Wednesday, November 14, 2012


When Jim Duquette was the general manager of the New York Mets, he always looked for ways to improve his ballclub. He'd sign a player through free-agency or secure one via trade. Some of them worked out, others didn't. That's just the risk inherent with acquisitions.
On June 4, the longtime resident of Ridgefield, made the biggest trade of his career, one that came with high-risk, but more importantly, high-reward. But Duquette wasn't looking to improve his team, but rather, the life of his 10-year old daughter. Lindsey Duquette suffered from a rare kidney disorder (focal segmental glomerulosclerosis) and was in need of a new one. Her father stepped up to the plate and gave her one of his.
"It was excruciating and heartbreaking to see what she was going through," said Duquette. "Lindsey had no energy and would be on dialysis for 14 hours a day. She couldn't do all the things most girls her age were doing. After seeing all that suffering, it becomes an easy decision and to know that you can make a huge difference in the quality of your daughter's life, it's a no-brainer."
The procedure that gave Lindsey a new kidney took nine long hours. She's been back to the hospital with minor complications from the surgery and there is still a waiting period to see if her body accepts the new kidney. However, the trade of a kidney for hope and comfort already seems to be paying off.
"She said to me the other day, 'I feel great dad. I have a lot more energy," recalled Duquette. "That was one of the cool moments. To see progress like that makes it all worthwhile."
Duquette, who was also the general manager of the Baltimore Orioles during his career, says he's received a great deal of support from people in baseball and many throughout the country who've been touched by his story. Duquette doesn't feel that he's a hero in any kind of way, though, that title, he says, belongs to his daughter.
"She's so tough and resilent, we're really proud of her," said Duquette, who has two other children. "Lindsey doesn't complain about anything and she's actually helped other children in the hospital. This one girl was going to have a procedure done and Lindsay was telling her what to expect and that it wouldn't hurt that much. For a 10-year old girl whose been through so much to do that, is really special to us."
After recovering from surgery and making sure that Lindsey is healthy and in good hands, Duquette returned to his job as a baseball analyst with MLB Network radio just last week. When asked if this was the best trade of his of his career, Duquette laughed and said, "It's certainly the most important one I've ever made. If definitely puts things in perspective."

Tuesday, November 13, 2012


One of the great things about Facebook is that it can connect us, if we so choose,
to virtually anyone who has passed through our lives. It gives us the opportunity
to keep up with friends, family, and our friends' families. Memories that have long
been dormant, can suddenly come to life with a picture or a funny comment from
a friend.  In an instant, we can see a picture of a baby come into the world and
learn about an old friend who has left it.

On Monday, while reading a post from Robert Troup, I discovered that a person
who had touched my life in a very special way, had moved onto a much better place.
Troup's father, with the same name, died at the age of 92. To the people of New
Canaan, CT, he was known as "Papa Blue", "The Colonel" and, of course, "Colonel

In a town of bankers, brokers, and a boatload of  millionaires, Troup stood out
from the crowd and there was nobody quite like him. "Papa Blue" was a true original.
If there was a food label attached to him, it would've read, "100 percent all-natural,
no ingredients added." He was so bright, so down to earth, and so personable,
that after meeting him for the first time, one got the feeling they had known
"The Colonel" their entire life.

I never knew what Troup did for a living, nor did I care. He put a smile on my
face and made me laugh every time I saw him. He'd often zoom around town
in a convertabile, his long white-grey hair flowing in the wind, a scarf often
snuggled around his neck. "The Colonel" was tall, good-looking, and extremely
dapper. He looked like as if he was created in Hollywood and refined by the world's
most courteous parents. I wish I can tell you there was movie star, a politician
or even an athlete than he reminded me of,  but I can't. Troup was incredibly
unique in every way. There wasn't an ounce of a mean in his body and talking
bad about another person wasn't in his DNA. Quite simply, he was a beautiful
human being.

Troup had a plethora of nicknames and he seemingly tagged everyone with one
of their own. "He used to call me 'Haystack Martin', who was a professional wrestler",
said Mark Rearick, a legendary coach in New Canaan, who is a mountain of a man
at 6'4 and a svelte 300lbs. "We'd go into a restaurant and he'd have the waitresses
calling me, 'Haystack Martin'. He'd get kids to ask me for my autograph. It was
hilarious. The Colonel was the greatest. He'll be missed."\

Every time I ran into Troup in New Canaan, he'd always greet me the same way.
"Hey, Devils, what's going on?" He didn't really have to ask because he always
seemed to know what was going on in my life, as well as my friends' lives, and
even the friends of my friends lives. He had his pulse on everything and everyone
in New Canaan. He was a huge supporter of the athletic programs in town and
if there was a game being played, there was bound to be Troup hanging out in the
stands or on the sidelines.

