Chipper Jones’
journey to the baseball’s Hall of Fame began in the small Volusia County town of Pierson.
When his family lived in Central Florida, Larry Jones’ backyard doubled as a land of make-believe. His son played a starring role. The only child of Larry and his wife, Lynne, spent countless hours with his father bonding over their shared love — baseball. They watched games together on television and played along. Whether the batter on the screen was righthanded or left-handed, the boy — a natural righty — mimicked what he saw by grabbing a piece of PVC pipe and swinging from that side of the plate.
Those rudimentary lessons served two purposes. The young boy got to practice switch hitting, and just as important, he was encouraged to dream.
“I was a big Mickey Mantle guy growing up,’’ Jones said. “He was my guy, and as Chipper started to get better at it, it started to register that, ‘Hey, we may have another one like that.’ ”
Chipper Jones, 45, was 2 years old when Mantle was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1974. Now the native of the small town of Pierson in northwest Volusia County is poised to become a first-ballot selection.
The Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, N.Y., will announce its 2018 class at 3 p.m. Wednesday on MLB Network.
“Chipper made adjustments as good as any player I have ever seen,’’ former Stetson baseball coach Pete Dunn said of his godson. “I am so confident [he will be inducted] that my wife and I have already made reservations up there for July, so if he doesn’t, I am going to have to cancel some reservations.’’
An eight-time all-star and the 1999 National League MVP, Jones spent 19 seasons with the Braves. He was the offensive catalyst for much of the franchise’s record run of 14 consecutive titles, finishing with a .303 career average, 468 home runs and 1,623 RBIs. As a rookie in 1995, Jones helped the Braves’ franchise win its only World Series championship in Atlanta by conquering the Cleveland Indians in six games.
Jones grew into an outsized figure in the sport, one of the best in his generation. It all began in a Central Florida town of fewer than 2,000 residents known as the Fern Capital of the World.
“We love baseball up here,’’ said James Sowell, a lifelong resident of Pierson and its 80-year-old mayor. “Whenever you see a kid, even in Little League, you can tell that kid’s a good athlete. He’s going to make a good ballplayer, and that’s what Chipper was.’’
B.B. Abbott grew up with Jones, remains one of his closest friends and is his agent.
“When you look back, obviously you realize how good he was, but to us, he was just another one of the guys,’’ Abbott said.
Jones’ parents wanted to keep it that way.
Larry Jones played shortstop, Chipper’s position before the Braves selected him No. 1 overall in the 1990 draft and shifted him to third base, and was one of Dunn’s teammates at Stetson. Lynne Jones was an accomplished equestrian.
Their son’s athletic talent was apparent.
After Chipper smacked three home runs in a game against a team from Altamonte Springs that went on to reach the Little League World Series championship game, Larry turned to his wife on the drive home. “You know something?’’ he said. “He might be one of the 10 best players in the country in his age group.’’
Said Lynne: “Aw, you’re a Little League dad.’’
“I don’t let her forget it,’’ said Larry, a longtime high-school and college coach. “I’ve been around enough players in my life to know he was a pretty good player.’’
Lynne became a believer when she drove Chipper to Sanford for a tryout camp that was run by a highly respected scout. After it was over, he told her — in front of Chipper — that her son’s potential was unlimited if he worked to develop it.
“That was the point when my eyebrows went up underneath my hair,’’ Lynne said. “‘Whoa, maybe he’s got some talent here.’ ”
Jones played one season at Taylor High School in Pierson before transferring to Bolles, a boarding school in Jacksonville. The adjustment was not easy. “He had some crying pains, living up in the dorm, away from Mom and Dad, only child,’’ said Don Suriano, who coached Jones at Bolles. “We thought we were going to lose him, and he was going to transfer back. Daddy wouldn’t have any of that ‘transfer back.’
“He was, ‘You’re going to stick this out and make it work.’ He made it work.’’
Bolles won one state championship and played for another with Jones in the lineup.
Suriano did not alter his approach despite the myriad scouts who flocked to practice, often beating him there to see a certain skinny, rangy prospect.
“I’m not so sure that Atlanta didn’t have Hank Aaron and Bobby Cox come to a game and sit out in the outfield in their car,’’ Suriano said. “That was the rumor back in the day, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to them. I had a program to run.’’
Jones bypassed a chance to play for the University of Miami — Dunn said Chipper visited there with two other highly regarded prospects, Todd Van Poppel and former Lake Brantley standout Jason Varitek — to sign with the Braves.
Jones didn’t even have an agent at the time. He received a package worth a reported $400,000, a tidy sum then but pocket change by today’s major-league standards.
“He said to his dad, ‘I don’t know if I’m getting enough money or not, but I want to play ball, and if I don’t make it now, I’ll make it later on when I make it in the big leagues,’ ” Dunn said.
The money trail tends to follow a player who compiled 10 seasons with at least a .300 batting average, including a league-best .364 in 2008; finished with a higher career slugging percentage than Mike Schmidt; and is grouped with Mantle and Eddie Murray among the top switch hitters of all time.
Not that Jones did not swing and miss occasionally.
“When he was in his younger days, he would be the first to tell you that he let some [things] go to his head in his personal life, which obviously led to him being divorced and things like that,’’ Abbott said. “That was something that truly hit home for him as he got older.’’
Larry and Lynne Jones live in Cumming, Ga., near Atlanta — about 10 minutes away from Chipper.
“He’s made some mistakes that his mom and I are not proud of, and I’m sure he isn’t proud of, but when it comes down to the nittygritty, he’s a good kid,’’ Larry said. “I’m prouder of that than I am of his prowess as a player.’’
One year, Jones was visiting Stetson before spring training when the Hatters were playing. Dunn, Jones and his father, a Hatters assistant at the time, sat in the dugout when Chipper began calling out the pitches an opponent was throwing.
He said, “Fastball,’’ and sure enough, the pitcher obliged. Jones predicted a curve ball, and there it was. On and on, it went.
Dunn, a former catcher wellversed in the subtle nuances of a pitcher’s motion, became more perturbed with each correct call.
He asked Jones how he could tell.
“You don’t see that?’’ Chipper said. “You don’t see with his fastball, the web of his glove is about an inch lower below his chin than it is on the breaking ball?’’
An inch? Jones was not playing backyard games anymore.
This was high-level stuff. Just like the Hall of Fame.