Jos Buttler is a World Cup winner now but just days before the final against New Zealand at Lord's, the fear of failure was haunting him. Thoughts of how he would ever play cricket again if England were to lose were creeping into his system.

Confounded by those demons, Buttler sought out the team psychologist David Young.

"I had played in eight finals before Sunday and lost seven of them," Buttler told The Daily Mail. "I'd played in lots with Somerset, the Champions Trophy with England [in 2013] and when we lost the [World] T20 [final] in Kolkata [in 2016] and I knew how much it hurt watching the other team lift the trophy. I didn't want to feel that pain and that regret again.

"What was scaring me was if we lost, I didn't know how I'd play cricket again. This was such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a World Cup final at Lord's. It felt like destiny and I was thinking: 'If it doesn't happen, I will have no motivation to pick up a cricket bat for a very long time.' When I was talking to David, I knew the answers.

"I knew all I could look after was the stuff I could look after, and I needed to get into my zone, which allows me to perform the best I can. But what happens if it goes wrong?"

Buttler had a similar feeling midway through the World Cup when it looked like pre-tournament favourites England might not even make the semi-finals, having lost to Sri Lanka and Australia back-to-back.

"Before the India game, I was struggling with coming to terms with the prospect of us getting knocked out," Buttler said. "We'd been favourites, so highly fancied by everyone, and there was the danger that four years of playing such good cricket was going to come to nothing.

"Think about what people will say about us as a team, think about how they will call us chokers, everything else they will say. I remember seeing a comment -- maybe it was the one that got Jonny Bairstow wound up -- about how it would be the biggest failure because of how much had gone into this World Cup. I was struggling with the thought of that."

In the final, Buttler played a crucial role, first with the bat by scoring 59 and adding 110 for the fifth wicket with Ben Stokes, and then by completing the run-out dismissal of Martin Guptill off the last ball of the Super Over to seal the win for England.

Talking about his feelings just before that last ball, with New Zealand needing two to win with Guptill on strike, Buttler said: "If you're watching the game from the outside, you must think all the players must be so nervous as Jofra Archer is coming in to bowl that last ball. But as a cricketer, it's where you want to be. You're in the middle, you've got some control. You've done it time and again. Just because it's a final, it's still the same thing, collecting the ball and taking the stumps.

"You're on autopilot really. I felt very in-the-moment. Guptill pushed it off his legs and once I saw it going straight to Jason [Roy], I thought: 'If we get this right, we can win this'. I knew Guptill would be a long way out. Under pressure, nothing is simple but I knew it should be simple.

"When Jason picked it up, there was no thought he might misfield it. None of those thoughts happen. He picks it up, throws it to me and I take the stumps. I had to come down the pitch a little bit but I knew that as long as I collected the ball cleanly, I would have time to get to the stumps because he was a long way out.

"If I knew Guptill was going to be closer, I may have been more anxious or rushed it, but I knew I had some time to play with, so it was just as simple as making sure I got it in my hands."

While the Super Over ended in a tie, England became the winners based on the boundary count. The euphoria that followed, to Buttler, felt like the best time of his career.

"I knew the moment I broke the wicket, that was it. Both gloves went [off], I threw my hat in the air. I was running around and Moeen Ali was aeroplaning past me and Jofra was on the floor miles away. Those feelings justify everything. That moment lasts for 20 seconds, maybe, and it is just the best time of your cricket career.

"I'm 28 and for however long I have left in my career, I would just enjoy it and think: 'That happened'."

PORTRUSH, Northern Ireland -- The rain was coming sideways at Royal Portrush, and the wind was screaming like a banshee. It did not take much of an Irish fatalist to forecast the demise of Shane Lowry, who had taught himself three years ago how to blow a big major-championship lead.

He had won the 2009 Irish Open as a cocky and chunky amateur in dreadful weather, but, as Lowry would admit, that was a long time ago.

"I used to be good in bad weather back then," he would say. "But I don't play in bad weather anymore."

Lowry played in bad weather in the final round of The Open. Holding a 4-shot lead to open the round, he played prevent defense in golf's answer to Green Bay Packers weather.

"Football was huge in my house," Lowry said. Gaelic football, that is. He was born in Mullingar, County Westmeath, the son of a football star named Brendan Lowry, an all-Ireland champion in 1982 who still regrets his poor play in losing the final to Kerry the previous year. That's the thing about the Irish greats -- they are always haunted by something.

Oakmont was Shane Lowry's haunt, the squandered lead in the final round in 2016. He was too slow to play football as a child, so he was stuck with golf as a career pursuit. Stuck with all the demons and doubts that make golf the world's most maddening game.

Shane got only four or five hours of sleep -- half his usual total -- before confronting the biggest round of his life. He had to follow up Saturday's 8-under 63 in benign conditions, and what he called "the most incredible day I've ever had on the golf course," with enough precision and poise to hold off the real and imagined hurdles around him. Lowry had said all the right things after his third round. He acknowledged that he would spend a lot of time talking about holding the Claret Jug, thinking about holding the Claret Jug. He saw no point in trying to bottle up his emotions.

"We're human," he said. "We're not robots."

He admitted Sunday would be a very stressful day, but maintained he had learned a lot about himself after Oakmont. He said he would continue to play golf "like there's no consequences."

And then he woke up at 6:30 a.m. local time, staring straight into the abyss.

