Cooperstown, New York, Heaven

After making it back to the land of little pink houses and amber waves of grain, I stopped by Mecca, New York. Also known as Cooperstown, or the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. For a sport that prides itself on records and recordable feats, this is the shrine that I expected it to be. Even the introductory video, long a home for cheesy outdated graphics and footage, went the extra mile, leaning more towards a Disney Imagineer presentation that a sports montage. The place had all the stats that the stat geeks live for, enough history and displays for the sports fans, and not enough of anything else to make it ok to bring wives, children and the disinterested in to ruin the experience for the die hards milling about. I could go on about the entire experience in the museum, but for those who don't care about the baseball side of this story it will only bore you, and for those who do it will only provide a crutch excuse to not go up and see it yourself. Quit being pathetic and go. It is well worth it.

One other note about Cooperstown before I retire this post. The small town of Cooperstown itself is worth going to as well. The entire place reeks of 1950's kick ass-edness. Milkshakes, pizza parlours, an eternally played baseball game at Doubleday field, and enough little town shops to make you really enjoy the whole experience. Yes, I was at Doubleday, when a milkshake brought me in from the yard. Yes, I bought I souvienir piece of crap. Yes I had greasy pizza dipped in Ranch Dressing. Yes, I teared up a little bit walking through the streets of Heaven--no exaggerration.

They have built it. You should go.

The Jersey of the Man. The Leader of the Team. America's Team.

Yes it has been done before. Mine, however, was done with a twist. It had a budget.

These are the Pearly Gates. St. Pete Rose is standing outside ushering everyone but himself in.