He woke in the middle of the night at his Massachusetts home as names and faces and moments ran through his head. Dennis Eckersley was trying to sift through his memories and compose a speech for his induction into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. He felt like a kid cramming the night before an exam. He paced and wondered how such a life could be condensed into a short presentation. His mind was spinning with hundreds of teammates from 26 years of professional baseball, from Reno to San Antonio to Cleveland, from Boston to Chicago, from Oakland and St. Louis and back to Boston. His head filled with images of family, from a childhood with the big brother he admired, to two failed marriages, to the devotion of three children. From desperation and anguish to joy and redemption. There is baseball and there is divorce and there is the constant struggle to stay sober. There is so much to say when he takes the stage today in Cooperstown, N.Y., so many to thank and so many messages to deliver. It seemed at times overwhelming. "What a ride," Eckersley, 49, said last week. "When I think about it, it's been some life." Ultimately, he said he has decided to talk about recovery. It was recovery that opened a door in his career that led to the Hall of Fame. And it's recovery that he is still embracing five years after baseball ended. "It goes on for the rest of my life," Eckersley said. "It's about acceptance in your life when things happen to you. ... It saved me. When you're [an alcoholic], you either end up in jail or dead. But look at me. Look where I am." 'It Could Be Me' His baseball resume lists a no-hitter in 1977, 20 wins in 1978, 387 saves after his 32nd birthday. There are memories of his fist-pumping and World Series celebration, not to mention memories of allowing home runs to Kirk Gibson and Roberto Alomar on postseason stages. That's the public Dennis Eckersley, the face that will adorn a plaque among his heroes in Cooperstown. The private Dennis Eckersley hears his cellphone ring and is still startled by the name on the caller ID: Inmate. "It's a little weird," Eckersley said. The call is coming from a Colorado prison, where Wally "Glenn" Eckersley is serving a 40-year sentence for second-degree kidnapping, attempted murder and aggravated robbery. Two years older than Dennis, Wally Eckersley was convicted in 1989 for attacking a 59-year-old woman. While Dennis was rising to baseball stardom, Glenn -- as Dennis calls him -- was descending into a drunken abyss. He was living on the street by the early '80s, occasionally showing up unannounced at a ballpark to visit his brother. "It was just ugly," Dennis said. "He was out of control. ... And can you imagine being the brother of someone who makes it [to the major leagues]? That's just one more excuse to go have a cocktail. It had to hurt." Glenn Eckersley visited his brother at Fenway Park in 1981 and dropped in during spring training in Winter Haven, Fla., a few years later. Dennis sent his brother to a rehabilitation facility, but Glenn did not stay sober. As children growing up near Oakland, Calif., the brothers were close. They shared a love of Willie Mays and the Giants, they played ball and socialized together. And when Glenn was 15 and Dennis was 13, they shared their first beer. "Then he left home and I was drafted," Eckersley said. "We sort of went our separate ways. I was off playing ball and he was doing his thing." Their paths crossed in the late 1980s, and it was alcohol that reunited them. Dennis' life turned when he entered a rehab facility in early 1987, just a few months after the Cubs traded him to the Athletics. A few months after the trade, Glenn was arrested in Colorado. As Dennis revived his career in 1988, his brother was set to go on trial. In January 1989, Dennis testified on behalf of his brother, revealing for the first time publicly that he was also a recovering alcoholic. The defense was involuntary intoxication -- an alcohol-related blackout -- and Dennis' testimony was used to show there was alcoholism in the family. In the years after his sentencing, Glenn attempted to reach out to his brother. But the contact was sporadic and they rarely spoke. "It's almost painful when someone you know is looking at time like that," Dennis said. "What do you say to them? 'How are you doing?' It's like, 'How do you think I'm doing? I'm in jail, for Christ sakes."' But Dennis has reconnected with Glenn the past few years. His brother, Dennis said, is in recovery. They have not seen each other since the trial, but they speak often and Dennis will be in Colorado for his brother's parole hearing in December. "Anything I can do to help him," Dennis said. "He's a good dude. He's come a long way. Now, we're closer than we've ever been. "Sometimes I think if I didn't get help, it could be me." A Quick Rise ... The Indians selected Eckersley in the third round of the 1972 draft and he made it to Cleveland three years later. Eckersley was supposed to be the centerpiece of a youth revival. There was center fielder Rick Manning -- who became Eckersley's best friend after they both reported to Class A Reno in 1972 -- and infielders Buddy Bell and Duane Kuiper. Eckersley made the '75 Opening Day roster and was in the dugout as Frank Robinson made his debut as baseball's first black manager. "It was amazing stuff," Eckersley said. "I mean, that was history. I think back and it's almost like another life. I was such a kid back then." He was 21, already married to his high school sweetheart. Denise Jacinto gave birth to a daughter, Mandee, in 1976. By his second year, Eckersley was considered one of the best young pitchers in baseball and was quickly becoming the hope of a beleaguered franchise.

