How Do I Get to the Hall of Fame?

I took the boys to Cooperstown this week for a quick overnight trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame. I'd never been before, and neither had they, so it seemed like a good way to reward ourselves for a spring full of baseball.

Despite being a little befuddled by our computer-generated directions (that's when I was able to tell the oldy-but-goody by replying "practice" when one of my children asked me how we get to Cooperstown) and slowed by some wicked thunderstorms, we arrived at our hotel around 4:30 on Tuesday. Our first stop was the hotel pool. But then we rallied and after a quick change of clothes, we headed into Cooperstown. Before we got there, though, we saw Cooperstown Dream Field, a multi-field complex that hosts Little League tournaments during the summer. We stopped to watch for a bit, but we had to leave because it was getting chilly. Yes: chilly on June 30th.



Once we made it into Cooperstown, we found a place to park that was right across the street from the Hall of Fame itself. I'm tempted to say that the place is so small we almost missed it. The truth is, it does look small from the front, but it would be really, really hard to miss it, situated as it is in the middle of downtown Cooperstown, surrounded by souvenir shops and baseball-themed restaurants, like the Short Stop, where we ate.



When we walked in, the place was virtually empty. Our first stop was the theater where we watched a short video that talked about the history of baseball in America. I'll admit that I got a little teary eyed thinking about what baseball means to me and how it's special to be able to share the experience with my children. And I don't even consider myself a big baseball fan! I can only imagine what it must be like for the hardcore fans when they fist get there. It really is a place where dreams abound. It says so right on the floor.





While I was in Cooperstown, I also had the opportunity to confirm that a story told to me by one of my English professors years ago was true. It seems that when James Fenimore Cooper, for whom the town is named, spent some time in Europe, the townsfolk took it upon themselves to build a road right through his property, including his house. Right next to the Hall of Fame is a private road overseen by a statue of the man. And yes, he does look pissed. But who wouldn't be?