Bill Mazeroski really should do something about the traffic around PNC Park.
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Bill Mazeroski receives the ride of a hero around PNC Park before last night's game. (Peter Diana, Post-Gazette) | |
After all, one of the streets is HIS now.
Because of a mini-traffic tieup yesterday, Mazeroski arrived late -- fittingly about nine minutes late -- for the brief ceremony which officially switched Avenue of the Pirates to Mazeroski Way.
The main intersection of Mazeroski Way and Gen. Robinson Street -- well, the ONLY intersection -- is at the northwest corner of PNC Park, where the Honus Wagner statue stands behind the home plate entrance.
There won't be a Mazeroski statue around PNC Park, though.
"I thought it would be a great tribute to Maz to have the road next to the ballpark named for him," said Steve Greenberg, the team's vice-president for ballpark development.
The five-minute street-naming ceremony wasn't elaborate. Pirates Owner Kevin McClatchy made a few remarks. Mayor Tom Murphy made a few more remarks. Then Mazeroski, the Pirates' newest Hall of Famer, joined McClatchy and Murphy in pulling away the cover over the new blue-and-white street sign -- to polite applause from the crowd of maybe 100.
Bingo! THAT ceremony was behind Mazeroski, who's sincerely uncomfortable in the limelight.
"It feels great," Mazeroski said of having the street named for him. "Now I've got to get today over with and then I can relax -- probably forever."
Ahead for Mazeroski was a 20-minute session with the media, at which he appeared at least a little at ease, a 60-minute photo-op for members of the Pirates' front office and, finally, the on-field ceremony before the Pirates played San Diego.
"I haven't been so uptight in so long," Mazeroski said. "It's been a long week, but I'll be all right."
Mazeroski, arguably the best defensive second baseman in baseball history, began his week with arguably the best acceptance speech in Hall of Fame history Sunday afternoon.
It might have lasted all of three minutes -- minus the time he spent breaking up emotionally.
"That's just the way I am," Mazeroski said. "I'm pretty soft."
No question, Mazeroski had soft hands on the field. But his "chat" with the fans in Cooperstown, N.Y., Sunday afternoon revealed the soft spot in Mazeroski's psyche.
He had a 12-page, gratitude-laden speech prepared, but he really didn't get through Page One.
"I thought I'd get a little bit further along," Mazeroski said. "But then it probably would have been boring and people would have been saying, 'Get it over with' -- just like the other guys."
Fellow inductees Kirby Puckett and, especially, Dave Winfield spoke much longer than did Mazeroski.
But neither spoke -- nor cried -- so eloquently as Mazeroski.
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The outfield grass at PNC Park has been cut to honor the recent Hall of Fame induction of 1960 World Series hero Bill Mazeroski. (Gene J. Puskar, Associated Press) |
"Dozens and dozens of people have told me it was the greatest speech they'd ever heard," Mazeroski said. "I tried to apologize. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for not getting it out and saying what I wanted to say. But people said, 'Don't apologize. It was great. It was sincere.' And it was."
Former teammate Bill Virdon, in Cooperstown for the induction ceremony, loved Mazeroski's speech.
"He got his crying in and he got his sentiments out," Virdon said.
"I'm still a little embarrassed," Mazeroski said yesterday, "but that happens. That's me. I couldn't make it. When there are a lot of people cheering me, it gets me. That's an easy way to get me."
There were thousands cheering Mazeroski during the on-field ceremony before the game.
Emcee Steve Blass called Mazeroski "a true living legend," and helped notables unveil gifts for Mazeroski, who received at least three standing ovations during the 25-minute ceremony.
Mazeroski did make a short speech to the crowd -- maybe 43 seconds -- during which he called Pittsburgh "special, special, special."
"Most of you think I can't talk," Mazeroski said to the crowd, "but I can -- a little bit."
Mazeroski rode around the warning track sitting atop the back seat of a 1960 convertible, cheered warmly throughout the lap.
And then he threw out a ceremonial first pitch -- signed by President George Bush.
Mazeroski, who seemed to hold up well emotionally throughout the 25 minutes, shot to prominence with his ultra-dramatic, ninth-inning, seventh-game home run that won the 1960 World Series for the Pirates against the heavily favored New York Yankees.
But he went into the Hall of Fame for his defense.
Mazeroski, who played for the Pirates from 1956-72, won eight Gold Gloves for defensive excellence. He holds the major-league record for most career double plays turned (1,706) and most double plays turned in a season (161) in 1966.
"I've lived every dream I ever wanted," he said. "How many people can say that?"
He signed a professional baseball contract. Reached the major leagues. Starred in the major leagues. Played on two World Series championship teams. Was an All-Star seven times. Had his No. 9 retired by the Pirates in 1987. Has a street named for him.
And, ultimately, landed in the Hall of Fame.
The day after Mazeroski's enshrinement, the voting rules for electing veteran players into the Hall of Fame changed. The Veterans Committee, which elected Mazeroski, was abolished.
The electors voting on players who were not picked by the Baseball Writers Association of America now essentially are the living Hall of Famers, and writers and broadcasters who are in the Hall of Fame.
Some see that as a "slap" to Mazeroski, a .260 career hitter, being chosen.
"I think it's going to be harder to get in now," Virdon said. "There will be so many voting for old-timers. There will be some get in, no question, but I'm glad [Mazeroski] got in when he got in.
"That's not to say it wasn't deserved -- because it WAS deserved."
Mazeroski didn't have much reaction to the rule change.
"I guess I'll get to vote," he said. "I wonder if I'll get all the letters [voters] used to get about me."
Mazeroski seems amazed -- probably overwhelmed -- by the publicity he's received because of his Hall of Fame induction and his Hall of Fame acceptance speech.
"I haven't changed," he said, "but people look at me different now. I'd just as soon hide out in Greensburg and go fishing."
After he retired, Mazeroski attracted a lot of attention in Greensburg.
"People would say, 'There's Bill Mazeroski,' " he said. "But it died down after people got used to seeing me, and it was all right -- until I got inducted into the Hall of Fame."
Mazeroski paused.
"Now I've got to do it all over again," he said. "I'm hoping it will slow down in about a year. I can't walk through the airport now. I can't sneak around. It used to be at the airport you just kept your head down and nobody noticed you."
But that was before Bill Mazeroski became an official Hall of Famer.
Before he'd been to Cooperstown and done that speech.
Before he'd won baseball's highest honor.
As he acknowledged yesterday.
"It's pretty tough to beat being in the Hall of Fame."
Mazeroski Way: It's his street of dreams 
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