Remembering a big man

Before the Sidney Baseball program takes the field this spring, I would like to take a few moments to celebrate the life of a very close friend, mentor and founder of the BOC John Cronk, who passed away this past December.

There are so many stories I could tell you about Big John—as many as there are stitches on the ball—but as I start to remember them, I have to chuckle about one in particular.

I was about 17 years old and John and I were working my first legion game. Although John was about 400 pounds, in his mind he was agile as a cheetah. In reality he was more like a Mac truck with a flat tire.

On the day in question, he was positioned in the middle of the field behind the mound when a line drive shot his way—you know, the kind that leaves a vapor trail in its wake. It’s true that some moments appear to go in slow motion. I can see the ball being hit and heading right at John.

John thought he would do a ninja double back flip Matrix move to get out of the way, but as he started making his move, the ball crashed into his shin bone. Down he went.

Being a new official, I didn’t know what to do: call time, call 911, call a tow truck or just stand there trying not to wet my pants from laughing. Then reality sunk in.

There was no way in heaven I was going to be able to pick him up off the field. But after a few minutes, John rolled around and gathered enough momentum to get to his feet. The next day he had the biggest bruise and I had the best story to tell.

To some, John was a bigger pain than his worth. At times he was difficult to deal with—coarse, tough and sometimes downright mean. He didn’t mince words. He was blunt and direct, no matter who you thought you were. John’s personality was passionate, strong and unwavering. His love for baseball and his pure knowledge of the rules was unparalleled.

His passion was overpowering, intimidating and downright painful. You acted stupid, he told you you were stupid. But if you took the time to learn how to navigate thru the smoke screen, you were able to earn your way into his inner circle. At that point you came to know John as a leader, a mentor, a teacher and most of all a true friend.

John and I stayed in touch over the years and I was fortunate enough to have dinner with him just a few weeks before his passing.

As I sat and listened to stories of times past, memories of people and places I haven’t visited in my mind for years came rushing forward. It was then that I truly realized what a strong influence John has had in my life, on and off the field.

Even with his health in decline, he finally reached his life’s goal of officiating 2,500 games this past summer. Once that was complete, he and the organization known as the BOC retired.

No matter what the circumstances, John always gave of himself and his knowledge to anyone that needed it or wanted it.

He was a man who gave all he had to Baseball, its players, its coaches and especially to all the members of the Baseball Officials of Colorado (BOC) ... and to me.

Turn in your uniform John, time to go home. I will miss you!

Jeff Parsons’ column appears on Fridays during the baseball season