COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Can you imagine Jack Morris, who once broke blood vessels by slamming the ball down so hard in his manager’s hand, trying to keep his cool in today’s era when data points, and not performance, dictate how long you stay in a game? How would Twitter react to Vladimir Guerrero, who never walked more than 84 times in a season? Would Alan Trammell be scorned for averaging only nine homers a year? Would Trevor Hoffman be belittled for his career 2.87 ERA? Would Chipper Jones be considered old school for never striking out 100 times in a season, or would Jim Thome be considered ahead of his time, once leading the league in strikeouts and walks, and still hitting 33 homers? “All I can say is,’’ Morris said, “thank God I played in the era I did. Thank God! “Can you imagine?’’ Uh, no. This illustrious Hall of Fame class of 2018 — Jones, Thome, Guerrero, Hoffman and Today's Game committee choices Morris and Trammell — played in a different era, a time when everyone knew who was leading the league in batting average, and not WAR. When players sat in clubhouses for hours after games talking baseball instead of scrambling home to play video games. When hit-and-runs, stolen bases, and advancing the runner actually occurred on a nightly basis. When 20-win and 100-RBI seasons were considered elite, and not a statistical anomaly. This may be the last Hall of Fame class inducted into Cooperstown that played the vast majority of its career before analytics commandeered the sport. “I mean, we’re not playing for spin rate,’’ Morris said. “We’re not playing for launch angle. And we’re not playing for exit velocity or, you know, ground efficiency. “We’re playing to win. It’s W’s and L’s. I’ve been telling people for over a decade now, you know, all these numbers don’t matter. It’s letters that matter: W and L.’’ More:Yankees slugger Aaron Judge suffers fractured wrist More:Cubs acquire Cole Hamels in trade with Rangers More:Hader receives mild boos in first road appearance since tweets resurfaced Morris admits one number that's appreciated nicely over the years is a player's paycheck. “When I talked to guys from my era,’’ Morris said, “we’re all grateful that we played when we played. There’s obvious reasons why it would be advantageous to play in today’s game, and most of that revolves around money. “But it’s funny, I think if I would have grown up in this era, I’d be just like the guys today. You know, the manager gets me and 5 2/3 [innings], well I’m done. That’s it. Go get them relief pitchers.’’ Yet, when asked if he would have kept his cool if he were pitching a shutout, and told he was coming out because he was about to face a lineup for the third time, Morris laughed. “You know my reaction,’’ Morris said. “You don’t even have to ask that question. But here’s the thinking: those are the people that taught me how to do that. [Detroit Tigers manager] Sparky [Anderson] taught me how to do that. He was probably going, 'Oh, God, I’ve created a monster. '’’ Yes, like the time Morris snapped when Anderson came to get him, with Anderson calling him into his office after the game and letting him know that will never happen again. “Sparky had his little Sparkyisms that when he went out to get the ball from the pitcher he kind of clapped his hands twice, and put his hand out,’’ said Trammell, Morris’ former teammate. “Well Jack being the competitor that he was, he was so hot he didn’t want to come out of the game that he slammed the ball in Sparky’s hand and he broke some blood vessels. “Often times, you know, Jack was very remorseful after the fact. But his hot blood, you know, it was real.’’ Hoffman, who grew up watching his older brother, Glenn Hoffman, play for the Boston Red Sox, went old-school the night he saved his 600th career game. He gave a quick speech to his Milwaukee Brewers’ teammates, retired to the trainer’s room, and sat there with staff members, clubhouse attendants and teammates for nearly six hours, telling stories, and downing a few beers. It was vintage Hoffman, who realizes those days have gone the way of trains and flannel uniforms. “It’s kind of dissipated,’’ Hoffman says, “because everything under the sun is in the clubhouses. I don’t know if it’s a video game thing, or if it’s just kind of social media type of stuff that you know can be [exposed] in the clubhouse. “One of my greatest thrills was being able to hang out in a big league clubhouse. I appreciated being able to pick the brains of the people I was around, whether it was coaches or teammates to kind of hash out what just happened for the last three hours of the ballgame and try to get better at my craft. And you do that by communicating some of your thoughts and what you think through your lens and maybe bounce those ideas off and get a different perspective. “And so I definitely think it’s beneficial. I’d love to see some of that come back more.’’ Those days are gone, and aren’t coming back, just like the time Morris pitched a 10-inning shutout in Game 7 of the 1991 World Series, finishing the year with 283 innings. Or the years when Guerrero came so close to actually having more home runs than walks. Or the 1,918 games that Trammell and Tigers second baseman Lou Whitaker played together, the most by a double-play duo in baseball history. Morris pitched 175 complete games, with 175 former pitchers actually having more in their career, but his plateau may never be reached. There’s no active pitcher with more than 38 complete games, with 45-year-old Bartolo Colon and 37-year-old CC Sabathia nearing retirement, and no one has more than two complete games this year. Considering pitchers averaged a major-league low 5.5 innings per start last season, can anyone ever again reach 100 complete games again, let alone 175?<doc-sep>In a few days, former Twins star pitcher Jack Morris will be inducted into the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame. The St. Paul native spent 18 years pitching in the pros with stops in Detroit, Toronto, Minnesota and Cleveland. His one season with the Twins was a magical one, winning the World Series in 1991. Fox 9 Sports' Jim Rich caught up with Morris to reflect on his legendary career. Morris will be inducted into the Hall of Fame on Sunday.<doc-sep>Jack Morris and Alan Trammell's value has skyrocketed. Their signatures' value, that is. The two former Tigers were inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday afternoon, along with Jim Thome, Chipper Jones, Trevor Hoffman and Vladimir Guerrero. Thanks to their inductions, the costs of Morris' and Trammell's signatures on baseballs, bats, gloves — and just about anything else — have nearly doubled. "Both have almost doubled on the value of their autographs from what they were before," said Mark Dehem, the owner of The Athlete Connection and deals with Morris exclusively. "Jack Morris was roughly around $30 and is now basically $60 for just a ball or a flat. Primary items are of course more now as well. Before they went into the Hall of Fame they were pretty much one price for any item, now a bat or jersey is around $75. "Most players that go into the Hall of Fame charge more to sign 'Hall of Fame' than '1984 World Series champs.' " Detroit City Sports sells both players' autographed baseballs for $100, but as soon as they put the Hall of Fame inscription on the ball, the price increased to $150. "Their price has basically doubled since pre-induction and people are more than willing to spend their hard-earned money on a couple Hall of Famers because we haven't had a Hall of Famer since Hal Newhouser," said Steve Graus, owner of Detroit City Sports. Both Graus and Dehem said Trammell's value might be slightly higher in some instances. This is mostly due to Morris doing more signatures and Trammell being a position player. More:Tigers should apply these 5 lessons from 1984 World Series team "They're almost equal in value. Trammell's is little bit more, but they're pretty close," Dehem said. "The thing about that it, Jack has done a lot more appearances in the past 10-15 years since he retired and had done broadcasting. Trammell readily signed though, too, at the ballparks and hotels or on the road. Whereas Jack was doing TV and doing appearances, he's done a lot more appearances then Alan has in the last 10-15 years." "I think Trammell has a little bit more demand only because he was a hitter and he was the World Series MVP, but it's pretty much even as far as the value right now," Graus said. Morris' perceived cantankerous disposition toward fans as a player has dissolved and since his retirement, he's done a multitude of appearances while working with Dehem. Morris has become more "business-like" and his Hall of Fame induction has only increased his willingness to interact with fans. "Kind of like when he was on the mound, he's all business," Graus said. "I think he's very excited, in dealing with him now, that he's going into the Hall of Fame. He's very appreciative and I think that's coming out now in his appearances." Morris' and Trammell's inductions into the Hall of Fame etch their names into baseball royalty. And because of that, the demand for their names inked onto a baseball is higher than ever. "It's almost like when you win the World Series, everybody wants a piece of the winner," Dehem said. "That's pretty much how it is with a Hall of Famer. They want Trammell and Morris because they're the new Hall of Famers and they're Tigers and so there's a lot more demand now." Contact George Stoia: gstoia@freepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @georgestoia. Download our Tigers Xtra app for free on Apple and Android devices!