IN MEMORY OF MICKEY PINA

When I logged on to Facebook recently, the news feed shared some news I wasn't quite ready for: 

                                                                       RIP Mickey Pina.

"Please, don't let it be THAT Mickey Pina," I said to myself. "Can't be. He's only 59. That's 

way too young to die," I prayed it wasn't the guy I played side-by-side with in the Red Sox

organization. It just couldn't be. Mick was as strong as an ox and one of those guys you 

think will live forever.

I quickly went to his Facebook page and received confirmation in the flood of messages 

that were left for him:

RIP Mickey.

Going to miss you, Mickey. Rest in eternal peace my friend.
Rest in peace brother.

Mickey was gone. No reason was given. No obituary posted anywhere on the Internet.

I hadn't seen Mickey Pina in 35 years, but for six straight months in 1988 I saw him every
single day as teammate on the Lynchburg Red Sox, the Class A affiliate of the Boston Red
Sox.

I'd like to say Pina was the type of guy you'd meet once and you'd remember forever, but he
just wasn't back then. He was often quiet and never one to be the life of a party because he
never said very much and didn't touch alcohol.

However, after watching him put together the season he did in 1988, Mickey Pina became a
guy I'll never forget. Ever.

 

Pina was a shade under 5'10" with the shredded physique of an obsessed bodybuilder. 

I called him the "Toy Cannon", after former MLB star Jimmy Wynn who gained fame 

as a diminutive centerfielder who wielded prodigious power for the Los Angeles Dodgers

and Houston Astros.

Mickey Pina was a star who carried a chip on his shoulder when he played. Despite a brilliant
college career at Eckerd College in Florida where he became legendary for tape-measure home runs, every team in baseball passed on Pina in the MLB draft.

The Red Sox took a flier on Pina, who grew up in Bridgewater, which was a David Ortiz 

blast from Fenway Park. They signed the local kid to a free-agent contract. Pina was 

elated to get the chance to play for his favorite team, but if the eyes are indeed the window 

to the soul, it didn't take much to see the raging inferno burning inside of Pina, the result 

of being passed over in the 1987 draft by every team in baseball.

Pina belted 12 home runs in rookie ball, earning a promotion to the Sox team in the
Carolina League in 1988. The circuit was loaded with future MLB stars like Albert Belle,
Bernie Williams, Gerald "Ice" Williams,  Moises Alou, Wes Chamberlain, and Kevin
Maas, all who had been high draft picks or bonus babies.

Pina had not been drafted. He probably received a signing bonus of no more than $1,000.
That's it, that's all.

Pina was driven, but he was hurt. He turned that pain into fuel and used it to outshine the aforementioned stars and make a very big statement. And boy, did he ever. Mickey Pina, the undrafted free-agent, belted 21 home runs and drove in 108 runs to earn Carolina MVP honors.

As someone who was his teammate that year, I can tell you the voting wasn't even close.
No player was more valuable to his team than Mickey Pina. The home runs he hit were
majestic ones, ripping through the hot and humid nights in the South like missiles launched
from aircraft carriers in the Persian Gulf.

During our stretch run to the playoffs, it seemed like every hit Pina got, was a big one.
They either tied the game or put us in the lead. It was a sight to behold. The kid that
was overlooked in the draft made sure everyone in the league was paying attention to him.

Pina played like he was possessed had a laser-like focus which I had never seen before.
It sometimes bordered on the absurd and on rare occasions, morphed into the comical.

During one game, Pina was on-deck with two outs when the batter before him made
the last out. As the teams were exchanging sides, Pina went into the batters box, oblivious
to what was going on around him. He was going through his routine before facing
the pitcher

As I ran to my position behind home plate, I could barely contain myself before
saying, "Hey, Mick. That's three outs."

When I read an article about Pina several years later about his focus and work ethic,
I can't say I was all that surprised by the words of Ed Nottle, his then-manager
in AAA.

"Mickey Pina worked too hard," Nottle said. "What a great kid. He'd take 50 minutes
extra hitting, he'd take so much stuff, it was unbelievable."

That was the Mickey Pina I remember from 1988. He was addicted to baseball. Thought
about it morning, noon, and night. Baseball was his life. Making it to Boston with the
Red Sox was his dream.

While the Sox were his favorite team, I recall Mike Schmidt being his favorite player.
Schmidt was a power-hitting third baseman for the Phillies at the time, who went on
to earn a place in the Hall of Fame. I liked to kid around with Pina and his obsession
with Schmidt.

Before one game, I was watching "This Week in Baseball" and I said to a few teammates
"Watch this."  I then yelled to Pina in the locker room, "Hey, Mick, Mike Schmidt is
going to be talking about hitting on "This Week in Baseball". Within seconds, Pina came
storming in to the TV room like a bull on wheels.

He didn't see any of us. Didn't even know we were in the room. Pina was in a trance and
breathing hard, waiting anxiously to see the clip of Mike Schmidt.

After several minutes, Pina knew he'd been had. He mumbled something underneath his
breath before walking back to his locker to get dressed for the game.

Pina quickly rose to AAA in Pawtucket where he was teammates with Scott Cooper,
Tim Naerhing, Mo Vaughn, and Phil Plantier, all of whom made it to the major leagues.
When I see this picture of the five of them, I say to myself, "Mickey should've been
there with those guys. Nobody worked harder. Nobody cared more about the game, and
certainly none of them loved the Red Sox as much as Mickey did.

Pina came up just a bit short in his quest to make it to Boston with the Red Sox. I'm
sure being so close to fulfilling his dream took him a while to get over. It would be
that way for anyone who invested nearly his whole life to get there.

You have a lot to be proud of Mickey Pina. You were a great teammate, friend, and
ballplayer. The season you put together in 1988 was nothing short of amazing. You
were the MVP and everybody in the league knew you were "The Man", that year.

I kept looking for an obituary to find out if there was going to be a service to say good-bye.
I never found one. I talked with several of our former teammates. I reached out to some

of his friends on his Facebook page. Nobody knew of any service being held for Mickey Pina.
He never married or had any kids. Not sure anyone from his immediate family is still alive.

Mickey Pina was a beautiful soul and a kind man who got along with everyone, both on and

off the field. He was a brilliant athlete who was on a mission to make it to the major leagues
with the team he grew up rooting for. Pina was a star who came up just short of fulfilling his

dream. In professional sports, a lot depends on timing and that line between AAA and making
it to the major leagues can be a fine one.

Mickey was truly one of a kind and a person who touched a lot of lives before his life ended.

Rest in peace, Mickey Pina. I will never forget you, brother.