New Hall of Famers Put Dads on Pedestal : Bench, Schoendienst, Yastrzemski Say Road to Baseball Greatness Started at Home

Baseball, in its most simple form, is a parent-and-child game.

Johnny Bench, Red Schoendienst and Carl Yastrzemski, the newest members of baseball’s Hall of Fame, reminded us of that again Sunday as they explained why they were enshrined in this 50-year-old pantheon that’s only a fungo shot from the lake that James Fenimore Cooper called Glimmerglass.

Three players from humble upbringings made it to Cooperstown, Bench from the red-rock canyons of Oklahoma, Yastrzemski from depression-ridden Long Island, N.Y., and Schoendienst from the coal-mining country of Middle America.

They opened the doors to the Hall of Fame by hitting, catching and throwing the baseball better than almost anybody, using the inspiration from their fathers for tailwind. The parental models were important, because along the way Schoendienst suffered from tuberculosis, Bench underwent surgery to remove a lesion on his lung and Yastrzemski, besides being physically unimpressive at 5-feet-11 and 180 pounds, had to contend with an abstract albatross, the ghost of Ted Williams at Fenway Park.

Before a crowd estimated at 20,000 on a hot, humid day that had to remind Schoendienst of St. Louis and Bench of Cincinnati in the summertime, the 201st, 202nd and 203rd members of the hall made their acceptance speeches Sunday, sharing a platform in front of the Hall of Fame Library with 26 previously enshrined stars who found their way back to this picturesque village in central New York state.

Also inducted was member No. 204--Al Barlick, who proved to be the most emotional of all, tears flowing and his voice cracking. “If many pleasant memories have anything to do with success, then I must be the most successful guy in the world,” Barlick said.

Bench recalled his formative years in Binger, Okla.--population 660--when his father, the former catcher said, could hit a ball farther than anyone.

“He hit one into a corn field beyond the diamond, and we never did find the ball,” Bench said. “As far as I’m concerned, he was the greatest home-run hitter, and the greatest player, there ever was, and I learned how to play from my dad.”

Schoendienst hitched a ride on a milk truck from Germantown, Ill., to St. Louis for a tryout that led to a contract with the Cardinals.

“The advantage to growing up in Germantown,” the ex-second baseman said, “was that you could find a baseball game every day. I’d play with my brothers and my father would join in when he came home from the coal fields. Somehow, my mother put up with all this baseball, but that’s the way I got started.”

Yastrzemski said that his father was good enough to make the big leagues.

“He had the talent and the dedication,” the former Red Sox left fielder said. “But it was during the Depression, and he had the responsibility of raising the children. If ever there was proof that somebody could make the sacrifices to help others, it’s my dad.”

Bench and Yastrzemski both introduced their fathers Sunday. Schoendienst’s father is dead.

Bench and Yastrzemski sailed into the Hall of Fame the first year they were eligible. Schoendienst, 66, who batted .289 and set numerous fielding records besides managing the Cardinals to two pennants, was picked by a veterans’ committee.

Bench, 41, will be remembered as perhaps the most complete catcher to play the position. He hit for power--389 homers, 1,376 runs batted in--and also ran the game from behind the plate, directing pitchers and fielders, and throwing out runners with a rifle arm.

Yastrzemski, who will be 50 on Aug. 22, played 23 seasons in Boston, hitting 452 homers and driving in 1,844 runs. As a rookie in 1961, however, it appeared as though the pressure of replacing Ted Williams in left field was going consume him. Williams, elected to Cooperstown in 1966, had a career average of .344 with 521 homers.

“I would have preferred to break in quietly,” Yastrzemski said after the induction ceremonies, “but that winter they were already putting my picture on magazine covers and saying that I was the next Ted Williams.

“That almost demolished me. When I’d get a hit, it wasn’t good enough. When I’d get a double, that wasn’t good enough. They wanted me to hit home runs, like Ted did. But at that time, I wasn’t a home-run hitter, I was a spray hitter.”

Yastrzemski was hitting about .220 midway through the season, but then two things happened.

“I woke up one day and told myself that I wasn’t going to try to be Ted Williams anymore, I was just going to be Carl Yastrzemski.”

Yastrzemski also went to Tom Yawkey, the owner of the Red Sox, with a request.

“I had to get Ted Williams to come to Boston and help me,” Yastrzemski said. “He was fishing somewhere in New Brunswick, but he flew in to town and worked with me for a couple of days. I batted over .300 the rest of the year.”

Williams, who’ll be 71 next month, was here Sunday. One of his nicknames when he played was “The Sport Shirt,” and on Sunday he was the only former player on the platform not wearing a necktie.

In spring training before the 1969 season, as Bench prepared for his second full season with the Reds, they played an exhibition game in Pompano Beach, Fla., against the Washington Senators, who were managed by Williams.

Bench sent a sportswriter over to Williams with a baseball to be autographed, and the ball came back with this inscription: “To Johnny Bench, a future Hall of Famer.”

After his induction, Bench talked about Pete Rose, the manager of the Reds and his former teammate, who is in jeopardy of having his career shortened or ended because of alleged betting on games. The annual Hall of Fame exhibition today matches the Reds against the Red Sox, but Rose isn’t accompanying the team here, saying he didn’t want to detract from Bench’s enshrinement and didn’t want the day to turn into a “media circus.”

When Bart Giamatti, the commissioner of baseball, was introduced Sunday, there was a small chorus of boos from several hundred Cincinnati fans in the crowd.

“I hope things work themselves out, but it should be whatever is best for baseball,” Bench said. “I can’t take sides in this. I just want baseball to come out a winner.”

Baseball is always a winner in Cooperstown, a town that is an ode to antiquity. Only about 2,300 people live here, there is no movie theater, one traffic light, and the first escalator hit town when the Hall of Fame opened a ritzy new wing in honor of the museum’s golden anniversary.

Small children and grownups masquerading as kids paraded up and down Main Street all weekend, looking for autographs at the Hall of Fame, ringing the registers at the memorabilia and souvenir shops and cramming their way into the limited number of restaurants and hotels.

For $40, a collector could buy a cap worn by an unnamed member of the St. Louis Browns in 1909. One of the big-ticket items was a $395 bat autographed by Hall of Famers Henry Aaron and Eddie Mathews, and there was even a $100 price tag on “Wonderboy,” a replica of the bat used by Roy Hobbs (Robert Redford) in the movie version of “The Natural.”

By mid-afternoon Sunday, however, the shops, hotels and restaurants were virtually empty, because virtually everyone was at Cooper Park for the inductions. Eight minutes before the ceremonies started, the crowd began singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” It was another perfect touch for a perfect afternoon in Cooperstown.