Cooperstown is a gingerbread hamlet in upstate New York. The first time I went there as a child was a pilgrimage, because it was home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. To me, it was St. Peter's Square and Disney World rolled into one.
It was where my baseball gods were. I thought their plaques in the Hall were mere headstones. I assumed, happily, that they were buried somewhere on the grounds. What a place. I was just a kid.
I know better now. I grew up. It's a shame.
But the real shame is that Tuesday was my least favorite baseball day of the year.