MLB to Honor Heroes in Civil Rights Game

05/09/11
By Alden Gonzalez / MLB.com

After months of painstaking planning by Major League Baseball, the 2011 Civil Rights Game is finally just around the corner.

"I'm ecstatic," said MLB executive vice president of baseball development Jimmie Lee Solomon, the man hoping to ensure the city of Atlanta feels the same way.

Henry Aaron

The fifth annual Delta Civil Rights Game will take place on Sunday at Turner Field, pairing the Phillies and Braves, two teams with superstar African-American players at a time when there aren't many, in a city once regarded as the cradle of the civil rights movement.

But Sunday's celebratory game is merely the culmination. Much more will take place before then.

As part of its yearly effort to pay tribute to those who fought for equal rights, both on the field and off, MLB will stage a roundtable discussion that will touch on key social issues, an interactive youth summit, a Beacon Awards banquet, a Saturday game paying tribute to the Negro Leagues and a concert put on by one of the most famous rappers to come out of Atlanta.

Then, finally, for the first time on a Sunday, baseball will host the ever-evolving Civil Rights Game.

"We've done a lot," Solomon said. "And I think this is just growing and growing and growing."

But Solomon wanted even more growth. He wanted to initially stage two new events in the days leading up to the game: a two-day Bud Selig Business Conference that would promote workforce diversity and a red-carpet screening of the documentary "Hank Aaron: Chasing the Dream" at the Fox Theatre.

In the end, Solomon felt perhaps they were being a little "overambitious," and decided to limit the schedule to make sure they got the most out of each event.

"We were being very ambitious this year," Solomon said. "And I think that, in the end, maybe we wanted to make sure we were successful, instead of kind of sure that the whole thing would be successful."

But there will still be plenty to keep the city of Atlanta busy this week.

Ernie Banks

Events will kick off with the Baseball and the Civil Rights Movement Roundtable Discussion at Ebenezer Baptist Church on Friday, May 13. The forum, moderated by Harvard Law School professor Charles Ogletree, will kick off at 3 p.m. ET and is open to the public.

On the panel will be singer Gloria Gaynor, activist Dolores Huerta, Angels owner Arte Moreno and National Urban League executive director Marc Morial.

Also taking part will be United Farms Worker co-founder Dolores Huerta, MLB vice president of youth and facility development Darrell Miller and U.S. Army Brigadier Gen. Bryan Roberts.

The discussion will air live on MLB.com at noon ET, and fans who want to ask the panel questions can do so by e-mailing them to civilrightsgame@mlb.com.

Morgan Freeman

At 9 a.m. on Saturday at Centennial Olympic Park, kids can attend a free event that will give them the opportunity to take part in baseball and softball clinics with Major League players, followed by a Q&A discussion and a parade to Turner Field.

To Solomon, that Youth Summit, presented by Army/"Wanna Play?", "brings the most joy to my heart."

"When you have all those kids running around," Solomon said, "and baseball is the catalyst, baseball is the lynchpin of their fun, and many kids receive free gloves, free caps [and] T-shirts [and] they interact with baseball players [and] local celebrities, it's just a real fun event."

That afternoon's 1:10 p.m. ET game between the Phillies and Braves will celebrate the Negro Leagues, which folded shortly after Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. Commemorative videos will be played, former Negro League players will be on the field and the Phillies and Braves will play in replicas of their respective cities' Negro League uniforms.



Carlos Santana

Ludacris, one of Atlanta's proudest sons, will then perform a free postgame concert with a still-unannounced guest. Later that night, at 7 p.m. at the Omni Hotel Grand Ballroom, the MLB Beacon Awards Banquet, presented by Belk, will take place.

There, Hall of Famer and Cubs legend Ernie Banks (Beacon of Life), Academy Award-winning Actor Morgan Freeman (Beacon of Hope) and Grammy Award-winning artist Carlos Santana (Beacon of Change) will be honored.

