Lou Gehrig

Rex Hudler pestered plate umpire Larry Barnett for a game-used baseball, one with the orange laces and number “8” stamp to commemorate Baltimore Orioles shortstop Cal Ripken Jr. breaking Lou Gehrig’s consecutive games record in Camden Yards on Sept. 6, 1995, to no avail.

“He said, ‘No way, you’re gonna have to catch a third out or get a foul ball,’ ” said Hudler, the Kansas City Royals broadcaster who played second base for the Angels the night Ripken broke Gehrig’s record. “ ‘They’re all numbered and counted, and you can’t have one.’ ”

Hudler thought he had one when Orioles first baseman Rafael Palmeiro sent a flare into shallow right-center field with two outs in the bottom of the third inning, but Angels right fielder Tim Salmon called him off and made the catch.

“We’re running into the dugout, and I’m yelling at him, ‘What are you doing? That was my ball!’ ” Hudler said. “And King Fish had this big grin on his face, he kept running and said, ‘Haha Hud, you’ll get one.’ ”

When the game became official after the top of the fifth, and Ripken passed the Iron Man by playing in his 2,131st consecutive game, Hudler took the field and watched as Ripken took an iconic victory lap around the stadium, high-fiving fans, hugging teammates and delaying the game for 22 minutes, 15 seconds.

Ripken shook hands with every player in the Angels dugout — ”And when does that happen?” he said on a Hall-of-Fame podcast — and shared a warm embrace with Angels hitting coach and Hall-of-Famer Rod Carew.

Rex Hudler, above during a game against the Orioles in 1996, played three seasons for the Angels.

(Mark J. Terrill / Associated Press)

“I told him, ‘You’ve been great for all these years and very consistent in what you’ve done, and one day I’ll see you in the Hall of Fame,’ ” Carew said. “What a record that was, to be healthy for that long.”

Hudler was standing at his second-base spot when Ripken started his lap, but by the time Ripken returned to his dugout and was greeted by his family, Hudler was standing on the pitcher’s mound.

“I had been in this little dream for however long it took him to go around the stadium, wandering, watching him, following him, just enamored by what he was doing, and the next thing I know, I’m on the mound,” Hudler said. “I quietly turned and walked back to my position.”

When the game finally resumed, the Orioles loaded the bases with two outs, and up stepped Ripken, who hit a two-run homer off Angels pitcher Shawn Boskie in the fourth inning.

“Palmeiro was on second base and he said, ‘Hud, it’s only fitting, look who’s coming up, the baseball gods are here,’ ” Hudler said.

Only this time, the gods smiled on Hudler, who was actually drafted ahead of Ripken in 1978 — Hudler was a first-round pick of the New York Yankees and Ripken a second-round pick of the Orioles — but spent his entire 13-year big-league career as a utility man, while Ripken became a Hall-of-Famer.

“I went back to my position and said, ‘God, have him hit it to me, please,’ and Cal flared the first pitch over my head toward right-center,” Hudler said. “It was kind of a loopy liner, and I remember running, looking up at the ball, and it was in slow motion. I had never fielded a ball in my 21-year career that was in slow motion.

“As I’m running, I’m thinking, ‘That’s a six-carat diamond,’ it looked like a jewel, and I told myself, ‘Hud, you’re gonna break your neck for this. You can’t let this ball drop.’ My adrenaline and speed carried me under it, and when I caught it on the run, I shook my arm three times in disbelief. God answered my prayer on the field! It was unbelievable.”

Hudler sprinted off the field, ignoring teammates wanting to high-five him in the dugout for saving two runs, and into the visiting clubhouse, where he stashed the ball in his locker for safekeeping.

President Bill Clinton is handed an autographed ball by Baltimore Orioles shortstop Cal Ripken Jr., left, as they meet at the Orioles’ clubhouse at Camden Yards on Sept. 6, 1995, prior to the game with the Angels. Looking on at right are the president’s daughter, Chelsea Clinton, and Vice President Al Gore.

(Wilfredo Lee / Associated Press)

“I secured my precious gem,” Hudler said. “I have never caught a ball more valuable than that.”

