Jim Abbott talks about believing in yourself, being determined -- and a little creative

One of the best parts of my job is that I get to meet really special Michiganders -- like Jim Abbott.

The pitcher, and Flint native, was in Lansing today, joining the Lieutenant Governor and a Supreme Court Justice on the Mi Hidden Talent tour. The events are aimed at employers to help them realize that there are people with special skills who might not get considered because they might have a disability.

Abbott, of course, is the former pitcher who didn't let being born without a right hand stop him from being successful in college, in the Olympics and in the Major Leagues. 

His inspirational message was the people with disabilities can succeed if they believe in themselves, are determined to do their best -- and can be creative in finding ways to do things to get around their disability.

As an example, Abbott demonstrated how he learned to catch a ball in his glove and quickly be ready to throw it again. 

Watching him demonstrate this brought back memories of the first time I saw him do this -- on the mound at Yankee Stadium.

I had some time with Jim today, and we talked about that day in 1989. I remembered the ovation he received -- and he remembered that he got the win.

He was gracious with his time, and a very nice person -- with an amazing story. 

Here's a tale from the archives about one of my favorite baseball memories.:

Only twice have I witnessed visiting players get a standing ovation at Yankee Stadium.

And one of those times shouldn’t count. It was August 4, 1985, the day Tom Seaver won his 300th game, and we Mets fans pretty much took over the Yankees’ home that day.

But the other time was May 24, 1989, coming when a rookie pitcher was doing something as ordinary as making warm-up tosses.

Jim Abbott was already pretty famous. He was on the mound when the United States won the Olympic gold medal in 1988, was drafted in the first round by the California Angels and went straight to the Major Leagues.

What amazed a lot of people was that Abbott was born without a right hand.

The disability didn’t seem to hold him back at all. He pitched and was the quarterback at Flint Central High and played for the University of Michigan’s baseball team. There were stories about how an opposing college team tried to take advantage of him, sending the first four batters to the plate bunting. The team changed its strategy after Abbott fielded each attempt cleanly.

What amazed me was how gracefully Abbott would catch the ball and get ready to pitch.

He would wear a left-hander’s glove, catch the ball, tuck the glove under his arm, take the ball out and place the palm of his glove over the stump at the end of his right wrist. After throwing the ball he’d quickly slip his left hand back into the glove to be ready to catch the return throw.

Abbott could complete the cycle so smoothly and quickly that it looked like he wasn’t even thinking about it. It was completely natural to him.

So I was excited when the Angels rolled into town in 1989 – a month and a half into Abbott’s rookie season – and that he would pitch in the series.

I scammed seats in the lower level of the first base side so I could get a good view. There was polite applause for Abbott when the line-ups were introduced. But I was surprised by what happened when the Angels took the field in the bottom of the first.

There was quiet as he walked to the mound, at least as quiet as ballparks get. Then Abbott started taking warm-up pitches, making the complicated maneuvers with the glove.

It started with more polite applause, and it started to swell with each throw, building and building. Finally, everyone in the stadium was on their feet cheering. It was really emotional. And all he was doing was throwing warm-up pitches.

I think it was a sign of respect. This guy had a disability, and there he is standing on the mound in what is perhaps the most famous ballpark in the world. It wasn’t an Eddie Gaedel-like stunt. Abbott earned his way.

But keep in mind, this was the Bronx. As the applause died down, I remember a guy a couple rows ahead of me saying, “All right, you got your applause. Now let’s kick his ass.”

If there was any butt-kicking that day, it was done by the Angels, who beat the Yanks 11-4, making it a good day all around. Abbott got the win, pitching 5 and a third innings allowing three runs on 10 hits.

Abbott, of course, got another ovation from Yankee fans when he pitched for them several years later and threw a fantastic no-hitter, the high point of his 10-year career in the majors.

A year after I saw Abbott pitch I moved to Michigan to work for the Flint Journal, and our coed softball used to practice at Central High, where Abbott once pitched. Occasionally I’d stand on the mound, look around and think of that day in Yankee Stadium.

Baseball Place No. 48: Ripken Center; Alternative Place No. 48A: Memorial Stadium

My brother played catch with Cal Ripken Sr. Really.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Josh Pahigian takes us to the Ripken Center in Aberdeen, Md. as spot No. 48 in his “101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.”

It sounds like a pretty glorious place. The legendary baseball family has a compound hosting a minor-league team, four scaled-down replicas of major-league parks, camps, clinics and a museum.

