Monday, July 24, 2000
Hall is worth the wait
COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Victor Perez awaited his father with a pair of unlit cigars. When his Day of Days was done, and all the photo opportunities were finished, Tony Perez would know the sublime sensation of savoring his crowning achievement with his son.
“I just got them today, and they're not Cubans,” Victor Perez said, clutching the celebratory smokes after the Baseball Hall of
Fame induction ceremony. “When the moment's right, there's one for him and one for me.”
Tony Perez waited nine years for the right moment, for the planets to align properly, for his baseball deeds to be given their due. It was a tortuous time for the Big Dog of the Big Red Machine, but all the frustration had faded by the time he stepped to the podium Sunday afternoon at the Clark Sports Center.
“It took some time,” Perez said, “but I'm happy and blessed. I don't think a king on his coronation feels better than me today.”
Before him were assembled thousands of hard-boiled baseball fans, many of whom stood for nearly four hours to hear the induction speeches. Behind him were 45 of baseball's living icons -- the largest contingent of returning Hall of Famers in Cooperstown's history. Beside him was Carlton Fisk, the Boston catcher whose home run in the sixth game of the 1975 World Series set the stage for Perez' heroics in Game Seven.
Ahead of him is immortality.
Baseball's Hall of Fame induction ceremony could be an anticlimax if it didn't mean so much to those being honored. The enshrinees have up to six months to prepare their speech and harness their hearts, but when they get up there on that podium, the best-laid plans often go kablooey.
Fisk rambled for 37 minutes Sunday, frequently stopping in mid-sentence to regain control of his teeming emotions. Yet Fisk's windy address served largely as counterpoint in a ceremony
dominated by Cincinnati baseball celebrities: Perez, Sparky Anderson and announcer Marty Brennaman. (Nineteenth century Reds infielder Bid McPhee and Negro Leagues star Turkey Stearnes were also honored posthumously).
Anderson said the event was “about 10 times more” than he had expected, but he abandoned his prepared text right from the top, launching into a spirited defense of booed baseball commissioner Bud Selig.
Brennaman, honored with the Ford Frick Award for distinguished broadcasting, was asked Friday to temper his remarks about the exiled Pete Rose, but angrily refused to change his speech by so much as a semicolon despite a threatened walkout by Hall of Famers Bob Feller and Ralph Kiner.
Brennaman's lone reference to Rose was at the end of a list of endorsements for Big Red Machine figures not yet enshrined in Cooperstown: General Manager Bob Howsam, shortstop Dave Concepcion, and Rose.
“I don't give a damn about Ralph Kiner and Bob Feller,” Brennaman said. “I said what's in my heart. I don't care about pressure. I can't be intimidated.”
Two hours after the ceremony, Brennaman was still steamed. Only Perez was able to keep his eye on the ball without getting misty or detoured or defiant.
“It was like if he were up there hitting,” Victor Perez said. “Just go up there and do the job. Wait for your pitch. Simple.”
“I got emotional,” Perez said, “but I wasn't worried. I never got concerned I was going to cry. I didn't want to make my wife cry.”
Pituka Perez knew her husband's speech nearly as well as the speaker. She had helped select the key points from things he had said since his election was announced: his bond with the fans of Cincinnati, his emphasis on winning instead of statistics, his proudest achievements, his pitch for other players who have been disappointed by Cooperstown.
As he did 379 times in the major leagues, Perez touched all the bases. He was as understated and dignified as his wife was nervous.
“My heart was pounding so fast,” Pituka Perez said, “that I thought I'd have to take medication for my high blood pressure.”
Victor Perez was serenity personified. When all the speeches were over, he stood in front of the stage as proud as a new parent, holding the ceremonial cigars in his left hand, shaking hands with his right.
“I would have waited nine more years,” he said. “It was worth all the effort.”
Tim Sullivan welcomes your E-mail at tsullivan@enquirer.com.
Hall of Fame Stories
• Return to Reds front page...
SULLIVAN: Hall is worth the wait
