There are plenty of baseball fans of a certain age that are disappointed that Dale Murphy isn’t in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

I’m one of them.

In my humble opinion, it’s a glaring omission. If anyone belongs in the Hall of Fame, it’s Dale Bryan Murphy. Not just for what he accomplished, but how he accomplished it. I’m probably more than just disappointed. I’m upset. I would stage a protest and picket Cooperstown, but I’m sure he’d disapprove of such ostentatious behavior.

Although during his 18-year career, from the mid-1970s through the early 1990s, Murphy won two MVP awards (back-to-back in 1982 and 1983), smacked 398 home runs, played in 2,180 games, collected 2,111 hits, accumulated 1,266 RBI, scored 1,197 runs, was a seven-time All-Star, was named the 1988 Roberto Clemente Man of the Year, won five Gold Gloves and four Silver Sluggers, stole 161 bases and appeared on the cover of Sports Illustrated a couple of times (when that was a big deal) he wasn’t enshrined in the Hall of Fame.

Even more compelling, he did it all without using steroids, like some of his contemporaries, and he also played for many woeful Atlanta Braves teams over 15 seasons. His No. 3 jersey was retired by the Braves in 1994.

Some argue, “Well, he didn’t get 3,000 hits or 500 home runs.” But consider everything else Murphy did during his career, including joining the 30-30 club (30 home runs, 30 stolen bases) in 1983, when he became only the sixth player since 1922 to accomplish that feat.

In the mid-’80s, future Hall-of-Fame pitcher Nolan Ryan had this to say about him: “I can’t picture Joe DiMaggio being any better an all-around player than Murphy. He’s one of the toughest guys I’ve ever pitched to.”

Isn’t that testimonial alone, from one of the best pitchers of all time, enough to propel him into the Hall of Fame?

A fan is born

As a teenager growing up in Utah in the 1980s, I unabashedly idolized Murphy. We’re both members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. And I love baseball.

But I’m not even a Braves fan. I’m a lifelong Dodgers fan. The Dodgers were my favorite team but Murphy was my favorite player. Keep in mind my parents were too frugal to spring for cable TV back then, so it wasn’t like I watched the Braves on TBS like so many did.

No matter, I had a Murphy poster hanging on my wall for much of my adolescence. Every day, I checked the box scores for his daily performance and waited to see his highlights on the 10 o’clock news. When I served a mission, I had his baseball card safely tucked inside my wallet for the full two years.

Besides his accolades, Murphy showed a large segment of kids like me that grew up in the 1980s that an athlete could excel both on and off the field — live a clean life, generously give back to fans and be an example of a great husband and father.

As one of his former managers, Joe Torre, once said: “If you’re a coach, you want him as a player. If you’re a father, you want him as a son. If you’re a woman, you want him as a husband. If you’re a kid, you want him as a father. What else can you say about the guy?”

“We read stories about Murphy’s kindness and charity, how he didn’t drink or smoke or curse and how he signed every autograph,” ESPN’s Wright Thompson, who also idolized Murphy as a kid, wrote several years ago. “We imagined meeting him over big glasses of milk and talking about his moonshot home runs. Across the South, we fought over who’d wear No. 3.”

As good of a guy as Murphy is, don’t forget that there were years when he was one of the most feared hitters in the game.

Still dishing up hits

While Murphy wasn’t inducted into the Hall of Fame, there is a place that feels like his own personal, makeshift Hall of Fame. Knowing Murphy’s character and humility, I’m sure he didn’t intend it to be that way.

There’s just something special about walking into the restaurant he owns — aptly titled Murph’s, which opened in 2017. It’s located just a prodigious Murphy home run away from the home of the Braves, Truist Park, located in the Cobb Galleria Centre.

It’s a popular place for fans to gather and eat before, after and during Braves games.

During a work trip in November to Atlanta, I visited Murph’s for the first time as kind of a pilgrimage. In a small way, I wanted to pay homage to the man — which coincided with the fact that I was famished after a long day of meetings and tours with BYU students.

The restaurant is filled with eye-catching memorabilia, iconic photos, promotional posters, historical documents throughout — even in the bathrooms.

At the entrance of the restaurant, there’s a turnstile, which seems fitting for a sports-themed eatery. Then you read the placard above it that explains that the turnstile originally belonged to Wrigley Field. In 1989, after the Braves played a game against the Cubs, Murphy was headed to the team bus and noticed a pile of old turnstiles that were being replaced by newer ones.

