Heaven help the fool who commits a faux pas in Marty's presence, and Seg has forgotten to send Mr. Levy's wife a thank-you card for some gifts she brought. One of Marty's best talents is needling people, and he keeps a running point into Seg's side all night. Seg takes it. He knows it's all in good fun. Marty's presence just makes you feel better.
Visitors stream in and out.
Mr. Hoard is filling in for Marty during Hall of Fame weekend, while Marty is being enshrined in Cooperstown. It's like someone going to a Broadway show expecting to see Olivier and getting Keanu Reeves instead. Marty is more Jimmy Stewart than Olivier, less royal and more everyman. He doesn't so much take over a performance as masterfully fit into one, and on this June night, his voice dances over the 50,000-watt blowtorch that is WLW with simple elegance. When Marty would listen to games on the radio as a kid, he'd try to imagine what places like Brooklyn's Ebbets Field or New York's Yankee Stadium looked like.