Rev. Jesse Jackson, Rev. Al Sharpton, former Cy Young Award winner Don Newcombe and entertainer Harry Belafonte will serve as presenters. And Braves legend Hank Aaron along with five "Freedom Riders" -- civil rights activists who rode buses into segregated southern cities to test the U.S. Supreme Court 

decision Boynton v. Virginia -- will be honored.

Then, on Sunday, the Civil Rights Game will take place at 1:35 p.m. ET, airing on TBS.

The contest will honor the Beacon Award winners on-field, will have teams sporting replica 1974 uniforms and will carry the torch of honoring baseball's impact in civil rights, a concept that began as an exhibition in Memphis from 2007-08, then worked its way into the regular-season schedule in Cincinnati from 2009-10 and is now in Atlanta for the next couple of seasons.

That Ryan Howard, Jason Heyward and Jimmy Rollins will be there to celebrate it is just icing on the cake.

"There are a lot of things that are good that are going on to curb the decline of African-American players," Solomon said. "I think that bringing in these two teams that happen to have superstars of African-American heritage on either side of the field -- I think it's a great way to show African-American kids there is a place for them in Major League Baseball."

Tickets for the Civil Rights Game and preceding events can be purchased at mlb.com/civilrightsgame, with proceeds being donated to the Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial Project Foundation, which is building a memorial near the Jefferson and Lincoln memorials in Washington, D.C.

Alden Gonzalez is a reporter for MLB.com.

Wounded Troops Return to the Ballfield

Members of the Wounded Warrior Amputee Softball Team and a team of personnel from Walter Reed Army Medical Center listen to the national anthem before a game May 7 at the Forest Glen Annex in Silver Springs, Maryland.  [Marvin Joseph/The Washington Post]





By David Nakamura,

Washington Post

May 7, 2011

The soldiers and Marines on the Wounded Warrior Amputee Softball Team display a sense of humor that helps put at ease fans who might otherwise feel awkward watching them.

The 20 men, most of whom have lost limbs on missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, nicknamed themselves the “Body Parts.” Three players with prosthetic legs volunteer to “take a knee” during a team photo. When a player missing his left arm reaches second base, an assistant coach yells that there is “a runner with legs in scoring position.”

“You won’t hear that on any other team,” says outfielder Brian Taylor, who lost his right leg below the knee.

This weekend, the Body Parts opened a national tour of exhibition games by routing a team from the FBI 35-10 on Friday night at George Mason University. On Saturday afternoon, they came back to earth a bit, losing to staffers from Walter Reed Army Medical Center, 18-5, at the Forest Glen Annex. On Sunday, they will be in Annapolis to face a team of players from the U.S. Naval Academy’s sailing team.

Although the amputee squad is not looking for sympathy, Saturday’s final score was greeted with a shrug by the players and the crowd. The playing is the thing — the soldiers were all gifted high school athletes who thought they might never have a chance to compete again.

Soldiers and Marines who lost limbs on missions in
Iraq and Afghanistan prove that their athletic talent has
survived their injuries. [Marvin Joseph/The Washington Post]

Now, wearing prosthetic devices strapped to the stumps on their arms and legs, they are fielding, throwing and hitting once more.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” said Army Sgt. Matthew Kinsey, who stepped on a land mine while on night patrol in Afghanistan 11 months ago, blowing off his right foot. He is still going through rehabilitation at Walter Reed, but the rangy shortstop dived for a line drive up the middle Saturday, only to have the ball tick off his glove and dribble into center field for a single.

“It all settled back in pretty quickly,” Kinsey, a star high school player in Rockville, Ind., said of the old athletic rhythms. “I’ve played thousands of games so when I got back on the field, it felt natural.”

The team is the brainchild of David Van Sleet, a prosthetics manager for the U.S. Veterans Affairs Southwest Health Care Network who doubles as the team’s manager. Marrying his professional skills with his lifelong love of softball, Van Sleet put out a nationwide call for amputees to try out for the squad. He didn’t want a bunch of weekend warriors, but rather seasoned players who would be able to compete against fully able-bodied teams.

