My Hall of Fame Induction Speech

DISCLAIMER: I SUCKED at baseball. I played one year in middle school, pulled my hammy, and never came back. So to believe I could actually deliver this speech requires a major suspension of reality. I also stole the first and last lines from Rickey Henderson.

That said, I have tried to write the HOF Speech I would deliver if ever given the chance. This is for a class where most of the people will be giving eulogies or "This I Believe" speeches, so it's supposed to be somewhat lofty and serious. And short.

I hope everybody's enjoying themselves today. First, thank God for His blessings, thank you to the Baseball Writer's Association of America, and thank you to the members of the National Baseball Hall of Fame for this amazing honor.

And, if you'll indulge me for a moment, let me say what a thrill it is to be inducted today alongside a true friend, Mr. Dorrel Norman Elvert Herzog. Whitey, your teams were a joy to grow up with and your knowledge and love of the game are the reasons I ever played baseball in the first place. And the same goes for these fine gentlemen, Andre Dawson and Doug Harvey. If I could only have done a better job following the example set by the men on this stage, who knows, maybe I would actually deserve this honor today.

I also have to thank a couple of baseball men who aren't here today, and that's Mark McGwire and Tony LaRussa. I talked to both of them earlier today before the game in Milwaukee, so they definitely have better things to do right now. I had a special thank you for those guys that I'll keep between us, except to say that Mark ought to be here instead of me. There's a reason Tony put him ahead of me in the order all those years, and I know I wouldn't be standing here today if it weren't for those guys.

I'll never forget my first major league at-bat. It was one of those moments, like this one, that, as a kid, you think will never happen, no matter how good you are. You think, something will happen, some ligament will tear or some bone will break or some wicked little fastball will come in high and tight and BOOM! Your life's over. But that first at-bat... It was a two-hopper to short to end the inning. I walked back to the dugout wishing that fastball had caught me, just to spare me from taking this damn walk.

But thank God for good health, and for letting me see so many more at-bats. My twelve years on the field were the best years of my life. We had a lot of real pros on the team that always pushed me to raise the level of my game one more notch. That was always the key for us, don't get lazy. Don't fool yourself into thinking you're good enough or that 3-5 was a good day even though you couldn't advance the runner or one error in a series wasn't really that bad. That's the mark of a great team, one that never settles. And I was just lucky enough to be on some really great teams.

Tony always told us that good baseball lessons made for good life lessons, and I tried to take that to heart. By now, the details of my home life are about as well known as my batting numbers in 1995. He asked me not to do this, but I have to thank my partner of fifteen years for his unending love and support at home. He gets embarrassed.

Some of the writers have called me the Jackie Robinson of the gay community. That's wrong. Robinson was a great man because of the troubles he faced from the game itself, while he was playing. I took the easy way and waited until I retired to come out. I never had to face the scorn or the taunts or the bullying threats Robinson dealt with on a daily basis. Baseball needs more heroes like Jackie Robinson today. It needs someone of character who can take hit after hit and still want nothing more than to show up the next day to play the greatest game ever invented. We can all hope to be a little more like that. I know I do. And now as the Association has voted me into the Hall of Fame, my journey as a player is complete, but my journey as a person goes on and on.

Thank you.