On Baseball

On Saturday, May 17, 2014 Danny Duffy was almost perfect. After 6 innings of baseball, he had faced 18 batters and retired them all. In the top of the 7^th, Nick Markakis hit a looping liner toward the left field line that was caught in spectacular fashion by a diving Alex Gordon. Until this point I have to admit that I was skeptical that perfection was a possibility, but when the out was made I bought in. Two batters later, Adam Jones ended the perfect game and the no-hitter with a single up the middle past Alcides Escobar. In the end, Duffy fell short of perfection, but for 7+ innings, he was great.

While I listened to the game, I thought about my grandpa for several different reasons. The most obvious reason being that he passed away earlier that Saturday morning. He loved baseball and he loved the Royals. I loved talking about the Royals with my grandpa. As much as I wanted in my heart to listen to Danny Duffy throw a perfect game on the day my grandpa died, I think what happened was better. My grandpa wasn’t perfect, but he was great. I don’t say he wasn’t perfect because I have examples of how he fell short, I just know that no one is. My grandpa was kind. Kind is a strange word to me because I don’t know if I could define it if you asked me to, but I know it’s different than tolerant or nice. If you wanted me to draw a picture of kind, I’d probably draw a picture of my grandpa. It wouldn’t look anything like my grandpa, because I can’t draw. He’d probably hang it on the fridge and tell his friends about it though, because he was kind. He was patient, he was funny, and he was fast friends with everyone he met. He was generous. He never let me visit without providing some Zarda’s BBQ or Krispy Kreme donuts, a lot of the times there were both. He was faithful. He was a servant. He loved his family and he made sure they knew that fact. It breaks my heart that I’ll never hear him say “I love you son” as we say goodbye on the phone again. He was proud of his boys and the men they became. He loved his wife. As his memory started to fade, I remember him keeping a note card in his shirt pocket to remind him of my wife and kids’ names. The first time I saw the card, it seemed to upset him that he had to use it, but it touched my heart to know how badly he wanted to remember. In April, I was able to sit and watch a Royals game with him one last time. He didn’t know exactly who I was, but he knew I was family. So we sat, and he held my hand, and we watched baseball.

Sometimes a pitcher can throw a really good game that you don’t really realize how good it was until you see the box score. What makes Danny Duffy’s start so exciting is that you can tell you’re watching something great as it unfolds. Mike Calcara was great, and I got to watch him be great. I don’t have to search my mind for stories and anecdotes to show the world that he was good. I’ve known he was great for quite a while. And anyone who paid attention knew it as well. And I’m thankful for that because greatness isn’t something you get to see every day. I will miss him, not because he was perfect. Because he was great.