"I suppose I didn't even know this morning if I was good enough to win a major," Lowry said Sunday night.

He was sitting next to the Claret Jug at the time.

At 32, Lowry had answered all the questions asked by peers, reporters, fans and the man in his own mirror. He shot 1-over 72 to win The Open by a half dozen shots over Tommy Fleetwood, who wasted so many opportunities to put extreme heat on the leader early in the day. The first Open in Northern Ireland in 68 years was supposed to belong to the tournament and hometown favorite, Rory McIlroy, who waved a tearful goodbye to his chances two days before his much-less-heralded teammate on past unified island teams, Lowry, shocked just about everyone watching.

On his 72nd hole, Lowry told himself, "I can't believe it's happening to me." He was struck by the sight of countryman Padraig Harrington and Northern Ireland's Graeme McDowell, both major champions. He grew emotional when his saw his wife, Wendy, and young daughter, Iris, behind the green, at least before Bo Martin ordered him to calm down and finish the job.

Lowry's caddie had done a masterful job all week keeping his man grounded. Lowry had missed four consecutive cuts at The Open. Last year, at Carnoustie, he sat in the car park after the first round and cried.

"Golf wasn't my friend at the time," Lowry recalled.

This time around at Royal Portrush, feeling uneasy about his game, Lowry sat down with his coach, Neil Manchip, for a cup of pre-tournament coffee at the Bushmills Inn.

Manchip had often assured his student that he would win a major -- at least one. The coach told Lowry he didn't need to carry the weight of the world, or of the Republic of Ireland, into the event. Don't try to force anything, Manchip said. "It doesn't need to be perfect," he told Lowry.

But then Sunday came and Lowry was way out in front. He was all alone out there, all alone with Martin.

"I kept on telling him how nervous I was," Lowry said, "how scared I was, how much I didn't want to mess it up."

He didn't mess it up. Lowry made a huge putt for bogey on the first hole, where Fleetwood missed for birdie, and although Lowry immediately lost a stroke off his lead, Harrington said, "I'm sure he went to the second tee feeling like he won that first hole."

Fleetwood wouldn't make any putts that mattered, and Lowry wouldn't let the weather rain on his parade. "It was so hard out there," he said.

It's supposed to be, of course. It's The Open.

Lowry fought the good fight. In fact, he has long had some fire in that considerable belly of his. I approached him once at the Masters along with columnist Tara Sullivan, now of The Boston Globe, to talk about -- who else? -- Rory McIlroy. An O'Connor and a Sullivan approaching an Irishman to talk about a McIlroy -- what could possibly go wrong?

Only Lowry (and a nearby supporter or three) made it clear after a couple of Rory questions he felt slighted that the queries weren't about his own chances at Augusta National. The interview was as painfully brief as Fleetwood's window of opportunity Sunday to beat him.

At least one distinguished local could see this coming. McDowell, who grew up in Portrush, first met Lowry after the second round of the 2009 Irish Open at County Louth Golf Club in Baltray, after McDowell shot 61, 1 stroke better than the eventual winner. Lowry didn't even bother to introduce himself.

"I can't believe you beat me by one out there today," he barked.

"Who's this kid?" McDowell thought to himself.

"I've always respected his game so much because he's very ballsy," McDowell said. "He's a phenomenal driver of the ball. He may be the best chipper I've ever seen. Apart from Phil Mickelson, I don't know anyone who chips as good as him. ... He's one of the most competitive people I've ever met, to a fault nearly.

"We always used to joke, he wants to beat me more on a Wednesday than he wants to win a tournament. ... I feel like Shane's always got one eye on what the other Irish players are doing. He wants to be the top Irishman. He's just that kind of guy."

Via McDowell, the teacher Pete Cowen tells a story of once visiting the unified island team training in Dublin and being asked to assess the players. Cowen praised McIlroy, the boy wonder.

"But that slightly overweight kid with the glasses on," the teacher said, "he looks good."

Of course, that was Shane Lowry.

When it was all over Sunday, singing, chanting fans waved the tricolor flag of Ireland in the 18th fairway.

Irish fans pretty happy with the result at The Open. pic.twitter.com/GUpSTRfWmg

— Ian O'Connor (@Ian_OConnor) July 21, 2019

Lowry hugged Martin, from Belfast, literally joining Ireland and Northern Ireland on a historic day in sport. The winner would embrace his wife and daughter, and pose for a group picture with his family, friends and Manchip.

Lowry's father, Brendan, the Gaelic football star, declined a formal interview when approached by a small group of reporters behind the 18th green. As he walked away from the course, pumping both fists at the shouting fans who recognized him, the old football star was asked whether this moment felt better than his 1982 championship.

"Absolutely it does," Brendan Lowry said. "As a father, you always want your son to do better."

As it turned out, Brendan's boy never had the speed to play football.

The world found out Sunday he had the toughness to play golf.

PORTRUSH, Northern Ireland -- The golf gods finally found a way to slow down Brooks Koepka in a major championship -- heavy rain, 35-mph wind gusts and a final-round pairing with J.B. Holmes, one of the most notoriously slow players on the PGA Tour.

Despite that trifecta -- and Koepka's inability to make much of anything on the greens of Royal Portrush Golf Club this week -- he still managed to finish in a tie for fourth place at the 148th Open on Sunday.

