A Class Act

Late last week, Jeff Conine was asked what it was like to play with Cal Ripken, Jr., a man who has set the bar for class in Major League Baseball. Conine expressed his admiration for Ripken, citing his dedication, knowledge, and passion for the game, but what was lost in that interview was that it was one class act praising another.

When Conine most likely hangs up his cleats at the end of the season, he won’t be remembered as the greatest player who ever played the game, but he’s had brushes with greatness. He came in 3rd on the 1993 Rookie of the Year ballot, behind Mike Piazza and a player whose career fizzled shortly thereafter. He was the 1995 All-Star Game MVP. He has two World Series rings to his credit. He owns a solid career batting average and a strong fielding percentage. Statistics aside though, he’s always been the guy playing quietly under the radar, doing well, setting the tone, making every team he has played for better because of his presence. If he retires this year, he won’t get the fanfare he deserves, but his fans will remember the classy way he played the game.

Last night, I went to see the Reds at RFK in order to see Jeff Conine take the field one last time in person. Decked out in my old-school, teal Conine t-shirt and armed with a sign I made out of a pillow case last year, I rushed to RFK so that I might have the chance to catch a glimpse of Conine before batting practice ended.

As I made my way down to the field, I couldn’t help but think back to the time I stood by the dugout of Shea Stadium, waiting patiently for the Marlins to finish batting practice. With only minutes to spare before the National Anthem, Jeff Conine made his way to our section and signed every baseball trinket that was thrust in front of him. When a young girl with glasses and a ponytail sticking out of the back of a bright teal cap put her Marlins yearbook in front of him just as the Anthem singer was being announced, he kindly signed, “Jeff Conine 19.”

Some 13 years later, I was now seeing Conine on a different team, in a different city, in a different park, but the graciousness was exactly the same. He walked over to the group gathered by the visitors’ dugout at RFK and signed no less than 50 items put in front of him, including a homemade sign from this fan who remembers the kindness he showed to me so many years ago. When Conine finished writing, “Jeff Conine 19,” and handed the pillow case back to me, he looked me in the eye and said, “Thanks for the sign.”

Thank you for the memories, Jeff Conine. Thank you for being the type of player fans can feel proud to root for.