THE CIRCLE OF LIFE June 1, 1986 Shea Stadium, Queens, NY Pirates vs. NY Mets It happened on Father’s Day, the second game of a doubleheader against the . In my 62-game major-league career, this is the moment I cherish the most. I was in the sixth inning with runners at first and third. We were leading 4-3. Cecilio Guante was pitching for the Pirates and all I thought about was getting the ball out of the infield and getting a run home. This was my eighth game and I still had not driven in a run. On a 1-1 count, he threw me a slider up in the strike zone and I hit it to deep left field. My first thought was at least I got a sacrifice fly, but then I saw the ball sail over the fence. A three-run homer. It was like living a dream. The fans went nuts. What made it even more special was Mom and Dad had come back up for that weekend series. They were sitting about ten rows up behind home plate. After I crossed the plate and started toward the dugout, I pointed right to Mom and Dad. It was my way of saying thanks for all their hard work and effort, even when that meant giving me a necessary kick in the rear. Without them, I never would have made it to the big leagues. To top the day off, a security guard came to the clubhouse after the game and gave me the ball. I gave it to Dad and wrote a little thank-you note on it. That ball is still sitting in “Hearnigan’s,” the name we gave to the third floor of my parents’ home where all the memorabilia and trophies are kept. I also remember that Pirates game for another reason. The home run was my first experience with the curtain call. It had become a custom for fans to keep clapping and standing after a home run until that player came out of the dugout to acknowledge the cheers. My teammates practically had to push me to the top step of the dugout. I was raised to be a very humble person and to never show up a , which is how a curtain call was often interpreted by opponents. But the guys insisted on getting me up there. I must say it felt awfully darn good. You can see for yourself. That’s the picture on the cover of my book, Conquering Life's Curves.

...Fast forward 21 years to June 17, 2007. The Hammers (Cody’s 12 & Under team at the time) were playing in “Famous Dave's Father's Day Youth Baseball Tournament.” We would ultimately play four games during this weekend turned. On Saturday evening, the 16th was the third day of the tournament, and we played on the field that was much smaller than our 12-year-olds were used to playing on. The results were, several home runs were hit that day. The following morning. As Cody and I headed to this field for our first game, we stopped to pick up a teammate of Cody's. As the teams coach. I often pick up other players on the way to practices or games. Shortly after Jake had hopped in the back seat alongside Cody we were off to the ol’ ballpark. At first, I listened with delightful amusement as the usual stuff two 12 year-old boys banter together about in a car to just about anywhere they happen to be going. Then the conversation turned a bit more serious as they began chatting about the upcoming game. Suddenly, as if they had just awoken from a fabulous dream the tone change to one of excited anticipation as they both almost simultaneously remember they game from the previous evening when they had played on a field that featured a short outfield fence for their age group and between the two teams five homeruns were hit! “Oh how AWESOME would it be if we get to play on the short field again today?!?” “Oh yeah, dude….bombs away!!”” I had almost forgotten that it was Father's Day until suddenly I began to hear Cody's voice drop down quietly, to a near whisper. Being curious now, I strained to ease drop even more tentatively suspecting some had suddenly popped into Cody’s head he didn’t want dad to hear about. Ironically, as my radar tuned in more sharply, and I discovered the quiet speak of a story that immediately made my heart swell with pride. He was describing in detail to his buddy, Jake, how 15 years ago today his dad had hit his first major league home run…yes, on Father's Day no less. He was telling him about how one of the grounds keepers station in our bullpen had quickly retrieved that ball from a fan in the bleachers in left field. And then, in an even quieter whisper, I heard him say with so much aspiration, “Wouldn’t it be SO cool if I could hit a home run today on Father's Day and give my dad the ball just like he did for his dad 15 years ago?" With minutes, we arrived at the fields, I saw the boys’ faces droop as they realized, their games was not scheduled for their “car-ride field of dreams” – and worse, it was a field much, much larger than they had ever played on. There wasn't even a remote possibility of hitting one to the fence, let alone over it. 2 As the teams proceeded with their pregame routine, I settled in my usual place away from the bleachers on either side