After opening the final round with four consecutive bogeys -- he had four bogeys in the first three rounds combined -- he shot 3-over 74 and finished 6-under par, 9 shots behind winner Shane Lowry.

"I didn't make anything," Koepka said. "Good putts just missed the hole. It's frustrating. There's nothing I can do, though. Sometimes, you've just got to live with it."

While Lowry, an Irishman, might have won the first Open played on Irish soil in 68 years, Koepka won the majors this season.

It was the fifth straight major championship in which Koepka finished in the top five, including all four this year. He finished tied for second at the Masters in April, won the PGA Championship for the second straight year at Bethpage Black in May and finished solo second at the U.S. Open at Pebble Beach in June.

Koepka is only the fifth player to accomplish that feat in the Masters era (since 1934); Jack Nicklaus (1971 and '73), Tiger Woods (2000 and '05), Rickie Fowler (2014) and Jordan Spieth (2015) were the others.

"As a whole, it's awesome," Koepka said. "That's what I'm striving to do -- to play well in the big events. I sort of did that. This week is disappointing, but the rest of them have been great. I'm not going to lie: it's been fun. I would have liked to just have made a few more [putts] and finished it off with a bunch of second places."

Given the way Koepka started on Sunday, it's remarkable that he was able to get back into the top five. He started the day at 9-under and 7 shots behind Lowry. After four holes, he was 4 over for his round and 11 shots behind the Irishman.

"I warmed up fine," Koepka said. "I just hit four of the worst shots I've probably hit all week."

Koepka quickly recovered with an eagle 2 on the par-4 fifth hole by driving the green and sinking a 5-footer. He made the turn at 2-over 38, and then had a bogey on the par-4 11th.

That's when Holmes' slow pace seemed to get under Koepka's skin. Holmes started the day at 10 under, but he was 5 over on the front nine. Then he had a triple-bogey 7 on 11 and a double-bogey 7 on 12.

While Holmes was spending extra time reading his double-bogey putt on No. 11, Koepka turned his back and wiped his face in apparent frustration.

"I'm ready to go most of the time," Koepka said. "That's what I don't understand. When it's your turn to hit, your glove is not on, then you start thinking about it, that's where the problem lies. It's not that he takes that long. He doesn't do anything until his turn. That's the frustrating part. But he's not the only one that does it out here."

On the par-5 12th hole, Holmes hit his second shot into bushes on the right side of the green. He took an unplayable lie and tried to chip off trampled grass. His ball rolled back down the false front of the green. He putted onto the green and needed two more putts for double-bogey.

While walking off the No. 12 green, according to Golf Channel's Will Gray, Koepka looked at a rules official and pointed at a nonexistent watch on his hand, apparently indicating to the official that Holmes was playing slow.

Koepka said he didn't remember the incident after his round.

Holmes shot 16-over 87, which dropped him from third place at the start of the round to a tie for 67th at 6 over.

Holmes declined to speak to reporters after the round.

"He had a rough day, but J.B. is a slow player," Koepka said. "I know it's difficult with the wind, but I didn't think he was that bad [with the pace on Sunday]. I thought he was all right. ... It was slow, but it wasn't that bad for his usual pace.

"There were some times when I thought it was slow. There are a lot of slow guys out here. That's not the first one I've been with it, especially when you've got a walking official with you."

It was the second time in the final round of a major this year that Koepka was paired with a player who struggled mightily. In the PGA Championship, Harold Varner III shot 11-over 81.

Koepka has been one the most vocal critics of slow play on the PGA Tour.

"The European Tour does an unbelievable job with the pace of play, posting it in the locker rooms. The PGA doesn't do that," he said.

While The Open didn't end the way Koepka had hoped, his tie for fourth continued one of the truly remarkable runs in PGA Tour history. He has been the most consistent player in majors, finishing in the top 10 in 18 of the past 19 rounds in major championships. He shot in the 60s in 11 of 16 rounds in major championships this season, joining Spieth (2015) for second most in the Masters era. Only Woods (12 in 2000) had more in majors in a single season.

"What he's done in the last four major championships has been just unbelievable," Woods said. "To be so consistent, so solid. He's been in contention to win each and every major championship."

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. -- With a quiet demeanor, a humble attitude and a workmanlike approach to his craft, Harold Baines has never quite seemed like a man of his time, but one long before it. In the end, all of those qualities make Cooperstown the perfect place to immortalize his baseball career.

Baines is a Hemingway hero walking among us. He is indeed quiet and, as he will admit, shy. But as a man of few words, when he speaks, his message has meaning. His work habits as a professional hitter gave birth to the consistency that marked him. He is a man who lives according to values that were imbued upon him by his community and his family from the time he was born. And, like Hemingway's Robert Jordan and Frederic Henry, he keeps his emotions close to the vest.

"I'm not an emotional man, except when it comes to family," Baines said during his speech Sunday, when he, and five others, were enshrined in the spiritual home of baseball. He said those words immediately before his voice cracked, because he was about to speak of his father and then directly to his family out in the seats.

On Sunday, this simple man from a small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland was given the highest honor in his profession, joining 2019's six-man Hall of Fame class that brings the total membership up to 329 inductees, including 232 players. As Jane Forbes Clark, the Hall of Fame's chairman of the board of directors, pointed out, that marks Baines and the other inductees part of the top 1 percent of all players who have ever donned a big league uniform.

