IF I HAD 10 MORE MINUTES WITH DAD

May 17, 2008.

It's been 12 years since Patrick Joseph Devlin took his last breath in this world. Sometimes it
seems like yesterday that my father died. Other days it feels like he's been gone for more than
a decade. The heart-searing pain that goes with losing a parent subsided a while ago, but on anniversaries,  the floodgates of raw emotion open far and wide.

My father's death was not sudden, but it came far quicker than anyone in the family could've imagined. He had been battling Alzheimer's disease when he came down with pneumonia. He
went from the emergency room to hospice care in a blur and facing the inevitable became the
reality that we weren't quite ready for, even if his fate had been sealed with his diagnosis five
years earlier.

I was lucky,though, because I got to say good-bye to my father. Some people don't get that
opportunity because death is often sudden and there isn't even a chance to say one last, "I
love you."

I did.

My father was conscious but incoherent as I nestled up to him on his hospital bed to give him
one last hug, the kind he gave me countless times while I was growing up. As morphine
continued to drip from the IV next to his bed, I hugged him a little tighter, hoping to
provide a bit more comfort during the last difficult moments of his life.

I knew my father heard me when I thanked him for everything he gave to me and the entire
family. I know he felt the love, admiration, and respect I had for hm. My Dad was my hero.
A self-made man with the heart the size of Texas and a person who always put others ahead
of himself.

That was never more apparent during a visit I made to him about three weeks before his
death. I always came up from Rye, New York to see him on the weekends. One Saturday
afternoon he was at the kitchen table with the New York Times spread out in front of him.
I went over to see what he was reading and saw a bunch of circles in the classified section.

I asked him what he was doing and he told me he was looking for a job. I said, "Dad, you
don't need to work anymore."  He responded by saying something that nearly brought me
to my knees.

"I need to get a job so Mom is taken care of when I'm gone."

In the midst of his battle with Alzheimer's Disease, my father was thinking about the
well-being of others. That moment defined who Patrick Devlin was.

12 years after his death, I still think my father is going to come around the corner and give
me a big bear hug. When I'm in need of advice, I want to reach out to him and ask him what
I should do.

Man, if I just had 10 more minutes with Dad.

If I was granted a few extra moments with my father, I'd tell him that Mom has been a pillar
of strength since that fateful day in May a decade ago. It hasn't been easy, but Mom has
been amazing. Oh, she has her moments. As tough as she is, being alone as one gets older can
be a challenge. But Mom has never complained - instead she has been resilient, something
I know would make my Dad very proud.

I'd tell my Dad that he should be very proud of his daughter, Kara, and son, Patrick, who
followed his lead to become terrific parents. They've raised six remarkable kids, all of whom
inherited the a few character traits of their grandfather. Sergei, who is 14-years-old certainly
has my Dad's appetite and can crush a buffet with the best of them.

I'd tell my Dad how much I miss him. I'd tell him how correct he was in every piece of advice
that he gave me.

Most importantly, I'd tell my Dad how much I love him. You can never say that enough. Ever.

BRY-GUY: SELFIE KING TURNED CAFE MARTIN PITCHMAN

When it comes to selfies, Bryan Brennan is without equal. In a social media world polluted
with self-portraits, Brennan has managed to produce thousands of pictures of pure hilarity.
He can turn a frown into a smile with a simple picture and a post.

However, the Selfie King is proving that he's not a one-trick pony. The all-world photographer/
videographer who helped take NESN to a different level has morphed into a great pitchman.
Once obsessed with selfies, Brennan has devoted the last month calling on his friends, family
members and total strangers to purchase Café Martin baseball hats.

The baseball hats were produced to help promote the hottest spot in Boston and raise money
for John Martin, who was diagnosed with ALS in 2016. Brennan and Martin worked together
at NESN where they formed a special and unbreakable bond. Brennan and Martin, along with
Pat Gamere, weren't just videographers, they were amazing storytellers who helped the talent
and network look good - damn good.

Brennan has taken to social media to promote the Café Martin baseball hat with more passion
and determination than the Kardashians do in promoting their talentless selves. He reached
out to those he knows and even the thousands he doesn't. He is posting creative shots of the
Café Martin hat all over Boston - mostly at Fenway Park.  Brennan has encouraged, pleaded,
and all but begged people to buy the Café Martin baseball hat.

I'm sure many out there had thoughts of blocking or defriending Brennan on all their social
media vehicles, but the drive and determination of Brennan has paid off. As of this writing,
the Café Martin campaign has sold 210 hats and raised more than $4,000 for Martin's battle
with ALS. It was all possible because of Brennan's drive, commitment and love for Martin
and his family

Brennan, Martin, and Gamere were the three amigos at NESN - their dedication, commitment,
and passion for the jobs and network was off-the-charts. They are the best at what they do.
However, their talent is only surpassed by their friendship. They are as thick as thieves, forming
a friendship that can't be accurately measured or described. It's a beautiful thing to see.

