Carew is loading his camera equipment into a cab that will take him from the Angels' hotel in Seattle to the Kingdome. "If I bring along enough of this stuff, my hands will be too full to sign autographs," he says. He takes his seat beside the paraphernalia. He seems concerned. "Did you read the paper this morning?" he inquires of a fellow passenger. "This columnist is writing about Gaylord Perry not talking to the press. He says something to the effect that Gaylord better watch it because the reporters are the people who are going to decide whether he gets into the Hall of Fame." Carew's face clouds over. "Now see, that's the sort of thing that gets me. There should be only one way of judging whether a player belongs in the Hall, and that's on what he does on the field." He stares out the window for a moment. When he turns back, he's smiling. "But that's something that doesn't worry me at all, because I don't think about the Hall of Fame or anything like that. Honors don't mean much. I think people will remember me for the things I've done. Not that I care about statistics." He laughs. "When I want to find out how I'm doing, I just ask Reggie."
He's doing just fine, Reggie would be sure to tell him. As for the Hall of Fame, why ask?
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