<doc-sep>By Lynn Henning The Detroit News They knew Hall of Fame baseball players typically draw upon two areas of exceptionalism. Primarily, there is baseball skill. Secondarily, there is the personal makeup that enables a player to maximize his talent. The combination, as unique to Alan Trammell and to Jack Morris as to any of the men who have gained a niche in the Baseball Hall of Fame, is etched in the minds of those who saw them play. Those memories are best shared by teammates and those who were privileged to witness the lives and careers of two Tigers superstars who on Sunday will be enshrined at Cooperstown, New York. Among sights, scenes, and moments from the two men's careers: Aug. 16, 1980: Tiger Stadium Morris starts a Saturday afternoon game against the Rangers, with an emphasis on “starts.” He has a bumpy two innings, gets slapped for three runs, then is gone in the third. Rusty Staub, who a year earlier had been wearing Tigers garb, slams a leadoff home run ahead of a Pat Putnam single. Sparky Anderson hails Bruce Robbins, who allows the runner to score, as well as four more runs. Morris’ line: two innings, six hits, four runs, in a game the Tigers lose, 12-5. The starting pitcher is not seen in the clubhouse afterward. Media interested in Morris’ insights will be left to their own observations and Sparky’s customary explanation that “everything was up.” Ah, but of course it’s sometimes possible to talk post-game with a missing, angry pitcher or player as they head for the player’s parking lot at Tiger Stadium. The common path involves a stroll down the concourse and through a walkway leading to the lot. Morris follows that very route. He approaches, wearing a black cowboy hat, which was essential wardrobe in 1980. There also appears to be figurative steam spilling from him as he stomps down the corridor, his eyes locked on a horizon only he could explain. “Jack,” yells a young scribe as Morris marches on a boot-thumping line past him. Morris never moves his head. Or his eyes. He is furious about the way he pitched. Furious that he was yanked two batters into the third. Furious that, today anyway, he was not Jack Morris. Five days later he is back to being Jack. He throws a one-hitter at Minnesota. The only Twins hit is a flared, opposite-field bloop single by Rob Wilfong. You might get him once, he seemed to be saying that day at Minnesota after the previous Saturday’s fire had been quelled. But you won’t get him twice. Dinner table at any restaurant in America You didn’t want to be near Alan Trammell. Every Trammell teammate will tell about his signature habit: Spilling food, or sauce, or ketchup, or smearing butter, or dumping his drink, or somehow turning his table place into a form of expressionist art. “You’d fight not to sit next to him,” remembers Tom Brookens, who played alongside Morris and Trammell during their 1980s heydays and their minor-league years. “You wanted to sit across the table, or as far away as possible from the splash-zone.” Brookens still laughs. All those dinners. All that mess. All that ribbing. “He was going to knock something over on somebody,” Brookens said. “Then, to have had the great hands he did. “We’d say, ha, great hands, my a--,” remembers Brookens, who played third base for the Tigers, and whose country-boy wit was another of the Tigers’ clubhouse hallmarks during the ‘80s. Brookens turns serious, in an instant, about the ‘80s Tigers and the way they played baseball. “It’s hard to put a Hall of Fame plaque on a player when you’re playing with them,” said Brookens, whose position had him in as close proximity as any player could be to Trammell and Morris. “But we really wanted someone to make it from our group.” Brookens hopes Lou Whitaker is next. And at any future dinner where his Tigers might celebrate Whitaker’s induction, Brookens says he will be sure to sit far from Trammell. April 5, 1984: High in the Midwest skies We were on the team flight from Minnesota to Chicago back when the Tigers flew commercial. They had just opened the season with a two-game pummeling of the Twins by a combined score of 15-4, and now the team was headed for Comiskey Park and for a weekend stand against the White Sox. Other than the fact Sean Connery was somehow also on this flight, sitting in the front row of coach, this trip is remembered for something the famed Joe Falls said to his Detroit News partners as we awed at Connery, who was parked across the aisle a few seats to the right: “There’s going to be a great baseball game this weekend,” Falls said in a matter-of-fact voice. One night later, after the Tigers had won Friday’s series opener, 3-2, there was a customary, post-dinner trip to one of Rush Street’s saloons, a place then called the Hange-Uppe. Among that night’s patrons was Jack Morris, having a splash with a teammate or two. He was only 12 hours from an exercise in baseball history. The next afternoon, chilly