Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 16, 1990 TAG: 9004160243
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B4 EDITION: EVENING
SOURCE: San Francisco Chronicle
DATELINE: SAN FRANCISCO LENGTH: Long
It was about an hour before game time, before the severe thunderstorm that sent everyone home early. Bedrosian came leaping into the dugout, from out of nowhere.
He was doing a Superman impression, making that same hissing sound that used to accompany Superman's flights to earth on the old TV series. And he made that same, suction-cup landing, a 10.0 on the superhero scale.
The moment seemed especially poignant now, because Bedrosian's frivolous side was about to be buried underneath an avalanche of sorrow.
That same night in Atlanta, Bedrosian got the news about his son.
"The doctor told me straight out," he said. "He said, `I wish I had good news. But your son has leukemia.' "
Recent developments have been encouraging. Young Cody, just two years old, has what Bedrosian described as acute lymphoblastic leukemia, a relatively mild form of the disease.
"One of the best kinds to have," said Steve. "We were told he's got an 80 percent chance of surviving it. Seven to 10 years ago, the life expectancy was six weeks."
Bedrosian wasn't really up for the Giants' game against the San Padres on Sunday at Candlestick Park.
He and his wife, Tammy, have virtually lived at the University of California Medical Center in San Francisco recently, "and I've got another son, Stephen, who needs love, too; I can't lock him out," said Bedrosian.
"Baseball is at the bottom of my list right now. But I talked to [Giants manager] Roger Craig this morning. He told me to come on out and get my ring [in a pregame ceremony honoring the team for its 1989 National League title]. And my wife pleaded with me to go. The doctors have told me there's a time when you have to get on with your life - but it's been pretty hard to do."
Bedrosian walked into the clubhouse around noon, looking like a man who hadn't slept for days.
He came in briskly, with backslaps and crisp hellos, trying to put everyone at ease.
"I'm hangin' in there," he said.
And in an extremely gracious gesture, he talked with the media for a few minutes. "Believe me, that's the last thing he wanted to do," said a Giants executive.
Bedrosian's physical being was at Candlestick, but his mind was elsewhere.
"He's only 2 years old," he said of his son before the game. "He knows what's going on, but he doesn't realize the severity of it. They're going to do a bone-marrow biopsy in a couple of weeks, to see if he's still got those bad cells in the chromosomes. Sometimes they can be bad actors; they don't look like they're around, but they are.
"They did a spinal tap on him as part of the therapy. That was rough. I could hear him screaming across the hall."
There was little conversation between Bedrosian and his teammates.
"You want to do something, anything you can, but there just isn't much we can offer," said catcher Terry Kennedy. "Only Steve knows what he's going through. If it were me, I'm not sure I would have come out here today."
But it was a type of therapy for Bedrosian: putting the uniform on, hearing the cheers of the crowd, just watching the game.
"I'm available," he said beforehand. "I'll just go on adrenaline, I guess.
"Since I'm here, they might as well use me."
The script was taking a pretty nice turn. Giants first baseman Will Clark, still feeling the effects of tonsilitis, came up in the sixth inning after grounding out weakly his first two times up. Kevin Bass had just singled to right, and it seemed Clark was in the batter's box before the ball hit earth.
As he pawed angrily at the dirt, you could almost feel a home run in the air. And Clark delivered mightily, drilling an Eric Show pitch over the center-field wall to give the Giants a 3-2 lead.
Moments earlier, Bedrosian had made his first appearance in the bullpen. Idle for eight days, already cheated out of his regular spring-training time, he didn't know what to expect.
"I was so mechanically off, I felt like a robot," he said. "I haven't been eating right, I've lost some weight . . . but I'm not gonna sit here and make excuses.
"After the second time I warmed up [in the eighth], I was ready."
But he wasn't. Not really. The pure velocity was there, the 90-mph fastball, but not the timing. And certainly not the concentration.
"I was thinking about Cody out there," he said. "I tried not to, but I couldn't block it out.
"I've been dreaming about him, I wake up thinking about him. He's my son. He's my life. I wanted to do the job for him."
With a runner at third and an 0-2 count on Padres catcher Benito Santiago, Bedrosian wanted to bust him inside, then fire a slider away. That was the plan.
But the inside pitch came right down Broadway. Santiago hit it out of the park, giving San Diego a 4-3 victory and a sweep of the three-game series.
"You couldn't help but see this fantastic outcome," said Kennedy. "Steve comes in and slams the door, and everything is candy and fairy tales.
"But his child proved that this isn't a fairy-tale world."
by CNB