E-Mail This Article to a Friend Cooperstown roasts and toasts the Chicken Man BY CHRISTOPHER YOUNG

COOPERSTOWN, NY — If it’s late July in upstate New York, then it must be the annual barbecue for baseball fans and journalists, a/k/a the Baseball Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. Oh, there weren’t any sausages or ribs on the griddle on Sunday; those under the searing sun were getting roasted. The Hall of Famers on the outdoor stage adjacent to the Clark Center were thankfully shielded from the 85-degree temps — and just as well, since a number of the elder statesmen in their natty suits would likely have keeled over had they been on the grass with the masses.

Baseball fans from all corners converged for the festivities, but the crowd had a decidedly midwestern flavor thanks to a large Chicago contingent toasting the induction of second baseman Ryne Sandberg. (Even the priest who gave the invocation during the ceremony seemed to have similar allegiances, concluding with, "And one last request, God — could you please, please remember the Cubs this year?")

Sharing the spotlight with Sandberg (who spent 15 of his 16 years as a pro in Chicago) was former Red Sox third baseman Wade Boggs, whose ovations from the Sox, Yankee, and Devil Ray aficionados in attendance were much more reserved.

Sandberg was a class act the entire weekend, and it’s a shame that those of us who have followed primarily the American League were denied the chance to get to know and to see the affable Cub in action. In his lengthy acceptance speech on Sunday, "Ryno" used the word respect 21 times in talking about the game he revered and those who guided him toward superstardom. He appeared humbled at every turn, and that grace is likely what endeared him to the Chicago team’s fans throughout his prolific career.

Boggs? He’s a different story, to say the least. He too was self-effacing during his Sunday speech, but he was a bit feistier 24 hours earlier at a press conference held at the high school. He seemed to have a chip on his shoulder, and his appearance — wearing a straw golf hat topped with wrap-around sunglasses, and chewing gum the entire time — was typical of the devil-may-care persona he conveyed during his stellar career in Boston. While accumulating a wealth of impressive hitting stats (along with two Gold Gloves earned in the Bronx), the Chicken Man never seemed to be the prototype "teammate," and that was evident at many turns.

When Sandberg was asked who of his former teammates would attend the ceremonies, he rattled off an impressive list: Andre Dawson, Rick Sutcliffe, Larry Bowa, Bob Dernier, Doug DeCinces, Rick Rhoden, Shawon Dunston (a late scratch), as well as coaches Jim Frey and Dallas Green. When Boggs was asked a similar question, he listed a handful of former coaches — Johnny Pesky, Bill Fischer, Walt Hriniak — and then noted, "And it’s funny; all of the [former] players I asked to come back, they wouldn’t come back."

Ouch. In fact, it seemed the majority of folks on hand from Boggsie’s entourage were, as he put it, "all of my goombas from Tampa." And while Boggs eloquently thanked a lot of those former coaches (along with Ted Williams) from the podium on Sunday, not one former teammate was acknowledged. Sandberg, in contrast, thanked at least a dozen (including ex-Cub Bill Buckner).

Supposedly, Boggs pal (and fellow Hall of Famer) George Brett had set an over/under line of two-and-a-half minutes for when Boggs would break down in tears — and Brett was taking the under. Boggs came out bold and sturdy, although he fell victim to his own emotions at about the seven-minute mark as he thanked his father, his late mother, and finally, his patient and forgiving wife, Debbie. Boggs’s speech was nonetheless mercifully short and without controversy, which was in stark contrast to Sandberg’s, who despite his modest nature took veiled swipes at incomplete ballplayers and those who didn’t realize that "learning how to bunt and hit and run and turning two is more important than knowing where to find the little red light at the dugout camera." (Paging Sammy Sosa, stat.)

It’s not Boggs’s fault that he didn’t become as well loved in any of his three Major League stops as Sandberg did in Chicago, but the disparity was remarkable. Sandberg was interrupted early in his speech with a Cousy-esque "We love you, Ryno!" from the sizeable blue-jerseyed crowd, but the only sign of adoration for Boggs was a congratulatory banner from his former Little League outfit in Tampa. In fact, one could argue that former Boston Globe columnist and now ESPN analyst Peter Gammons — winner of the J.G. Taylor Spink award for baseball journalism — was more loudly and genuinely embraced by the crowd.

As further evidence, only Globe columnist Bob Ryan — who was there primarily as Gammons’s guest — and the Herald’s Jeff Horrigan (along with yours truly) represented the Boston-media contingent, as opposed to the large number of local reporters and fans attending last year’s induction of former Sox pitcher Dennis Eckersley.

No matter. Sandberg, the people’s choice, may never have reached a World Series, but he’s beloved by Chicagoans and all fans of the game. Boggs, the lightning rod for controversy during his playing days, can return to Tampa with his goombas and his championship ring (1996, NYY) believing that as a fellow Hall of Famer, he is just as adored.

By whom? Aye, that remains up for debate.

Sporting Eye runs Mondays and Fridays at BostonPhoenix.com, and Christopher Young can be reached at cyoung[a]phx.com