It was a weekend for small-town men, several of whom spoke to the essential roles of family and community in their rise to baseball's highest honor. It was a weekend for the specialists who have become such an integral part of the modern game. It was, strangely enough, a weekend for Norman Rockwell. It was a weekend for internationalism, now an annual trait of induction weekend, with fans flocking to Cooperstown from all four sides of the nation, and beyond.

More than anything, it was a weekend to celebrate all that is good in the game, and all that is good about the men whose plaques now hang in the hallowed halls of baseball's Hall of Fame. And, yes, Harold Baines is an exemplar of what Cooperstown is all about, whether you wanted him there or not.

A bad reaction

To fully appreciate Baines' weekend, you have to remember the long road that took him to Cooperstown, one that seemed to be permanently closed. When Baines was announced as an inductee this past December, after being voted in by a veterans committee that included a manager (Tony LaRussa) and an owner (Jerry Reinsdorf) who both adore him, it unleashed a torrent of rip jobs across the baseball branches of social media and the internet.

Not everyone was on board with the selection of Lee Smith, either, but the majority of the vitriol was directed at Baines. The reactions used pointed words, saying the Hall was "cheapened" or was "diminished" by the addition of him. The tenor of the response bordered on vicious, and led to some weird moments.

"I think you have to ask [LaRussa and Reinsdorf]," Baines said at the winter meetings. "They know what I feel about them. They're very special to me. It probably helped me, to be honest. But our friendship goes further than the game of baseball."

To be sure, you can't really construct a convincing analytical argument in favor of Baines' selection, unless you are willing to open the doors wide open and allow the floodgates to pour in a lot of good players who have been passed over in elections past. He's not the worst Hall of Fame electee, according to most leading metrics, but he's in the lower tier. The defenses of his selection have tended to favor anecdotal evidence and cherry-picked numbers.

There are lots of players on Baines' performance level or better who never got in. Never got close. And if Baines had not been selected, it wouldn't have merited more than a passing mention in any story related to the topic. Yet all the negativity that sprung from Baines' selection obscures an essential thing: He was really good, and so, too, were all those players who might fall somewhere under the arbitrary line you might want to draw that declares Hall worthiness, and wherever it is that Baines resides.

"I was very surprised," Baines admitted. "I wasn't sitting home worried about it because it wasn't anything I could control. I don't think any player plays this game to go to the Hall of Fame. I'm very grateful."

It's not the Hall of Good, though, a fact that detractors love to point out. If you want to be tough about it, you can point out that the thing about the Hall of Fame is that once you're in, you're in. Debate until you're blue in the face. No one has ever been kicked out.

More gently, you might consider this: There is a reason why those who advocated for Baines felt so strongly, why they lobbied for a player who never in a million years would have lobbied for himself. As lacking as his performance record might be in Hall of Fame markers, Baines is rich in qualities that men in power value a great deal and, frankly, that much of we, as society, admire. You can't express it in metrics, and you might make the fair point that these traits don't make a player a Hall of Famer, but you can't deny that these traits are what landed him in Cooperstown on Sunday.

People will continue to pick apart the Baines selection and others they don't agree with. Books will be written about it. On the web, there is already a virtual buffet of listicles about "worst Hall of Fame selections." Most of those leave out the fact that there really isn't a bad player in the Hall of Fame. We should all be so bad.

Anyway, the pairing of Smith and Baines on that day in December and later through a number of promotional events in Chicago proved to be ideal.

"The weird thing is, when we both got the call and went to Vegas, the [Hall representative] said it's the best contrast of guys," Smith said. "He said, 'We can't get Harold to say anything, and you won't be quiet.'"

Baseball's Rembrandt

A few hours to the east of Cooperstown is a little town in Massachusetts called Stockbridge. It's a resort town in the Berkshires best known as the final home and workplace of famed artist Rockwell. (It's also known, if less so, for being the setting of Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant.")

Rockwell's paintings graced the covers of the Saturday Evening Post for decades, when that publication held immense sway in the national culture. Rockwell painted stories, caught in an image, of commonplace people doing commonplace things, but with such an earnestness of spirit that the work still stirs an unrealistic kind of nostalgia for many people in remembrance of a world that never really existed.

Cooperstown, in its way, kind of fills the same role in American culture. The Hall of Fame boasts of three Rockwell works in its collection, including "The Three Umpires," which currently hangs in the art gallery of the museum. Rockwell dabbled a lot in baseball, which could hardly have been avoided given those who paid for his work and the note he was expected to strike for all those magazine covers.

Rockwell's name is often invoked when it comes to descriptions of Cooperstown as having a straight-off-of-a-1950s-postcard quality as a quintessential small town. In fact, on the morning of the inductions, the New York Times quoted Hall of Famer Trevor Hoffman as saying, "It has that Norman Rockwell-type feel for me."

One way to interpret that is to say that Cooperstown, at least on induction weekend, is a kind of fantasy. Rockwell, as a commercial artist, was selling fantasy and he did it better than almost anyone. But there were lots of people whom Rockwell didn't depict in his best-known work, largely because that is what was asked of him by his clients. That changed later on, after his Saturday Evening Post career ended. But the works of Americana that drive so much adoration and stir such a powerful nostalgia are largely fantastic in nature.