Brennan's salesmanship is also pretty damn special. In a world of self-promoters, Brennan
has expended a great amount of time and energy promoting a great cause and the franchise
that is Café Martin.

Thank you, Bry-Guy, you're a helluva man.

Bill Titus, the Godfather of cameramen in Boston has also been a big help in promoting the
Café Martin hats. We had to make a special order to get a hat that fit Bill's dome and he loves
it. Bill has been in John's corner from day one and has to done a lot to make sure everybody
knows about Café Martin and what a great man John is.

Oh, yeah, Bryan and Bill wanted me to pass along the link so y'all can buy some more hats
to help out John Martin in his battle vs. ALS

https://www.customink.com/fundraising/jpm-legend?ref

WHITNEY GRUMMON: A BRIGHT LIGHT GONE FAR TOO SOON

Only the good die young.

                       

                                             -Billy Joel

Whitney Grummon was too sweet, too pretty, and just too damn good. Oh, sure, Whitney

had a bit of a wild side and was a free-spirit who spoke her mind, but she was a bright
light to all those who knew her during her days at New Canaan High School.

Unfortunately, she has left us far too soon. Whitney passed away recently after a brief battle 

with melanoma.

She was just 53-years-old. 

I met Whitney shortly after moving to New Canaan as a sophomore and we were both

part of the Class of 1982. She was a natural beauty with the high-cheekbones of a cover

girl and near perfect teeth that ignited her mega-watt smile. Whitney never called me by
my first name. It was just "Hey, Devlin," which always gave me a chuckle. Every
guy wanted Whitney to be their prom date. Every girl wanted her to be their best friend.

She was smart, funny, and someone who made a lasting impression on all the people she

came across. I never saw or heard much about Whitney after graduation. She had gone off
to the University of Colorado and that was pretty much all I knew until I ran into
her sister, Wilder, in Atlanta several years ago.

When I asked about Whitney, she told me our former classmate was out west teaching
English in high school. And teach she did.

Since 2010, Whitney was at Carmel High School in Aptos, California. She was the Chair
of the English department and the girls soccer coach, as well.

"I was drawn to the teaching profession because I wanted to help other people find their voice
and to articulate what they feel is important, " Whitney told Jaydon Zimmerman of The
Carmel Sandpiper during an interview in 2014.

Whitney was named Mentor of the Year as well as Teacher of the Year at Carmel High
School. She had an impact on nearly every one she came across.

"She takes everyone under her wing and treats everyone with the same kind-hearted
compassion and understanding," Olivia Doskey Mulvaney, a former student and a member
of the girls soccer team said about Whitney in 2014. "She's not only a mentor or teacher or
coach to her kids, she's a mother who cares about all aspects of their lives and wants to
help them grow and learn."

Whitney, right, and sister, Wilder.

Whitney's death has shaken Carmel High School as well as the entire New Canaan community.

Whitney LeGard Williams wrote in a Facebook post to Whitney's mother, Margot:

I moved to New Canaan in 10th grade and having the name Whitney had always been
a burden to me. No one knew what my name was. I had never met another until NCHS.
Your Whitney was so kind to me when others were not. I'll always remember her warm
smile and beautiful spirit. She was a good person and I think that while the rest of us
lost a bright light, heaven gained a good soul.

Steve Tonra, a good friend and classmate of Whitney remembers her as "smart, funny, fun,
beautiful -no drama and no BS."

Whitney was a beautiful person who touched so many lives. She was like a comet shooting
through the sky. Spectacular, but gone too soon. Everyone who saw and met her, will
never forget Whitney Grummon.

Good-bye, Whitney, you will be missed.

IN SEARCH OF 'EL GUAPO'

After the Hall of Fame ballots were tallied and the results were announced, I had a conversation
with a friend about the class that will be ushered into Cooperstown later this summer. My friend
is a die-hard Boston Red Sox fan and a real baseball junkie.

"Clemens should've gotten in, same for Schilling," my friend screamed through the phone. As if
I was surprised. He thinks Oil Can Boyd should be immortalized in the Hall of Fame, too.

I responded, "Any election that doesn't include El Guapo has to be rigged."

A big, hearty laugh blitzed its way through the cell phone and pierced my ear. "I loved
El Guapo! He was a great guy," my friend said. "I wonder whatever happened to him."

El Guapo is Rich Garces, who pitched for the Red Sox from 1995 - 2002. He was a cross
between Bartolo Colon and Pablo Sandoval: all belly. I covered Garces and the Red Sox on
my first tour of duty in Boston and  El Guapo was the sunshine on a team of prickly assholes.
He was a lovable guy who always had time to say hello - to everybody.

The media guide listed El Guapo, (the handsome one) at 215, which was off by about 35
pounds. He always had a smile on his face as he meandered his way through a clubhouse filled
with players who acted as if they'd rather be anyplace other than Fenway Park.