After culling the couple of hundred applicants, Van Sleet held tryouts in Arizona in March. The competition was intense. One player, who was wearing a prosthetic leg, broke his other leg while swinging hard at a pitch and landing awkwardly.

But Van Sleet pared the squad to the 20 best, including Greg Reynolds, who lost his left arm to the shoulder in a car accident after returning from Iraq, and Josh Wege, who lost both legs below the knee after the Humvee he was riding in struck a makeshift bomb in Iraq.

The pair embody the can-do spirit of the Body Parts. Wege, the only bilateral amputee, is such a good athlete that the Marines have recruited him for the Wounded Warrior Games in Colorado Springs. He will compete in the 100- and 200-yard dashes, basketball and volleyball.

“I didn’t want to be the anchor that holds this team down,” said Wege, who along with Kinsey recently completed a challenging obstacle course at West Point.

Forgoing the curved prosthetic running legs favored by some teammates for a standard walking pair, Wege pitched against the Walter Reed team Saturday and singled to center. He said he chose not to use the running legs because “I want to look as normal as possible.”

Reynolds did, too. With just one arm, he swings the bat across his chest as if he is back-handing a tennis ball. He went 3-for-4 in Friday’s game and doubled to right field on Saturday.

Reynolds and fellow outfielder Nate Lindsey, who lost his right arm below the elbow, compared their fielding techniques during practice. Reynolds caught the ball and then used an underhand scoop to throw it from the webbing to a teammate. Lindsey caught the ball and then flipped it in the air while dropping his glove, catching it again with his bare hand to make the relay throw.

“We’re all soldiers, and we’re all athletes, so when we step on the field we already have that common bond,” said Reynolds, who enlisted in the Army on Sept. 10, 2001, when he was 17.

Although the players profess to be thinking only about the competition while on the field, their relatives can’t help but consider the bigger picture. Watching his son Matthew take the field Friday night, Mark Kinsey said he was overcome with emotion.

“I shed a few tears,” he confessed. “I’m just happy to have him here.”

Carl Erskine's Treasure Chest of Dodgers Lore

The pitcher, one of the Boys of Summer, witnessed plenty of baseball
history and is still living the good life in his Indiana hometown.

Carl Erskine, center, with Duke Snider, left, and Brooklyn Manager Charley… (Associated Press)

By Chris Erskine, Los Angeles Times
May 7, 2011

Along the way, Carl Erskine (no relation) has seen some things. A curveball artisan and one of the famed Boys of Summer, he was in the Dodgers' dugout during Don Larsen's perfect game and shared the bullpen when Ralph Branca was summoned to pitch to Bobby Thomson in what is probably still the most famous bomb of all time.

"People always ask me, 'What's your best pitch?'" Erskine says, a twinkle in his eye. "I tell 'em that's easy. 'It's the curveball I buried in the bullpen that day. Otherwise that could've been me.'"

Yep, along the way, Carl Erskine has seen some things, all right, played along Jackie Robinson and Duke Snider on those beloved Brooklyn teams of the '50s. Pitched a record 14 strikeouts against the Yankees in the 1953 World Series with a four-seam curveball that dropped — bam — like a Bible off a bookshelf.

Came back to his hometown of Anderson to raise four kids and wound up running a local bank. If you detect a bit of Forrest Gump or George Bailey to the old pitcher's life — hey, we're just getting started here.

"My whole life is a story," he says over pancakes and bacon, crisp. "Everything that happens has more to it."

Somebody summon Spielberg, or get Ken Burns on the phone. Because this is an American life full of folk heroes and normal everyday guys who do extraordinary things, against a backdrop of race relations, the early days of television and Walter O'Malley's march west. Erskine's stories are also a touchstone to a simpler era, a time machine to Dodgers glory days that seem pretty far away right now.

