Sunday, February 12, 2017

MEMORIES OF SPRING TRAINING. THERE IS NOTHING LIKE IT.


Pitchers and catchers report for spring training.

If you're a baseball fan, those seven words are simply beautiful. They mark the beginning of
a new season and unlock images of palm trees, chamber-of-commerce weather, and a tiny
slice of paradise.

As snow and sleet blanket the northeast while thick icicles hang from my window, playing
catch is seemingly as far away as the distance between Connecticut and Florida. Photos of
players reporting to spring training under sunburst skies dominate the news feed on Facebook.
Thoughts of  my first spring training flood my mind like the melted ice that will be unleashed
on our roads once the temperatures work their way into the 40's.

1988. Winter Haven, Florida.


In early March of that year, I pulled into this sleepy town in central Florida with a mile-wide
grin on my face and the enthusiasm of a Little League kid playing in a real uniform for the very
first time. After a trying and unfilled career at UNC where I played three different positions
and started to switch-hit during my junior year, I signed with the Boston Red Sox on
Christmas Day.

I got a break because the team had lost Todd Pratt in the Rule 5 draft to the Cleveland
Indians. Pratt would eventually be returned to the Red Sox and enjoyed a solid 10-year
career in the major leagues with the Philadelphia Phillies and New York Mets.

It didn't matter to me how I got to the Red Sox and Winter Haven, but I was there and
enjoyed every single second of it. I was wearing a Boston Red Sox uniform and the catchers
helmet I was issued, had the 'B' on it. I still have that same helmet which fits nicely in my
closet. It has no value to anyone else on the planet, but that helmet, currently buried beneath
a bunch of old sweaters, is priceless to me.

Every day of spring training felt like Christmas. Everything is new. The uniforms. The bats.
The gloves. The spikes. And, of course, the baseballs. They are so clean and shiny they look like
pearls glistening in the sun. The air was remarkably fresh and the smell from the grass on the
perfectly manicured fields was intoxicating. The roads into the facility were lined with
palm trees and if there was a cloud in the sky during our four-weeks of camp, I never saw it.

What I did see was the best hitter who ever lived. Yep, Ted Williams.

The baseball legend was Red Sox royalty. He was a roving hitter instructor but may as
well have been God in baseball spikes to me. I was 22-years-old at the time and wasn't into
hero worshipping, but this was Ted Williams. I was in awe of the man.


During the second day of spring training, I had been one of the last players to go into the
hitting cages that were perfectly placed in between the major and minor-league camps The cages separated the facilities but they were used by everybody, from Wade Boggs, Jim Rice, and
Dwight Evans, to the last player on the minor-league roster.

I had been hitting with one of the coaches when Williams stopped to watch me hit. I said
to myself, "You have to be kidding me." Then I heard the voice of God. It was a powerful,
booming voice that I had heard during interviews with Williams on television.

"Swing with a slight upper-cut. You need to get the ball in the air."

I stopped almost immediately when Williams said, "Come here, son."  I went over
to the netting that separated us and I looked at the Splendid Splinter in amazement. I
was just as impressed with what Williams did outside of baseball, as his Hall of
Fame accomplishments.



Williams served two tours of duty as a brilliant military fighter pilot for our country. If he
didn't miss all that time, there is little doubt he would've hit 700 home runs. And this living
legend was giving pointers to a non-descript minor-league player.

Williams and I eventually walked out of the dark, dank batting cages into the magnificent Florida
sun. My grandfather, a former minor-league pitcher in the New York Yankees organization,
had traveled from Venice, Florida, to Winter Haven, to see me play. I don't think he was
expecting to see Williams.

I introduced Williams to my grandfather, who received an autograph from Williams, which
he'd send me many years later just prior to his death.

I said to myself, "I've been in spring training for two days, how the hell am I ever going
to top this moment in my baseball life?"

It wouldn't happen during the remainder of spring training, that's for sure. However, playing
baseball every day in spring training was pretty damn special and I soaked it all in like the
sunshine that beat down on us every day.


There were bus rides to places like Kissimmee and Haines City to play against minor-league
teams from the Astros and Kansas City Royals. I'd become teammates with those kids on the
buses, many of whom I am still friends with today.

There would be two more trips to spring training. One more to Winter Haven and one to
West Palm Beach with the Atlanta Braves organization. They were special as well. It's
spring training. There is nothing quite like it.

In 1995, I worked in Fort Myers as a sportscaster. The team I covered during spring training
just happened to the Boston Red Sox. They had left their long-time home in Winter Haven
for a spanking new ballpark in town. Ted Williams wasn't there, but a few of the guys I
had played with were.