and gray, he sliced up the White Sox with such early precision that we called the office in the fifth inning. Prepare for a no-hitter, bosses were told. Morris got it – the first Tigers no-hitter since Jim Bunning had done it to the Red Sox in 1957. After the game, Ron Kittle, the tall White Sox slugger, was asked by the Chicago Tribune if there had been any appreciation for being involved in Morris’ slice of baseball eternity. “All in all,” Kittle said, “I’d have preferred that he bowl a 300 game.” Spring training 1985, Lakeland, Fla. The Tigers clubhouse culture has returned for another year, complete with its frat-house ways. That means a trick or two is up someone’s sleeve, usually Trammell’s. The position players have been ribbing the pitchers, Morris principally, about their Florida “regimens.” Ah, the position players say, you guys have it made. Pitch every five days.<doc-sep>
It took a long time, but today is the day for Jack Morris. The St. Paul native and 18-year MLB veteran will be inducted into baseball’s Hall of Fame this afternoon, and will, as customary, give a speech to the crowd at Cooperstown. I don’t know about you, but I’m a little worried about this. Not because there is anything wrong with Jack Morris getting in the Hall of Fame — he’s ecstatic, and that (along with Game 7) justifies it enough for me — but I’m worried about the actual speech. Jack Morris is supposed to get up and talk about baseball and his career and the Hall of Fame in front of thousands of people, but Jack Morris also has the emotional stability of an overripe avocado when he talks about baseball and his career and the Hall of Fame. All I’m trying to say is, the dude cries a lot. And there’s nothing wrong with crying! Heck, I cry at dog food commercials all the time (do they have to show the dang puppy grow into old dog who the owner has to gently help do normal things!?!?) Morris is actually pretty adorable because he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s obvious how much baseball and getting into the Hall of Fame means to him, and darn it, even I get a little teary eyed. Anyway, Jack is absolutely going to lose his crap at some point during his speech today, if he’s not just sobbing through the whole thing like a smaller, paler version of Frank Thomas. Part of me feels like he might hold it together for maybe 30-ish seconds, but even then, he’ll come to one topic or one person and just absolutely fall apart — which, again, is perfectly fine! Cry all you want, Jack! You’re a Hall of Famer! A lot of Twins sites today are probably going to tell you all over again about how Jack Morris pitched 10 shutout innings in Game 7 of the World Series yadda yadda yadda — but we hear about that like every day. So here at Twinkie Town, I thought we’d do something different, and related to my entire intro above. We’re going to play a game called, “Does Jack Morris Cry?” Here’s the gist: I have seven videos of Jack Morris below. Before each video, I give a little context to what the video is about. Your job is to read the explanation of the video, and then try to guess if Jack Morris cries or does not cry during the video. Then you can watch the video to see if you were right. You win the game if you correctly guess when Jack Morris cries or does not cry, or if you start crying yourself at any point during the game. Let’s go! 1. A carefully edited compilation video of Jack Morris when he finds out he was elected to the Hall of Fame, his press conference, seeing Trammell, etc. 2. Jack Morris talking about when he called his wife to tell her he was elected to the Hall of Fame. 3. Jack Morris getting a private tour of the Hall of Fame after his election. (Harmon would be proud of that signature, Jack.) 4. Jack Morris talking about how he looked at the people in the crowd near the end of Game 7 and thought about the Vikings and got “a shot of adrenaline I’ve never had”. 5. Jim Kaat and Kurt Ritter giving Jack Morris the 1991 World Series MVP trophy immediately following Game 7 of the 1991 World Series. 6. Jack Morris talking about Harmon Killebrew at the press conference following Harmon’s passing in 2011. 7. Alan Trammell gushing about Jack Morris during a live, joint interview on MLB Network. Ha! I bet you thought Jack Morris ALWAYS cried, didn’t you? Fool. He doesn’t... always cry. In case you’re wondering, here is the answer key: Maybe? Yes. Definitely wiping tears, so yes. No, but the idea of Jack Morris pushing himself through Game 7 because he doesn’t want to be like the Vikings is absolutely hysterical. No (looked like he kinda wanted to). Yes. I have never seen him cry harder. Those glasses kinda cover it, but I think this one goes down as a yes. Congratulations, Jack Morris. I am so endlessly proud of you. The state of Minnesota is so endlessly proud of you. We love you so much. Welcome to the Hall of Fame.