Standing in the Hall of Fame

I remember the song by The Script blasting through my headphones before a 13U baseball tournament.

“Dedicate yourself and you gon’ find yourself
Standin’ in the Hall of Fame.”

At the time, those words meant going 4-for-4 at the plate and pitching a complete game to carry my team to victory. But in the summer of 2025, those lyrics came full circle. I found myself literally standing in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

Baseball has been my life. My grandma sparked that love by chance, handing me a foam ball and plastic bat in her living room. Hours later, we’d still be playing. From peanut butter and jelly sandwiches during Cubs games, to meeting my idol Alfonso Soriano, to competing for 15 years, baseball wasn’t just my hobby – it was my lifestyle.

When my playing days wound down, the passion didn’t fade. Instead, it shifted. Writing became my new avenue into the sports world, a way to stay connected while sharpening a skill that could one day get me paid to watch games.

I never imagined that covering the Nebraska football spring game would be the first step toward Cooperstown. But it was. And I’m grateful.

Over the next two years, I sharpened my skills at the Lincoln Journal Star as a sports clerk and part-time reporter. I covered high school volleyball and baseball, learned how to tailor stories to different audiences, and built relationships with coaches, athletes and editors. Along the way, I leaned on mentors who pushed me to grow and encouraged me to chase bigger goals. Those connections opened doors – from working with a summer baseball team to finding opportunities I never imagined. When the National Baseball Hall of Fame internship application opened, I knew I had to take a shot. It was the opportunity I had been preparing for.

Still, nothing prepared me for the moment when Craig Muder, Director of Communications at the Hall, asked in my interview:

“Noah, tell me about Hall of Famer Mike Piazza.”

I froze. Sure, I knew the basics: a power-hitting catcher, a cornerstone for the New York Mets and Los Angeles Dodgers. But beyond that, I rambled until I had nothing left.

Later, I told my girlfriend about the question. She didn’t hesitate.

“Did you talk about the home run?”

I blinked. “Home run?”

“You know – the home run. Piazza’s homer in the first game after 9/11. Please tell me you mentioned it,” she said.

I hadn’t. At that moment, I figured my chances were gone.

Two months later, though, I walked into the Hall of Fame as an intern. Goosebumps covered my arms as I stood among plaques of Jackie Robinson, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb and Hank Aaron. My writing had brought me to the epicenter of the baseball world.

That summer was life-changing. As the Hall’s communications intern, I wrote more than 20 stories for one of the most prestigious institutions in sports. Some were quick-hit “Inside Pitch” pieces, capturing moments from baseball history on a given day. Others were in-depth features, like a Card Corner profile of a former player or a deep dive into the 2025 Hall of Fame class. My work appeared on the Hall’s website and on MLB.com – a byline I’d dreamed about since I was a kid.

The highlights weren’t just on the page. I interviewed legends like Ichiro Suzuki, Billy Wagner and CC Sabathia, often pinching myself that the conversations were real. I helped edit press releases, build media packages and even assembled a spreadsheet of Hall of Famer quotes on Pete Rose for future committee use – a project that connected me to one of the sport’s most complicated debates. Every day felt surreal, like I was brushing shoulders with history while learning how to tell its story.

Beyond the thrill of seeing my name on MLB.com, the summer taught me lessons I’ll carry into every job. I learned how to adapt my writing to an organization’s style guide, how to ask thoughtful questions of Hall of Famers, and how to connect every story back to a mission statement. I even gained experience far outside of writing – from handling artifacts with care to helping coordinate an induction weekend with 30,000 fans and 360 credentialed media members.

Most importantly, I learned that persistence and preparation create opportunities, but support systems make them meaningful. Family, professors, colleagues and friends carried me as much as my own effort did. If anything, I’m prouder of making them proud than I am of the accomplishments themselves.

To my younger self: you did make it to the MLB – just not as a player. Trust the process. Work hard. Never give up.

In my final days as an intern, I visited a section that held an Alfonso Soriano jersey from his time as a Texas Ranger. As my favorite player for a deeper reason, I stood there, looking at his jersey when those lyrics from years ago rang louder than ever:

“Dedicate yourself and you gon’ find yourself
Standin’ in the Hall of Fame.”

 Noah Douglas, senior sports media communications and journalism double major