One magical night three years ago, the best baseball players in the world were transfixed, turned once again into little kids, awed by the presence of an idol.

Ted Williams had that effect on people.

With the 1999 All-Star game to be played in Fenway Park, major league baseball had the great good sense to bring Williams back to Boston.

The 80-year-old Williams weakened by a series of strokes, confined to a wheelchair, his eyesight failing was driven through the center field gates. The other greats had already been introduced Aaron, Mays, Feller, Musial. And now it was time for the main event.

Williams’ name brought down the house.

Thunderous cheers rolled down, section by section, an outpouring of emotion by fans who seemed to know this would be one last chance to salute a baseball icon.

So they stood to cheer him, not only in the stands but on the field, as well. And he waved his cap in acknowledgment.

Now the All-Stars began drifting toward him. They converged at the pitcher’s mound Williams surrounded by a crowd of the game’s best players, all of them looking now like so many sandlotters about to meet a real major leaguer.

That’s when the crying began.

Williams was helped from the cart, steadied by Tony Gwynn and Cal Ripken Jr., each nearing the end of their own Hall of Fame careers. With Carlton Fisk, another Hall of Famer, crouched behind the plate wearing a suit and Red Sox cap, Williams tossed the ceremonial first pitch to him.

When the ceremony was over, the All-Stars surrounded Williams again, paying homage to one of baseball’s greatest players. There was an outpouring of emotion, on the field and off.

“I don’t think you could capture it any better than when you had all of baseball gathered around him on the field, in the golf cart,” New York Yankees ace Roger Clemens said.

Knots of players crowded around Williams, all of them almost dumbstruck by the game’s last .400 hitter. They were slow to leave, trying to hang on to the moment, a memory that would last a lifetime.

“Tears were coming out of Ted’s eyes,” Colorado’s Larry Walker said. “I had to turn away because tears were coming out my eyes, too.”

Red Sox shortstop Nomar Garciaparra remembered the moment.

“It was really nice how people surrounded him,” he said. “Nobody wanted to leave. It was one of those things when people appreciate the game.”

Mark McGwire had broken the home run record the year before. Now he bent over to talk hitting with the master of the craft.

“When you have a chance to meet one of the best hitters in the game, and you see tears running down his eyes for the appreciation the fans and all of us gave him, it’s quite a special time,” McGwire said. “I’m just happy he knows who I am, and he talked to me.”