With my adult sons two Saturdays ago, I stood on the edge of Valhalla. We watched warriors arrive on their silver-gray steeds.

These were not Norse myth-men who had valiantly battled unimaginable creatures to earn a spot in the hereafter. Rather, these greats are those whose giftedness with bats, balls and gloves have carried them into the Baseball Hall of Fame, ensconced in Cooperstown, New York.

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