The Hall of Fame is like that, too. The plaques hanging in the gallery recount the feats of men who were far from perfect as human beings. They drop numbers that are out of context. They make everyone sound as if they walked directly off the pages of a book of mythology. That is the product the Hall is selling, perhaps best exemplified by the Saturday parade in which all returning Hall of Famers ride down Main Street between rows of adoring fans, trapped along the sidewalks with impenetrable barricades.

Baines' plaque reads as such: "Respected and clutch left-handed hitter whose professional approach and humble demeanor made him one of the most consistent and reliable players of the 1980s and 1990s." Then it lists some of his awards and statistical achievements, such his 2,866 hits and 1,628 RBIs, numbers largely compiled while serving as one of the game's most prolific designated hitters, a role he landed because of chronic knee trouble.

"In my case, I couldn't go [out onto the field for defense]," Baines said. "Because of my injuries. That made it a little bit easier in the beginning to concentrate on my role. I couldn't help the team defensively. That made it a little bit easier for me -- that's the only way I could help the team."

Think of Rockwell painting Baines at the plate. He had a certain flair with Chicago topics. The fans around him would be going berserk, jeering and twisting and laughing and yelling. The catcher would have a wry smile on his face. But Baines would be standing there, front foot raised as he always did when he was about to unleash his beautiful swing, and the expression on his face would be one of utter stoicism.

"Harold, in his own way, he makes his point," gregarious new Hall of Famer Smith said. "He's been getting on me a little bit about talking too much."

No, it wasn't just Baines who, in this class, would have made a perfect subject for Rockwell.

Overlooked as always

In the museum of the Hall of Fame, they set up exhibits each year with artifacts from the careers for each of the new inductees. In Baines' display, there is a White Sox jersey of 1983 vintage, a couple of small medallions he won for being named Designated Hitter of the Year -- an award now named after Edgar Martinez, with whom Baines shared the stage Sunday. And there was an old copy of Baseball Digest, with a picture of Baines on the cover and a caption that read, "One of baseball's most overlooked stars."

Baines wasn't written about often because he wasn't quotable. It was his choice. The most oft-repeated story of the weekend was about Baines hitting the winning homer of an epic-length game played in bad weather. After, he was asked about the conditions and how he must have really hit the ball hard. "Evidently," Baines said. And that was the media conference. It became a kind of nickname for him, too, and last week the White Sox announced the availability of some new Baines bobbleheads marking his enshrinement. They will have that one-word quotation: "Evidently."

"During my career, I acquired a reputation as someone who didn't say much," Baines joked during his speech Sunday. "I'm not sure why."

He is very much as Hemingway would have written him and Rockwell might have painted him, though the portrait would have left any raw displays of emotion to the side characters. Baines is from and still resides in the small tourist town of St. Michaels, Maryland. It's where his father, Linwood Baines Jr., a bricklayer who was a good athlete in his own right, lived from the age of 9 until he passed in 2014 at the age of 77.

Baines was brought in to tour the Hall of Fame earlier this year, as all the candidates are. They get to see relics from baseball history and their own careers. They see the spots where their plaques will be hung and they sign the backing. Baines, it was reported, grew a little misty when it was suggested his plaque will reside about 20 feet from Babe Ruth's. Still, when asked whether he sought out any particular great during his visit, a favorite player or hero, he simply said, "No."

But then he went on, "My idol is my father. No disrespect to all the Hall of Famers that are there. But my idol is my father."

Linwood Baines Jr. lived a long life and got to see his son grow into one of the most respected members of his profession. He got to see him get all those hits and RBIs, post an .820 career OPS that rose to .838 with runners in scoring position and .862 in high-leverage spots. He got to see him challenge the 3,000-hit milestone, which he surely would have gotten if not for the injuries and the labor strife during his career. He got to see him hit .324 with five homers and 16 RBIs with an .888 OPS in 31 postseason games.

But for Harold, that's all sidebar. It was most important that his father got to see him marry and start a family of his own. He got to see him remain a part of the St. Michaels community and become the man he would have had him be.

"I know I made him proud on the baseball field," Baines said. "But I know I made him prouder as the man, the husband, the father, the teammate and the friend I have become."

Does any of this change your mind about whether Baines belongs in Cooperstown? Should it? Of course not. But can you really sit there and say that this man's presence "cheapens" the institution? Too bad, bucko, because that door only swings one way.

Induction weekend

The scenes are always the same, even if the MLB merchandise they are donning morphs each year with the identities of those being inducted into the Hall. This year, the novelty shops were heavy in Mariano Rivera gear. Baines was represented, too, though you had to dig for his stuff. The shop-owners know each year who is most likely to butter their bread.

Former major leaguers are always around as well, beside the exclusives staying at The Otesaga Resort Hotel. This year, Bill Madlock was signing at a table near the driveway at Doubleday Field. Both Frank Thomases were on hand -- the Big Hurt, at the resort, as a Hall of Famer, and the original one, who mashed for the Pirates in the 1950s and played for the early woeful Mets. Denny McLain was back, as was Pete Rose. Jim Leyritz was holding court down the street from wrestling's Jimmy "The Mouth of the South" Hart. The actor who played John Kinsella in "Field of Dreams" set up a table at the corner of Main and Pioneer and appeared to draw very well.

As fun as the people- and player-watching are in Cooperstown, it still all comes down to the ceremony on Sunday. These are the moments that are preserved and remembered and replayed again and again in the future whenever a Hall of Famer is mentioned. For Baines, it has been the source of much consternation over the past few months.