Troup had the look and temperament of someone who had seen it all, and he
probably did. He was in World War II, suffering a significant injury that he had
to live with, but never really let anyone notice/. He managed to convince Jimmy
Carter to come to New Canaan and Waveny Park during the presidential campaign
in 1976. Nobody in town had the power to get that done, nobody except "The Colonel."
Everybody knew Troup from politicians, movie stars, to athletes and coaches. If
you met Troup, you never forgot him.

You have to search this country far and wide to find someone to say a bad
thing about Robert Troup. If they did, they were lying. It certainly wasn't because
they had an axe to grind because nobody, and I mean nobody, had an axe to
grind with Troup. He was that well-liked.

Colonel Troup, I love you. You were one of a kind and you will be missed.

Friday, November 9, 2012


On Friday afternoon, Walt Weiss will be introduced as the sixth manager in the brief
history of the Colorado Rockies. His ascent from high school coach to skipper of a
major league franchise is quite shocking, even to a sports nation that has built up a
strong immunity to surprises, thanks to all the scandals that have reared their ugly heads
over the past five years. But to everyone who was a teammate of Weiss at UNC, including
myself, the new position for Weiss is close to mind-boggling.

There's no question Weiss has a tremendous baseball IQ,  his work ethic at UNC was
legendary, and he was respected by everyone who played with and against him in the ACC.
The same things were said about Weiss during a 12-year career in the big leagues that
saw him win a Rookie of the Year award and become a World Series champion.You'd
have to search far and  wide to find anyone to say a bad thing about Weiss. He is just a
solid, solid guy. But when he was working his craft in Chapel Hill, there was nobody,
and I mean nobody, who ever  thought Weiss would be a manager in the big leagues
some day. Nobody.

I thought Michael Jordan would have a better chance of becoming a basketball executive
that knew what he was doing than Weiss did of becoming a manager, especially without any experience at the professional or collegiate level. I was clearly wrong. I'm still shocked
as I type this article.

When Weiss was at UNC, his life was pretty much baseball, blue jean jackets, and Bruce
Springsteen. He and the other half of the brilliant double-play combo at UNC, Mike Jedziniak,
worshipped Springsteen and knew every word to every song that the Boss had ever played.
He probably still does.  That was his hobby, but baseball was Weiss' passion. He was such
a great shortstop, he made everything seem so routine. He was so smooth that he rarely made a mistake. He was so quiet, you sometimes didn't even know he was there.

Everybody on the UNC baseball team had a nickname. Everyone. Weiss became known
as "The Peanut Man".  His head was so small it looked like a peanut and the name fit--and
stuck. The plastic adjustable strap on the baseball hat wasn't enough to keep Weiss' lid on,
so he had to tape it to make it tighter.

Weiss was tagged with a great nickname and also gifted with a powerful arm that could
pump out 93-mile an hour fastballs and it led to a few of the most memorable moments in
UNC history. Our coach, Mike Roberts, was Bobby Valentine with a southern twang. Like
Valentine,  he always wanted people to believe he was the smartest man in the game.
During Weiss' sophomore year, he tried to turn Weiss into a shutdown closer. And he tried
to do it without any practice or preparation.

In the final week of the 1984 season, Roberts summoned Weiss in from shortstop to pitch
the 9th inning against Virginia Commonwealth. Weiss drilled the first and only batter
he faced in the ear hole with a 93-year mile an hour fastball. It was the first time
I saw the helmet of a batter actually pop off. It was frightening. We all thought
the guy was dead. We also thought it would be the last time we'd ever see Weiss on the
mound again. We were wrong.

A week later, during the ACC tournament at Durham Athletic Park which was later made
famous by "Bull Durham", we were playing North Carolina State, a longtime fierce rival
with loyal, but vicious fans. In front of nearly 8,000 people, we built a five-run lead
on the Wolfpack heading into the later innings. Instead of going with an established
reliever, and there were many talented ones on the UNC staff, Roberts brought in Weiss
to help close the game out. Seriously, he really did. Weiss was so amped up, he was hitting
95-miles hour on the radar gun. Trouble was, he had the accuracy of Nuke LaLoosh.
Weiss couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat, but he did nearly hit the mascot, which
would've resulted in an instant death.

With every ball and subsequent walk, the decibel level  generated by the Wolfpack fans,
rose so high, it felt like the roof of the stands was about to blow off. It was a surreal scene
and Roberts did nothing to end it quickly. The five-run lead vanished as Weiss continued
to walk the entire free world. Dominant relievers sat in bullpen in utter astonishment until
Roberts finally went out to save Weiss, a fan from NC State screamed, "Hey Roberts,
who you going to bring in next, BJ Surhoff?" Weiss went back to shortstop and his
pitching career was over. Weiss did a lot of great things at UNC, but that moment is the
one that a lot of Tar Heels remember the most.

