"the greatest day of my life"

Apr 2, 2003, 12:00 AM

In what may only go down in the record books as little more than a sputtering start to the conference season, last weekend.s series against NC State in Kinston is one that will be remembered in my household for years to come. If you want to feel good about the character of the kids in our baseball program, I encourage you to read on.

My nine year-old son Andrew and I were invited to ride to the first game on Friday night by good friends (State grads) so we sat pretty much behind home plate in a presumably less-partisan area. Despite a great performance by Tyler Lumsden, the 11-inning, heartbreaking loss was possibly due to fatigue from a long bus ride that contributed to fielding errors and other plays we should have made. But I digress.

We stood outside the entrance to the stadium after Friday.s game to see if my friend.s son could see any State players. We were quite surprised to see the Tigers walking toward us in route to the bus that had pulled up behind us. Andrew told every player that .You guys did good.. Despite losing a tough game that we had every opportunity to win, every player acknowledged his encouragement with a sincere .thank you very much..

Living in far eastern North Carolina, we see very few Tiger baseball games. The rest of the time we listen via internet in conjunction with BigDaddy play by play in TAC. We try to get to at least one game of each series that we play at Duke, UNC, State, or occasionally ECU. The only three game series that my son has ever seen was in the Super Regionals last year in Clemson versus Arkansas. So, needless to say, we were going to be at every game in Kinston.

There was a pretty small turnout in Kinston so, by the grace of God, we were able to simply walk down into the .Box seats. immediately adjacent to the field between the Tiger dugout and home plate. Andrew brought a baseball from home in hopes of standing again near the entrance at the end of the day and getting perhaps a few Tigers. autograph. He also brought a Tiger Paw flag and a broom handle on which to fly it. As you know, the first game of the doubleheader did not go well. We did not make plays we normally make. Nevertheless, my son consistently and enthusiastically shouted encouragement to the team. Since the crowd was small and NCSU fans never say anything anyway, his voice seemed to carry. Every once in a while he would tell me, .Daddy, I think he (player on the on-deck circle) heard me..

The second game of the double-header did not start off well either. While we scored one run in the top of the first, they scored four in the bottom of the inning. We trailed the entire game, but there was never any talk of leaving, for that would have been sacrilege. Win or lose, we were staying until the last out, for this might well be only time we get to see our Tigers play in-person this season. We trailed 8 to 5 going into the top of the ninth having blown opportunities to get back in it. Andrew continued to shout encouragement, saying .Come on Tigers, we can still win this game!.

And then the top of the ninth. With two on, Jeff Hourigan.s HR tied the score and breathed life into our beleaguered Tigers. Largely unbeknownst to me, my son was receiving lots of encouragement from some very sweet Tiger family members sitting behind us including, in particular, Paul Harrelson.s aunt. This dear lady really made my son feel very special. With every hit in the ninth, she would come celebrate with him. High fives, dancing, flag waving, you get the idea. When Hourigan hit it out, she told my son, .They did that for you!. A minute later, he whispered .Daddy, she said they did that for me!.

We celebrated throughout the miraculous top of the ninth inning. The bottom of the ninth saw them score two more before loading the bases. We brought Paul Harrelson (who else?) on to save it. With a no ball, two strike count on the State hitter, Harrelson got him to chase a ball way down low and outside. Our defensive stalwart Steve Pyzik reached across his body, snagged the ball, and the celebration in our little box began.

Had the night ended then it would have a been most memorable experience, our commitment to support the Tigers to the very end rewarded by a most remarkable come-from-behind victory that will be remembered for years to come. As I turned back toward the field to collect our stuff we.d placed against the wall (while Andrew was still whooping it up with Paul Harrelson.s Aunt), there was Steve Pyzik walking straight towards me, holding the baseball from that last pitch and pointing towards Andrew.

There is special time in the life of every young man, a brief period after he puts the trains and teddy bears away and before thoughts of the opposite sex forever warp his mind when the icon of sport has unfettered access to every idle thought, a time when allegiances are made and heroes are found and the only thing that really matters is how your team did last night. It is during this period in their lives that our fathers and grandfathers built very high pedestals and placed upon them the likes of Ruth, DiMaggio, Gehrig, Mantel, Maris. For me it was the Big Red Machine and Johnny Bench and Pete Rose and Ken Griffey SENIOR and Joe Morgan and Dave Conception and George Foster and Sparky Anderson. In our house now, however, it is the Tigers who are placed on the highest pedestal, and for whose wins and losses determine the difference between good days and bad days. My son keeps a schedule by his bed so that he.ll know when he has to double up on his homework in order to free-up a night when we can go upstairs and listen to the game via the internet or TAC. I share this so that you might in some small way understand the impact of Steve.s action on my son. Steve handed me the baseball underneath the netting and I handed it to Andrew who was at a lost for words (for the first time in his life, I might add). I thanked Steve several times. We then prepared to make our way to the entrance of the stadium to perhaps get a few autographs on his .game ball..

The magic dust must have still been floating around, however. Another dear, sweet lady walked up and introduced herself as Michael Johnson.s mom. We told her that Andrew had really wanted to get Michael.s autograph. .Just come with me., she said, .and we.ll get everybody.s.. We walked to the gate near our dugout as the guys were coming out. They could not have been any nicer to us. Andrew went from player to player getting autographs, each player thanking him for his support. More than one told him that they.d heard him. It.s hard to imagine how things could have gotten any better, but indeed they did.

Steve Pyzik reappeared with game hats (the ones with .Omaha. written in the paw on the back) and gave one to both Andrew and my five-year old daughter, who was just happy to be there. He also gave Andrew his orange t-shirt that the players wear under their jerseys that he had worn the night before. We thanked Steve several times, but it.s difficult to convey the appreciation for and the impact of these gifts. Andrew sleeps in the t-shirt every night and will likely continue to do so for years to come. The hat will only be worn inside or to Tiger baseball games.

I could not be any prouder of the guys (and their families) in our baseball program. Living so far away you really don.t get to know those involved on any sort of personal level. It was a real treat to meet them up close and have them live up to, and undoubtedly exceed, the expectations that your child had of them.

We walked back toward the team bus where we talked to Steve for a few more minutes while waiting for JL to appear to get his autograph. Steve thanked us for coming out, likely oblivious to the almost sacred status Tiger baseball enjoys in our home, and that we had been waiting for the NCSU series since the season started, as it was the only certain time we would get to see our Tigers in person this year. Steve left to get on the bus, his place in a child.s memory forever secure. Kevin O.Sullivan and then JL appeared, both providing autographs.

We turned to walk back across the parking lot to the van, the Grainger stadium parking lot almost deserted now. I think Andrew floated much of the way. He was quiet for about two minutes (a personal record) as we started back down the road home.

.Dad,. he said contemplatively, .I think this was the greatest day of my life..

.Yes,. I said, .I think it probably was..

As we drove on toward home through the darkness, I could not help but think, .Not a bad day for Dad, either..

GO TIGERS!

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"the greatest day of my life"

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