In March of 2013, I attended my first baseball practice of the season with a brand spankin’ new team. Only a handful of us had ever played together before, and for those of us who had played together before, it was only for a few games during the prior season. Needless to say, most of us didn’t know each other all that well.
The talent on the team was good. Not great, but good. You could definitely tell that everyone had played a meaningful amount of ball in their day.
The practice started pretty suddenly. No former introductions were made at the beginning. Guys simply shook hands and introduced themselves in the middle of drills. The guys I found myself practicing with were pretty cool. We jaw-jacked about our playing experience or what we’d done that weekend. To be honest, much like these first few paragraphs, it wasn’t all that memorable.
But then a guy I hadn’t met yet stepped up to the plate to take some batting practice. He looked older than the rest of us. He had a full head of silver hair, and, despite his age, he looked to be in way better shape than most of the other guys on the team. He had a confident but fun vibe about him as he eased into his stance.
I was on the bump throwing BP when he entered the batter’s box. I was throwing straight up meat – much like you’re supposed to during batting practice – but nobody had really crushed anything off me yet. Lots of hard ground balls and some decent live drives, but no piss rods.
That quickly changed.
I went through my abbreviated throwing motion and released the ball. As my leg kicked in the air in my follow through motion, I watched the batter. He stared down the baseball with hungry, determined eyes. He rotated his hips. He threw his hands forward. And his bat met my ball.
Crack!
This thirty-something, silver-haired smasher crushed the bejesus out of the baseball. He laced that thing into left field, and I’m reasonably certain that ball still hasn’t landed yet.
And that’s how I met Jimmy Kent.
That season, I had the great pleasure of getting to know this man. He was a kind, funny, competitive, inspiring, talented, humble, all around awesome human being.
As far as baseball players go, he was a very unique personality. Usually when you come across a guy loaded with that much talent, he is accompanied by an aura of cockiness. But not Jimmy. Don’t get me wrong, this guy was absolutely confident in his ability to beat the living hell out of a baseball day in and day out, but I never saw it go to his head. He just acted like one of the guys who was happy to be out on the field playing the game he loved. It was definitely a refreshing sight to see.
Not only did Jimmy know how to wear humble confidence on his sleeve, but he also knew how to inspire his teammates. I can remember many times (too many) when I was having a rough game on the mound, and he would come give me a little nudge of encouragement in the dugout in between innings. I can’t even begin to tell you what this did for my morale. Hearing reassuring words from a guy who had played with way more talented teammates than me meant a lot. He made me feel like a belonged.
Truth be told, I looked up to Jimmy like a big brother that season.
He was the kind of guy a teammate wanted backing him up. The kind of guy a friend would be lucky to have a few beers with. The kind of guy a gal would be lucky to love. The kind of guy a family would be proud of. Quite simply, he was just the kind of guy you wanted around.
I wanted to find some way to honor Jimmy this season. I thought about writing his name in my hat, putting his jersey number on my sleeve, etc. But then I thought of something more appropriate. One tradition I’ve taken to is naming every new bat I buy. Not only do I name it, but I put that moniker on the bat handle. Up to this point, I’ve named my bats after my grandmas. But my newest bat has a different name…
I felt that this was pretty fitting given the fact that our first encounter involved his powerful swing meeting my weak pitch. This way, Jimmy can be with me every time I step up to the plate.
By writing this, I mean no disrespect to those who knew him better than I did. But this is the way I knew Jimmy. And it was an absolute honor of a lifetime to have known him for part of mine.
Rest easy, brother, and know that you will be with each of us on the diamond this year – and every year – in our minds, on our bats, and especially in our hearts.