Friday, May 18, 2012

Goodbye, Mr. Wood

Kerry Wood has been one of my favorite Cubs players for as long as I have been a Cubs fan. I have an assortment of baseball cards, all stored away and not really looked at, but I have two cards on display on a shelf in my bedroom, both his.

This year on opening weekend, I hoped to meet him after a game. I waited in the park until they kicked me out, and then I waited by the parking lot where the Cubs park. When I saw Kerry, I cheered. Other fans standing near me said, "He'll come over--he always does." But he didn't. Instead, he raced out of the lot without even looking. He'd had a bad inning, but for some reason I didn't figure that would affect his attitude toward his fans.

As the season progressed, Kerry found little success on the mound. Every time he was called up, my heart rose with expectation. This is the time, I told myself, when Kerry's going to come back. He's going to prove all the haters wrong. We'll see the old Kerry again. But we never did.

The other night I watched as Kerry threw his glove into the stands a few rows from where I was sitting. He was disgusted with himself, but all I could think about was how much I wished I had been sitting where he had thrown the glove. I had a scenario planned where I would find him later and say, "I think you dropped this, and you're going to need it to beat the Phillies tonight," or something more clever.

A few nights later, as he drove to a fundraiser, I yelled, "Kerry, I still believe in you!" His sunroof was open and I think he heard me, but he just waved impersonally and drove away. I knew that he had a lot on his mind, but I admit that all I wanted was his attention for one moment. I wanted him to know that I remembered him before, that glorious 2003 season and everything else. From Minnesota, I watched him hit a home run in Game 7 in the most heartbreaking playoff series of my life. I remember his blinding fastball. I remember him pitching for the Yankees against the Twins and for the first time ever, feeling a little love for the hated Yankees because I wanted him to get a World Series ring.

I always felt bad for the guy. My dad had told me how his high school coach ruined his arm with too much playing time. He suffered injury after injury, and I was heartbroken the first time he left the Cubs. When he came back, it was almost too much to hope for. I was thrilled, even though the results on the mound weren't always what I wanted. You see, to me, Kerry Wood would always be The Kid Kerry who pitched like a boss, the face of the Cubs, the person all of my students wanted to be. He was my hero.

Two nights ago after a Phillies loss, Kerry Wood walked out of the locker room with Ryan Dempster. I wasn't prepared. I had nothing for him to sign. I asked if I could get a picture with him, and he agreed. The photo was blurry and I thought about asking for a retake, but he was signing for kids, so I let it go. I figured I would catch him again. I just shook his hand and told him he was my hero and that I still believed in him. He looked up for a second and gave me a half smile and said, "Thank you. That means a lot." And then he left.

Today, Kerry Wood entered the game one last time, struck out Dayan Viciedo, and left the game to a standing ovation, And then he retired from the game. I wanted to be there at Wrigley, even if I couldn't see him, because I knew I would feel closer to him there. But instead,  I listened in my car in a Target parking lot, tears rolling down my cheeks and my breath catching in my throat. He was leaving on his own terms, stating how much he loved the game of baseball, wondering aloud how he would fill that void in his life that baseball would leave, but knowing his presence was putting his team in a difficult position.

His stats won't get him in the Hall of Fame. The Cubs probably won't even retire his number. He never got a World Series ring. But my Kerry Wood was drafted at age 17, 1998 Rookie of the Year, 20-strikeouts-in-one-game when he was just 20 years old, hits a home-run in the playoffs pitcher who will always be baseball to me.

Thank you, Mr. Wood.

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