El Guapo could pitch a little bit, too. He morphed into one of the American League's premier
set-up men, posting a 5-1 record with and 1.55 earned run average in 1999. The following year,
the handsome one had a record of 8-1  with a 3.25 ERA. General Manager Dan Duquette, a
card-carrying member of the physique police, urged El Guapo to lose weight. He did and
was never the same.

El Guapo, who is a still a folk hero in Boston to this day, was done with the Red Sox in 2002, his
velocity disappearing along with his excess weight. However El Guapo found a home in 2007 pitching for the Nashua Pride, an independent team in New Hampshire.

El Guapo was such a draw for the Pride, they scheduled a bobblehead night for him. Well,
it wasn't exactly a bobblehead. The anatomy was a little off. It was a bobblebelly in honor of
El Guapo's boiler.

How awesome is that?

Two days after my conversation with a friend about El Guapo, I walked into a baseball facility
in Fairfield, Connecticut for a feature I was producing. The owner of the top-tier baseball
program said, "We have a great staff here. There's Willie Upshaw, he played for the Blue Jays,
and you remember Rich Garces, don't you?

I said to myself, "You have to be sh*%ting me! It's El Guapo!"

There he was in all his glory. El Guapo is still a handsome devil after all these years. He
didn't look much different from the guy I watched and covered at Fenway Park in the late
90's. He had that same geniune smile along with the same body type and was very approachable.

I was a minor-league player in the Red Sox organization and had covered El Guapo in Boston.
We talked and shared a few belly laughs. It was one of the moments in life, that you find
yourself saying, "Damn, what are the chances of that?"

He still had the bobble-belly, too, but that's OK. After all, he is El Guapo - a true character of the game.

WHY I DO THE IRONMAN

2.4 mile swim. 112 mile bike. 26.2 mile run. In one day. That's the Ironman.

People often ask me why, as a 50-something, semi-good former athlete, I would put myself
through all that torture just to complete the race. I don't have a single answer for that. I have
many of them.

It's not a bucket list item. As somebody who is on the back nine of life, I can think of many
other fun things to do with the $750 entry fee than grind my way through close to 13 hours
of non-stop action to complete a 140-mile race.

For me, doing the Ironman is an annual celebration of life. It's another opportunity for me to
be thankful that I'm still healthy enough, at my age, to swim, bike, and run.

I don't have anything to prove. I squeezed out every ounce of energy and talent out of myself
in trying to be a success in baseball. I got a scholarship to UNC and played in the Boston Red Sox organization and don't have any regrets. It was a phase in my life that I enjoyed but it has long
been over.

Father Time is catching up to me, but doing the Ironman let's him know that running me down,
no matter how slow I may be, won't be all that easy.

People often want to tell me that doing the Ironman "can't be good for the body." Neither is alcohol,
junk food, and staying out all night. I'd rather break down because of over-exercising than over-
indulging in the poisonous things you put in the body.

I don't do the Ironman for the fancy medal awarded upon completion. I usually give the
hardware to my niece or nephew before it has a chance to be draped around my neck.

I do the Ironman to compete against the clock and challenge myself. As far as I'm concerned,
there is nobody else on the course, despite getting clubbed by elbows, arms, and feet during
the 2.4 mile swim.

I compete in the Ironman because I love swimming in open water. There are few things as
exhilarating as navigating your way through a course filled with 2,000 other competitors. You
can't see what's below you and the sight of mountains, trees, and the sunrise can be pretty
spectacular.

I do the Ironman because the energy and vibe of the event is truly incredible. It provides
an adrenaline rush that can last for weeks, as it did when I completed my first Ironman
in Lake Placid at the age of 50.

I love the Ironman because I get an up close and personal look at the human will and spirit
of others. I enjoy hearing their stories, where they are from, and why they do the Ironman. I
really believe anyone can do the Ironman. After all, most of us can run, bike, and swim. The
will to complete it is definitely the key.

I enjoy the mind games that come with completing the event. It truly is an oddesey for the

mind, which often tells you to quit and go home for good. I tried to quit forever after
completing my second Ironman in 2016.

Almost as soon as I crossed the finish line, I made a b-line to the pizza tent and finished
off an entire pie and then some. I announced my retirement to no one in particular and
didn't work out a single time for the next seven months.

But the Ironman sucked me back in. I couldn't do without it. Oh, it's not an addiction,
trust me. I'm not obsessive about it and have never followed a routine, hired a coach, or
watched every little thing that goes into my body. If I felt like doing a 100-mile bike, I
would do it. If I had a 10-mile run in me, I'd bust it, too. I've alway trained by 'feel' and made
sure not to overtrain or abuse my body.

I signed up with the Ironman in Mont-Tremblant, Quebec just under four months before
the race. I completed it for my fourth career Ironman.

This June, I'll travel to Boulder, Colorado for my fifth Ironman.  Can't wait. The Ironman
doesn't consume me, but it is very much a part of me. And I love it.