DENVER -- The connection was immediate between Todd Helton, who was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame on Sunday afternoon, and Clint Hurdle, who served him as a Minor League and Major League hitting coach and manager with the Rockies -- but more importantly as a mentor and a friend.

“That started my rookie year in the cages, where we would go down, we'd start talking, getting ready to hit,” Helton recalled Wednesday while driving to the airport that serves Knoxville, Tenn., with his mother in the passenger’s seat. “Next thing you know, we've been sitting there talking for 30 minutes. And then I’d grab my bat and we’d walk back up. So we ran our mouths a lot in there.

“He let me get a lot of things off my mind so I could go out and play the game a lot freer.”

These two men have been sharing their thoughts since 1995, when Helton -- a first-round Draft pick out of the University of Tennessee -- arrived in Asheville, N.C., where Hurdle served as hitting coach for the Tourists. That was 29 years ago.

During that time, Helton went from bright-eyed bonus baby to All-Star to batting champ to a key piece on a World Series team. Hurdle would ascend to Rockies manager (2002-09), before becoming the Rangers hitting coach in 2010 and then the Pirates’ manager from 2011-19. Now he and Helton are together as special assistants to the general manager, with both offering influence and instruction where needed at the Minor League level.

Hurdle and Helton had a relationship that transcended coach and player -- a bond that was made possible by a shared experience. Though Hurdle had enjoyed a solid 10-year Major League career, he never met the heavy expectations that awaited him when he turned pro with the Royals in the 1970s.

“One of the things I picked up on when he walked in the door was high expectations,” Hurdle said. “No. 1 pick. College World Series. He pitched. He hit. He played every day. Asheville was close to home [less than two hours from Knoxville, Tenn.]. He’s got people coming down every weekend. His tank was empty when he showed up.

“He was hitting with Derek Gibson, a young kid who could hit the ball 500 feet. Todd is grunting to hit the ball. I picked up on it and said, ‘You have a gift for hitting the ball hard where it’s pitched. Let’s focus on that while you’re here.’ I didn’t give him a chance to argue.”

Through the years that led to Helton’s Hall-of-Fame honor, the scene of Hurdle giving a directive didn’t repeat itself much.

“You think he talks a lot, but he listens -- and that’s what made him such a great hitting coach and manager,” Helton said.

The bond grew after Hurdle became manager, although Hurdle was careful not to step on the toes of hitting coaches.

“He knew he could argue with me and I wouldn’t take it personally,” Hurdle said. “There were times he’d come into my office mad and I’d say, ‘Good. Now go back and play first base. But I appreciate you telling me your thoughts.’

“There would be times that I penalized a player and he’d say, ‘You’d better be careful of losing him.’ I’d say, ‘If I lose him, I never had him.’ That would get his attention.”

These men never lost each other.

Past Helton’s career, Hurdle saw the need to deepen the connection.

The years between the end of the career and reuniting with the Rockies, with Hurdle rejoining the Rockies in ‘21 and Helton coming home in ‘22, were not always smooth for Helton. Physically, the challenge came when he fell through the attic above his garage and sustained a knee injury that has taken multiple surgeries. And the years after retirement are a challenge for many, even the top stars. Hurdle was there for him.

Hurdle for years has discussed his issues with substance abuse in his younger years as a way of letting others know he will help with any life issue. Helton – who is moving well after the surgeries and is in good shape for the ceremony – does not discuss any type of struggle publicly but is effusive about how his wife, Kristi, and daughters, Tierney Faith and Gentry Grace, inspire him to keep working on himself.

Hurdle is humbled to be part of Helton’s support system.

“There came a couple points in time where friends would say, ‘Have you talked to Todd lately?’ and I would say I get in touch with him here and there,” said Hurdle -- one of many family members, mentors, friends and former teammates who will be in Cooperstown to share Helton’s moment. “They would say, ‘Find a way to get in contact with Todd.’

“I've been quite open with the things I've had struggles with. I was divorced twice. I'm a recovering alcoholic. I mean, I'm a flawed human being. And Todd's always appreciated my authenticity. And there are also times when things need to be between us, what we are sharing. And he knows I’m going to have his back. I’ve told him I’m never leaving.”

No questioning that.

“Here’s my thing: As a kid, you have people that direct you -- whether it be parents, coaches, whatever,” Helton said. “When you’re in your 60s, you have people to help you. But the time in between, we don’t think we need any help. I do need help, and I think I’m like everybody else in that sense. He’s like a father figure to me, somebody I check in with. If we don’t talk once every three days, we text.

“We have a lot in common. If nothing else, he holds me accountable to stay on the straight and narrow, to be a good father.”

Now, instead of grabbing his bat and walking to the clubhouse, Helton walks into baseball immortality -- with Hurdle among those figuratively by his side.