The Bullpen Gospels (29 page)

“I may be a big leaguer, and that is something I have always wanted to be, but I will always be a man first—a man in love with this woman right here. And it takes a man, not a uniform or a title, to do that. It takes a man to care about people. I am a man, a very lucky one, who’s just married a woman way out of his league, even if it is the bigs!”

Silverware struck glasses, and my wife stood up and laid one on me that made everyone hoot and holler. Cups were raised in the honor of something much bigger than a minor league championship, even though there were far fewer fans present. Flowers were thrown, even though no one checked for velocities. A garter was caught, but no one was called out.

Just before my wife and I left for a very special All-Star break in which I planned to bust an extremely long slump, I felt another thick hand grab me from behind. I turned to face my father. He wore overalls to my wedding, and Mom combed his hair. His hand fell from my shoulder, slid down my arm, and grabbed my hand. His calloused, crippled digits labored to form a firm shake. He wrung my hand, and then for the first time in God only knows how long, he pulled me in for a hug.

We embraced for a few seconds, with me in my wedding uniform and him in his overalls. Then he said words I’ll never forget. “I’m proud of you Dirk. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Thank you, Dad.