COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — In the hour before the Baseball Hall of Fame’s induction ceremony Sunday, the fever for Pedro Martinez began to grow. Fans of Martinez, mostly for his time as a member of the Red Sox and the Expos, waved flags of the Dominican Republic and chanted “Pe-dro! Pe-dro!” with little prompting.
Thirty-two years after Juan Marichal became the first Dominican to enter the Hall — Martinez is the second — this induction was looking like a party.
But it would take more than two hours for Martinez’s supporters — spread out on the vast lawn of the Clark Sports Center, along with fans of Sunday’s other inductees — Craig Biggio, Randy Johnson and John Smoltz — to fully erupt.
Houston fans had arrived in droves for Biggio, the first player to be elected to the Hall as an Astro. “Houston is in the house,” Rita Bayron of Houston said as she watched the knots of Astros fans on Main Street before the ceremony.
But the thousands of Biggio lovers — who carried signs that read “BGO” and wore the myriad jersey variations of the Houston franchise — could not match the full force of the adoration for Martinez. Esteban Mateo, a Dominican who lives in Poughkeepsie, N.Y., stood in a section teeming with some of the most exuberant Martinez fans.
“Pedro represents a newer generation of baseball player,” he said. “He emerged from a humble family — and he’s a role model for Dominican youth who want to make it.”
Martinez spoke last, and as he was introduced by a video of his career highlights, a small band of family members began to play guiras, tamboras and maracas, banging out a percussive rhythm while leaping and shouting.
By the time Martinez stepped to the lectern, the music was louder and more urgent. Dressed in a light blue suit, Martinez absorbed the reception then further ignited it by saying, “Hola!” Much of the crowd screamed back, “Hola!”
“Well,” Martinez, 43, said. “Let’s get down to serious business.”
His speech was rollicking and apparently ad-libbed, veering among expressions of wit (he called Johnson “the Big Unit, my brother from another mother”), religion and his pride at being a Dominican-born citizen of the United States. Patches sewed onto the sleeves of his suit jacket honored his two homes.
“Don’t look at me as numbers, as baseball, as achievements,” said Martinez, who won three Cy Young Awards and finished his career in 2009 with a 2.93 ERA and 3,154 strikeouts. “I’d like you to see me as a sign of hope for a third world country, for Latin America, someone you can look up to to say, ‘I’m proud of you.’ “
If the Martinez experience Sunday broke somewhat with protocol, the rest of the ceremony stuck to its rituals. The threat of rain dissipated. The master of ceremonies, Gary Thorne, introduced the veteran Hall of Famers (49 in all). And commissioner Rob Manfred, in his first induction ceremony in that position, read aloud the entry on each new inductee’s plaque.
An estimated 45,000 attended, one of the largest crowds for an induction.
An earnest speech by Biggio, 49, was packed with gratitude for his parents, his coaches, his wife and the Astros’ owners. It included a story in which his father tied a rope around young Craig’s waist to keep him from lunging while at-bat. (The plan worked, said Biggio, who collected 3,060 career hits, but it left him with rope burns.)
Smoltz’s induction came a year after two other Braves pitchers, Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux, and their manager Bobby Cox were enshrined. Smoltz, now a broadcaster for MLB Network, said he chose baseball at a young age, rejecting the allure of the Smoltz family business: His parents play the accordion.
Smoltz, 48, thanked his father who, Smoltz said, did not know much about baseball but supported his son’s indifference to being the next Lawrence Welk.
Still, he said, “I’m proud of the polka music on the eight-track tapes.”
His speech took a serious turn when he reminisced about the Tommy John surgery that saved his career, which shifted from the rotation to the bullpen and back to the rotation. Smoltz, who recorded 213 wins and 154 saves, is the only Hall of Famer who has had the operation.
“Baseball is not a year-round sport,” he said, sending a message to parents and coaches to reduce the stress on young pitchers’ arms. Not every pitch should be a “competitive pitch,” Smoltz said, and children should play other sports rather than risk their arms and elbow ligaments before they are fully developed.
“It’s a shame we have recipients of one, two or three surgeries,” he said.
Johnson, 51, presented himself as a man unlike the fearsome pitcher who intimidated batters with his fastball, and his occasional lack of control, especially early in his career. He now spends much of his time as a photographer.
“I no longer have a fastball, a bad mullet, and my scowl is gone,” said Johnson, who compiled 4,875 strikeouts and 303 wins.
He was emotional at times, calling his mother “the Hall of Famer” and reminiscing about his father, who died in 1992. And Johnson spoke about calling an Ohio State pitcher, Zach Farmer, who has leukemia. He has not met Farmer but said to the crowd, “I love you, Zach.”
