COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. - Go find a box of Kleenex. Pull out your handkerchief. That worn batting glove Wade Boggs signed and tossed to you in 1992, that will work if you don't mind the smudge.

It's crying time.

Since that now-famous telephone call at 12:26 p.m. on Jan. 4 informed him that he had a permanent home in Cooperstown, Wade Boggs has waited on today like he used to wait on the right pitch in the batter's box.

Boggs has talked about his 3,000th hit about 3,010 times. He has recounted story after story about how he was told he would never play in the majors. He has explained his fondness of superstitions so often that he has developed new ones talking about the old ones.

This afternoon, Boggs will be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame along with former Cubs second baseman Ryne Sandberg. And as sure a bet as Boggs taking a pitch out of the strike zone, Tampa's very own hit king will struggle to contain his emotions during the induction speech.

"I would rather face Nolan Ryan and Randy Johnson any day of the week," Boggs said Saturday. "This is probably the most difficult thing I will ever have to do in my life."

To remain calm since arriving in Cooperstown late Wednesday, Boggs has kept busy with his family and friends in town for the big event. He went fishing with his wife, Debbie, and their two kids Thursday, catching a couple of trout on Otsego Lake.

Friday, he spent most of the day participating in Hall of Fame events and attended a Hall of Famers dinner at the Otesaga Hotel on Friday night. Boggs woke up Saturday and played in the Hall of Fame Golf Tournament, joined by several of his good friends from Tampa.

"We played 18 holes. I wish we could have played 36. That's how much fun we were having," Boggs said. "My friends were overwhelmed by the galleries. It was a really special time."

Since they arrived in Cooperstown and the clock started ticking on their induction speeches, Boggs and Sandberg have constantly been reminded by the other Hall of Famers in town of what is in store today. Most expect Sandberg to remain calmer than Boggs, though Sandberg has his own concerns.

"Every time you walk through the hallway or you walk around, they have something to say about your speech," Sandberg said. "I think Paul Molitor has been the worst, because he was sitting up here a year ago. Every time I see him he's got something to say because he's feeling so relaxed this year."

For now, the word "relax" does not belong in the same sentence as Boggs.

While he has surrounded himself with family and friends from Tampa to help him maintain a comfort zone, Boggs will be by himself on the podium in front of 25,000 fans today when he makes his speech.

When he starts talking about his mother, Sue, there's no doubt the tears will start welling in his eyes. Sue Boggs was killed in a car wreck in 1986. He'll also tear up when he starts explaining how his father, Win, spent so many hours teaching him how to hit when he was growing up. And then there is Debbie, whom he married shortly after graduating from Plant High in 1976 and who has been with him all the way.

"The feeling in the stomach is getting worse and worse," Boggs said Saturday afternoon. "I'm sure Saturday night and this morning are going to be absolutely miserable, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

"It's been a long time. This, for myself, has been the last piece of the puzzle."

Well, what about that speech that has been such a favorite topic of conversation this weekend? How long is it? What's the focus? Can you give us any insight?

"Here's the deal," Boggs said. "Everybody talks about, 'Have you been writing your speech? Have you done this? Have you done that?' That's where the anxiety gets to you. It just crushes you. Everybody is talking about the speech.

"I just hope I get one word out of my mouth before I start crying. I don't want to pull a Bill Mazeroski and just stand there and cry the whole time and sit down."