Madison graduation 2012
Warren County CC graduation
New Miami graduation 2012
Hall of Fame baseball writer Hal McCoy has retired from the Dayton Daily News after covering the Cincinnati Reds for 37 years. Hal's blog, though, will continue to be a must-read for Reds fans. He'll share his thoughts on the team this season and will file updates from Great American Ball Park. You also can catch Hal in print every Sunday in his popular Ask Hal columnHome > Blogs > The Real McCoy | Cincinnati Reds baseball news > Archives > 2010 > June > 03
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Ken Griffey Jr.: Great player, a greater friend
On that cold February, 2000 night when Ken Griffey Jr. walked into a packed and overstuffed Crosley Room in Riverfront Stadium, one could sense the burden he felt on his shoulders.
Baseball is a team game and a city was putting the burden of winning on one pair of shoulders - very large and broad shoulders - but they thought $116.5 million made it their right to drop the heavy load on The Cincinnati Kid.
NO MATTER the price, baseball games can’t be purchased. Griffey knew this as much as anybody, but said nothing. He knows a baseball team is built on the shoulders of 25 players, not one.
But he watched and he listened quietly as General Manager Jim Bowden, the architect of the trade that brought Griffey home to Cincinnati from Seattle, bubbled over with optimism.
“Baseball is back in Cincinnati,” said Bowden. Where had it been? It has been in Cincinnati since 1969. It went nowhere. And he kept saying, over and over, “Call 421-REDS. Call 421-REDS.” It was the number for the ticket office.
ALL THAT OPTIMISM never materialized during The Griffey Era. They never put a winning team around him. They never came up with the pitching necessary to construct a championship team.
And Griffey bore the brunt. Fans never forgave him. All that money, no championships. But he didn’t complain, didn’t make excuses. He played on through pain, pain and more pain.
NOBODY KNOWS the inside story of Ken Griffey Jr. better than team physician Dr. Tim Kremchek. They were not only doctor-patient on a regular basis, they were doctor-friend forever.
“Nobody knows me inside-and-out better than you, especially inside,” Griffey told Kremchek Wednesday night as he drove from Seattle to Orlando, on his way home after announcing his retirement from baseball.
Here is the litany of what Kremchek did to keep Griffey on the field, when Griffey easily could have called it a career and walked into the Hall of Fame a long time ago: Right shoulder surgery, right knee surgery, left knee surgery, left knee surgery twice, hamstring surgery and five or six drainage procedures after the hamstring surgery.
Yes, the hamstring surgery. What a story.
“Griffey called me one day and told me his hamstring was hurting and not getting better,” said Kremchek. “You don’t do MRI’s for hamstrings because they don’t show anything. But I agreed to do an MRI. And we saw that the hamstring was pulled away from the bone.”
IT WAS A rare thing and Kremchek checked around and found a doctor in North Carolina who said he was familiar with this type of injury. Trainer Mark Mann and Griffey went to see the guy, then flew back.
“Two hours later there was a knock on my door,” said Kremchek. “It was Griffey and he said, ‘I want you to do the surgery.’ I told him, ‘I’ve never done it. I can’t do that.’ And Griffey said, ‘You’re a surgeon, you can do it. I want you to do it.’”
So Kremchek performed the surgery, a rare procedure during which he re-attached the hamstring to the bone, something that is now called, “Ken Griffey Surgery,” sort of like “Tommy John Surgery.”
And Griffey played on, taking heavy hits from fans for not always running hard to first base. Many times there was seepage from the hole in his leg used to drain the fluids.
“I saw Griffey at his lowest points,” said Kremchek. “I only wish people realized what this guy went through to play baseball. I was one of the few guys he let into his inner circle and it was unfortunate that it was because of the injury circumstances. But I’ve known a lot of ballplayers and this is one guy I truly consider my friend.”
ME, TOO, DOC.
I consider him a great baseball player, but a greater person - a guy who cares about others. His contributions to the Make-a-Wish Foundation are legion and he never wanted attention for it.
I saw his 500th home run. I saw his 600th home run. I have the baseball from his 531st home run. All that was wonderful, but his friendship is worth much more than a baseball on a shelf and the baseball memories.
WHEN I WAS voted into the Hall of Fame in 2003, it was five minutes after the announcement as I sat at a table in the media room at the Winter Baseball Meetings in Nashville. My cellphone rang and a voice said, “Hal, do you know who this is?” I said, “Of course I recognize your voice, Junior.” And he said, “I’m not calling for an interview or anything. I’m calling to congratulate you on making the Hall of Fame.”
Only two other players called - Aaron Boone and Sean Casey.
When I announced my retirement as a traveling baseball writer, a few days later my cell phone ran. It was Junior. Again. He knew I was down, knew I didn’t want to stop doing what I was doing, and he talked to me for a half an hour.
No other player called.
When my dog, Barkley, died about a month ago and I wrote about it in this blog, I received a text. From Junior. “So sorry about your loss. Pets are so special.”
AND THE BASEBALL?
Early in 2005, Griffey had only one home run in April and the fans were squealing about it. I wrote a column in which I said, “If Ken Griffey Jr. stays healthy all year, if he doesn’t hit 30 home runs, I’ll eat this column on Courthouse Square. And I’ll furnish the ketchup.”
Griffey never let on that he had read or heard about it.
On August 25, on a sticky, humid night in RFK Stadium in Washington, D.C., Griffey hit his 30th home run. After the game, I was standing outside the clubhouse door, waiting to do post-game interviews, when Griffey walked by nonchalantly. “Hal,” he said and flipped me a baseball.
On it he had written, “To Hal, Thanks for your friendshp. All the best, Ken Griffey Jr., Home Run No. 30, Home Run No. 531, August 25, 2005.
He had read the column and he remembered.
That was the Ken Griffey Jr. that I knew and the Ken Griffey Jr. I will remember. I wasn’t privileged to see most of his 630 home runs or the 13 All-Star seasons or the 11 Gold Glove seasons, all of which will earn him a first-ballot seat on the stage for the Hall of Fame ceremonies in Cooperstown.
But I got to see the real person. And that means more to me than anything. From a grizzled old coot who loves the game of baseball, I say to Junior, “Thanks for the memories, but more importantly, thanks for being my friend.”
Permalink | Comments (55) | Post your comment |
Tweet
