech and me didn’t get along sometimes.” Rickey made this remark recently when asked if he was preparing a HOF speech. I immediately had a vision of Rickey conversing with a guy named Speech—just two guys hashing it out about the glory of base stealing and the effectiveness of referring to oneself in the third person. But, wait, Greg doesn't have time for allegorical ruminations; Greg needs to get back to work. Let me just say that Rickey’s ability to handle the curves and sliders of the English language has always been a little suspect. But his skills on the diamond have never been in doubt.
But what about Tut? When I return from New York, I’m going to the Oakland Coliseum where the A’s will finally retire Rickey’s number. Earlier that afternoon, I have tickets for the King Tut exhibit in Golden Gate Park. I’ll be cutting it close, but I don’t want to be late for Rickey’s day in the Oakland sun. Even compared to the splendor of Tutankhamen, Rickey is and always will be the greatest.