They had reached the major leagues and I was there covering them. The memories came back.
The palm trees were there, so was the near-perfect weather, and hours and hours of baseball, of course.

Ah, it's spring training and there is nothing like it. Nothing.











Monday, January 30, 2017

RUNNING THE BOSTON MARATHON FOR 'FALLEN HEROES'


It didn't take me long to figure out which charity team I wanted to run for in this year's
Boston Marathon. As I was scanning the expansive list on the Boston Athletic Association's
web site, the second team featured was the Massachusetts Fallen Heroes foundation.

That is the team I want to run 26.2 miles for.  If I'm going to train and go through all the
pain that goes with completing a marathon, this is the team I want to do if for. This is where
my heart. This is what I want to do.

Massachusetts Fallen Heroes is a non-profit organization  dedicated to honoring those
who have given their lives in service since September 11th, 2001. The mission of is to honor
the fallen, assist families of the fallen and to empower returning Veterans.

Click this link
https://www.crowdrise.com/massfallenheroesboston2017/fundraiser/pauldevlin3

We can thank Veterans for their service, but it is not enough. Neither is a single holiday during
the year. Our team is hoping to raise more than $100,000 to help them in their transition from
the war zones in Iraq and Afghanistan to their lives back home. Many Veterans need more
than a pat on the back and a government leader saying, "good job." They need some direction
and assistance.

I am hoping this helps just a little bit.

Honoring those who have served our country or lost their lives doing it is something I've
really tried to do since 2011. Brian Bill was a Navy SEAL from Stamford, CT, a city
that borders New Canaan, the town where I spent a good portion of my life in.

BRIAN BILL NAVY SEAL

Bill was tragically killed while fighting in Afghanistan on August 6, 2011. He was part
of the Extortion 17 mission that saw the highest number of casualties of any single day during
the war. He and more than 30 other SEAL's were killed when their helicopter was shot down
by the Taliban.

I didn't even know Bill, but he became one of my heroes. I dedicated an endurance race
to him shortly after his death and have become friends with his mother, Patricia
Parry and sister, Amy. They are amazing people still dealing with their tragic loss.


I see this as another way to honor Brian Bill and so many of the other courageous heroes
who sacrificed their lives for our country. They always need to be honored and remembered.
Forever.

The goal is $7500. I've donated $250 and paid the $355 entry. Now, I need a little help
from my friends to get to the finish line. $5, $10 or $1 per mile. No donation is too small.
It all goes to the Massachusetts Fallen Heroes foundation and is tax-deductible.

https://www.crowdrise.com/massfallenheroesboston2017/fundraiser/pauldevlin3

Thank you for your support.




Saturday, January 28, 2017

A BASEBALL DAD'S GREATEST GIFT


Chris Pinder was selected by the Baltimore Orioles in the 15th round of the 1987 MLB draft.
A left-handed pitcher out of Virginia Commonwealth University, Pinder rose to AA and
played four seasons of professional baseball before retiring. We played against each other
in the Carolina League during the late 80's.

Baseball stayed in his blood, though, and literally. He and his wife, Beth, gave birth to three
boys and a girl, all of whom excelled, or are still excelling in baseball and softball. In August,
Chad, a former star at Virginia Tech, fulfilled his dream by reaching the big leagues with the Oakland's A's.

Daddy Pinder throwin' gas for the Indians in 1988

Can you just imagine being the parents of a kid who made it to the major leagues? Chris Pinder,
in his own words, describes the moment Chad received the call to the show and the greatest
gift he received nearly four months later.

All the kids were home this Christmas which is starting to become more of a challenge as we travel
down the road of life. Our oldest, Clark flew in from Houston where he is working after a very
successful high school baseball career where he was a three-time All-State selection in Virginia.  

Our second son, Chad, was able to be here as well after his third season in the Oakland Athletics
organization. Chase, who is four years younger, came home from Clemson University where he plays centerfield for the Tigers.  Our last child, Avery, is a junior at Poquoson High School where she excels in softball and basketball.  Needless to say, we have some athletes who love to compete. 

Chad had a meteoric rise through A’s farm system and was playing for the team’s AAA affiliate
in Nashville, Tennessee last summer. He called me one day in August to talk about a hamstring injury
he’d been trying to recover from. 



"Pops, just got done with the hammy and they are sending me to Dallas", Chad said over the phone. 
I was a little irritated in the fact they would send him all the way to Dallas for a hamstring injury
that he has been playing great on.   

I said, "Ok, I guess the A’s have to do what they want. Doesn't make sense,  ok.”  There was that
long silence that made me a bit uncomfortable and Chad put me at ease, then in a state of exhilaration. 
 "Dad, that was a joke. I just got the call!”, my son blurted into the phone. “I’m going to Dallas to play
against the Rangers!” 

