My Don Adams will always be 'the' Don Adams to me

While getting ready for a short run yesterday, a segment on the MLB Network caught my attention and took me back almost 40 years in a time capsule.

The image on my TV screen was that of a little boy living in Texas, no more than six-years-old, who was crying over the news that longtime Texas Rangers standout Michael Young had been traded to the Philadelphia Phillies.

The scene naturally brought on a big “aw” from the studio hosts and me as well, which caused me to remember the first time that I learned an athlete would no longer be a part of my hometown team.  It’s an occurrence that all young sports fans must eventually experience, and for me it happened sometime toward the end of the 1974-75 NBA season when my dad told me our hometown Pistons had cut forward Don Adams.

Our Don Adams was nowhere near as famous as the actor of the same name, but for a kid approaching his eighth birthday and following the hometown team throughout the entire season for the first time, the hardworking role player from Northwestern University was a big deal.

I guess by that point in my young life my parents had done a good job of explaining to me the importance of having a job, because I remember asking my dad questions like:  How will Don get money to eat?  Where will he live? What’s going to happen to his family?

My dad said that Don would be OK, and while I always believed what my dad said, I still had an uneasy feeling about Don’s prospects for survival.  I began following sports in an era when athletes were not millionaires.  Although the players were doing something that I dreamed about, I still regarded  them as working people just like my mom and dad.  I knew I would be very sad if my dad came home and said he didn’t have his job, so I had similar feelings for Don Adams.

I finally felt a little better a season or two later when I saw Don Adams once again on TV playing for another team.  However, even after his career was long over, Don Adams served as a reminder to me that professional athletes are also vulnerable and fragile and more times than not deserve our sympathy.

I feel bad for the little boy in Texas who is crying over losing Michael Young.  As one of my favorite former presidents might say:  “I feel his pain.”  But make no mistake about it I love the little boy’s spirit.  He possesses the heart and spirit that make all true sports fans special.