Boggs walks halls of Hall

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. -- Yesterday morning was when it became real, when Wade Boggs came to the place where baseball began to check out his permanent home. "Walking down the hall where all the plaques are, the goosebumps started overwhelming me," said the 17th former member of the Red Sox to be tapped for the Hall of Fame.

Ever since he received the official call Jan. 4, Boggs knew he'd be joining Ryne Sandberg as the Hall's latest inductees at the end of July. But when he came here for a sneak preview with wife Debbie, the Chicken Man was reminded that he'd be joining Ruth and Cobb and Wagner and Mathewson and the rest of the game's immortals.

"This is the pinnacle of greatness," said the 46-year-old Boggs, who was elected in a landslide in his first eligible year and will be depicted wearing a Boston cap. "It's what the Hall of Fame is all about."

Twenty-nine years ago, when he was a bewildered 18-year-old busher down the road in Elmira, Boggs never dreamed he'd end up here. All he was looking for then was a bus ticket back to Tampa. "I called my dad and said, `I'm coming home,' " Boggs recalled. "He said, `No, you're not, son. You're going to stay there and tough it out.' "

Six years later he was suiting up in Fenway Park and beginning a remarkable 18-year career that included five batting titles, 3,010 hits, a league-record seven consecutive 200-hit seasons, two Gold Gloves, and 12 All-Star appearances.

No Red Sox player since Ted Williams had been such a student of hitting. "I had to read his book [`The Science of Hitting'] over and over and over and over," Boggs said. But what drove him most fiercely was the rap that he had no glove.

"I always hated hearing, `Well, he's a good hitter, but he can't play third,' " he said. So he worked relentlessly on his defense, taking 150 grounders before each game ("Johnny Pesky has all the callouses and blisters to prove it."). When Boggs won his first Gold Glove, with the Yankees in 1994, he considered it his crowning achievement.

"When [Yankees first baseman] Don Mattingly called me at 12:30 in the morning, I just started crying," said Boggs, who's giving his cherished "elephant ear" glove ("My pride and joy.") to the Hall. "I never cried after winning a batting title."

Still, it was his bat and the extraordinary consistency of his numbers that got him here. "I always felt if I didn't get the 3,000 hits that it wouldn't be an option," he said. Even when he did, with a home run for the Devil Rays (the only player to reach the milestone that way), Boggs didn't take induction for granted. "Even the day I got the phone call, I was still a total skeptic that I would get in," he said.

Yesterday, during a two-hour tour of the premises, the idea took hold more firmly. Boggs was shown the highlight video for his induction. He saw the space where his exhibit case will sit, next to former teammate Dennis Eckersley, who was inducted last year. He saw the place where his plaque will be hung, next to Gary Carter's.

"I'm not visiting the Hall of Fame as a fan, I'm actually in it," said Boggs, who spent a breeze-through hour here when he was with Elmira. "That's where the mystique sort of overwhelms you. I have a part in it."

Bits and pieces from his past were already here, among them the Tampa jersey, cap, spikes, and batting gloves from his 3,000th hit in 1999, and the bat and gloves from his 200th hit of the 1989 season, when he reached that number for the seventh straight year. More was rounded up for his perusal yesterday. A copy of "Fowl Tips," Boggs's book of chicken recipes that he used in ritual rotation as part of his mystical bag of superstitions. A video of "The Simpsons" episode ("Homer at the Bat") in which he appears as a guest. "Seeing it, it comes full circle," Boggs said. "It's, `Wow, my stuff is next to Babe Ruth's bat.' "

This time, Boggs got to rummage around in baseball's cluttered basement, which includes everything from Walter Johnson's locker to the on-deck circle from Forbes Field to the 440-foot marker from Tiger Stadium. "The rich history, all the nostalgia that oozes out of this building," he marveled.

Boggs slipped his hand inside Ruth's old glove. "How did they even catch a ball back then?" he wondered. He hefted Williams's bat. "The Man," he saluted. But what caught his eye was an old Nellie Fox model glove that his dad had used playing softball. "This was the glove I used to play catch with when I was 5," Boggs said. "This is the glove I grew up with. Wow!"

Yesterday was the time and place for him to return to childhood and grow up again, this time among the ghosts of his fabled predecessors.

As Boggs roamed the premises and watched the video, his earlier selves came back. The kid who played in the famous 33-inning marathon between Pawtucket and Rochester. The weeping veteran sitting in the visitors' dugout in Shea Stadium after the Sox had lost the 1986 Series to the Mets. "I was almost there," Boggs mused, as he checked out the new display honoring the 2004 champions. "Very close. One strike."

The redeemed victor in pinstripes, riding a policeman's horse in the outfield after the Yankees beat the Braves in 1996. The aging star coming home, hitting Tampa Bay's first-ever home run and reaching his career-capping milestone.

Boggs would have kept playing had the Devil Rays renewed their option after two seasons, and he says he had options to go elsewhere. "I figured I was better off retiring and going out my way," he said.

He had the stats, he had the ring (which he wears on his right hand), he had the money. The only thing Boggs lacked was shelf space alongside the men he'd grown up idolizing. "It's a pretty exclusive club," Boggs said, "and I'm happy to be a part of it."

Yesterday was about getting familiar with the newly-renovated confines, about literally getting his hands on history. "It sends electricity through your whole body," Boggs said. "It's the same feeling I got when I first stepped up to the plate in Fenway Park and Yankee Stadium. I'm standing in the same place all these people did."

From here, he goes back to Tampa to watch son Brett (named after godfather and Hall of Famer George Brett) play center field in the high school playoffs. It comes full circle.

Next time Boggs drops by here, he'll be cast in bronze. "It'll really sink in then," he said. "It's something to be enjoyed. That's what you don't want to get lost in the shuffle. It's going to be overwhelming."

Boggs says he's already been working on his speech. "It's in my head," he said. More than likely, he'll lunch on chicken. No need to start messing with the rituals that got him here.

"It's a warm feeling," Boggs said. "You don't have to carry that `future' word anymore: `He's a future Hall of Famer.' Now it's, `He's a Hall of Famer.' It has a good ring to it."