Never been there, but I did spend a wonderful evening at a park with the Ripkens.

Alternative place No. 48A) Memorial Stadium

Baltimore was a stop on our epic 1991 ballpark tour for a Journal story about stadiums. We toured an under-construction Camden Yards and arrived at Memorial Stadium for a July 23 game against the California Angels.
Will, John and my brother John toured Camden Yards then enjoyed a game at Memorial.

Memorial Stadium, where the Mets played their first two World Series games, was in its final year.

The Orioles were incredibly accommodating, granting credentials to all four members of our party.

Naturally, we enjoyed this to the fullest, getting down to the field for batting practice. And as we know, I take photos of everything moving and not moving.

Memorial Stadium was in its final season.

Dwight Evans

Wally Joyner and Lance Parrish

Wally Joyner in the cage.

So does my brother, who actually looked like a photojournalist in his khaki vest.

Cal Sr. was hitting fungos, with players tossing the balls back to him so he could again toss them up and smack another fly.

As John was shooting, he felt something bounce off his foot. A throw had gotten away from Cal Sr. and rolled to John.

“Son, can you throw that over here?” Cal Sr. said, ever the gentleman.

John picked it up and tossed it back. Eighteen years later I remain insanely jealous.

Cal Jr.

After shooting everyone and everything we moved up to the press box area for some snacks. The dining room was pretty small and very crowded. A staff member was standing behind a counter.

“Are those crab cakes?” Of course they were. We were in Baltimore. They seemed like the frozen variety, but I did not complain.

Memorial Stadium was such a realxed place that event the grounds crew was having fun and playing catch.

I moved into the press box for the game, which was great because Jim Abbott, a Flint native, was on the hill for the Angels. Seeing Abbott effortlessly transfer his glove from his hand to the end of his arm was simply amazing.

Press boxes aren’t always fun places. Basically there are a lot of openly surly people up there. I got a sense that the athletes don’t treat a lot of these guys all that well, and when you spend all that time in such an environment you tend to pass it on to whomever you come in contact with.

You need to know that there are semi-assigned seats. Some of the little desks bear the name of the news outlet, and others are just kind of claimed because the same people sit in them every game. Visiting media usually sit in the last couple rows.

So I had my seat in the last row and was enjoying my crab cakes -- seemed like the frozen kind, but they were free -- and about two innings into the game the staff ushered in a dad and his elementary school-aged son.

I think there were contest winners or something, and both were dressed in Orioles gear. The staffer scanned the box, saw a couple open seats in the first row and placed them there. Both seemed thrilled.

It wasn’t too much later when a late-arriving writer -- I didn’t catch who it was or who he worked for -- saw these two in his seat and went nuts. I don’t mean some grumbling, this guy was yelling.

The Orioles media relations guy told him to calm down and pointed him to a spot in the last row, next to me. The guy walked up and slammed -- and I mean slammed! -- his stuff down on the desk."Do you believe this?" he said, as if I would share in his outrage. Since he was all worked up and all, I was going to ask him if I could eat his crab cakes, but I thought better of it.

The Orioles media folks are first-rate, and handed me all kinds of information about the under-construction stadium.

But after a while I picked up my folders and headed out to explore the rest of the stadium and catch up with Will, John Munson and my bother. We settled down in the upper deck behind home plate. It seemed odd that the seats were metal bleachers.

Abbott pitched brilliantly, throwing seven shutout innings, striking out seven with five hits – one of them to Cal Jr. – and just one walk while his teammates scored five.

The Angels pen darn near wasted his effort, giving up a grand slam to Randy “Moose” Milligan, who started his career with three games with the 1987 Mets, before traded to the Pirates for Mackey Sasser.

It was a beautiful park on a beautiful night, looking out into the residential neighborhood beyond the field.

Baseball Place No. 9: Rosenblatt Stadium, and Place 9A: Ray Fisher Stadium and Wilpon Complex

I confess I have an aversion to Nebraska.

This probably comes from exposure to Cornhusker fans that would travel in hordes, take over our University of Missouri football stadium and cheer on their team full of monstrously huge farm boys as they beat the stuffing out of our Tigers.

So I was disappointed when Josh Pahigian directed us to Omaha and Rosenblatt Stadium as stop No. 9 in his list of "101 Baseball Places to See Before You Strike Out.

That’s where the College World Series has been played since 1950. It’s named after a semipro player who became mayor pushed to build the stadium. The Omaha Royals also play there.