Ripken, it turned out, was a gift that kept on giving. After the Angels’ 4-2 loss, Hudler was speaking to writers when an Orioles clubhouse attendant interrupted the scrum to present Hudler a shiny black Ripken bat signed with the message:

“To Hud, we go a long way back, you going ahead of me in the draft and all, but now, I feel like you feel when you strike out with the bases loaded: visibly shaken! All my best, Cal Ripken Jr., Sept. 6, 1995.”

Hudler was floored. He had asked Ripken for an autographed bat that May, when the Orioles were in Anaheim, and he was surprised one didn’t arrive when the Angels were in Baltimore in early June and the Orioles were in Anaheim again in late-August.

“I was speechless, I didn’t know what to say,” the always loquacious Hudler said. “Cal signed a bat for me that night. It was so classy. How could he think of me?”

The bat and the ball he caught to end the fifth inning — Hudler got the ball signed two years later — are featured in a special Cal Ripken shrine in the man-cave of Hudler’s Kansas City home.

And to think, this would not have been possible had a work stoppage not delayed the start of the 1995 season until late April and reduced the season to 144 games, placing the Angels, with no Orioles rainouts, in Baltimore when Ripken tied and broke Gehrig’s record.

Tim Salmon, above batting during the last game of the regular season in 1995, was part of an Angels team that last 29 of its last 43 games and lost a one-game playoff for the AL West to the Seattle Mariners.

(J.D. Cuban / Getty Images)

“I looked at the schedule in April, and a light went off in my brain that these would be historical games of great magnitude,” Hudler said. “I told our old traveling secretary, Frank Sims, that I needed three extra rooms in Baltimore for Sept. 4-6, and he goes, ‘Kid, whattaya mean? That’s so far away.’

“I kind of played it off. I didn’t want to tell him why. Then a week before we went to Baltimore, Frank asked me if I wanted to sell any of those rooms because there were no rooms available. I said, ‘Heck no!’ Three of my best friends who I grew up with in Fresno came out with their wives. Great memories for them, too.”

As cool as it was to be part of Ripken’s historic night, it was bittersweet for the Angels, who were in the middle of an epic collapse in which they lost 29 of their last 43 games and blew an 11-game American League West lead, joining the 1978 Red Sox, 1969 Cubs, 1964 Phillies and 1951 Brooklyn Dodgers in baseball infamy.

Their 5-3 win over the Orioles in the Sept. 4 series opener snapped a nine-game losing streak. The Angels lost nine straight again from Sept. 13-23 to fall two games behind the Seattle Mariners.

They rallied to win their last five regular-season games to force a one-game playoff for the division, but they were crushed by the Mariners and then-ace Randy Johnson 9-1 in that game.

“That was a painful swoon, and it cost us the division, but to be part of that Ripken celebration when your team was struggling so badly took the pain away,” Hudler said. “I was honored to play in those games, because I’m sure one of those lineup cards is in Cooperstown, and that’s the only way I ever got into the Hall of Fame.”

This story originally appeared in “Memories and Dreams,” the official magazine of the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum. For more stories like this about legendary heroes of the game, subscribe to “Memories and Dreams” by joining the Museum’s membership program at www.baseballhall.org/join.

If only! On June 18, 2014, the airwaves and the internet lit up in collective awe at one of the greatest athletic feats in modern history. Clayton Kershaw recorded 15 strikeouts in a 107-pitch no-hitter that many consider the best single-game pitching performance of all time. The asterisk of this epic Dodgers game was the one error in the seventh inning that prevented its official recognition as a “perfect game”: When the Rockies’ Corey Dickerson tapped the ball toward the mound, Dodgers shortstop Hanley Ramirez botched a throw to first base, and Dickerson made it to second.

If only Ramirez had made the play at first! If only coach Don Mattingly hadn’t substituted the ailing Ramirez one inning prior! Los Angeles was one bruised right finger away from celebrating perfection.

Baseball has a celebrated history of quantifying value. No professional sport embraces numbers and statistics in the way baseball does. Statisticians are as much a part of the game as the dirt, chalk and grass. Although baseball has been collecting data since the late 1800s, the empiric statistical analysis that is part of our game today dates back to 1977 with the introduction of sabermetrics.

