Rob Hunt: Remembering Mr. Perfect
Dec. 22—Perhaps because I have a brother named Tom or more likely its because of they way they threw a baseball, two of my favorite pitchers growing up were Tom Seaver and Tom Browning.
Now both are gone, barely 2 years apart and both far too young.
Seaver — who I never met — passed away in August 2020 because of complications from the dementia he had suffered from as well as COVID-19 at the age of 75. He was always known as "Tom Terrific" during his heyday with the New York Mets and later with the Cincinnati Reds. He is a member of the National Baseball Hall of Fame as a 300-game winner and having recorded over 3,000 strikeouts during his storied career.
Browning spent the bulk of his career in Cincinnati, where he won 20 games as a rookie in 1985, threw the only perfect game in franchise history in 1988, and was a key contributor to the 1990 world championship team. He died Monday at his home at the age of 62. No cause has been given.
In 2011 and 2012, I was fortunate enough to be able to attend the Cincinnati Reds Fantasy Camp at the team's spring training facility in Goodyear, Arizona.
It's a great week where fans get treated like the Major Leaguers, from having great meals to playing games coached by former players with MLB umpires, right down to having our uniforms taken care of for us.
They call it "Baseball Heaven" and for a lifelong fan of the sport like myself, that nickname definitely fit.
That first year, I was also lucky enough to have Browning and another former Reds left-hander, Kent Mercker, as my coaches.
Now, to call these guys "coaches" for that week is a little misleading. They weren't there to make us old guys better baseball players. Rather, they were there to make sure we had the Major League experience and had a good time doing it.
Few were more suited for that role than Browning.
Even when I played baseball as a youth, I was never a great hitter. I was much more of a glove man and I could pitch a little.
I think my batting average that week was around .350 or so, and it ended early because of a torn meniscus. I don't remember all of plate appearances, but one stands out in particular.
I hit a line drive into the right-center gap and was thinking two bags right out of the box. Browning, the first base coach, waved me on and I slid safely — and unnecessarily, but I wanted to dirty the uniform — into second.
I scored a couple batters later and, when the inning ended, I smiled at Tom as I grabbed my glove and said, "Nice swing I put on it, huh?"
I'll never forget his response: "Yeah, I've never seen anyone stretch a triple into a double."
That sort of good-natured needling went along with a feeling of belonging and was a part of that Major League experience — and Browning rarely let up.
The needling went both ways. When given a bobblehead of Browning, we couldn't help but notice that his left arm had broken off of most of them, including mine. We all noted how appropriate that was because it was a broken arm that led to the end of his career.
He gave as good as he got, and I'll always remember my "coach" with a smile.
Most will remember Tom for the miserable and rainy Sept. 16, 1988, night when he retired 27 Dodgers in a row.
But I'll remember him as a guy who could make the least of us feel like All-Stars, even for a week.
Rest in peace, Tom.
Contact Rob Hunt at rob.hunt@heraldbulletin.com or 765-640-4886.