But first things first. At 84, Erskine is still living the good life in Anderson: looks fit, nice coloring, shock of white hair — like Lasorda if he lost 300 pounds.

He goes fishing when he can, plays harmonica in a local band called Old Stuff and sounds like a 25-year-old when he tells stories from his treasure chest of Dodgers lore — how the franchise could've fielded Larry Doby and Roberto Clemente but O'Malley and the league thought it was better to diversify, how he collected two bonuses from the notoriously stingy Branch Rickey, after the team signed Erskine illegally and the commissioner ruled that he should go back on the open market.

"Dizzy Dean told his TV audience, 'Hey, I want you to meet someone who deserves to be in the Hall of Fame, because he got Branch Rickey to cough up two bonuses."

Here's the trophy shelf from a 12-year career:

• A 122-78 lifetime record (10 in Brooklyn, two in L.A.).
• A 20-win season in '53, with 16 complete games.
• 11 World Series appearances.
• Two no-hitters.

As usual, the personal stuff trumps the stats. He talks about his friendship with Robinson.

"I told him that not all white people are your enemy," Erskine says. "He said that bigots come in all colors."

"I remember Branch Rickey once told Jackie, 'Look at you. You could whip anybody on this field ... anybody. But are you strong enough not to fight?'"

He talks about playing in pain his entire career after injuring his arm in his first start. "Struck out the batter on a high fastball" — not the famously torquey curve — "and I felt a shot in my arm, like a knife."

Talks about watching Larsen on that incredible afternoon in 1956.

"Same pitcher that day as he was before, routine stuff," he remembers.

And the Thomson home run?

"I've been over that game so many times," he says. "There's still holes in what made [Charlie] Dressen bring in Ralph."

Branca and Erskine were the two choices that day. When Dressen called pitching coach Clyde Sukeforth, he told Dressen that he'd been bouncing his curve.

"Ralph's first pitch was a low fastball," Erskine says. "We all gasped because we all know Thomson was a low fastball hitter.

"He took that first pitch. As they say, it had hair on it."

The next pitch, inside, is the one Thomson turned on, sending it into the left-field seats and winning the pennant for the Giants.

"I think it was fate," Erskine says. "You could've brought in Walter Johnson, you could've brought in anybody … I think it was bound to happen."

When his career was done, Erskine came back to Anderson, 32 years old, four kids, no job, but knowing his family would be able to help.

Roger Kahn's landmark book "The Boys of Summer" poignantly tells the story of Erskine's youngest son, Jimmy, born with Down syndrome.

Today, the dad drops Jimmy off at the local Applebee's for a work shift and notes the parallels he's seen.

"Jackie broke down the social barriers," he says. "Jimmy helped do the same thing with Down syndrome.

"When you got to know Jack, you liked and admired him. Same with Jimmy."

Yep, Carl Erskine has seen some things.

chris.erskine@latimes.com

Andre Ethier closing in on a Dodger record: Willie Davis' 31-game hitting streak

Willie Davis' 31-game string of hits is now being
threatened by Andre Ethier. (Los Angeles Dodgers)

In 1969, Davis -- a center fielder known for speed, not power -- put together a string of hits that's now being threatened by Ethier. Davis found the winning formula for the streak by emulating the mechanics of Matty Alou.

By Ben Bolch
Los Angeles Times
May 5, 2011

Pick a renowned slugger from the 1960s and chances are the late Willie Davis tried to emulate him.

Hank Aaron, Ernie Banks, Willie McCovey, the list goes on. Davis even implemented a style that was a cross between the long-retired Mel Ott and Japanese home-run king Sadaharu Oh.

The Dodgers center fielder could imitate them perfectly, former teammate Wes Parker recalled — until the pitch came.

"And then he was Willie Davis," Parker said Thursday.