Walt Weiss is a great man. If he fails as a manager, it won't be because of a lack of preparation
or hard work. The man is dedicated to his profession and I guarantee that he will be the first
one to the park and the last one to leave. I'm also pretty confident in saying that the Rockies
new manager will be, pound-for-pound, the strongest man in the clubhouse. He's a fitness
freak who loves to be challenged.

Managing the Rockies will be a tough challenge for Weiss and the critics are sure to pounce
on his inexperience as soon as one of his moves backfire. But Colorado has a manager who
will lead by example, and one thing is certain, he will have the respect of his players and
he will always have their backs. Weiss is the anti-Bobby Valentine and a man who every
Tar Heel is rooting for.

Good luck, Peanut Man.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012


Somewhere along the line, somebody said that sports are a distraction from life's
everyday hardships. Even for just a few hours, they say, sporting events can provide
"relief" and take your mind off the problems that may come as a result of a crisis.
I've never believed it.

Superstorm Sandy re-affirmed my belief that sporting events really don't matter
much at all. They are just games, that's it.  As the people of Staten Island were dealing
with the devastation that wiped out their homes, livelihoods, and in some cases, the lives
of  their loved ones, do you really think they cared about the running of the New York
City marathon that starts in their borough every year? I don't think so.

Some people wanted the New York City marathon to go on because it would
show the "toughness and resilience" of New Yorkers, as if that actually means
anything when  your home has been decimated by a storm surge and you're trying
to find your next meal.  There would've been 40,000 people in that race with only
about 10 who had a chance at winning it. And those runners come from places that
are hard to spell,  much less even  pronounce. Nobody really cares who crosses the
finish line when you have to pretty much re-start your life with next to nothing.

Thanks to ESPN, the Internet, and dreams of being professional athletes, a good
part of the nation has become obsessed with sports. But when the biggest storm to
EVER  hit the Northeast, it's amazing how insignificant sports become. I say this as
person whose  world, at one time, was all about sports. I played sports through college
and was lucky enough to play minor-league baseball for a few years. After that, I became
a sportscaster. It was my world. But the longer I worked in it, the less important sports
became to me.

I can never really understood why people get so emotional about their teams. Adults
wear the jersey's of their favorite team and get offended when somebody, usually
another adult, talks "trash" about "their" team, as if they're actually a member of it.
In some cases, it leads to physical confrontations, bodily harm, which can result in
prison. All over a game where fans don't make a difference and have nothing to
do with.

I've never understood why fans care so much about athletes who care nothing
about them. Do you think Carmelo Anthony of the New York Knicks really cared
all that much about the storm victims just because he took the microphone before
the team's season opener against the Miami Heat and thanked the fans and said he
was "thinking" about the all those who are homeless because of the hurricane? I didn't
see Anthony down on Staten Island providing support or signing a check to make
a big donation.

In fact, I haven't seen anything athletes help out or chip in with  a game check. I
guess they think talking into a microphone or giving an emotional 15-second soundbite
on "SportsCenter" will be more than enough.

Without having power to light up televisions or beam up a radio, people found
other ways to spend their time and pretty much forgot about what was going on
in sports world. That might be a good thing, because in the grand scheme of things,
sports don't really matter.

Monday, October 1, 2012


Life isn't fair. The sports world seems to remind us of that every so often. On Monday,
the Indianapolis Colts revealed their head coach, Chuch Pagano, has been diagnosed
with leukemia and will miss a significant portion of the season while he undergoes

Pagano, 52, spent 27 years of his life criss-crossing the country pursuing his goal
of being a head coach. He worked at six different colleges and for three NFL teams
as an assistant before the Colts selected him to lead their team in January. Just three
games into his dream job, Pagano's life has been changed forever.

Doctors have called Pagano's form of leukemia "treatable", but really, when it comes
beating this disease, there are no guarantees and a return to coaching is hardly set in
stone, no matter how optimistic doctors say they are in curing it.

Seven years ago, a disease didn't derail Adam Greenberg, a 92-mile an hour fastball did.
Playing for the Chicago Cubs in July of 2005, Greenberg fulfilled a lifelong dream
of making it to the Major Leagues. Recently promoted from AA, Greenberg was called
on to pinch-hit against Marlins reliever Valerio de los Santos. On the first pitch of
his first plate appearance, the former UNC outfielder was drilled in the back of the head.
Dazed and incoherent, Greenberg left the game and would never make it back to the
big leagues. That was until Tuesday.

