John Grindrod: Gary Carter and the kid in all of us

Generally, when someone famous passes, it doesn't really impact me on a deep level. Because we really don't know celebrities except from the vantage point of distant admirers, I think that's the way most of us feel. We tend to accept the fact that we are all, so to speak, on the clock. As for death, it's not a matter of whether it will come but when.

So, when I heard of the passing of baseball Hall of Famer Gary Carter last week, I wasn't surprised. I knew last year in May that Carter was diagnosed with a grade IV primary brain tumor after complaining of headaches.

That's when I knew Carter's days were numbered. You see, I'd seen this type of thing before up close with my friend and teaching colleague Bob Priddy, who also was diagnosed with a primary brain tumor and ultimately died as a result of it on August 26, 1999.

I remember the positive way in which Bob faced his prognosis and his attempts to continue teaching during his treatments and was reminded of his courage when I read of Carter's fight after doctors told him the tumor was inoperable. Carter's resolve was demonstrated by the fact that he insisted on continuing as baseball coach at Palm Beach Atlantic University during his treatments, ones that attempted, unsuccessfully, to shrink the tumor.

As far as Carter's baseball career, it was certainly deserving of the Hall of Fame induction he received in 2003. He played catcher, baseball's most grueling position, for 19 years for four teams, primarily the Montreal Expos and the New York Mets. In those 19 years, he amassed 2,092 hits, among them 324 home runs. The 11-time All-Star also collected three Gold Gloves for his fielding excellence.

Baseball fans will remember his short compact swing, the same one that hit two homers in the same World Series game at Boston's Fenway Park, the same one that extended one of the most famous ninth innings in baseball history in Game 6 of the '86 World Series by singling with the Red Sox one out away from a World Series the franchise had been denied for decades and decades. When a ball rolled under Red Sox first basemen Bill Buckner's glove minutes later, the Mets snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and won that Game 6 and ultimately Game 7 and the world championship as well.

But, beyond any statistical measurement of the man's life, what many will remember is the exuberance Carter brought to his craft each and every day. It was at his first spring training as a Montreal Expo in 1974 that veteran players noticed that enthusiasm and nicknamed Carter “The Kid.”

Carter played 11 seasons in Montreal, and, feeling he could better reach the members of the community he felt he represented, he learned to speak French. As a matter of fact, in '03, he delivered half of his Hall of Fame induction speech in French as an homage to the city in which he used to play, a city that baseball left after the 2004 season when the Expos moved to Washington and became the Nationals.

Current Met owners Fred and Jeff Wilpon and Saul Katz remember Carter's contributions to the Mets fondly. They released the following statement: “His nickname, ‘The Kid,' captured how Gary approached life. He did everything with enthusiasm and with gusto on and off the field. His smile was infectious.”

After Carter's playing days, the devout Christian threw himself into philanthropy with the same enthusiasm he demonstrated every time he ran onto the field. His Gary Carter Foundation is dedicated to the physical, mental and spiritual well-being of children.

Carter's love of baseball began as a child, crystallized at Sunny Hills High School in Fullerton, Calif., and was on display for all who embrace America's first great sport for 19 years.

While the fact that Carter passed on at just 57 years of age just days before pitchers and catchers were due to report is more coincidental than revealing, I can't help but think all who follow the game will think of Carter more often as the images of the boys of summer preparing for another campaign dance across their TV screens.

It has been said that we don't really know the celebrities we follow, but I just get that feeling that the kid in Gary Carter that was evident in the way he bounced around the diamond with that ever-present smile was an awful lot like the kids that live in all of us long after we've left our playgrounds behind.