Davis, whose greatest asset was speed, not power, found a winning formula late in the 1969 season after duplicating the mechanics of Matty Alou, a diminutive spray hitter from the Pittsburgh Pirates. It was this approach that enabled Davis to embark on the Dodgers-record 31-game hitting streak that is being threatened by Andre Ethier.

"If you want to put your finger on one thing, it was that he changed to a batting style that he should have used all his career: choking up on the bat, a short, compact swing and not trying to pull the ball," said Maury Wills, the former Dodgers shortstop.

Davis didn't make much of his burgeoning streak until late August, when he neared the franchise record of 29 games that had been set in 1916 by Zach Wheat of the Brooklyn Robins. The Dodgers were engaged in a heated five-way race in the National League West, but soon there was a dual focus around the organization.

Reporters started asking Davis about the streak before games and Dodgers owner Walter O'Malley, who had given Sandy Koufax $500 for each of his no-hitters and Don Drysdale's wife a string of 56 pearls after the right-hander pitched 56 consecutive scoreless innings, promised to reward Davis handsomely if he broke Tommy Holmes' National League record of hitting safely in 37 consecutive games.

Davis, who was 69 when he died of natural causes in 2010, may have benefited from a break or two along the way. He extended his streak to 27 games with a sharp grounder to Philadelphia's Richie Allen that the first baseman lost from his glove as Davis crossed the bag. The official scorer contemplated the play for several minutes before ruling it a hit.

"Given Willie's speed and the difficulty of the play, I thought it was a hit all the way," said Ross Newhan, the Hall of Fame baseball writer who then covered the Dodgers for The Times.

After tying Wheat's franchise record Sept. 1 with a second-inning to single to center field, Davis received a good-luck telegram from the record-holder the following day before taking the field against the New York Mets at Dodger Stadium. Wheat was then 81 and living in Missouri.

Davis broke the record with a sixth-inning double, bowing his head in response to a standing ovation. But he was more focused afterward on his ninth-inning strikeout that stranded two baserunners during a one-run loss.

He avenged the failure the next day with a ninth-inning double that drove in Wills with the winning run against the New York Mets and stretched his streak to 31 games, the longest in baseball since Dom DiMaggio's 34-game streak in 1949.

The streak ended Sept. 4 when Davis went 0 for 4 against San Diego. He hit .435 during the streak, raising his average from .262 to .316 and winning a legion of admirers by realizing his immense potential.

The Dodgers faded over the final month of the season, finishing fourth in their division. Davis' final batting average was .311, a threshold he never reached again over an 18-year career that included 13 productive seasons with the Dodgers. He still has more hits, extra-base hits, triples, runs scored, at-bats and total bases than any Dodger during their years in Los Angeles starting in 1958.

Still, his former teammates said the fleet-footed outfielder who played in two All-Star games and won three Gold Gloves could have done more.

"He's not in the Hall of Fame and he had as much talent as any Hall of Famer ever," said Parker, who played first base for the Dodgers from 1964-72. "He wasn't satisfied with being a singles hitter. He wanted to hit home runs, and it killed him because it took away his biggest advantage, his speed. He was the fastest man in baseball."

Nevertheless, Wills said he believed Davis wouldn't mind if Ethier took his record this weekend.

"I really feel in my heart," Wills said, "that Willie is pulling for him to break it."

Times researcher Robin Mayper contributed to this report.

'I'm lucky to be alive'

Although Luis Salazar lost an eye, he remains focused on his second chance at life

When he was young, Luis Salazar's parents often couldn't see him.

Growing up in the small coastal town of Lecheria, Venezuela, Salazar would hurry home from school each afternoon, disappearing through the door and into the house. Hearing his footsteps, his mother would yell out for her son to start his homework. Instead, Salazar would slip outside, escaping down the street to find the nearest ballgame.

"My family would be looking for me and they said, 'Where's Luis?'" Salazar remembered. "And I'd be down the block playing street ball with the other kids."

