I grew up in Anaheim, CA going to Angels games. This was back in the 80's when they were struggling almost every season. When I was in middle school, I won tickets to a game that happened to be Jim Abbott's major league debut versus the Indians, I think. I was amazed at this young Olympic pitcher with one hand and a wicked fastball.

Later when I was in high school, my first job was selling souvenirs at Anaheim Stadium. Abbott was traded to the Yankees that year, so I was unable to see him on a day to day basis, but when NY was in town, he would always run around the second level where my stand was located. One day he stopped to catch his breath across from me as I was setting up the hats and whatnot.  I said "welcome back, Mr. Abbott" (as we were told to address any players as Mr. So-and-so). He turned, smiled, walked toward me, and shook my hand and said thanks. That's it. No words of wisdom or coffee shop talk, just thanks, but that's all he needed to say to a 17 year old kid who admired his courage and determination to succeed in a world that tells a one handed kid he can't ever be a Major League pitcher. He was an inspiration growing up, and I think about that moment as I face the challenges of being an adult and a parent. Thanks for those few seconds, Jim.