But truthfully, I was getting hit hard in more ways than one. My mind was not focused on throwing strikes but rather on the divorce papers that were served on me just two days prior. She waited for an away trip to have me served. It was all very well coordinated on her part. She moved out that same morning and took the two kids with her. My daughter was 8 years old and my son was 17 months. In an instant, my life changed. I became bitter and found myself throwing one pity-party after another. Things only got worse when my daughter mentioned on the phone that Mommy had a new boyfriend. I quickly sank into several bad habits during the offseason. It was hard enough for me to eat innings with a clear head and healthy body. But when I showed up at spring training without either, the team put me into rehab and offered me a scouting job in Florida. 23+ years and several clubs later, I'm still scouting in Florida.
And yesterday was my son's 25th birthday. I know he's not in baseball. I've checked each and every year since he graduated from high school. And he's probably done with college by now, assuming he went. Maybe even married. For all I know, I could be a grandfather and not even know it.