Derek Jeter was elected to the Hall Of Fame on Tuesday. He was nominated on all but one of 397 voters and thus denied the perfection achieved by his teammate, Mariano Rivera. Unlike the soft spoken and self effacing Rivera, Jeter was supremely confident and dismissive of those who sought to penetrate the persona he always projected to the public.
In 1995, the year Jeter joined the Yankees, I was skeptical he would do anything to change the team's fortunes. Since the glory days of the late 70s the Yankees had suffered through some mediocre seasons and this fresh faced kid who inspired my oldest daughter to squeal whenever he appeared on TV was not likely to turn things around. Subsequent seasons proved me wrong, and though I have only followed baseball intermittently since moving to the North Country, Jeter always stood out as the consummate spokesman for the game I have loved.
I would like to attend his enshrinement in Cooperstown this July, but I'm guessing every hotel room within a hundred miles of the place is already booked and the crowds will be overwhelming. I will be thinking of all the moments during his career when he showed fans what true greatness is and can be. Truly, he is the pride of the Yankees.
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