Grant Peace to Desme

Oakland Athletics prospect Grant Desme is trading in his glove for a collar. So says this article.A snip:

The A's prized prospect exited the season with a head-turning presence, accompanied by a bat that produced 31 home runs and a speedy 6-foot-2 frame that stole 40 bases in Class A ball -- making him the only player in Minor League Baseball to enjoy a 30-30 campaign.

An exceptional performance and MVP honors in the Arizona Fall League followed, so surely Desme was close to getting a call, most assumed -- if not for a trip to The Show, then at least for an invitation to Spring Training.

Yet, Desme insists he'd already received the call long before his final at-bat in the fall came and went -- the one that would take him to bigger and better places.

It just so happens it wasn't what the A's organization -- or anyone else, for that matter -- had in mind.

The call, Desme announced Friday, came in the form of priesthood in the Catholic church.

"Last year before the season started, I really had a strong feeling of a calling and a real strong desire to follow it," the 23-year-old said. "I just fought it."

Thus, Desme chose to play out the season as a test of sorts, "just hoping and praying about it."

"As the year went on," he said, "God blessed me. I had a better year than I could have imagined, but that reconfirmed my desire because I wasn't at peace with where I was at. I love the game, but I aspire to higher things."

I kinda know how he feels.

While not being good enough to become an athlete, I was good enough to be a broadcaster. For 10 years of my life I tried to give broadcasting a go, with limited success. I produced a lot behind the scenes, did some small on-air things for the stations that I worked for and felt like I was just spinning my wheels. I was a snotty 20 something who thought that I was better than some on the on-air staff (and I can honestly say that I was in certain cases) and didn't need to go an earn my dues somewhere outside of the world's biggest media market. Still, that limited success was enough to earn me a spot as a minor league broadcaster in my hometown for the Yonkers Hoot Owls.

And I was pretty good. My partner and I had good banter and people who showed up at the games would tell us that we did a good job. I sent tapes to major league broadcasters for advice and they liked what they heard and advised me to just be patient that my time would come. At the end of that season, I believed that I was a good broadcaster. I had proven to myself that I indeed could be a solid broadcaster.

But I wasn't excited about it. I complained through most of the season and when one of my high school coaches showed up to take in a game he noticed my negativity. "You look like you could use a break from this season," he said to me.

He was right.

Even other radio colleagues noticed my lack of enthusiasm, despite a lot of talent. One even mentioned that he saw my energy rise after a returned from a weekend retreat that I had led with my parish and that he had never seen that side of me before.

So I searched my heart and I found much peace after admitting that I was scared to leave one career for what might lie ahead. Friends encouraged me to seek the advice of others and after meeting with many other ministry professionals my fears began to subside. After meeting with a bunch of major league broadcasters, I found myself less envious of their stature and more excited about making a choice for ministry rather than for something for which I just lacked passion.

So I hope that Grant Desme has a great life in the seminary. I hope he discerns well and that he becomes a good priest. Because we need good priests and more importantly, we need men and women with a passion for ministry.

Let's all pray for that today.

The Faithful Departed

BustedHalo® has begun it's annual series on those who have passed away this year and Marc D. Adams reflected on Angels pitcher Nick Adenhart beautifully.

It was just the beginning of the season… the April dew still lingered on the short blades of grass, the electricity and excitement for a year full of potential filled the air, and just a few hours earlier, a young Angel pitcher by the name of Nick Adenhart had thrown six shut out innings in his season debut. The future was bright. The baseball world was his oyster. And then came the crash.

Nick Adenhart, 22, and two others tragically died in a car accident last April when a drunk driver blew through a red light and struck their vehicle with maximum force. It happened hours after Adenhart took to the field in just his fourth Major League start ever. He had achieved his dream of playing baseball at the highest level. But his family has been living a nightmare every day since.

How could someone so young be taken from this earth so soon? If I am to believe that everything happens for a reason (which I do) what possible reason could there be for this? They’re the kind of questions that only God can truly answer and any answers that do come seem wholly inadequate.

Check out the rest of the article and more from the faithful departed series as the week goes on.

Memories of Mr October's Swagger

Reggie Jackson is doing a show called October Nights on Sirius Satellite Radio these days and with the dawn of baseball's post-season, I always think back to baseball stars of the past that I can remember. Reggie is certainly one of them.

