Treasure for a 12-year-old. Charles Vascellaro collection
For my 12th birthday, in May 1976, my father took me to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, in Cooperstown, NY. Toward the end of our visit, he told me I could pick out one item from the gift shop.
The Hall of Fame was a more modest museum back then, nowhere near its current size and scope; a half-century ago, it was more a collection of old shoes, clothing, and equipment.
I could have picked anything to take home to Setauket, Long Island: a T-shirt, jersey, or cap. Maybe a bat, a ball, or a glove.
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