It’s critical to the game: How else are we to determine success when the majority of what we see is failure? The best hitters in baseball are those who only fail less than 70% of the time; in other words, have a batting average over .300. These perennial all-stars will experience the dissatisfaction and humility of an out in 7 out of every 10 plate appearances. In what other profession can you fail 70% of the time and be considered one of the greats? Consider the mental strength required to accept failure as part of the game and the focus to view each at-bat as an opportunity to fail a little bit less.

We need a similar kind of thinking in life to quantify value in our failure rates.

A “perfect game” is defined by Major League Baseball as a game in which a team pitches a victory that lasts a minimum of nine innings and in which no opposing player reaches base. It’s so rare because failure — by pitchers as well as batters — is expected as a matter of course. Francis Thomas Vincent Jr., the eighth commissioner of MLB, is quoted as saying: “Baseball teaches us, or has taught most of us, how to deal with failure. We learn at a very young age that failure is the norm in baseball and, precisely because we have failed, we hold in high regard those who fail less often — those who hit safely in one out of three chances and become star players. I also find it fascinating that baseball, alone in sport, considers errors to be part of the game, part of its rigorous truth.”

On June 19, 2014, the fans and commentators of baseball praised in dramatic fashion Kershaw’s dominant no-hitter, but with a subtle tone of confusion and denial of the ugly blemish recorded across the team’s box score: 0-0-1. Zero runs. Zero hits. One error. One base runner. An imperfect game. If only!

The collective hope for perfection is understandable. Most people are afraid to fail.

Parades aren’t held for the runner-up. Grades aren’t given just for trying. Job promotions aren’t offered for making mistakes. Placing perfection on a pedestal relieves the collective anxiety — but prohibits the opportunity — of accepting failure as an integral part of life. For an individual, failure is an opportunity to grow and become a better person. For a business, failure is an opportunity to pivot and redefine success. The opposite of perfection is not failure. It is accepting the opportunity to learn from transgressions. Winston Churchill once quipped, “The maxim, ‘Nothing prevails but perfection,’ may be spelled P-A-R-A-L-Y-S-I-S.”

Almost to the day, 75 years before Kershaw’s no-hitter, the world of sports witnessed the catastrophic reality of paralysis. In June 1939, after a week of extensive testing at the Mayo Clinic, Lou Gehrig announced to the world that he had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. This announcement happened to fall on his 36th birthday. This represented the end of Gehrig’s illustrious baseball career. But 75 years later, what is remembered about this man is not his career batting average of .340, seven-time All-Star appearances, six-time World Series championships, winning of the Triple Crown or two-time league MVP. Sabermetrics could not possibly explain Gehrig’s value to the sport. What endures is what no statistic can capture: his grace. His humility. His courage in the face of loss. What is remembered and honored is his response to the ultimate “failure”: a failure of upper and lower motor neurons to make necessary connections that ultimately leads to rapidly progressive muscle weakness and atrophy. In defiance to an illness that is uniformly fatal, Gehrig paid homage to his teammates, professional members of the MLB and its fans by proclaiming himself “the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Similarly, sabermetrics misses the true greatness of Kershaw’s no-hitter. What could never be displayed in statistics or numbers was Kershaw’s response to the error. After Ramirez’s throwing error, his hat lay at the base of Kershaw’s pitching mound. As I watched from the stands, I could not hear what Kershaw said to Ramirez as he picked it up, dusted off and handed the hat back to his humiliated teammate. But his body language appeared unbelievably humble, accepting and supportive, as if to recognize the lesson of baseball, which is that errors are a celebrated part of the game. To dwell on errors and think “if only” leads to disappointment and blame, but to accept and embrace imperfections with a positive and optimistic attitude defines the ultimate success.

If only we could all be that perfect.

Josh Diamond is a physician in private practice in Los Angeles and a lifelong Dodgers fan. Some of his earliest memories are of attending games with his father; he now shares his love of the Dodgers with his son.