Camden Yards partied like it was 1995 on Saturday.
Classic fonts, logos and animations took over the video boards and televisions. Identical replicas of the four banners with those historic digits that hung from the warehouse walls to signal the milestone again dangled from the red brick. And Cal Ripken Jr.’s statue on the concourse beyond left field, which wasn’t there when the shortstop became baseball’s Iron Man, had a line of people waiting for photos next to it that stretched to the bullpens.
Like they were 30 years ago to the day, everyone was here for one man.
Ripken didn’t suit up and man the middle of the infield Saturday like he did then. Instead, along with several former teammates, coaches, broadcasters and even an opponent, he donned a suit jacket and gave a heartfelt speech filled with gratitude and nostalgia to commemorate the 30th anniversary of him passing Lou Gehrig for Major League Baseball’s consecutive games played record.
“I’ve had 30 years to reflect on that wonderful night of 2,131,” Ripken said. “And I don’t think it could have played out any better.”
The ceremony, which opened with a moment of silence for former Orioles player and manager Davey Johnson, lasted nearly 30 minutes after a brief weather delay. Ripken’s counterparts were introduced one by one, each ovation louder than the last. First, broadcasters synonymous with the Orioles and Sept. 6, 1995, Chris Berman and Jon Miller. Then, Harold Baines, Eddie Murray, Mike Mussina, Jim Palmer, Brady Anderson, Al Bumbry, B.J. Surhoff, Ben McDonald, Rafael Palmeiro, Larry Sheets and Ken Griffey Jr. came on.
Finally, it was Ripken’s turn.
Perched atop a red Corvette convertible in the ultimate callback to that night, the Hall of Fame shortstop took a lap around the diamond after an introduction from Miller. Ripken waved, smiled and thanked onlookers as he did three decades ago, smacked Dodgers first baseman Freddie Freeman’s hand as he passed the visiting dugout and shook every Orioles player’s hands when he hopped off the car. Then Ripken joined his family near the pitcher’s mound, and after his address, caught the ceremonial first pitch from his son, Ryan, a former Orioles minor leaguer who did the same 30 years ago as a 2-year-old.
And after the top of the fifth inning, which on that night marked the game becoming official, Palmeiro and Bonilla pushed Ripken out of the dugout once more for more waves and handshakes to recreate the iconic moment that kicked off a 22-minute, 15-second standing ovation (the applause this time did not stop the game for that long).
In nearly every way, Saturday was indistinguishable from the evening it was honoring.

“Not to get too philosophical here, but that night was a celebration of an old Oriole principle: To show up each and every day to meet whatever challenge is thrown our way,” Ripken said. “I was just following dad’s instructions and Eddie’s example. That one-day-at-a-time approach turned into 2,632 games in a row.
“Persevering and pushing forward are traits not just found in baseball, but in life, and that’s the real meaning of the streak,” he continued. “I’ve been told that this record is unbreakable now. I would always say, ‘If I can do it, certainly somebody else can.’ This might surprise some, but I hope someone passes me someday and that I and all of you have the pleasure of seeing it.”
An announced sellout crowd of 42,612 listened intently — Ripken arrived at his seat behind home plate in the fourth inning to later join them. Keith Collins, a 58-year-old Richmond, Virginia, native, and his son, Evan, were two of the Camden Yards faithful seated in Section 15. The 12-year-old had heard tales of Ripken’s feat from his father, but he’s been looking forward to Saturday for weeks to hopefully truly understand its significance: “I’ve definitely heard a lot,” said Evan, who describes himself as a huge Dylan Beavers fan. “It’s really cool that I got to be here today.”
“He played 13 years without being sick, being injured, taking a day off, anything like that,” said Collins, who was also in attendance for Friday’s walk-off victory. “It may be done again, but it’s hard to fathom.”
Collins, who admits that he grew up a Yankees supporter, became an Orioles fan when his son sitting next to him got into baseball some years ago. While not a Baltimore diehard, Collins remembers watching the careers of Ripken and the legendary players accompanying him and admiring the perseverance the streak required.
Hardly any of the current members of the Orioles were alive in 1995. So Collins hoped they, too, would watch Saturday.
They did just that — arms rested on the dugout railing, eyes on the man of the hour and some in No. 8 T-shirts — just like the thousands behind them. None of them will play every game over more than a dozen consecutive seasons. But perhaps there’s valuable takeaways nonetheless.
“It sets an example for everybody,” Collins said. “That’s the lesson in this. It’ll be interesting if some of the young guys try to take that on.”
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