So Murphy asked the clubhouse attendant about the turnstiles. He was told he could take them. Two of the turnstiles were shipped to Murphy’s home in Newnan, Georgia. They were kept in an old barn and collected dust for 30 years.

Now, one of those turnstiles welcomes visitors to Murph’s.

Another sign that welcomes visitors — “Beer, Burgers, Baseball.”

Yes, there is a bar to buy beer and wine at Murph’s for those so inclined.

There are a variety of seating options, from the bar to booths to tables, with TVs to watch games.

Everywhere there are photographs of Murphy to gawk at, producing waves of nostalgia.

For those too young to know Murphy, they can receive a good education about him and his legacy. There are framed magazine articles; his baseball stats are adorned on a wall; you’ll also find original, handwritten lineup cards, with Murphy batting third, and his batting helmet.

Affixed in the restaurant is a quote from another legendary player, who also is not in the Hall of Fame, albeit for different reasons, Pete Rose: “These days, anytime one of my pitchers keeps Murphy in the ballpark, I pat ‘em on the fanny.”

Twilight years

As for the food at Murph’s? I ordered the Philly cheesesteak and sweet potato fries, which were delicious. Between bites, I shared with my college-aged companions stories about Murphy.

For example, in 1993, I was working for BYU’s student newspaper, the Daily Universe. It was the Colorado Rockies’ inaugural season. I thought it would be fun to cover a couple of games at Mile High Stadium in Denver and write about the thrill of Major League Baseball in the Mountain Time Zone for the first time.

An even bigger incentive was the fact that Murphy was on the Rockies’ roster in the twilight of his career. Maybe I could score an interview with him, I thought.

When I requested a credential, I learned that MLB didn’t offer access to student newspapers, but I was promised a seat in the stadium for a couple of weekend games. And, I was told, perhaps they might be able to grant me an interview with Murphy.

As fate would have it, two days before I was to leave for Denver, Murphy abruptly announced his retirement at the age of 37.

So much for that interview.

Years later, I did finally meet Murphy. They say “don’t meet your heroes” because they won’t live up to your expectations. Well, let’s just say I’m glad I met him. I wasn’t disappointed. If anything, my admiration for him grew.

Anyway, the menu at his restaurant offers a wide array of options for discriminating palates, including appetizers like cheese curds, pot roast wet fries, fried pickles and Santa Fe chicken egg rolls. There are sandwiches, wraps and burgers, like the Bourbon Bacon Burger and the Double Header (“two half-pound patties, layered with bacon and American cheese”) as well as Murphy’s Classic wings.

For dessert, there’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup Pie, Ice Cream Helmet (two scoops of vanilla served in a souvenir baseball helmet), Abit Root Beer Float, Chocolate Lovin’ Spoonful Cake and Creme Brulee Cheesecake.

While the food was really good, the ambiance was even better — and I could only imagine what it would be like watching a Braves game there in air-conditioned splendor on a humid summer’s day in the South.

It made me wish I could have watched Murphy play in person.

Murphy was eligible for the Hall of Fame ballot from 1999-2013 but he never received more than 23.2% of the vote. He was again denied election by the Era/Veterans Committee ballot in 2024.

While during that era, many players were producing gaudy numbers with the help of steroids, Murphy played like he lived — clean. Steroid-free.

“If baseball wants to wash itself clean from steroids, the best way to do it isn’t to keep (Barry) Bonds out of the Hall but to let Murphy in,” Thompson wrote in 2018. “Induct cheaters but also celebrate Dale Murphy for his 398 home runs and the dozens he did not hit. He finished just two short of 400, and only four eligible players not linked to steroids have 400 or more homers and are not in the Hall. None was ever MVP. Murphy’s recognition is a vote about the culture we want.”

So Murphy is not enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame (though he is in the Atlanta Braves Hall of Fame). But for those of us who want to celebrate his career, and how he conducted himself during it, he’s enshrined in our hearts. If you can’t see his contributions to the game, and pay tribute to him, in Cooperstown, then visit his restaurant in Atlanta. It’s the next-best-thing.

If you’re looking to reconnect with some childhood baseball memories, or maybe introduce a younger generation to the legend of Dale Murphy, and eat some great food in a great atmosphere, you won’t be disappointed.