His teachers often couldn't find him, either, especially at lunchtime. When the other students lined up for lunch, Salazar ran out in search of a game of street ball.

But baseball scouts saw Salazar, especially after one of his teams won the regional championship and Salazar had started in place of the team's injured shortstop. Two months later, the Royals signed the 15-year-old. He arrived in the U.S. in 1973, scared, homesick and unable to speak or understand English. He lasted a month and a half, playing for the Gulf Coast League Royals, before returning home.

A coach from a Caracas team called a few weeks later, telling Salazar that he needed to come to the capital to play winter ball. He'd seen Salazar's potential, he said, and could envision him playing in the major leagues.

Salazar listened. He was signed again -- in 1975 by the Pirates -- and returned to the U.S. in 1976, playing briefly in the minors and then as a utility man in the majors for 13 seasons and four teams before transitioning into coaching.

In early March, the 54-year-old attended spring training in Florida, preparing for his first season as manager for the Lynchburg Hillcats, a high-Class A affiliate of the Atlanta Braves.

His passion for playing baseball has morphed into a love of teaching and seeing his former players break into the big leagues, he said. Salazar loves hitting fungoes before games or standing at the pitching machine, instructing his young players on mechanics and patience at the plate.

AP Photo/David Goldman -- Luis Salazar was back at the
Braves' spring training home two weeks after the incident.

So what did he do when that love almost killed him? When it took away half his vision and threatened to crush his spirit?

'It entered my mind fhat he was dead"

In the first inning of Atlanta's March 9 exhibition game against the St. Louis Cardinals, Salazar stood next to Braves outfielder Nate McLouth along the railing on the first-base side dugout. The two were discussing a play that had just happened at second base, McLouth says, and Salazar motioned toward second as he spoke, looking away from the plate.

Braves catcher Brian McCann, a left-handed hitter, stood at the plate. As Cardinals pitcherKyle Lohse threw a changeup, down and inside, McCann swung.

Salazar said he remembers the ball "felt like a missile." Then everything went black.

McLouth saw the ball -- briefly -- and ducked to his right. (Salazar was on his left.) "We were talking, and then seconds later he was on the ground," McLouth said. "When it hit [his face], it sounded like the ball had gone all the way back to the cement wall."

Braves catcher David Ross was sitting a foot away. "That ball was hit so hard and so fast at such a close distance," Ross remembered. "It hit him [Salazar] and he fell five steps, all the way down. He was knocked out cold."

The baseball, traveling at an estimated 115 mph, struck Salazar on the left side of his face, shattering his bones. Stumbling and falling down the dugout steps facedown, Salazar sustained a concussion from the force of the fall, which also fractured his right arm and shoulder. He lay motionless as blood poured from his nose, eye and mouth.

"It was one of the scariest things I've ever witnessed on a baseball field," Ross said. "For a minute, it entered my mind that he was dead."

AP Photo/Dave Martin -- Braves catcher Brian McCann
visited Luis Salazar several times in the hospital.

Salazar lay unconscious for close to 20 minutes as paramedics rushed him into an ambulance and then a helicopter en route to an Orlando trauma center. Officials decided to continue the game, which the Cardinals won, 6-1. McCann checked himself out of the game and left the field. McLouth said that players on both teams were almost silent.

Baseball seemed so unimportant after that, like I could've cared less about what was going on on the field," Ross said. "I wanted to go home to see my wife and kids and give them a hug. I remember being shaken for a whole day after that. Reality just took a full turn; we could go at any minute. There's no guarantees in life, right?"

Salazar remembers waking up in the hospital, briefly, that night. He couldn't recall what had happened to him and says he "saw a very bright white light." He passed out again and woke up the next day after his first surgery.

I was in a lot of pain," Salazar said. Because of braces placed on his legs to allow for circulation, Salazar had trouble moving and got up only to use the bathroom. His wife, daughter and son visited him in the hospital.

