This isn't Grumpy, more like sad, and since it's vaguely MLB-related, I'll put it here.
A guy from my small hometown (not BR, my "other" hometown) died this past weekend. I always heard he played professional baseball, but I never thought much about it. I did vaguely wonder a few times what that was about, because the locals seemed just as likely to not really know what they were talking about. i.e., a guy who played baseball and moved off to pursue that might be later misconstrued to have been a "professional ball player" by people who don't know better, or are inclined to hype up a local boy. And what are the chances a guy from a place like that was a "real" baseball player?
I saw someone repost a facebook post by a self-professed baseball historian and author--I wasn't familiar with his name--who wrote a few paragraphs in memoriam about the guy I knew. Turns out, back in the day, he did indeed make The Show. He was a pitcher, briefly, for the Cincinnati Reds. I'm going from memory on what that guy wrote, but it seemed at least "not bad." He pitched a total of 13 innings in relief near the end of his first season, recorded more K's than innings pitched, gave up 4 runs, all earned, and had an ERA of 2.77 (not sure how meaningful that is with such limited innings). Then he tore something and was done for the rest of the season. The next camp, he was expected to be a bigger part of their rotation, and I'm sure in his mind, hopefully one day a starter. But he tore his labrum and that was the end of his baseball career. He moved back to his tiny hometown and did what many men do there, became a railroad man, and that's all I ever knew of him.
Well, not quite. What I remember most about him is he had a son who was mentally disabled. I don't know if it was some kind of autism, mental retardation, or what....I didn't really distinguish those things when I was around him more. I just remember his son was fascinated with drums, and the man used to take his son and get as close as they could when I was playing somewhere so he could watch me up close.
I didn't know this guy very well, I just knew who he was, as everyone in a small town knows who the other people are. I knew about him from my uncle, who was his classmate and friend, and I knew him from church sometimes and when he'd bring his son to watch me play. He seemed like a good man, and he wasn't all that old, so I was sad to hear he passed. But I was fascinated to see his real story with baseball, however brief.
