Cal Ripken Jr., left, and Tony Gwynn pose at a news conference Saturday in Cooperstown, N.Y. The two will be inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame today.

Cal Ripken could have wound up as a pitcher. Tony Gwynn could have played pro basketball in Europe or the CBA.

But sometimes things turn out the right way.

Gwynn and Ripken, who will be enshrined today in the Baseball Hall of Fame, exemplify the goodness that is on display somewhere in the major leagues on a daily basis, even if Barry Bonds and the other squeaky wheels get most of the grease.

A pitcher with a 90-plus-mph. fastball when he wasn’t playing shortstop at Aberdeen (Md.) High School, Ripken was listed as a pitcher-shortstop when Baltimore selected him in the second round of the 1978 draft. The Orioles, in part at the behest of his father, longtime coach Cal Ripken Sr., decided to give him a try at short, figuring he could go back to the mound if he didn’t hit.

“Pitchers only get to pitch one out of five days,” Ripken said. “I wanted to play every day. … If somebody else had drafted me, I probably would have gone in (to pro baseball) as a pitcher. Who knows what would have happened?”

Gwynn went to San Diego State on a basketball scholarship, with the understanding that he could walk on to the baseball team. But he didn’t play baseball his freshman season and might not have played any college baseball if one of his high school friends, Bobby Meacham, had not signed a baseball scholarship and told coach Jim Dietz the pudgy basketball player was a pretty good hitter.

“If it wasn’t for Bobby Meacham, I definitely wouldn’t be here,” Gwynn said.

Here, for Gwynn, means 17th on baseball’s career hits list with 3,141 and tied for second with eight batting titles. For Ripken, it’s 3,184 career hits (13th all time), 431 home runs and the distinction of having played 2,632 consecutive games, more than 16 complete seasons.

Making their careers especially unusual is that they spent every day with the same organization. They are beloved to the fans in Baltimore and San Diego.

That’s why Hall of Fame officials were expecting record crowds this weekend. In addition to an influx of crabcake lovers from along the Chesapeake Bay, at least three chartered planes and (gulp) one chartered bus were making the 4,760-mile round trip from San Diego to Cooperstown, N.Y.

“It means everything for me,” Gwynn said. “When I stand on that podium, I feel like I’m representing so many people who supported me my whole career in San Diego. When you’re that guy, there’s a definite feeling. To me, it doesn’t get any better than that.”

Baseball fans whose loyalties have been worn thin by steroid scandals, labor wars, botched rundown plays and aloof players with more money than graciousness must wonder if it will ever get better than a Hall of Fame class of Gwynn and Ripken. Mark McGwire was supposed to be in it, too, but his absence at the time that Barry Bonds is poised to break Henry Aaron’s career home run record provides a nice counterbalance for the weekend.

About the only thing controversial with either Ripken or Gwynn was Ripken’s stubborn pursuit of Lou Gehrig’s consecutive-games record, perhaps at the expense of his play and his team’s maneuverability. They loved what they were doing, and it almost always showed.

“I really enjoyed every aspect of the game,” Ripken said. “I enjoyed practicing, being around the guys. I was always upbeat, having fun in any situation. … You can’t play baseball every single day without a smile on your face. You have to have a joy for what you’re doing because it does become hard to go out there each and every day to play. You really do have to call on your passion and your joy, have a sense of humor, to get through it all.”

At every induction ceremony, players thank their fans for going along on the ride with them. The funny thing is, it’s almost always sincere because Hall of Famers are seldom in the group of players who treat fans like they are a burden.

Ripken says he came to love the reaction of baseball crowds when he was sitting in the stands watching his dad manage.

“I understood the game was more special because people were in the stands watching,” he said. “It would be pretty drab if it was just you out there playing.”

If you like baseball at all, you could listen to these two guys tell stories all day.