Growing up in the 70s and 80s there were two men who I remember as just having such arrogance that their swagger and confidence always made you want to hate them but they were so good that you had to respect them as well. Muhammad Ali was one and Reggie jackson was the other.

I hated him. I was a Mets fan who was surrounded by Yankee fans in my Yonkers neighborhood, a stone's throw from the House that Ruth Built. Reggie was a star, nay, THE star on a loaded Yankees squad that won the World Series in 1977 and 1978 when I was in first and second grade and just beginning my love affair with baseball.

Fast forward over 20 years and I was a radio beat reporter for WOR covering the Yankee Old Timers Day. Out of the dugout stepped Reggie. He still looked larger than life. And he still had that swagger, that arrogance. He stepped into the batter's box for batting practice and crushed a pitch into the bleachers and another and another. The old man could still swing well into his 50s. Jackson finished his batting practice regimen and then came over to talk with us reporter types.

He answered easy questions on a fun day such as what the difference is in the game today as opposed to when he played. "Money" was his one word answer (and for his time, Reggie was paid handsomely but nowhere near what guys get today!).

I had my moment to ask him a question:

"Reggie, I can still see you appreciate the fans coming out to see you. You still are trying to hit those pitches out of the park. Can you tell me what the fans mean to you today as opposed to when you were playing?"

Reggie: "I love them. And hold on? What do you mean I'm TRYING to hit some out? I hit a few! I hit more than a few!"

Me: (Nervous, thinking I've annoyed him) No, Reggie..that's not what I meant..."

Reggie: (now smiling) Nah man, I ain't mad. (Slings his arm around me and pokes me in the chest playfully) I'll tell you what..I'm gonna hit you a homer today in the Old Timer's Game. Just for you!"

Me: Yeah, OK.

Reggie: "No, I REALLY am."

Me: (Trying to stay professional) "OK, Reggie. Thanks."

We departed and I went upstairs and took my seat in the press box as the Old Timer's Game began. If you've never been to an Old Timer's Game it's hysterical. It's the equivalent of a not-so-serious softball game, although some would say that even at their age most of these guys hate to lose and some take it more seriously than others.

Reggie got up to the plate. Dug in and awaited the pitch. Fastball belt high.

Reggie swings...

CRACK.

And like a bullet the ball flew high and far into the right field bleachers. Home Run.

Reggie took his home run trot and as he rounded third base he looked up to the press box and pointed to me. I simply waved back and started laughing.

Later on I ran into Reggie as he made he way to his office which was near the press box (Reggie works for the Yankees as a special assistant now). He winked at me and said "Told ya."

Such swagger, such arrogance...but in a good way. It's something I used to hate but now wish I would see more from today's athletes who, as Reggie even admitted seem to be more about making money than winning baseball games. Derek Jeter may be the lone exception but even he lacks that kind of swagger that Reggie and Ali oozed at all times.

So tonight I hope that the Yankees can begin their quest for another World Championship with the swagger that demands respect, an arrogance that comes with being great.

A horrible baseball season...but we still look good

Here I am with my college buddies Victor (the dope wearing the Phillies shirt and hat) and Kevin. While the Mets had a terrible season, I rather enjoyed their new park, Citi Field, albeit it took them forever to at least make it look somewhat like the homefield for the Mets and not some homage to the Brooklyn Dodgers.

I grew up a Mets fan as many of you know but after covering the team as a beat reporter I stopped rooting for them because Fred Wilpon really treated us media types poorly as did most of the players at that time (Jeff Kent was by far the surliest guy I ever met). So I vowed that I would never root for them again until Wilpon sells the team.

Still waiting...

I will miss going often to major league baseball games after I move to Buffalo. But the Mets triple A affiliate is in Buffalo and I am considering getting a partial season ticket plan to those games. Toronto is not far away and so I will travel to some Blue Jays games and Cleveland is also not that far and I have not been to a game at their ballpark.

Lastly, please pray for the brother of our friend Phil Guibileo. Kevin and his wife Jen joined us for the final game at Citi Field under unfortunate circumstances. They were Phil's tickets and his brother died suddenly on Saturday night at a rather young age of an apparent aneurysm or something similar. Sad. Phil is a great guy and a broadcaster for a minor league hockey team and was just recently married. So it's tough on him during this so-called honeymoon period.

