Cooperstown candor of Eckersley
Moments after Dennis Eckersley walked into the public area of the Baseball Hall of Fame, he spotted an alltoofamiliar video playing across the room: Eckersley throws, Kirk Gibson swings and the ball soars into history, on an eternal loop.
On this day — nearly 16 years after Gibson’s epic home run in Game 1 of the 1988 World Series — Eckersley turned around, offered an exasperated, playful smirk and said, “I can’t get away from that f—ing thing.”
This remains one of the most enduring images of possibly my coolest day in 33 years as a sportswriter. Witnessing history in person — the 49ers winning their fifth Super Bowl, Tiger Woods winning major championships, the Warriors winning NBA titles — is exhilarating, absolutely.
But hanging out with a soontobe Hall of Famer in Cooperstown, N.Y., also was offthecharts memorable.
First, some background: I
covered the A’s for five seasons (199094) for the Sacramento Bee, before joining The Chronicle. That obviously was a terrific time to follow the A’s. They flowed with stars and outsize personalities, from Eckersley and Dave Stewart to Jose Canseco, Rickey Henderson and Mark McGwire.
Eckersley connected with most of the beat writers, because he was accessible and real. Not the least bit pretentious or aloof. He was a brash, honest, charismatic character who weathered many highs (nohitter, 20game winner, World Series champion) and many lows (alcoholism, two divorces).
We kept in touch, sporadically, after he left the A’s for St. Louis in 1996 and then after he retired following the ’98 season. I had always wanted to write his life story for The Chronicle, tracing his adventurous path from childhood in Fremont to the pinnacle of his sport.
So, after he was elected to the Hall, I asked about arranging an extended, inperson interview. Eckersley suggested meeting him in Cooperstown for his orientation and tour May 10, 2004, a behindthescenes ritual for inductees.
The Hall of Fame, per custom, allowed Eckersley to invite three media members; I gratefully joined Gordon Edes of the Boston Globe and Tony Massarotti of the Boston Herald.
Eckersley had not been to the Hall previously. Now, at age 49, he was making his first visit barely more than two months ahead of his induction ceremony.
“I had nothing to go on,” he said a few weeks ago. “You’re almost in awe of the whole thing. I was kind of speechless. … Now I’m sort of comfortable with it, but back then, you almost don’t feel like you belong.”
The tour included the Hall of Fame’s archives, a room with narrow aisles and treasured artifacts. Among those Eckersley checked out were baseball gloves used during the Civil War era and the last ball autographed by Babe Ruth, in a hospital the night before he died in 1948.
Later, we joined Eckersley, his thenfiancee Jennifer Szoke (now his wife) and a few Hall of Fame officials for lunch at the nearby Otesaga Hotel. The conversation was casual, full of laughter and mostly off the record, as Eckersley shared entertaining anecdotes from his 24 years in the major leagues.
Then, after lunch, Eckersley, Szoke and I sat at a poolside table and chatted for more than two hours (mostly on the record). He talked about growing up in the Bay Area, his alcoholism, his brother’s long imprisonment, and how he had resurrected his life and career to reach Cooperstown.
Pure gold for a sportswriter hoping to tell a good story.
Eckersley shared plenty of details. He spoke of the family video that finally convinced him to seek help for his drinking. He spoke of his raging fear of failure, which fueled his exhaustive training regimen with the A’s.
And, yes, he spoke of Wally Eckersley’s troubled life. Dennis’ older brother, who dealt with his own alcoholism, spent more than 20 years in a Colorado prison after his 1989 conviction for kidnapping, aggravated robbery and attempted murder. He has been in and out of jail since 2009, according to Dennis.
Much as he was during his career — patiently answering waves of questions after relinquishing postseason homers to Gibson and Roberto Alomar, as if the process were therapeutic — Eckersley remains unfailingly candid.
“I’m still the same,” he said. “That’s just who I am. … It totally helped (to talk about his failures). I went through a lot. When you’re a closer, every time you f— up, you have to be honest.
“I’m proud of how I am and how I was. I can’t see doing it any other way.”
He was exactly that way when we talked for this story last month. Eckersley, now 65, said his sister, Cindy, died two years ago of cirrhosis of the liver, at age 58.
“I’m tripped out to this day,” he said. “It keeps me sober and totally makes me appreciate my life.”
That helps explain why he returns to Cooperstown every July, to join other Hall of Famers for the annual induction ceremony. Eckersley hasn’t missed one since he was enshrined in ’04 — though this year’s edition, scheduled for Sunday, was canceled because of the coronavirus pandemic.
He still savors his connection to a quaint village in upstate New York, dating to his inaugural visit 16 years ago.