Long Shot (62 page)

My brothers help me celebrate my birthday at our new home in Valley Forge. Front: Dan, me, and Tommy (who is officially Lasorda’s godson). Back: Tony and Vince.

As a freshman at the University of Miami, I was known by my teammates as the best five o’clock hitter in the country. That meant I crushed the ball in batting practice, but games were a different story. After one year I transferred to Miami-Dade North, a community college.

After being called up to the Dodgers at the end of the 1992 season, I played for the Sun Cities Solar Sox in the inaugural year of the Arizona Fall League. It was there that I experienced my first big-league heartbreak.

Eric Karros (left), my best friend in the game and the guy who showed me the ropes in Los Angeles, started a string of five straight Rookie of the Year awards for the Dodgers, from 1992 to 1996. I was second in line and Raul Mondesi (center) followed me. Then came Hideo Nomo and Todd Hollandsworth. (© Ken Davidoff/www.oldrockphoto.com)

After winning the Rookie of the Year award in 1993, I was honored at a restaurant in Philadelphia. Curt Schilling and Bobby Bonilla spoke, and my grandmother Mary Horenci, my mom’s mom, took in the festivities.

It’s hard to imagine a pair of brothers more devoted to each other than Pedro (left) and Ramon Martinez. Pedro and I joined the Dodgers in September 1992, and both Martinezes were devastated when the club traded him after the 1993 season. I caught Ramon’s no-hitter in 1995, but he and I frequently clashed, which meant that Pedro and I had our problems as well. (© Focus on Sport/Getty Images)

I’m getting ready to catch Tom Candiotti. You can tell because I’m wearing my knuckleball mitt. Another clue is the look on my face, like I’m thinking hard about something, probably how I can get him to throw fastballs. (© Otto Greule/Allsport/Getty Images)

For the record, Tommy Lasorda was not my godfather. But he was a god
send
to me, collaborating with his friend my father to chart my course to the Dodgers, where he was my manager and biggest advocate. This scene is from August 1997, the day the Dodgers retired Tommy’s jersey. Less than a year later, our relationship was complicated by my trade to the Florida Marlins. (© AP Photo/Mark J. Terrill)

My predecessor, Mike Scioscia, caught nearly 1,400 games for the Dodgers and was greatly respected by his teammates. Knowing that I was ticketed to take his job, Scioscia nevertheless helped me in any way he could. (© Rich Pilling/MLB Photos via Getty Images)

Catching Hideo Nomo’s no-hitter in 1996 was one of the highlights of my career. In spite of a slippery mound at Coors Field, his forkball was unhittable that night. A game like that is a catcher’s dream. My high regard for Nomo made it even sweeter. (© AP Photo/David Zalubowski)

At the ballpark in which I practically grew up—Veterans Stadium in Philadelphia—I caught the ceremonial first pitch of the 1996 All-Star Game from my boyhood idol, Mike Schmidt. Then I homered, doubled, and won the MVP trophy as we beat the American League, 6–0. Afterward, I told the media that the award was a tribute to my father, who was very much in his glory that night. (© Al Bello/Allsport/Getty Images)

Al Leiter (left) came through with one of the best clutch pitching performances I ever caught when he shut out the Reds in our sudden-death game in Cincinnati in 1999, sending us into the playoffs. He also rose to the occasion in his showdowns with Roger Clemens and the Yankees. Todd Zeile (center) joined me in the gigantic trade from the Dodgers to the Marlins in 1998. We were reunited with the Mets in 2000, and again with the Mets in 2004. (© Barry Talesnick/Globe Photos/ZUMAPRESS.com/Newscom.com)