Sure, there was that one pitch on baseball’s biggest stage, the one that clipped a little too much of the plate, the one that Jim Poole would’ve loved to have back.
Of course, sports rarely offer up the chance for a do-over, so we’re left to ponder that nagging question.
Should someone be defined by their worst moment?
Not at all, which is why one of Poole’s former teammates and best friends felt compelled to reach out after the longtime big league reliever died from ALS a couple of weeks ago.
Paul Assenmacher, who had a long career of his own in the majors, read the obituary I penned for The Associated Press. The lead paragraph noted that Poole was the guy who surrendered David Justice’s homer in Game 6 of the 1995 World Series, which provided the only run in Atlanta’s championship-clinching victory over Cleveland.
Assenmacher just wanted everyone to know that Poole was as fine a human being as he’s ever encountered. He even threw out the word “perfect,” if there is such a thing. He certainly doesn’t think it’s fair to focus on that one pitch in a life so well lived before it was cut so tragically short by an insidious disease at the age of 57.
It’s an axiom that gets overlooked far too often when remembering anyone who makes a high-profile misstep, whether it was Fred Merkle or Bill Buckner or, yes, Jim Poole.
“Jim’s legacy should not be about one pitch, one home run,” Assenmacher said. “He was much more than that.”
Poole had a degree in electrical engineering from Georgia Tech, and he gave back to his alma mater in countless ways — calling games on the radio, raising money, counseling athletes — after his playing days were over. He worked for a time at a suburban Atlanta high school, teaching math and coaching baseball. He could often be found at youth fields around metro Atlanta, eagerly passing along the lessons learned during 11 seasons in The Show. He got certified as a financial advisor, turning to a gig…
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