of the field (having heard enough about how everyone’s “Johnny” was going be a big leaguer and every 12 year olds game is win or die). No, my spot, in my comfy lawn chair almost directly behind home plate, was as close as I could get to that perfect view I had come to love “all my years” behind “the dish.” By the time the game had begun any thoughts of Father's Day, homeruns, or especially, THE special home run I had hit on this day 15 years ago...they had been swept back into the past by what was a great ballgame on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The two teams battled back and forth, and as Cody came to bat for the third time in the game every at bat could be the difference. He dug in the batter’s box with an intensity, that look you see on the face of a “gamer” when “the chips are on the table.” He wasn’t bluffing – on the first pitch he absolutely crushed a missile shot deep into the right-center field gap. Those fences were pretty far away for 12-year-olds, 300 feet down the lines and 375 to straight-a-way centerfield. As Cody rounded first base the rocket-like line drive was still rising as it flew past the helpless outfielders who seemed to freeze in amazement before turning in futile pursuit off the ball that already slammed to a stop at the base of the fence. As he was crossing second base the outfielders hadn't even reached the ball yet. Yes, you guessed it, he circled the bases for inside the park home run and was greeted outside the dugout with many high-fives and pats on the butt. Leaning back in my chair, it was really fun to watch him enjoy the attention and excitement of hitting his first inside the park home run. As the game ended in a victory for his team. They crossed the field shaking hands with the other team, headed back to the dugout to gather up their equipment from the dugout for the following tournament game, and then jogged down the right field foul line where the coaches held their customary post game team meeting. After a brief team meeting about that victory, landing them in the championship game scheduled to start that an hour from then. They reached into the huddle, stacked their hands together and broke with their usual chant. I was still sitting, behind the home plate fence, soaking in the warm rays of sunshine from this beautiful day, the sights and sounds of the next team’s warming up in front of me and the aroma of freshly cooked hotdogs from the nearby concession stands sent me drifting off, I sorted drifted back in time, to “yesterday when I was young...” But, Cody’s team, with the meeting coming to a close, huddled together their for the traditional sign of team unity - everyone’s hands stacked alternately, one on top of the other – then, the "break from the huddle"...a loud, spirit-filled battle cry...”one, two, three, HAMMMERS!” The team’s loud, enthusiastic rally call snapped me out of my enjoyable daze and as I slowly began to rise from the comfort of my lawn chair, anticipating a trip to the concession stand for a hotdog, I caught a glimpse of Cody, and his buddy, Jake as they sprinting in from right field with all their baseball gear slung over their shoulders. They flew passed the dugout, right by the bleachers and came to a screeching halt about three feet from me, still slowly gathering my spectator accessories. Bent over with their hand on their knees, panting to catch their breath from the dash all the way from over from right field where the. As they bent over to catch their breath, I saw Jake peeking at Cody with this look of great anticipation. Then, still puffing, but with a huge, euphoric grin on his face, Cody straightened up and from behind his back he revealed what a special gift reached up to give me - his homerun ball. Proudly he exclaimed, "Well, dad, it only took me 12 years but I finally hit a home run for you on Father's Day, and I want to give it to you just like you did for Grandpa fifteen years ago today. Now, unlike many of us men, I can “sweat from eyes” pretty easily, and needless to say, this moment was no exception. By this time, many of the other players and their families had wandered over to see what all the commotion was about. There they saw a grown man, speechless and his eyes filled with tears of joy. I don’t even remember takin the ball, but I do know I reached down, wrapped my arms around my proud son and, as I lifted him off the ground in what might have biggest bear-hug in the history of baseball, I whispered in his ear, ”I’m so happy for you. You’re a homerun with me, no matter what you do on a baseball field. I love you, son. Thank you for making this one of the very best days of my life.” Needless to say, oh, what a special day! The "circle of life" had played itself out. I've been blessed to have experienced many wonderful days in my life, but Father's Day 2001, ranks right up there with the best of them, including Father's Day, 15 years earlier, in 1986.