Bradfo and Ian Browne remember Tim Wakefield
Such an unpredictable pitch. Such a delightfully predictable human being.
This was Tim Wakefield.
He was brought into our world thanks to the bobbing and weaving and darting and dipping offering so few have ever mastered at a major league level. And thank goodness such an unexpected and unfamiliar thing because it paved the way for someone who epitomized reliability and familiarity.
This was Tim Wakefield.
Just before noon Sunday one of Wakefield's former teammates, Alex Cora walked through an empty Camden Yards outfield to embrace the only other figure present in the expanse, another one of the knuckleballers' former Red Sox partners, Jason Varitek. The two then walked to the visitors' bullpen, sat and reflected. The news wasn't out yet, but in about two hours it would be. Their guy was gone.
The news of Wakefield's passing from cancer gutted everyone who had come into contact with the former pitcher, husband and parent. Those sitting inside the home of the Orioles were just a sample size. Cora. Varitek. NESN broadcaster Kevin Youkilis. Red Sox radio analyst Lou Merloni. Media members. Front office members. Fans. Even those players who had a vague idea of who Wakefield was and what he represented had an inkling why this news elicited such powerful reactions.
They all wore uniforms throughout Game No. 162 to honor Wakefield. Across the country Seattle pitcher George Kirby threw a knuckleball to honor the man of the moment. And there were tears, and plenty of them. This much was clear: The life he had lived left a mark. Not everyone could claim such a thing. Wakefield could.
This was Tim Wakefield.
As we sit here trying to understand how in the world this man wouldn't be extracting the kind of smiles he started putting on Red Sox fans 27 years ago - never stopping until the day he died - for 20 or 30 more years, one image should be remembered.
It could be one of his 200 wins. It could be the never-say-no approach he took to meeting fans. It could be that golf game so many were jealous of. It could be that welcoming spirit you were greeted with every encounter. It could be the championship celebrations. Or it could be the emotions found on faces immediately after Sunday's news.
The snapshot that we should bottle is this: Wakefield simply explaining how to throw a knuckleball. It is the perfect picture we need painted.
Sure, this was his signature pitch and what perhaps defined his baseball existence. But understand the deeper meaning behind such an act. Throwing such a thing has been - and continues to be - a skill we think we might be able to learn but never can quite master. Yet, Wakefield always patiently attempted to guide whoever asked. He was patient. He was kind. He did his best to help.
In many ways, the knuckleball was life. Tough to harness. Tough to master. Not for Wakefield. He wasn't here to brag about it. He wasn't here to boast. He was here to give us hope that one day we might be able to do it as well as he did it. He did his best to show us what might be possible.
That was Tim Wakefield.
He will be missed.
Thanks to MacFarlane Energy, the DEPENDABLE choice for home heating oil delivery and HVAC installation and service at MacFarlane Energy dot com.