Friends and strangers sent notes or called to offer their support. Messages of encouragement came from around the world from as far as Venezuela and as close as Albert Pujols and Johan Santana in their respective spring training camps.

After almost a week, Salazar said he began to feel better. He also looked in a mirror for the first time.

"I saw my [left] eye, and I knew something very bad had happened," Salazar said. "I still had my eye then, but my face was so swollen, so huge. I didn't recognize myself."

McCann and his wife, Ashley, visited Salazar in the hospital several times.

"Talking with Brian, the first conversation, he [felt] very bad; he almost cried," Salazar said. "I said, 'Don't worry about it; it's an accident. Now, I want you to move on.' He said that was the best news that he ever got."

The two talked for almost three hours during that first visit. They still keep in touch today: McCann said his wife often corresponds with the family through Salazar's daughter, Viviana, who's married to Mariners center fielder Franklin Gutierrez.

Salazar's good friend, Rafael Belliard, a former major leaguer now coaching with the Tigers, stopped by the hospital a few days after the accident.

"The first thing he [said] to me is, 'Rafe, I'm lucky to be alive,'" Belliard said. "He talked to me for about 15 minutes, and he was OK. I was a little shaky at what had happened."

Doctors tried to save Salazar's left eye, but after almost a week they realized they would need to remove it. Salazar's biggest fear wasn't losing his eye -- it was losing his job.

"I thought my career [was] over," Salazar said. "But then I [talked] to the guys at the Braves, and they said, 'No, you gonna be doing what you love: coaching.'"

Although Salazar's wife of 33 years, Graciela, said she never saw him depressed or frustrated during his hospital stay, she shared Luis' concern about his future in baseball.

"I said to the Braves organization, 'I don't want him sitting at home, getting a check every two weeks. I want him doing something.' Because he loves to be out on the field," Graciela said.

'He has no fear'

After a week in the hospital and another week resting at his home in Boca Raton, Fla., Salazar visited the Braves on March 23 at their Orlando spring training home.

Wearing sunglasses, Salazar "was in really good spirits, and you saw how happy he was to be back," McLouth said.

"He has such a passion for baseball," McCann said. "He wanted to get back on the field even when he was in the hospital. He was just thankful for this opportunity again."

After his visit with the team, Salazar began a program at the Braves' Orlando rehabilitation center, where he stayed for almost two weeks under the tutelage of head physical therapist Troy Jones.

In addition to working on the injury to Salazar's arm, Jones said the two focused on balance and depth perception: catching with two hands, one hand, different speeds, changing the size and weight of the ball, as well as everyday tasks like learning how to reach for a cup of water.

Throughout the exercises, Salazar picked up each skill with remarkable speed and poise.

"He's pretty phenomenal as far as how rapidly he gained his depth perception, balance and how quickly he picked up catching and throwing," Jones said. "The first time we had him try fungo work, he was incredible. It was as though he hadn't even missed a step.

"He has no fear -- even from the first day that we went out on the field, he jumped out there like it was another day at the ballpark, with no hesitation. I was a little apprehensive when we first went out and started to throw, but my apprehension disappeared quickly. It was just like tossing a baseball with anyone else."

According to the American Academy of Ophthalmology, more than 2.5 million eye injuries occur in the U.S. each year. Approximately 50,000 people permanently lose part or all of their vision. Ninety percent of all eye injuries can be prevented by using protective eyewear (which Salazar now wears), and 14.7 percent of eye injuries occur during sports. Although several coaches and players have been killed by hit baseballs throughout history (well documented in Robert Gorman's book, "Death at the Ballpark"), there are no available statistics that show the number of people who have lost an eye as the result of a baseball.

'This is what I love'

On April 15, Salazar stood before a TV camera on a windy Friday afternoon in Lynchburg, Va., his first day at the Hillcats' helm as they were about to face the Myrtle Beach Pelicans. The stadium sits high above the street, its brick-walled entrance worn with age. (The park was built in 1939.) Looking out from behind home plate, the Blue Ridge Mountains are visible in the distance, a jagged skyline reminiscent of a rapid, steady heartbeat line on a hospital monitor.

