The Goose finally landed

COOPERSTOWN • The Goose finally landed.

After nine excruciating years, Goose Gossage joined the ranks of baseball's immortals at the Baseball Hall of Fame.

With Sandy Koufax, Lou Brock and Al Kaline sitting behind him, the Goose delivered a 20-minute speech and, against all odds, barely cried.

He declined to talk about his long years of wandering. He didn't mention the torture of waiting for voters to embrace reality and vote him into the Hall. This was a day to celebrate.

Back in Colorado Springs, Kent Hill celebrated, too, but he also remembered a brutal day four years ago. The vote count arrived for the Hall's class of 2004, and Gossage failed to make the cut. He was devastated.

Hill knew, first time he saw Gossage rip a fastball past a junior high batter, he was looking at a special player, destined for big things.

How big, even Hill didn't know.

"I don't think you can ever know anything like that," Hill said.

After the 2004 vote, Gossage and his high school coach tried to comprehend yet another snub. Gossage told Hill he didn't believe he would ever join the greats in Cooperstown. He was losing hope, he said.

Hill is a calm man, adept at examining evidence and arriving at a logical conclusion.

"Your record alone puts you in," Hill told Gossage.

Hill, of course, was right. "And I'm proud and excited to no end," he said.

As Gossage talked Sunday, he made sure to say all was forgiven. He even said he was glad he waited so long.

He told how each one of his baseball visions came true. As a boy growing up on the north end of the Springs, Ricky Gossage envisioned the day he would step to the mound at Yankee Stadium.

He's the rare man who lived his vision.

He made sure to say he didn't do it alone. He entered the hall with help from his parents, his coaches, his wife and sons and his big brother.

Gossage enjoys talking about visits to Jack Gossage's home. Jack was a former catcher at St. Mary's High, and he constructed a makeshift baseball field to help little brother.

Ricky threw as hard as his 11-year-old arm would allow, and Jack - who is 16 years older - would scoff. You've got to throw a lot harder, big brother said.

Gossage told this story again Sunday. He didn't tell the epilogue.

In 1972, Gossage returned home after his first season with the Chicago White Sox. He drove to his brother's home, and began firing pitches. This was their ritual, just like the old days.

There was one twist. Jack Gossage was frightened.

"When he started to crank it up," Jack said with a laugh, "I was barely able to get my mitt up in time. That ball was moving. It was scary."

For years, Jack had teased his little brother, challenged him to throw harder. It wasn't because he was mean. It was because he wanted his brother to grab everything possible from the game.

Jack knew he had taken his brother as far as he could.

He didn't know - he couldn't know - how far the Goose would fly. He flew to a World Series title with the Yankees and huge contracts. He flew to more than two decades of fun.

"No one enjoyed the game more than I did," Goose said.

His flight ended Sunday at the destination he has long deserved.

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Columnist David Ramsey can be reached at 476-4895 or david.ramsey@gazette.com. Check out David's blog, David Ramsey Says What?, at daveramseysez.blogspot.com