"He was so aggressive and so cocky, he got upset when he gave up a hit any time," said catcher Ray Fosse, a teammate in 1976-77. Eckersley's long hair and swagger didn't endear him to opponents. He would point at a batter after striking him out, or glare at him in the on-deck circle. Part youthful exuberance, part facade. "Deep down, I was insecure," Eckersley said. Eckersley won 26 games his first two seasons, then took his game to another level in 1977. On May 30, he threw a no-hitter. "You could just see he was on," Fosse said. "Everything was working, inside, outside. He was just phenomenal and he was such a perfectionist. He expected to be perfect every time out." As the story has been passed on, photographers took the field before the final out. Gil Flores, the last batter -- perhaps distracted by the cameras -- stepped out of the batter's box. Eckersley screamed at him to get back in. Of course, the story has been embellished. "Now, it's like I was yelling at everybody," Eckersley said. Fosse said that might not be too far from the truth. Eckersley's confident demeanor was his defining trait on the mound. Off the mound, he seemingly had it all -- he was good-looking, in his early 20s, with a wife and a daughter. He finished the '77 season with 14 wins, and a no-hitter, one-hitter, three-hitter and four-hitter. "I remember telling him, 'You're going to win 20 games,"' Fosse said. "He had it all." Until March 30, 1978. In one day, Eckersley was traded and his marriage ended. "It was horrible," he said. ... And Sudden Fall In the tortured history of the Cleveland Indians, it goes down as one of the worst decisions ever. They traded Eckersley and catcher Fred Kendall to the Red Sox for pitchers Rick Wise and Mike Paxton, catcher Bo Diaz and infielder Ted Cox. Officially, the team said it was happy to land Cox, a minor league star. Unofficially, the team was concerned about Eckersley's almost violent pitching style. "I know that people there thought he would have arm problems with that delivery," Fosse said. But there was another dynamic. When Eckersley told his wife he had been traded, she said she would not join him in Boston and that she did not love him. Eckersley suspected she had met someone else, but he did not learn about her relationship with Manning until June 1978. For years, Indians officials denied that played any part in the deal. But in author Terry Pluto's 1994 book "The Curse of Rocky Colavito: A Loving Look at a Thirty-Year Slump," former general manager Gabe Paul admitted the team knew about the love triangle and decided one of the players had to be dealt. "It was a bad situation, and we had to trade Rick or Dennis," Paul said in the book. "We thought Manning was going to be a star. ... we traded the wrong guy." Manning and Denise wound up marrying and later divorced. Eckersley, meanwhile, was shattered when he joined the Red Sox. Despite his anguish he won 20 games, but he was still drinking. Eckersley soon met Nancy O'Neil at a Boston bar. She was the daughter of a Boston cop, a Boston College graduate and a model/actress. In 1980, they married and settled in Sudbury, Mass. But the partying didn't end and his career began to decline. Eckersley had back and arm troubles and his ERA was rising. He pitched in pain in 1983 and had a 5.61 ERA. He calls it the worst season of his career. By 1984, Roger Clemens was arriving as the future of the Red Sox. Eckersley, now 29, was traded to the Cubs for Bill Buckner early in the season and left behind his wife in Massachusetts. Nancy's modeling career kept her home while Eckersley was pitching for a team whose games were played in the afternoon. And the bars are open late in Chicago. "It hit me once when I walked into a bar and asked for a double," Eckersley said. "I sort of whispered it. That made me think something was wrong." Eckersley was 27-26 in nearly three years with the Cubs, but was clearly on the decline. Most scouts thought his sidearm slinging was finally catching up with him. Through his career lull, though, his demeanor was the same. "He was a guy who you hated when he was on the other side and loved when you were his teammate," said current Red Sox manager Terry Francona, Eckersley's teammate with the '86 Cubs. "And I mean you really hated him. But he was as good a teammate as you could have. A great guy." By the end of the 1986 season, Eckersley seemed to be entering the twilight of his career. But before he returned to the field in 1987, his life was turned upside down. A Life, Career Reborn It was the holidays in '86 when Eckersley took his daughter, Mandee, to his sister-in-law's house. Nancy was working, so it was just father and daughter. Eckersley drank and drank some more. As his behavior became more boisterous, Nancy's sister videotaped him. The next morning, he watched the tape. Within a month, he checked into a rehabilitation facility in Newport, R.I. "That was a very frightening moment," Eckersley said. "The biggest thing is to come out of the denial." Eckersley said he felt like a new person when he reported to spring training with the Cubs. But on April 3, he was traded to the Athletics for three minor leaguers. As he left manager Dallas Green's office, Eckersley told him the Cubs would regret the trade. And when he met Oakland manager Tony La Russa in his office, Eckersley said he wanted to be a starter. The A's had a set rotation, so Eckersley went to the bullpen. "I was in an accepting mode," Eckersley said. "But I wanted to start." Still, Eckersley was home, pitching in front of his parents for the first time in his career. He was sober and his arm felt great. By the end of the '87 season, Eckersley replaced injured Jay Howell as closer and had 16 saves. The next year he was still interested in starting, but La Russa envisioned Eckersley as a closer. Eckersley had 45 saves, thus beginning one of the great runs by any relief pitcher in history. "My whole story, it all comes down to Oakland," Eckersley said. "It was an almost dreamlike time in my life. It was magical. The owner, the management ... they were ahead of the game. They had vision." From 1988 through 1992, Eckersley had 220 saves. He led the A's to a World Series victory over the Giants in 1989, the highlight of his career.