The sound was down because Thom had a room full of visitors. But everyone’s attention turned to the TV when Blaze Alexander was struck on the left hand by a pitch from Kansas City’s Lucas Erceg, heated words were exchanged, and dugouts and bullpens emptied for some spirited discussion.
Talk in Thom’s room touched on people and places, cats and dogs, and futbol and baseball. The World Cup and the Orioles have provided Thom with the entertainment he needs during his recovery from four knee surgeries and a serious infection in the right stemming from a fall that has challenged his surgeons and tested Thom and his wife, Jeannie. The road to recovery must be taken one step and one day at a time. Faith and family are essential, but the support from sports shouldn’t be minimized. They are part of Thom’s story, past and present.
He was a catcher in Little League, and I admired him when I saw one of his games in Catonsville. He had a strong bat and arm and wanted to play for Cardinal Gibbons, his high school team, but had to work to help pay for his tuition. He wondered what might have been, but as one of six children in private school, he understood.
Thom and Jeannie sat near Wild Billy Hagy in the late 1970s and early ’80s, watching him spell out O-R-I-O-L-E-S and rev up the crowd during those glory days at Memorial Stadium. Thom, though, had more passion for the outdoors — fishing, mainly — and stopped following the Orioles, and sports in general.
Gradually, his knees began to betray him until he needed two canes to get around. Because he had gained weight, his doctor didn’t think he’d be a good candidate for knee replacement. Then he had a heart valve replaced and learned that his arteries were clear. A physician assistant recommended a second opinion on the knees, and he met with a surgeon who was eager to help Thom get back to fishing.
The left knee went as planned. So did the right until Thom took a fall, requiring a second surgery to close the wound and reattach the quadriceps muscle. Then things got scary. An infection showed up, and Thom’s surgeon recommended a colleague known for treating infections in knee and hip replacements. It would require a third surgery on the right knee, removing the hardware that might have picked up bacteria, replacing it and beginning an aggressive course of antibiotics that would attack the infection.
Thom would have an extended stay in the hospital, followed by an extended stay in a care facility. There would be occupational and physical therapy but also a lot of time in bed. That’s where the Orioles came back into Thom’s life, helping him escape from the doubts that sometimes entered his room and back to childhood memories that lifted his mood.
I would call him, and we’d watch the game together, sharing our thoughts and observations. We’re first cousins and lived in the same house when we were born; Thom’s a year older. We’ve always been close, and he was the best man in our wedding. He helped me catch a 37-inch, 17-pound rockfish in Chincoteague, where he and Jeannie have a home, and convinced me to take it to Captain Steve’s, where there was a chalkboard showing who had caught rockfish on Opening Day. We learned I had been the only one because of strong winds that blew toward the Virginia side beach of Assateague. Thom had taken his 4-wheel drive around a hook to the inlet side, but when we headed back toward the ocean side to reach the main road, the tide had come in, cutting off our route and causing us to sit tight until the water receded.
As day moved into night, the temperature dropped and the hunger rose, I was asked to scout the sand ahead to determine if it was firm enough to support the weight of the truck. Finally, I said it was. “Are you sure?” Jeannie shot back. “Because you’re risking the truck.”
“I’m sure,” I said, although I really wasn’t. Off we went, the beach holding us up as we approached the road. A park ranger stopped us to ask if we caught anything and if anyone else was stranded. Thom said no, then proudly showed him the rockfish.
Even though we were cold and hungry, Thom insisted we stop at Captain Steve’s, home to the official scoreboard for rockfish. Tom, the owner, was watching Game 1 of the World Series, a glass of wine in his hand. He didn’t seem to mind being interrupted, taking my picture holding the fish, recording its size and congratulating me on being the first entry of the season. “The local fishermen are going to wonder who you are,” Thom said. It wasn’t a big deal to me in the moment, but it became one.
The next day the Ravens played, and I stayed back to watch. I then rode a bike to the beach but decided to make a stop at Captain Steve’s. My name was still the only one on the board. We went back to the beach on Monday, our last day of the trip, and I asked Thom to stop at Captain Steve’s. Still no one else on the board. This non-fisherman had won the first weekend, thanks to Thom.
He would love to re-create that scenario but first he has to regain strength in his legs. He’s making progress — remarkable progress considering the fall, the infection and the three surgeries on the right knee — but it’s going to take the patience and persistence of a true fisherman. In the meantime, he’s become a fan of the Orioles again, even watching a couple of encore presentations.
Thom wasn’t keen on the trade of catcher Adley Rutschman to the Red Sox. “It kind of peels back the curtain and shows you the business side,” he said. “That’s not the side fans want to see when they care about a player.”
He’s also not keen on the Orioles’ poor fundamentals and defense, and an inept offense. He remembers the Oriole Way, when it represented the right way to play the game. Still, he’s thankful for the distraction the game provides, and the connection to his past and present.
“It really has helped fill the time,” he said. And the long season reminds him that he is facing his own rebuild, one he’s approaching like the true competitor he is.