"Eternal rest grant unto him and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Once in a while...I still have some sports thoughts

I guest columned an item on the Mets Police retiring #8 for Yogi Berra and Gary Carter.

Retire #8 on 8/8
Two Hall of Famers have worn #8 for the Mets and yet that number has not been retired. It’s not a stretch to think that the Mets could retire #8 for both Gary Carter and Yogi Berra the prolific manager of the 73 “Ya Gotta Believe” pennant winners.
Berra was an astute manger for 4 years with only the 1974 season being a blight on his record. He brought the team back from a huge deficit and got the players to believe in themselves with a little help from Tug McGraw’s rallying cry. McGraw often said that it was really Berra’s managing style that enabled the players to believe in themselves and led them to that pennant. To top matters they spanked the Reds in the playoffs and in a crazy world series he took the mighty A’s to 7 games--all an almost impossible feat to accomplish for any manager. We forget he was also a coach with Hodges on the 1969 Miracle Mets (in fact he was a coach since 1965), so you can’t say he wasn’t involved or around long enough with the Mets to merit inclusion. While more well known as a Yankee, Berra deserves to be acknowledged as someone who contributed much to the Met franchise as a coach and manager.
Carter was the missing piece to the 1986 World Series Champions. The young Mets pitchers needed someone to be a leader within those 60 feet 6 inches. Carter led them well for 3 years until his career began to wind down. He helped spark that team into the cocky bunch of players who never felt they were out of a ballgame even when things looked bleak. In game 6 of the 86 World Series Carter started the rally with a single that led to the improbableMookie Wilson grounder through the legs of Bill Buckner.

I love this Mets Police blog because it has a good take on all the stupid stuff that the Mets do as an organization--a big reason why I can't root for them any longer. Read the rest here and then agree or disagree.

How Many Major League Baseball Parks/Cities Have You Been To?

So I just went to the New Yankee Stadium and have been to the new Citi Field and I make it a point to try to go to a stadium when I get to a Major League City.

Here are the ones that I've been to. The names are the names of the park when I attended the game. These include only the parks that I've either seen a game or done a ballpark tour at:

New York (4): Old Yankee, New Yankee, Shea, Citi
Chicago (2): Wrigley Field (by far the best park in the Majors), US Cellular (White Sox)
Baltimore (1): Camden yards (orioles)
Boston (1): Fenway Park (Red Sox)
Seattle (1): Safeco (Mariners--and I took the ballpark tour there!)
Arizona (1): Bank One (Diamondbacks--and it was a no-hitter for Jose Jimenez of the Cardinals and Randy Johnson struck out 14 and LOST!)
Colorado (1): Coors Field (Rockies)
Houston (2): Astrodome (tour only), and Enron Field (!): Astros
Milwaukee (1): Miller Park (Brewers)
San Francisco (1) SBC Park (Giants)
Washington DC (1): RFK Stadium (Nationals)
Montreal (1): Olympic Stadium (Stade Olympique) (Expos)
GRAND TOTAL OF BALLPARKS: 17

Now most of my friends have been to close to this number and one of my friends has been to about 40 over his many years. So I asked a question of my friends:

Has anyone been to all the major league cities (with or without going to the stadium and I'll include Montreal in this for argument's sake)?

Here are the cities I've been to:

Baltimore YES
Boston YES
Chi White Sox YES
Cleveland YES
Detroit YES
Kansas City NO
LA Angels YES
Minnesota NO
NY Yankees YES
Oakland YES
Seattle YES
Tampa Bay YES
Texas NO (arlington)
Toronto YES
Arizona YES
Atlanta YES
Chi Cubs YES
Cincinnati NO
Colorado YES (Denver)
Florida YES (Miami)
Houston YES
LA Dodgers Yes
Milwaukee YES
NY Mets YES
Philadelphia YES
Pittsburgh YES (and I'd have another ballpark if I wasn't rained out of this one)
San Diego NO
San Francisco YES
St. Louis NO
Washington YES
Montreal YES

So I've been to all but 5.

How about you?

Opening Day at Citi Field

Blogging was light yesterday because I attended the Mets Home Opener. Also the first "real" game at Citi Field.

