On Sunday, Sept. 9, I made my Major League Baseball debut. As I walked out to the pitching mound at PNC Park, my hand was sweating and my heart was pounding. I was really doing this — throwing out the game's first pitch.
This was quite a moment for a baseball fan like me. Baseball is my favorite sport and Pittsburgh always will be my favorite team.
My target would be the glove of Josh Phelps, one of the newer additions to the Pirates roster. After being introduced as representing Trib Total Media for sponsoring the giveaway, I get the signal to deliver the pitch. At 6-foot-3, Phelps is a good player to throw to, especially when I didn't get a chance to warm up. Instead of standing, however, Phelps crouches down behind the plate. With a compact strike zone, now I have to focus. I have to "clear the mechanism," as pitcher Billy Chapel (played by Kevin Costner) says in the movie "For Love of the Game."
You know what? That really works. It was just me and Phelps — no people in the stands, no noise, not even my son standing at the on-deck circle. I looked at my target and threw the ball. My pitch went right over the plate, a little below the strike zone. Low and over the plate, just like my days pitching in Colt and Pony ball.
I took a conservative approach because I didn't want the ball sailing away. The last time I tossed the ball at a Major League distance was three days prior to my big day. I went to the local field where there was a net, which is used as a backstop for catchers who warm up the pitcher. After loosening up the arm, I was throwing bullets right over the plate. I still had my control after all these years. I started thinking about a comeback, but the pain in my shoulder said otherwise. Anyway, my control was there, but would I have it for one pitch? And without any warmups?
When the big day finally arrived, rain was in the forecast. Would my big chance be cancelled because of rain? No, it couldn't. After all, Sept. 9 is my wedding anniversary. The day is usually nice. Now I had two things to worry about: the weather and the pitch.
I paced back and forth in the living room, almost to the point where my wife was concerned. Time seemed to move slow. Even though I had to be at the park 90 minutes before game time, I left the house a lot sooner. The family game plan was simple. My son would go with me, my parents would videotape and my wife would stay home with our daughter.
After reporting to security, I waited with other people who were participating in other pre-game ceremonies. Time really seemed to move slow. I was given the ball to be used for the first pitch, as well as an on-field pass. As we walked down the corridor that led us to the field, I had a different feeling inside me. I wasn't a fan — I was a participant; I was part of the game. We walked to a small area next to the Pirates dugout and waited. The Pirates staff was terrific. They checked the pronunciation of names and gave directions. They certainly made everyone comfortable, including myself.
Then I was told I would be after the singing of the national anthem. All I had to do was wait for the signal to throw the ball.
With several pre-game events taking place, I had time to locate my parents, so I knew where to wave as I took the field. Then, my name was called and I walked slowly to the mound.
After throwing the pitch, I met Phelps to get my picture taken and the ball signed. As I walked off the field, my big moment had ended. Everyone involved in pre-game activities were escorted out of the park. We had to enter through the gates with our tickets. As I joined other fans entering the ballpark, I realized that I was just a fan again.
A fan with a story to tell for many years to come.

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