Salazar was wearing a blue workout shirt and shorts, and his calves and arms still held the muscle from his playing days. Jones said that Salazar's sturdy build on his compact 5-foot-9 frame had aided his speedy recovery.

Under a baseball cap, Salazar wore a pair of protective shatterproof Oakley glasses -- one of two pairs, he said, he will don during games for protection. Before the accident Salazar had never needed contact lenses or glasses, and he has retained the 20/20 vision in his right eye.

He expects to receive a prosthetic eye as early as mid-May, which his doctors say is ahead of schedule. Until then, he often wears a protective bandage over his left eye socket.

After several interviews, Salazar hit fungoes to his players. He neither flinched at the sound of bat hitting ball nor shied away from baseballs thrown in his direction. Playing catch with Tom Shields, a roving Braves instructor, Salazar laughed and smiled, taking a step back after each throw. He later spoke with Shields about his lingering arm soreness, although he's now thrown a baseball as far as 60 feet.

Approximately 5,170 fans filled City Stadium that evening, the largest crowd in Lynchburg's home opening history. Graciela flew into town for her husband's first homestand and sat several rows behind home plate. Instead of feeling nervous, she said she was happy her husband was back on the field. "It's the place he wants to be," she said.

During the announcement of opening lineups, the Hillcats' staff decided collectively to introduce Salazar last, rather than first (as is customary).

"Luis Salazar would like to thank God and the fans for his second chance at life," the PA announcer read during his lengthy pregame introduction.

AP Photo/Don Petersen -- At Lynchburg,
Luis Salazar plans to coach third base
in addition to his managerial duties.

As Salazar stepped onto the field, the entire crowd stood and cheered. Salazar walked down his lineup of players, shaking hands and fist-bumping. Then he walked over to the Myrtle Beach side, shaking hands with their players as well. After the national anthem, after the pronouncement of "Play ball!" and after all the players had returned to the dugout for the first pitch, Salazar remained on the field, standing near home plate and talking to two umpires.

When he finally returned to the dugout and play began, Salazar didn't sit back against the wall. Instead, he stood near the dugout steps or just behind them during his team's at-bats, watching closely. He will soon resume his role as third-base coach.

"I have no fear being back on the field," Salazar says. "This is what I love -- teaching, coaching baseball." 

He is especially cautious of errant elbows in the dugout, ensuring that he protects his right eye. He continues the physical therapy work he began with Jones and says that life's daily routines don't feel any differently than they did before.

"Losing an eye is a traumatic event, and for a lot of people, the psychological effect is profound," says Dr. Michael Brennan, a comprehensive ophthalmologist in Burlington, N.C., and the past president of the American Academy of Ophthalmology. "But Luis is a confident guy who knows himself, and he will fight back fast."

Brennan says that some major league teams, including the Boston Red Sox, now offer training to pitchers on how to defend themselves from being injured by a hit ball. They spend time talking with young players about protection, coaching pitchers to finish their delivery so that they're not as vulnerable. McLouth said the Braves have talked about ways to make the field a safer place, especially for fans.

Salazar laughs often and is profusely thankful. The most common phrase he utters is "I want to give thanks," before offering gratitude to his family, the EMT staff, Jones, his friends, the Braves organization or the fans who sent him notes of support.

"When you have something tragic happen in your life, the only thing you can do is take the positives out of it, or you're gonna be miserable," McCann said. "He's taught me a lot about that. The way he looks at life is amazing."

Salazar said he is proud to be a role model, motivated by a renewed sense of thankfulness.

"I lost my eye, but at the same time I thank God he saved my life," Salazar said. "I have a second chance at life, and I very much appreciate it. Now, the rest is up to me."

Anna Katherine Clemmons is a reporter for ESPN The Magazine and ESPN.com.