"I've played in front of thousands of people, so I can handle that part of it," Baines said the day before the ceremony. "I'm a shy guy. So I don't like to speak. So that's going to be the tough thing. But I'm speaking about people I care about, so that should be a little easier."

The absence of Roy Halladay was felt, beginning with a very emotional video played marking his career that featured close friend Chris Carpenter. One person who didn't see it was Halladay's widow, Brandy, who gave the speech. Knowing she'd have to take the podium in a few minutes, she simply couldn't watch.

"Maybe someone can send it to me," she joked at the beginning of her roughly seven-minute speech. There were people wiping away tears all through the crowd, and many others fighting off lumps in their throat. Brandy Halladay grew emotional, of course, but held it together. And she more than once alluded to all the Hall of Famers sitting beside her on the stage, recounting just how supportive everyone had been. Roy is now an immortal in the sport, and the Halladays have found yet another new baseball family.

"I can't tell you how many hugs I've gotten," she said. "Anybody who thinks baseball isn't a family has never been involved in baseball."

It was a heroic performance and in a rather surprising twist, it was Brandy Halladay who did more than anyone to humanize the players who in Cooperstown are elevated to the status of legend.

"The message I wanted to convey," Brandy said afterward, "is that Roy was a very normal person with an exceptionally amazing job. These men, who are out there doing those amazing things, they are still real people. They still have feelings, still have families. They still struggle.

"So many of the guys I've known through my life through baseball, they work so hard to hide that. I know Roy did. Sometimes it's hard to present the image you know everybody wants to see. It's also hard to be judged by what people expect of you. I think it's important that we don't sensationalize or idealize what baseball players are."

Roy Halladay was from suburban Denver. Baines, as mentioned, resides in tiny St. Michaels. Lee Smith is from Castle, Louisiana, of which he joked, "You think Cooperstown is small, you've never been to Castle." Mariano Rivera is from Puerto Caimito, Panama, a small fishing village near Panama City, where he worked on his father's boat. Martinez is from Dorado, Puerto Rico, a good-sized municipality west of San Juan, and lived in the neighborhood of Maguayo. Mike Mussina is from Williamsport, Pennsylvania -- home of the Little League World Series.

Hall of Famers can truly come from anywhere. And for all the thought we put into what team a new Hall of Famer will honor with his cap -- not an issue for the two new one-team members, Rivera and Martinez -- the players represent so much more than that. They represent colleges, towns, regions, countries and families.

"From teachers to coaches to town residents, who showed me both kindness and discipline, I thank you for all you've done for me," Baines said during his speech. Later, he added, "I cannot ever express enough appreciation for St. Michaels. It still remains my home to this day as I live there with my wife and family."

Never is that sentiment more apparent and more true than it is each summer in Cooperstown. And in making those points, Smith and Baines and the others are helping the community in which, in a sense, they will now reside forever. Every street between Main Street and the sports complex in Cooperstown is lined with lemonade stands and beverage stations and tables where you can get grilled food. Most of it goes to help the students who live in Cooperstown year around.

As for the speeches, no one could possibly rival Brandy Halladay when it came to bravery and emotional impact. One of her first lines was, "This speech is not mine to give." But she gave it anyway and no one will forget it.

"Really a great lady," Smith said. "It's been awesome to get to know her and her sons. It had to be tough. It's unbelievable how she handled it."

If not for the bittersweet circumstances of the Halladay family, we might be celebrating the bravery of Baines. Here was a shy man who had spent his life avoiding the media spotlight, who didn't like attention and who feared nothing -- except for public speaking. Imagine being that person and stepping onto a stage with thousands of people rolled out before you and knowing countless more are trained on you via television or some other gadget.

Baines did just fine, speaking for about nine and a half minutes after joking that the other players were timing him because they were betting on just how short his speech would be. But it wasn't that short because he wasn't speaking of himself. There were a lot of people to thank and appreciate, in the game and out of it, even though Baines is man of deeds, not speeches.

"I thought it would be a lot tougher than it was," a relieved Baines said after his speech. "Especially toward the end, when I talked about my father. I got through that pretty well and was proud of myself. I started off my speech talking about community, which is very big to me."

All the players sounded such notes Sunday, as they always do. For every player who goes into the Hall of Fame, there is a tremendous network of parents, siblings, coaches, spouses, managers, teammates and predecessors who helped them along. Those are the people whom induction day is for. And that's why it takes a truly cynical soul to begrudge anyone who has made it over the threshold and into the plaque gallery.

Where the game is always good, and so are we

Induction weekend was as always a celebration, of Baines and the others. It was just as magical as every weekend that unfolds over these precious days of summer. And for those new members of baseball's most elite fraternity, whose plaques are left behind even as they make their way back home, that celebration never really ends. They are in the club, and they are welcome back every summer. In fact, 58 Hall of Famers were in Cooperstown during this broiling weekend, the most living Hall of Famers ever in one place at one time.

"It's very overwhelming," Baines said, in his concise way. "I'm very happy to be a part of it."

What was being celebrated? WAR? Win probability added? OPS? No, those are the tools for before the election, but in Cooperstown, they are rendered obsolete. What's left is all that is good in these players, and more important, in the game itself. We were celebrating the inductees for what they did do, not what they didn't do.

Going last, as always, Rivera summed up the theme for the weekend, saying, "Baseball is a team sport. You cannot do it alone."

