Once he emerged from the climate-controlled catacombs of history in Cooperstown’s basement — where the lights are off, and white gloves must be on — Larry Walker continued along a tour he’d taken before at the National Baseball Hall of Fame, right up until this visit took a turn.
At the entrance to the Plaque Gallery, he saw something he never had before.
“That’s when there is this big right hook that hits you in the face and says, ‘Holy (crabapples), man!’” Walker recalled. “There is a spot down there that I have to sign the wall, and that’s for me.