June 24, 2002

Back in Boca!

I confess to not watching much of the College World Series. We were on vacation on the farm in Tennessee and there was a lot of work to do and everyone seems to conk out early in that trailer. Well, not early, but MB and I are ready to sleep as soon as the last rugrat is snoring.

So this entry is about Fathers' Day. I know, I'm late. We don't have a computer on the farm. Anyway.

This was one of the best Father's Days that I have ever experienced. I got to spend some time with my father-in-law and see the joy that his two grandchildren bring to him. The setting was beautiful... rolling hills of hay bales and the Tennessee River down below. Rides on tractors and bulldozers for the kids, playing with Mac the horse, letting Katie and Nick (our dogs) run free, seeing fireflies again!

It was made especially nice because I got the chance to drive nine hours through some of the most beautiful country in the US enroute to Aberdeen, Maryland and the inaugural game of the Aberdeen Ironbirds, the Orioles affiliate in the New York - Penn League. Driving through the Smokies and the Blue Ridge Mountains gives you lots of time to think.

My wife's Father's Day present was not minding that I left her and the kids behind and made the trip to see my son's first professional baseball game.

A lot of things went through my mind as I made the drive. Some thoughts were fueled by some of the music in my cd changer. There is a song by Paul Overstreet called "Seeing My Father in Me" that has always been a special one for me. He sings about bringing his children to visit their grandpa and seeing how they are a part of him. They then take out some old photos and "I sure looked a lot like him back then". It makes you realize how much a part of you belongs to your parents and vice versa. When I see Jim run in from the bullpen I think of that song. He got stuck with the same stupid run, and he definitely acquired a lot of my other traits. I look at pictures of me pitching and there is one that looks exactly like my son Jeff. The same face, skinny body, and intense look on the mound. Scary.

I started thinking about my Dad and how much he meant to me, and how much I wish he had been in Tuscaloosa or could be in Aberdeen. Springsteen has a song about a young man on his wedding day remembering being "four years old following you at the beach tracing your footprints in the sand." He remembers how he was always trying "to walk like a man". Then his father has his "best steps taken away from you" and the young man has to "learn so many things on my own", but he promises always to walk like a man.

We do the best with our children as we try to raise them to be good people. All we have is the roadmap provided by our parents. All we hope is that we get them there safely.

Nick Presto played here for four years. He lost his parents when he was thirteen and was sent from NJ to live with his uncle in Jupiter. We signed him out of high school and every umpire had a Nick Presto story. He was a handful in high school. We hoped that he would settle in and be a great college player.

But baseball was the least of Nick's needs. He had played for a great Legion coach named Bob Shaw, who taught Nick most of what he knows about the game. I felt my responsibility to Nick was different. We didn't always see eye to eye but I think it worked. In an interview after signing with the Reds, Nick said that "Bob Shaw helped make me a baseball player, but Coach Cooney helped make me a man".

Nick is now an Orioles scout and he drafted my son Jim in the 45th round. Was this done as a favor to help a father and son? Did Jim deserve it? I think the answer is yes to both questions. As the year wound down, Jim's velocity went up until he was consistently at a respectable level for a scout to draft. His performance the last month of the season was outstanding. From the last FIU game through his second inning of the Super Regional, Jim did not allow a hit. That was a stretch of over nine consecutive innings. Some of that was good defense... OK Fiorentino... GREAT defense, but most of it was just solid relief pitching when our team needed it the most. Jim was getting us to McNab to nail down games. They combined for the last ten outs of the regional championship game. So, yes he deserved it. But that all happened late and would have gone unnoticed by other scouts. Not by Nick Presto. He gave me the best Father's Day present.

Opening night in Aberdeen Maryland... Cal Ripken's personal team and new 6500 seat stadium... sold out... ESPN doing a tour with Cal and Billy Ripken... Mrs. Ripken throwing out the first ball to Billy wearing her husband's jersey. Fathers and sons. Baseball.

My parents never wanted me to be anything but a ballplayer. It was never pushed or verbalized... it just seemed to be understood. I have only had one year where I was not working on or playing baseball. A pretty good life thanks to my parents.

I didn't think I'd get to see Jim pitch that night. It was more than enough to sit there next to his Mom and watch the fireworks, flyby, paratroopers, and the Ripkens. It was enough to stand there crying during the national anthem and watch through tears as Jim took that goofy jog to the bullpen with the other relievers. All I could think was that I couldn't thank Nick Presto enough.

In the fourth, I had just just mentioned to Bernadette that it was nice to watch a game without that nervous feeling in my stomach. Scott McGregor, the Ironbirds pitching coach went out to the mound and turned to the bullpen and pointed to his left arm. As the gate swung open we looked and the young pitcher trotting in had a decidedly familiar gait. Oh my God. Nervous again.

There were runners on first and second, one out and a right handed hitter up. What was he doing in there in this situation. Look how small and young he looks. Why aren't I in the dugout? Will his first warmup pitch hit the backstop????

Jim walked the first guy.(the ump was squeezing him... where is Perez?)Three and one on the next batter and a routine double play ball to short, but the secondbaseman throws it in the dirt.(where is Hutton??) Next guy is out stealing. Next inning goes 1 2 3. Jim punches out and I head to the concession stand for an extra large beer! Happy Father's Day! KC