Hall of Fame and Clearing the Air

The days before the Hall of Fame results were announced on January 18, 2017, I was a mess. I'm pretty sure that's the most nervous I have ever been in my life. I was barely sleeping. I've never been much of a drinker, but I had a few those nights. I knew the vote was going to be close — someone told me the night before that mine could very well be the closest vote ever. This was my first time on the ballot. Some didn't see the big deal of being selected the first time around, but for me it was incredibly important.

There was a lot of praying those days before the announcement. My wife, Patricia, stayed with me almost every moment. As always, she was my spiritual guide when I needed her most. We stayed up late, which I have always been guilty of, even as a kid. The only difference was that I wasn't really going to sleep when the sun came up. The more stressed I became, Patricia would pray more and more.

First, since I was seven years old, my goal has been to enter the Hall of Fame. There were obviously other goals — daily, seasonal, long-term — but first and foremost, nothing drove me more than wanting to be a Hall of Famer. To me that's the ultimate. That's everything; that's how we as athletes, as baseball players, are validated.

Also, my favorite player, my hero really, growing up was Johnny Bench. I wanted to do everything like him. And he was the only catcher to ever be elected on the first ballot. Well, just because I'm not a kid anymore doesn't mean I stopped wanting to do everything like Johnny Bench. I wanted to join him in being elected the first time around. I wanted to have that honor. I wanted to stand on that stage in Cooperstown with him as equals.

In fact, nothing made me happier in the days leading up to the vote when I saw some comments from Bench in The Dallas Morning News, saying: "He should be a lock. As complete a catcher as I've ever seen. He was intimidating behind the plate, a real solid hitter and incredibly durable. He is everything you'd hope for at the position."

Told that I had caught 20,000 innings, more than any other catcher and 650 more games than him, Bench said, "Those are crazy numbers. I had 17 broken bones in my body. I got to a point where I simply couldn't physically do it anymore. He kept doing it — and at a high level — for much longer. For him to endure the beating he took back there and keep playing, those numbers alone show that he belongs."

Look, I'm a competitive person. And as the day approached, I became more and more competitive, driven — I guess even obsessed — about the vote. I had zero interest in waiting another year. That's a long time waiting and thinking about why I wasn't elected my first year of eligibility. That year would have been torture.

And I'd like to think my numbers speak for themselves. The 13 Gold Gloves, which is a record for catchers, the 2,427 games caught, which is 201 more than Hall of Famer Carlton Fisk, who ranks second. I was known for my defense, which was always my primary focus, but I could hit a little, too. I had 2,844 hits, 311 home runs, almost a .300 career batting average. And I even stole 127 bases — not bad for a guy called Pudge.

I also won the American League MVP award in 1999 and seven Silver Sluggers as the league's best hitting catcher. Then there was the National League Championship Series MVP in 2003, when my Florida Marlins won the World Series.

Honestly, there was no reason the vote should even be close.

Well, it was. You need 75 percent of the vote, which this year meant 332 votes. I received 336 or 76 percent. The great Jackie Robinson received 77.5 during his first year of eligibility.

When the call came a few moments before the official announcement on Major League Baseball Network, I had been furiously pacing at my friend's house in Dallas. I had flown in from Miami the day before because if I was voted in we wanted to hold the press conference at Globe Life Park in Arlington. Yes, I played for six teams, but in terms of baseball, the Rangers were and are my home. From the time they signed me as a 16-year-old in Puerto Rico who didn't speak English, that's where I grew up.

After I found out about my induction into the Hall of Fame, my reaction was captured for eternity, as I lifted my left arm and pumped my fist. It's pretty easy to find with a Google search. The smile on my face says it all. Almost immediately, the joy overwhelmed me, and I started crying. My son, Dereck, came over and hugged me. That only increased the tears. Then Patricia wrapped hr arms around me and told me how proud she was, how much she loved me, and how our prayers and faith led to this moment. To have a dream you have thought about every day for 37 years become a reality, there really aren't any words to capture what that feels like. The closest description is to say I was euphoric, overjoyed with so much happiness that you can barely feel your feet on the ground.

The next few hours were beautiful and chaotic. I never really understood that American expression that your "head is spinning." Well, I do now. My head was spinning, and my phone was blowing up. After a few minutes of celebrating with my family, we were off for the 30-minute ride to the press conference at the ballpark. Once there, I spoke from the heart, saying, "To be honest with you, I haven't slept in three days. I'm not kidding. A lot of good friends telling me you're going to be in, you're going to make it. But at the same time, I was receiving a lot of caution — like if it's not this year, it's next.

"I didn't want to hear that.

"What can I say? Growing up as a child in my hometown of Vega Baja, Puerto Rico, to go into the Hall of Fame ... It's a great honor. I feel most proud to be in the Hall of Fame as a first-timer. It's not the second time or the fourth time. To be there in one of one is an honor."

The next morning, after finally grabbing a few hours of peaceful sleep, we were off to New York City. I was so proud. I joined my fellow inductees, Jeff Bagwell and Tim Raines, for a press conference. The official 2017 induction class also included former commissioner Bud Selig and longtime front-office executive John Schuerholz, who led the Kansas City Royals and Atlanta Braves to World Series championships, but they were selected a month earlier via the Veterans' Committee.

So, I threw out 661 base runners in my career, 46 percent of those who dared to run on me. Thing is, I never nailed Raines or Bagwell, who were a combined 5for-5 off me. Raines was one of the best ever on the base paths, so that's understandable. And Bagwell just stole one time, so that gave us something to joke about before the press conference. Obviously,...