An amazing part of being a coach in professional baseball the last thirty years is the amount of unique people that you meet. These baseball players come from all walks of life. The kids arrive from every region of the United States and from every corner of the world. The players come from very different socio economic backgrounds as well. I feel fortunate to have met so many young men over the many years. I taught them and unknowingly, they taught me. I have a certain curiosity about people. A quality coach will always try an establish a relationship with his player. I once read “ you must know where a person has been before you can tell them where to go”, I believe that statement to be true. The only way to find out where the person has been, is to ask questions. This question and answer conversation can lead to a relationship with the player that allows for teaching, listening and it allows for the acceptance of constructive criticism. This step is a building block for getting better prepared to be a successful major league player. I could write about former players and how our player/ coach bond has continued once their careers ended. Or even how the influence of our time together impacted their lives, their careers and now their own young baseball player. But this story is dedicated to one smiling young man from the rough area of East St.Louis.

I met Justin in 2006 when I left AAA Louisville to become the minor league pitching coordinator for the Cincinnati Reds. Justin, the tall, enigmatic right handed had signed a professional contract with Reds in 2003. My first impression was a memorable one. Justin introduced himself with a large smile and a firm handshake ( he had big hands which are great for pitching) Justin was a good citizen who enjoyed minor mischief. It wasn’t uncommon to hear his last named yelled from across the training complex. This is probably about the time I asked Justin how he got here and where he has been. He educated me about ESL. The city was named America’s most dangerous and Mally’s real life descriptive account was surreal. I always found time each day in training camp to check on my new friend and I developed a soft spot for some of his fun loving mischief.

One of the big days in minor league baseball camp was the pitchers’ two mile run. It was a conditioning test. All the pitchers had to complete the run in fifteen minutes or less to be able to make a team. If one fails the test, they can be retake it after showing up at 6 a.m. for extra conditioning. The running course goes outside of the training complex, along the surrounding sidewalks and ends up on Field 4, right field line. The training complex is made up of four practice fields, the game stadium, covered batting cages, a half field, lockers rooms with administration buildings, atop. There is also a small pond. Trees or tall shrubs surround the outfield fences on the four practice fields, this not only has nice curb appeal for the fans but allows for the players too see better while hitting. If there is no dark background for the hitter, the pitch can be hard to see from the pitcher. So, the trees provide a cover for those looking out and for those trying to look in. The test begins at the gate leading out to the street. A strength coach starts the group there and meets them inside the training complex on field four, where the run ends. So, the view of the players running can be shaded or even blinded by those coaches on the inside, who are timing the conditioning test. The race can create lots of yelling, pulling for one another. I waited near the finish line and there were screams of how much time was left,the yelling for your partner to make it. Out of the shadows sloppily running through the gate was my man, Justin Mallett. He was going to make it. It was a little surprising because Justin was struggling some with the daily running leading up to the two mile test. I was happy for him, as were his teammates all of whom he had endeared himself. Later, that day the chief strength coach, creator of the grueling test came to speak to me. He was angry. He was grouchy! He told me one of my pitchers began running the two mile run, that player then ran into the shrubs, pulled out a bicycle and rode most of the run. He the disposed of the bike and ran to field four to pass the test. That player was Justin Mallett. I laughed. I also thought it was genius. He wasn’t punished if you were wondering, what ingenuity!

In late March of this year, Justin was killed in a traffic accident on US 41 in Palmetto, Florida. He was only 38 years old. Justin was fatally hit by a ticketed motorist for running a stop sign. Justin was on his motorcycle. He left behind many grieving friends. He sadly left behind a devastated family. I am thankful for having crossed paths with this smiling young man. I am saddened to know he is gone. Justin created many memories for those who knew him and he established countless relationships that will withstand this tragedy. God Bless you, Mally. RIP