James Edward Rice - Baseball Hall Of Fame

JANE FORBES CLARK: Jim, as Chairman of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, it's my great honor to welcome you into the Hall of Fame family. Thank you.

BUD SELIG: James Edward Rice, Boston American League, 1979 to 1989. With titanic strength and an innate ability to hit to all fields, batted .298 with 382 home runs, 1451 runs batted in, only player ever with three straight 35-home run, 100-RBI and 200-hit seasons, hit 20 or more home runs 11 times and totaled eight RBI seasons. The 1978 American League MVP led the league in home runs (46), runs batted in (139), hits (213) and an astonishing 406 total bases. An eight-time All-Star, led the American League in total bases four times, home runs three times and twice in RBI and slugging percentage. Congratulations, Jim.

JIM RICE: Good afternoon. Only got a couple of minutes now, guys. I'd like to start by thanking Jane Clark, the Chairman of the Board of Directors of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Thank you, Jane, for welcoming us into your Hall of Fame family.

Jeff Idelson, who's the President of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, thank you so much for a smooth transition into the Hall of Fame. I'd like to thank the Hall of Fame staff for their hospitality and impeccable attention to detail.

Congratulations to Rickey Henderson, Joe Gordon and my fellow Hall of Fame Inductees. Also congratulations to Tony Kubek, Nick Peters, as they receive their respective awards.

Thank you, Dick Personi, Red Sox historian, who kept my stats in the public eyes.

I am a husband called Rice. I am a father called Dad. I am a brother called Ed. I am an uncle called Uncle Ed. I am a grandfather called Papa. I am a friend that doesn't call, some of my friends know that, and sometimes best not called at all. Finally, and I do mean finally, I am Jim Rice called a baseball Hall of Famer.

You always feel that after every great once-in-a-lifetime moment, there could not be anything else to top it. You find your life-long partner, that one true love. You have your first child and you spend hours wondering at the perfection of tiny little fingers and toes. You rejoice and cry through pre-elementary, middle and high school and, if you're lucky, college graduation. You marvel at how sanity endures. Right when you thought it couldn't get any better, you have grandchildren and a new astonishing love blossoms.

And then after 15 years, you get a phone call that you thought you'd never get. Your aspiration's realized. Your tears overflow. Because you know now that the highest honor of your career means so much more than you ever thought it would mean before. Because what it feels like most is being welcomed at home plate and after hitting a walk off home run. You find yourself repeating the same phrases over and over: "We made it, we made it. We made it." And suddenly you think, "Where's my wife?" And I really don't think I would have gotten a news flash while watching my favorite soap opera, the Young and the Restless every day at 12:30. And that's what I was doing. Jeff knows when he called I was watching the Young and the Restless. To me, it doesn't matter that I got the call this year versus getting it in my first eligible year. What matters is I got it, a call that 20 years from now will make a great trivia question.

It is hard to comprehend that I am in a league of only one percent of all professional baseball players. I am in awe to be in this elite company and humbled to be accepting this honor. I am also one of the very few players that spent an entire career with the same baseball team. For that, I think thank the Boston Red Sox, a professional baseball club wherein any players would be proud to spend a career.

Of course, I have many people to thank and share this honor with. To do that, we're going to have to go back to my hometown of Anderson, South Carolina. By the time I was heading to my senior year at Westside High School, I had lettered in football, basketball and baseball. In 1970, my senior year, integration finally came to town. I went to pick up my schedule at Westside High School. I was looking forward to graduating with my Westside class in 1971.

Imagine how I felt when I was told that I had to go to T. L. Hanna High School, which had the majority of non-blacks. Integration had come to town and the lines were drawn in such a way that kept the schools as segregated as possible. I simply would not be allowed to attend my alma mater for my senior year. Evidently, the City of Anderson wanted me to attend T.L. Hanna my senior year.

I lived on Reed Street, and the integration line stopped at Murray Avenue, excluding most black students. The line was extended to my street, but my sister was allowed to go to Hanna, not me. I was forced to leave Westside High. What could have been worse? I had to leave everything that I knew, my future wife, my friends, my coaches, my everything. I showed up at Hanna to get my schedule and it was like a walk in the park. I was received with open arms, and so were my fellow Westside High transplants. I was even voted Co-class President.

Near the end of my senior year, I had some decisions to make. Nebraska was offering me a four year scholarship for football. I talked to my Dad about it. My Dad said, "I think you got a better shot at becoming a professional baseball player than a professional football player." So that was it. The life defining decision that lead me to being drafted by the Boston Red Sox at the age of 18 years old and eventually being called up to the big leagues in 1974.

In the minor leagues, I went from being Ed Rice to being Jim Rice. I was a quiet leader, not a follower. I played through the pain and I suffered. No regrets. Well, wait a minute, maybe those last few at-bats in 1989 that I saw my 300 average drop to 298, that I do regret.

Along the way, there were many people who gave me encouragement and shared their wisdom:
First and foremost, my wife who, after 37 years of marriage, still gives me relevant tips and advice, whether I want it or not.

Julie and Roger, my parents, if they were alive today, they would be so proud.

Thomas McDuffie, who treated me like his own son. Always helping me out, even giving me a Kangaroo Glove. And I think it was a Willie Mays glove at the time. I think at the time Willie Mays and Hank Aaron both had the Kangaroo gloves, but they both were great.

John Moore, my Westside High School coach from the seventh grade. John taught me things that they were teaching me in minor leagues. So I learned techniques that minor leagues coaches were teaching players when I got there.

Olin Saylors. I played American Legion ball for Post 14. He came by my house every day and picked me up. I didn't really want to play ball, but Olin was destined to make me play baseball for American League Post 14.

Mark Brown and Sam Nealy. I guess he took me up under his arm as far as being instructional League manager of mine. And I went to Florida to work on my skills. The thing I remember the most about going to instruction league were those hot woolen uniforms where you had to go down to spring training and just work every day.

Don Zimmer. He believed in me. He was my mentor. Zim was more of a manager and a father figure to me.

Johnny Pesky was my personal hitting instructor. Don Zimmer, the manager at the time, told Pesky to stay with me day and night. Pesky took me under his wing and, when I was still a kid, kept me grounded, and we could always talk. And he is still with me today.

And, of course, a good friend of mine, Cecil Cooper, my roomie, my ace, my buddy, my friend to the end.

By now, you may be wondering how did I get such a notorious reputation with the media? Well, you see, the media often asked me questions about my players. I refused to be the media's mouthpiece. Of course, my stance didn't win me any media friends. I came to Boston to play professional baseball, and that's what I did. And I did it well. Until I retired in '89. And who would ever have guessed that I'd be working at media at NESN, sitting across the desk from Tom Caron, allowing all of you to see my winning smile.

And here we are in 2009, and I'm standing amongst baseball's elite, in front of my family, friends and fans, proudly accepting baseballs pinnacle of professional achievement. I cannot think of anywhere I would rather be than to be right here, right now with you, and you. Thank you.