All of those who helped the new Hall of Famers find their place in the Hall of Fame are celebrating. But you have to be especially happy for the small towns, because there is a place for their children on the shores of Lake Otesaga. There always has been, but now those villages and hamlets can be in the Caribbean or Central America or Canada or the Pacific Rim. You can come from anywhere now and end up in Cooperstown.

On this weekend, we are reminded again of all that is good in the game. We are reminded that the game is available to more people than ever. And because of that, the best chapters for the sport might well have not yet been written. The Hall of Fame reminds us of where we've been, and of the progress we've made. And, best of all, every induction weekend in Cooperstown reminds us of who we are when we're at our best.

LOUDON, N.H. – All season, the question has been asked: when will Kevin Harvick break through and return to victory lane in the Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series?

Sunday, that question was finally answered, as Harvick successfully snapped the Cup Series dominance of Joe Gibbs Racing with his first victory of the season in Sunday’s Foxwood Casino Resort 301.

The 2014 Cup Series champion, who was nursing a 21-race winless drought and had finished no better than fourth in his first 19 starts this year, stayed out for track position during the day’s final caution with 36 to go, when Kyle Larson ran into trouble in the second turn of the flat, 1.058-mile Granite State Oval.

That decision gave Harvick a lead he would never relinquish. He cleared Erik Jones on the final restart with 29 laps left and then successfully held off a pair of late-race advances by Denny Hamlin on the last lap en route to his second win in a row at the Magic Mile and the 46th of his Cup Series career.

It was also the first win of the season for Stewart-Haas Racing, as well.

Harvick led the last 35 laps in succession, but it wasn’t without a few nervous moments, as Hamlin tried to bump the No. 4 Busch Ford Mustang out of the way in turn one and then charged the outside in turn three coming to the checkered flag trying to get a run before Harvick slammed the door shut.

From there, all Hamlin to do was chase as Harvick came home the winner by .210 seconds.

“I didn’t think we had the best chance to win staying out, but Rodney and those guys made a great call with our Busch Beer National Forest Foundation car here,” noted Harvick. “We had a good car all day; we just never could get track position and stayed out there and ran a lot of good laps. I didn’t want to see their traffic there at the end. It really made my car tight, and he (Hamlin) got to me. He tried to move me out of the way down there, and I knew that was coming as close as he was. So, I just stood on the brakes and I was about half throttle down the back straightaway.

“After that, I was determined he wasn’t going to get under me again, and he drove to the outside of me, and I waited until he got near me, and I just put a wheel on him,” Harvick added. It worked out for us.”

While Harvick wasn’t as confident in the call that ultimately won him the race, his crew chief Rodney Childers had full faith in his driver to be able to hold the field back when it counted.

“I felt like we had had a great car all weekend, and everybody had been doing a good job. We were just in a bad spot there with track position, and I didn’t think we were going to win from where we were at,” said Childers. “Sometimes you have to make those decisions, and Kevin did a great job on the restart to hold his own. Track position was key today, and I’m really proud of everybody at Stewart‑Haas Racing and everybody at Ford that has pushed hard for us to get our cars better and to get back in victory lane.”

Hamlin, who took the lead off a fast pit stop and led 113 straight laps in the final stage before Harvick took control on strategy, admitted afterward that he “knew what he could have done differently” on the final lap to try and get past Harvick for the victory.

Instead, he was forced to settle for second with his No. 11 FedEx Express Toyota Camry.

“I shoved him up a little higher and tried to get him out of the groove,” Hamlin said. “I wanted to just tap him there, but I didn’t want to completely screw him. I at least wanted to give him a fair shot there. Down the backstretch, I kind of let off, and decided to just pass him on the outside and do it the right way … but once I had that big run, he just turned right. I would have done the same thing.

“It was a fun race, and congratulations to Kevin and his team. They made a great call there at the end.”

Erik Jones rebounded from a rocky day, which included a near-penalty on his final pit stop, to finish third. He was followed across the finish line by Ryan Blaney and Matt DiBenedetto, who completed a standout weekend with his second top-five finish of the season.

Martin Truex Jr. was sixth, followed by Ryan Newman, Kyle Busch, Joey Logano and polesitter Brad Keselowski.

Sunday’s race was slowed by nine caution flags and featured 14 lead changes among seven different drivers.

Defenseman Neal Pionk agreed to a two-year contract with the Winnipeg Jets on Sunday, the team announced.

Pionk, 23, was acquired by Winnipeg in June from the New York Rangers. His new deal has an average annual value of $3 million, the Jets said.

Pionk had 26 points (six goals, 20 assists) in 73 games last season with New York.

The St. Louis Blues have re-signed forward Oskar Sundqvist to a four-year, $11 million contract extension, the team said Sunday.

Sundqvist, 25, appeared in 75 regular-season games with the Blues in 2018-19, scoring 14 goals with 17 assists while logging 22 penalty minutes. The forward had four goals and five assists in 25 playoff games, helping the Blues capture the 2019 Stanley Cup.

The Blues withstood the suspension of Sundqvist for Game 3 of the Stanley Cup finals for delivering an elbow to the head of Bruins defenseman Matt Grzelcyk. St. Louis went on to claim the Cup in seven games.

Drafted 81st overall by the Pittsburgh Penguins in 2012, Sundqvist was acquired by the Blues in a trade with Pittsburgh in June, 2017.