After dealing with nausea, vertigo, headaches, rejection, and long minor-league bus rides,
Greenberg will be back in Miami, the place where his major league career seemingly
ended seven years ago, to play for the Marlins on a one-day contract. The Marlins,
who suffered through a highly disappointing season, gave Greenberg a chance after
a filmmaker who produced "One At-Bat", created an on-line petition to get Greenberg
an "official" at-bat in the Major Leagues. Commissioner Bud Selig approved the
transaction and Greenberg will be in uniform when the Marlins battle the Mets in the
second to last game of the season.

This will be Greenberg's second chance to make a good first impression in a Major
League game. But is this just a stunt that's smearing the integrity of the game? Or
is this "one at-bat" thing really legitimate?

In 2005, Greenberg earned a promotion the the Major Leagues after mild success as a
minor-league outfielder in the Cubs farm system. Short on god-gifted talent and size (5'9")
Greenberg was hitting .269 when he was promoted to the big leagues. The Cubs liked
his defense, speed, and labeled him a good "character guy." Which in baseball, means
he keeps his mouth shut, doesn't cause waves, and plays hard.

This time around, it's hard to say that Greenberg did very much to warrant another shot
in the Major Leagues. He's been bouncing around the minor-leagues for the last several
years and hit the depths of them playing for the Bridgeport (CT) Bluefish in an
Independent League with cast-offs, rejects, and players well past their prime. Talent
rules every professional league and if you have it, some team will find a spot for you.
Every Major League team had passed on Greenberg and many players have long since
passed him by on the road to the show.

But those players may never make it to the promised land and fulfill their own dreams.
Whether it's lack of talent, need, or the game of politics, the journey ends for a lot
of great players before they ever get a sniff of making it to "The Show." Greenberg
is getting a second chance mainly because 20,000 people signed the  petition to get
Greenberg his official at-bat. He's also getting a second chance because the Marlins
needed something to go right for them in a season that went so terribly wrong.

The Marlins pumped up the payroll with the additions of Jose Reyes, Mark Buerhle,
Heath Bell and opened the doors to a new stadium. But after owner Jeff Loria and
Muhammad Ali came in from centerfield riding a golf cart on opening day in a terribly

uncomfortable moment for those at the new park and viewers at home, things went
south in South Beach for the Fish. Ozzie Guillen offended Cuban-Americans in the
city after professing his admiration for Fidel Castro, Hanley Ramirez' lackadaisical
attitude earned him a one-way ticket out of town, and the team played with the passion
of the Chinese table tennis team in the Olympics. If the Red Sox weren't around,
the Marlins season would be considered the biggest disaster in the game.

The Marlins needed some good publicity and something positive to go into the
off-season and the gift to Greenberg accomplishes both. But while Guillen is saying
all the right things, you can bet there a number of players on the Marlins who aren't
thrilled with this one-day, one at-bat thing. They've endured a brutal season that
started in February and will mercifully end on Wednesday.

Greenberg has already gained more national and positive attention in the past week
than they've had all year. Trust me, this one at-bat thing isn't sitting well with a lot
of them. Oh, sure,  they'll put on the happy face and give a few great soundbites
for the media, but inside,  most of them won't be asking for Greenberg's autograph
or taking pictures to mark the occasion or post on their Facebook pages. They have
been through hell this season and a Johnny come-lately player is making national
headlines? You saw how petty the players on the Red Sox were this season, you can
imagine how some of the Marlins are taking this.

Most fans, hardcore and even the non-baseball ones will see this as the exclamation
point on a feel good story. The kid is getting another chance to get an official at-bat
after that frightening moment seven years ago altered his life and career. But what
will it really mean if Greenberg does get an official at-bat? Will it change anything other
than the record books? Greenberg beat the odds in 2005 to make it to the Major
Leagues. He earned his promotion to the big leagues. Nobody could question it
or take it away from him. Greenberg did it all on his own.

This time around, that's not the case. He got help from 20,000 fans who put their
name on an on-line petition. Greenberg got help from a Marlins franchise that has
their own agenda. Greenberg really didn't need this. He already made it to the Major
Leagues once. There have been other players who have been promoted to the
big leagues who sat on the bench, didn't get into a game, and were returned to the
minors after being so close to their dream, they could taste it. Nobody put together
on-line campaigns to get them into a real Major League game. Nobody offered
them a one-day contract just so they could fulfill their dream. The "Today" show
didn't call them up to be interviewed by Matt Lauer on national television.

And what if Greenberg gets drilled again in his plate appearance? Will the Marlins
sign him to another one-day contract and do this entire thing all over again? Don't
laugh, it could happen. What will this mean to the next player who gets drilled in
the head in his only Major League at-bat and wants to return nearly ten years later?

Where does Commissioner Selig draw the line? How can he do it for one player
and not another? Is Greenberg's one-day contract good for the game? Is it smudging
the integrity of it? It's a great debate, but one thing is certain. Life is not fair and it
certainly can be cruel. Just ask Chuck Pagano and his family.