COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. – The Texas Rangers rented a stately place with a huge lawn for Hall of Fame weekend. It also was in a neighborhood that remained quiet on Sunday morning, even as thousands of people were milling not far away on those few blocks that serve as Cooperstown's business district.

All over town, people were holding signs that read "$20 Park All Day,'' trying to lure in the visitors that would be taking buses up the hill to deliver them to the 75th version of a Baseball Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

No parking signs in this neighborhood, though. Home owners in the area hoping to cash in on this village's big summer weekend already had done so by renting out their large homes for numerous of thousands per night — three- or four-night minimum.

"Nice place,'' I said to John Blake, long-serving the Rangers in public relations and other areas, and perhaps the most-anguished person during a loss of any Rangers employee in history, including manager Billy Martin (hired late in 1973, fired after 95 games in 1975).

Blake nodded at my concise compliment and said: "Yeah, we rented it when Pudge [Ivan Rodriguez] went in in 2017, and locked it up right away with Adrián [Beltré] going in."

Pause. "Nice, but expensive," he said, shaking his head.

Reigning World Series champs for the first time. The Rangers could afford it.

Beltré played for four teams during his 18 seasons as one of the best two or three third basemen in baseball history. The last seven years were with the Rangers, and that was the cap on Beltré's Hall of Fame plaque.

On Sunday morning, the Rangers were hosting a brunch in honor of another baseball man with Dallas-Fort Worth roots, that being Gerry Fraley, a sports writer who died in 2019 at age 64 due to cancer.

"Frales" was this year's winner of the Career Excellence Award voted on by the Baseball Writers Association of America. He now will have a certificate in the "Scribes and Mikemen" section of baseball's National Museum.

Blake suffering late in a defeat and Fraley making note of key blunders … there's a chance they might have barked at one another on a given night in a press box in Arlington, Texas, or on the road.

Tough love, in both cases.

• • •

One gentleman making a brief visit to the brunch table was Elvis Andrus, a Ranger for 12 of his 15 big-league seasons — a shortstop every time he was in the field for Texas (1,774 regular-season games) and having played more games next to Beltré than anyone.

The presentations that would follow later Sunday started with key figures in the inductee's career talking about him. For Joe Mauer it would be Justin Morneau, of course, and for Beltré it would be Andrus, also of course.

Andrus is an affable fellow, only 35, but released by the Diamondbacks in March and not playing at the moment. His most recent task had been to assist Beltré in the Futures Game a week earlier, where Beltré managed the American League prospects.

We started talking, Andrus asked what had me in Cooperstown, and I said: "Friend of Fraley's, but also a Minnesotan here for Joe Mauer's induction.''

I also noted an ongoing level of surprise that the BBWAA voters (of which I've been one for 40 years) gave our guy Joe the required 75 percent in his first try on the ballot.

"Joe? No, no, no; he should be first ballot," Andrus said. "He had those concussions, he had to move to first later, but Joe was the best behind the plate. He won three batting titles as a catcher. He hit .365 as a catcher."

"That was the same year I made it to big leagues … 2009. He was the MVP. We did not play the Twins until later in the season. Next time we played, I told Joe how good it was watching him play — catch, and hit.

"He said, 'No, Elvis. I've been watching you. You're just getting started. You're going to have a great career.' "

Andrus laughed and said: "It was hard to compliment Joe. But playing against him, watching him … first ballot for sure."

• • •

Mauer was last with his introduction and speech. The crowd was advertised at 28,000, which was a generous estimate, much like game attendance gets inflated in those low-customer days before "school's out" back in Minnesota.

Sitting through those 2½ hours in a warm New York State sun you came to realize this might have been a stronger class than originally imagined.

First came a reliving of Todd Helton's one-team, 17-year career with the Colorado Rockies and the numbers were astounding, including .372 with 42 home runs and 147 RBI in 2000.

True, his splits were higher in the thin air of Coors Field than on the road. And the exceptional doubles totals benefited from outfielders playing deeper and turning line drives toward a gap into two bases way more often than the norm.

But 59 of those in 2000, and another 54 in 2001, when he had back-to-back seasons of 400-plus total bases (405 and 402) … that's a lot of line drives.

Beltré? I've mentioned this before: When the Twins were in Seattle in August 2005 and Beltré was in his first year with the M's, sitting at .255 and taking heat, Dan Gladden (Twins radio then and now) said:

"We should make a trade for that guy after the season. Beltré's value is down right now, but he's a great player, both ways."

Right you were, Gladman.

Jim Leyland was also on the induction list, a manager of four teams voted in by the Hall's contemporary committee. His voice broke three times, he got some laughs, and seeing him was a reminder of an outstanding sports writing moment.

The Florida Marlins were in their fifth season in 1997, owner Wayne Huizenga opened the bank account for free agents and other acquisitions, and Leyland managed them to a seven-game World Series title — first upsetting the Atlanta Braves in the NLCS, then beating that wonderful Cleveland lineup in the Series.

Huizenga then decided to cut payroll to the bone, and Leyland went from a loaded roster and winning the World Series, to MLB's worst team in 1998 — 54-108 and 52 games behind the Braves in the NL East.

Florida was in Milwaukee at the end of May 1998, and I drove there to get a piece on Huizenga turning the Marlins into a disaster on purpose.

Leyland was in the visitors dugout at County Stadium before the game, pounding his Marlboro Reds, and answering questions from South Florida beat writers for smaller-picture matters with these woeful Marlins.

When those daily questions were done, I asked Leyland about the dismemberment of his team. He blew it off in profane fashion, saying he was sick of those questions.

Leyland took another puff or two, had his head down for a minute, then looked up and off he went — 20 minutes on the disgrace of the Marlins going from creating South Florida madness to incredible badness.

Sunday's cleanup hitter was Mauer, a position in the lineup Joe didn't hold often in his career.

There were way more Twins fans and supporters of Mauer in the crowd than any of the other individuals. Those thousands in Twins garb worked hard to squeeze out a couple of laughs during Joe's speech, and he choked up slightly when mentioning his Grandpa Jake, standing in front of the TV, emulating his grandson's swing as Joe was at the plate.

"Joe was very sincere," was the review from a Twins fan, sitting in front of me in a folding chair.

"Joe was grateful for the big turnout of Minnesotans," said another behind me.

"Joe mentioned family and the other important people," said a woman wearing a No. 7 jersey.

Me? I could've used a mention of Rod Carew, who was getting around with much assistance over the weekend with a new artificial knee, and Tony Oliva, who turned 86 on Saturday, both sitting up there behind Mauer among 48 returning Hall of Famers and the two greatest left-handed hitters to precede Mauer as Hall of Famers with Twins caps on a plaque.

And so it goes. He was Joe, and he's ours, and we're not trading him.