Pity Martinez scored the go-ahead goal in the 89th minute after being held out of coach Frank de Boer's starting lineup, and Atlanta United scraped out a 2-0 victory over visiting D.C. United on Sunday afternoon.

Josef Martinez added an insurance goal -- his 16th of the season -- in second-half stoppage time after missing an earlier penalty kick for Atlanta (11-8-3, 36 points), which moved above D.C. (9-6-8, 35 points) into second place in the Eastern Conference.

Pity Martinez provided the assist on that breakaway effort.

Brad Guzan made three saves to preserve his MLS-leading 10th shutout against a D.C. side that was at times surprisingly dangerous despite playing without star forward Wayne Rooney and conceding 71.4 percent of the possession.

Rooney was not on the roster after coach Ben Olsen permitted him to take the weekend off to recover from a range of minor injuries, according to a report from the Washington Post.

Atlanta signed Pity Martinez prior to the season from Argentine club River Plate for an MLS record transfer fee reported to be $14 million. But the reigning South American player of the year had only two goals and five assists in 20 games prior to Sunday, the second consecutive game in which de Boer relegated the attacking midfielder to the bench.

Martinez came on to replace Brandon Vazquez in the 65th minute, and finally got the game's crucial breakthrough 24 minutes later.

Midfielder Darlington Nagbe created the opportunity with his lofted pass from the right byline. Martinez drifted in front of goal, leaped and met Nagbe's cross at the top of the 6-yard box, heading it past goalkeeper Bill Hamid from close range.

Hamid had previously made four saves, including two impressive first-half stops on Josef Martinez to keep things even. And his refusal to bite on Josef Martinez's juke during a 72nd-minute penalty kick resulted in a spot kick that sailed well over the crossbar.

But the Atlanta United striker finally beat the D.C. goalkeeper after running onto Pity Martinez's through ball into a one-on-one, with little Hamid could do.

Real Madrid coach Zinedine Zidane is a "disgrace" for his comments about Gareth Bale's situation at the club, the player's agent told ESPN FC.

Zidane left Bale out of Saturday's 3-1 International Champions Cup defeat to Bayern Munich, and afterward the manager said: "We hope he leaves soon. It would be best for everyone."

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The Wales international is under contract until 2022. His agent, Jonathan Barnett, told ESPN FC: "Zidane is a disgrace to speak like that about someone who has done so much for Real.

"If and when Gareth goes it will be because it is in the best interest of Gareth and nothing to do with Zidane pushing."

Bale has won the Champions League four times during a trophy-laden spell at Madrid and scored one the competition's all-time great goals with his overhead kick in a 3-1 victory against Liverpool in 2018.

He featured in 42 matches last season, with 21 coming as a starter, but injury problems have limited him to 79 games of a possible 151 in La Liga. He has also won La Liga, the Copa del Rey and the Spanish Super Cup, as well as lifting the Club World Cup and UEFA Super Cup three times apiece.

Manchester United wanted to sign Bale in 2013 but he opted for Madrid in a deal worth around £85 million -- a world-record transfer at the time. Sources have told ESPN FC that United do not wish to reignite their interest this summer, while Tottenham have been linked with a move for their former player.

Marca reported on Tuesday that Spurs were ready to offer Bale an escape route from the Bernabeu, with a bid of around €60m mooted. It was claimed they would pay around half of his €17m a year salary, with Madrid handing the winger €25m up front to cover the remaining three years of his contract.

Speaking after Tottenham beat Juventus 3-2 in the International Champions Cup on Saturday, Tottenham coach Mauricio Pochettino said: "I saw in the media, but I don't know which club is working to sign him.

"At the moment I have no information from my chairman, so I don't know if we are or not. It's not my job. It's the job of my chairman to make the best squad possible."

Pressed on what stage the negotiations are at surrounding Bale's potential exit, Barnett told ESPN FC there is "nothing more at the moment," regarding the player's future. Barnett previously told ESPN FC this summer that Bale, 30, is ready to take on Zidane in a power struggle at Madrid.

Madrid have not responded to requests for comment regarding Bale's situation.

The club have already spent more than €300m shaking up a squad which failed in 2018-19, with Eden Hazard the headline addition, but Zidane is keen on adding Paul Pogba to the squad this summer.

The club's next match in preseason is against Arsenal on Tuesday in Landover, Maryland (7 p.m. ET, 11 p.m. GMT -- ESPN Deportes), with Zidane's men starting their La Liga campaign at Celta Vigo on Aug. 17.

ESPN FC's Real Madrid correspondent Dermot Corrigan contributed to this report.

PHOENIX -- Milwaukee Brewers All-Star right-hander Brandon Woodruff has left his start against the Arizona Diamondbacks in the fourth inning with an abdominal injury.

Woodruff grimaced after throwing a second strike to Diamondbacks leadoff hitter Tim Locastro on Sunday, and Milwaukee's trainer immediately ran out with manager Craig Counsell.

After a brief discussion, Woodruff slowly walked to the dugout. The team said he left with "abdominal discomfort."

The hard-throwing right-hander allowed four runs on six hits. He was replaced Junior Guerra with the game tied 4-all.

Woodruff has been Milwaukee's best pitcher this season, earning his first NL All-Star nod. He entered Sunday's game 11-3 with a 3.53 ERA and had allowed three earned runs in 20 1/3 innings his previous three starts.