Fearing a Husker flashback, I’ve never been to this stadium. But we do have an alternative:

Baseball Place No. 9A: Wilpon Baseball and Softball Complex, University of Michigan

I’ve been to only one college baseball game, and it was at Ray Fisher Stadium in Ann Arbor. My colleague John Munson is a Michigan grad and frequent ballpark companion, and thought it would be fun to check out a Wolverine game.

And it was neat. The team played in a small brick stadium, coached by former Tigers star Bill Freehan.

It was very different from the college football experience. There weren’t too many fans in the stands, and it seemed to be a lot of family members. But at least we didn’t have to worry about drunken frat guys hurling on our shoes.

We learned that the back-up catcher’s job is to lumber into the parking lot and retrieve all the foul balls.

The stadium was revamped last year when Mets owner Fred Wilpon and his family donated $12 million to the program.

The Wilpons’ gifts also provided for a Sport Injury Prevention Center. Fred came to Michigan in 1954 under a baseball scholarship, but he injured his rotator cuff between his freshman and sophomore years.

Living in Flint at the time, we were pretty familiar with another Wolverine baseball player – Jim Abbott. You can read about encounters with him here.

A Rare Sight in the Bronx

Jim Abbott pitching for the Angels.

Only twice have I witnessed visiting players get a standing ovation at Yankee Stadium.

And one of those times shouldn’t count. It was August 4, 1985, the day Tom Seaver won his 300th game, and we Mets fans pretty much took over the Yankees’ home that day.

But the other time was May 24, 1989, coming when a rookie pitcher was doing something as ordinary as making warm-up tosses.

Jim Abbott was already pretty famous. He was on the mound when the United States won the Olympic gold medal in 1988, was drafted in the first round by the California Angels and went straight to the major leagues.

What amazed a lot of people was that Abbott was born without a right hand.

The handicap didn’t seem to hold him back at all. He pitched and was the quarterback at Flint Central High and played for the University of Michigan’s baseball team. There were stories about how an opposing college team tried to take advantage of him, sending the first four batters to the plate bunting. The team changed its strategy after Abbott fielded each attempt cleanly.

What amazed me was how gracefully Abbott would catch the ball and get ready to pitch.

He would wear a left-hander’s glove, catch the ball, tuck the glove under his arm, take the ball out and place the palm of his glove over the stump at the end of his right wrist. After throwing the ball he’d quickly slip his left hand back into the glove to be ready to catch the return throw.

Abbott could complete the cycle so smoothly and quickly that it looked like he wasn’t even thinking about it. It was completely natural to him.

So I was excited when the Angels rolled into town in 1989 – a month and a half into Abbott’s rookie season – and that he would pitch in the series. This was well before the Yankee dynasty. Don Mattingly and Rickey Henderson were in the game, but they were surrounded by people like Ken Phelps, Bob Geren and Mike Pagliarulo.

I scammed seats in the lower level of the first base side so I could get a good view. There was polite applause for Abbott when the line-ups were introduced. But I was surprised by what happened when the Angels took the field in the bottom of the first.

There was quiet as he walked to the mound, at least as quiet as ballparks get. Then Abbott started taking warm-up pitches, making the complicated maneuvers with the glove.

It started with more polite applause, and it started to swell with each throw, building and building. Finally, everyone in the stadium was on their feet cheering. It was really emotional. And all he was doing was throwing warm-up pitches.

I think it was a sign of respect. This guy had a handicap, and there he is standing on the mound in what is perhaps the most famous ballpark in the world. It wasn’t an Eddie Gaedel-like stunt. Abbott earned his way.

But keep in mind, this was the Bronx. As the applause died down, I remember a guy a couple rows ahead of me saying, “All right, you got your applause. Now let’s kick his ass.”

If there was any butt-kicking that day, it was done by the Angels, who beat the Yanks 11-4, making it a good day all around. Abbott got the win, pitching 5 and a third innings allowing three runs on 10 hits.

Abbott, of course, got another ovation from Yankee fans when he pitched for them several years later and threw a fantastic no-hitter, the high point of his 10-year career in the majors.

Jim Abbott pitched for the Yankees, but we like him anyway.

A year after I saw Abbott pitch I moved to Michigan to work for the Flint Journal, and our coed softball used to practice at Central High, where Abbott once pitched. Occasionally I’d stand on the mound, look around and think of that day in Yankee Stadium.