I immediately went silent, as if the entire world came to a complete halt. Really? It couldn't be real,
is it,” I said to myself. “Oh, wait, of course it is. You have taught all the kids to believe in themselves
their entire lives! 

My kid was going to the big leagues! I just said to myself, “Wake up dad, it has finally become a
reality.” My mind became flooded with all the memories of Chad I and going to baseball fields together
and working toward his dream. After all the plastic balls tossed and the ground balls rolled
to him on the living room carpet, my boy was going to the big leagues. 



All the minutes, hours, and days spent helping him reach a dream was now really happening. His
hard work, relentless drive, God-given talent and inner fire was rewarded with a gift for Chad to join
The Elite group known as Major League Baseball. 

Many of those thoughts blitzed through my mind on Christmas day as the entire family shared
gifts and counted our blessings Chad came up to me and said, "Pops, I have one more present for you".  
Chad goes behind the couch and pulls out a large rectangular box wrapped nicely and says, "Pops, this
is for you". 

I was taken aback and froze just like when he told me he was going up to the big leagues.   
I slowly took off the wrapping paper and there it was. I was frozen stiff and speechless. Chad says,
"It's for you, Pops.” It was a shadow box with the Oakland Athletics jersey he was wearing the
day he got his first hit in the major leagues. The ball was also in the shadow box with its MLB
authentic sticker on it. So was the line-up card from that days game against the Chicago White Sox.

I just stared at it for what seemed like an eternity.  We were all just stunned that Chad would give
it to me. What a true blessing for my wife, Beth, and I to have kids who think of us in this way. There
were big hugs in the center of the circle in the living room, tears of joy rolling off our cheeks and falling
gently to the ground. 

What an emotional event and a great treasure for a proud father to have. It was something Chad
worked so hard to accomplish. I was sincerely humbled and very grateful. 

It was the greatest gift for  a father to receive!

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR JOHN MARTIN



Boston will always be a part of me. When I was set to start a job working for the Red Sox
over-the-air station in 1997, my late father said, "Paul, you are going to a world-class city.
There are few places in the country like Boston. Enjoy it."

As usual, my father was correct.

After four years working at Fox Sports Net in Atlanta, I moved back to Boston in 2004 to work
for NESN, the goliath of regional networks which is now owned by the Red Sox and Bruins.
Besides being a world-class city and the best sports one in the country, I found New Englanders
to be passionate, smart, and pretty darn tough.

Oh, sure, they often get mocked on 'SNL' for their accents, loyalty to the Red Sox, Tom
Brady, and Bobby Orr, but if they like you, they will stand behind you. If they love you, they
will not only give you the David Ortiz jersey off their backs, but they will pretty much drop everything if you are experiencing tough times.

John Martin is loved. He was a great videographer for NESN, following the Red Sox, Bruins,
Patriots, and Celtics on one of the most incredibly wicked (Boston term) successful runs
the sports world has ever seen. We worked together for two years and shared many laughs
and a lot of great times.


As good as Martin was as a videographer, he is a far better person. He is loved by everyone
in the tight-knit media community and is as solid as the 150-year-old oak trees that line property
in nearby Brookline. When the unfathomable news broke several weeks ago that Martin was
diagnosed with ALS, the entire region rallied around Martin. A GoFundMe page set up by his
friends saw donations come in fast and furiously, going over the $80,000 mark in
less than two weeks.

It seemed like everyone who lived in Boston or had ties to the professional sports teams there,
was stepping up for John Martin, a husband and father to a pair of beautiful young girls.
John Farrell, the Red Sox manager, made a very generous donation, sending in $1,000.
Mike Hazen, the former Sox GM now holding the same title with Arizona, also contributed
$1,000, as did longtime sportswriter, Ron Borges. Former Bruin Johnny Boychuk, who loves
Martin, also made a sizeable donation.

As I looked down the list of contributors, many of whom I had known when I worked there,
I was amazed by the support and felt good in knowing that Boston is taking care of one of its
own. It was truly heartwarming and renewed my faith there are still many people with great
character in this world.

There were also donations coming in from people who wanted to remain anonymous,
chipping in with $5, $10, and $20. This was after Christmas season where many people racked
up a lot of credit card debt in a time when money is tight.

It's a beautiful thing to see.

However, we cannot stop with the support. John Martin and his family are facing some
tough times ahead. That is incredibly sad. He, his wife, Adrienne, and two children are really an
amazing family. They need our continued love and support. They deserve it.

Please help in the fight against ALS. $5 may seem like a little, but a lot of five dollar bills
can go a long way in his battle. Please continue to help out John Martin. Please donate to
his fund. GoFundme/jmartin.