Here are some pictures from Opening Day at Citi Field. Thanks to my pal Steve Nadel for offering me the ticket.



The Scoreboard Says It All




Tom Seaver and Mike Piazza head in for the ceremonial first pitch



It's Your Pitch, Tom Seaver!



My friend Steve Nadel and I who offered me the seat at the game.



My favorite of all the pics: Citi Field at Night.

The Mets lost but they also lost their first game at Shea and their first game in 1969.

Two stadiums and a hole in the ground

A great post today from our friends at The Mets Police:

Six and a half years ago a nightmare descended upon this city. At the time both the Mets
and Yankees had been discussing new stadia with the city. Following 9/11 those discussions were put on hold so that the city could recover and rebuild.

Recover we did - rebuild we have not.

Six and a half years later, two structures designed for a game have been designed, constructed, and now opened. Several hundred million dollars in city and state "assistance" has helped in getting these structures built.

Yet just over 9 miles away from each site there remains a big hole in the ground where two office towers once stood.

Think about that for a moment.

6 1/2 years
$2+ Billion
2 new, state-of-the-art ballparks
0 towers

Read a bit more here.

Opening Day

While here in New York both the Mets and the Yankees open on the road (good thing--it's pouring in NY today!) before unveiling their new ballparks officially (translation: in a game that counts) baseball is back.

May the Cubbies take it all this year and end their drought of 101 years without a World Series win. As my friend Mike Caragliano (who is a national baseball trivia champion) always teases me: "Your team hasn't won the world series in my GREAT grandfather's lifetime."

I'm off to punch him in the arm now.

But baseball is a game that is really about loss rather than winning. The best hitters get a hit only 3 times every 10 at bats. The best teams will lose at least one third of their games. And pitchers are never sharp every single time. There's always a clunker in the mix. Slumps, losing streaks, trades and arguing with the ump are all a part of the great American pastime.

When I covered baseball, back in my radio days the better stories were always in the losing locker room. When the Yankees won their first in a recent set of World Series wins in 1996, Derek Jeter was a rather boring interview. One reporter wondered if he was happy. Several players on the Braves team showed up outside of the Yankee locker room and congratulated their opposition. Something you almost never see, at least not publicly. Loss again, breeds more than winning.

Growing up as a Mets fan (and then abandoning them because I saw the arrogance of their owner up close in personal in my radio days), those first few years of rooting were covered in losses. The Mets in the late 70s and early 80s stunk. I built a lot of character in those years and when they finally won the World Series in 1986, I gloated like the best of them. But looking back, I think I remember the losing teams more fondly.

Thus now as a Cubs fan, I have gotten back into the spirit of learning to live with loss. It's an acquired skill. I needed two tums to go to sleep after the Bartman foul ball incident. I was crushed at the way they fell apart this year, texting a friend who was sitting in the friendly confines while it unfolded, or perhaps better stated, folded. But it's all part of the game. Kids learn this fast. My little league team lost its first game 37-0. As the last out was recorded I started to wail. My coach looked at me and said, "You've been losing by more than 10 runs since the first inning. Did it just occur to you now that you were going to lose? Relax there's always another game and even if you lose them all, this is about learning." He was right.

As my parents get older and the years quickly drift by I realize that I will lose much more than I gain--and that's even with many significant gains. I was told recently by a high school friend that she was proud of how I've taken many painful experience from our high school years and turned them into something positive. But truth be told, sometimes loss just sucks.

When there is nothing to do and no way to explain why bad things happen, I often look to baseball for comfort. Besides my faith, baseball teaches me that loss may be painful but there is always another game, another season, another at-bat, another turn on the mound. Life is not for the faint-hearted but for those who keep getting up off the bench and having another go.

Loss indeed is painful. But as we strike forward into Holy Week we find our savior hanging on a cross only to see him return to us after a short while. The veil between death and life is torn and we are forever changed. No baseball game has that much drama or carries that much weight. But there is comfort in knowing Jesus has already handled it all for us. We all are doomed to lose but our losses can and indeed are redeemed.

And in some ways that is what makes opening day so special. There is only redemption. All the teams are 0-0 and everyone has an equal chance to win it all. Enjoy rooting for the home team and the hot dogs.

But remember, you are going to lose. It's only a matter of time.