Miss-Delectable
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Sign of Hope- Columbian.com
The year 1908 holds a special place in the memory of many baseball fans.
It's the last year the Chicago Cubs won the World Series - the longest championship drought of any team in the four major professional sports.
To many, the year signifies futility, frustration, heartbreak.
But to Portland Beavers starting pitcher Ryan Ketchner, 1908 has a more personal importance, providing a link to the past and signifying hope.
Why?
It's the last year Luther "Dummy" Taylor pitched in the major leagues.
Never heard of Taylor? Fear not, most haven't.
Taylor threw in the majors from 1900-1908. He posted a career 116-106 record, spending all but part of one season with the New York Giants.
Still not ringing a bell? Then, consider this: Taylor was deaf.
And with this one simple fact, Taylor and Ketchner share a bond.
For if Ketchner, 25, makes the major leagues, he will become the first deaf pitcher to do so since Taylor retired.
It has been 99 years since Major League Baseball had a deaf pitcher.
Ketchner plans to change that.
Being heard
The bleachers inside the gymnasium at the Washington School for the Deaf are packed.
It's May 4, a school day. But no one's in class. Everyone's waiting to see Ketchner.
Students fill up the rows, teachers stand in the aisles. All are angling to get a view of Ketchner.
The 6-foot-1, 190-pound southpaw stands tall in the middle of the WSD gym.
Moreover, he looks like any other professional baseball player.
Baseball jersey, loose blue jeans, tennis shoes, short brown hair with a goatee and sideburns.
Then Ketchner speaks - with his hands.
The students at WSD go crazy.
They laugh, shout, smile and sign back.
Ketchner began the affair by talking about himself, explaining what he does and how he does it.
Now, it's question-and-answer time. And, boy, do the WSD students have questions.
- "Have you ever played against the New York Yankees?"
- "Have you ever pitched to Barry Bonds?"
- "How many home runs have you hit?"
The last question makes Ketchner blush.
"I'm a pitcher," he signs. "I...don't really hit home runs."
The students break into laughter and stomp their feet on the bleachers, making the tiny WSD gym sound like a storm.
Q-and-A session over, Ketchner takes a group picture. Then individual pictures. Then he signs glossy photos.
The outing is a rousing success. Ketchner is smiling. The students are thrilled and inspired. Moreover, the outing is also a return to form for Ketchner.
He was named the Deaf Male Athlete of the Year by the United States Deaf Sports Foundation in 2003.
But after missing the entire 2005 season due to "Tommy John" surgery and spending most of 2006 rehabilitating his arm, Ketchner stopped speaking at public engagements.
"I wanted to be healthy first," he said. "I consider myself a pitcher first and then a deaf person. Pitching is what I do."
But Ketchner's ability to reach out and impact the lives of persons in the deaf community is remarkable.
And he touches other lives as well. Because if you were to have looked to the back row of the WSD gym on May 4, you would have seen three people watching the entire event with tears in their eyes.
Tana Ketchner, Ryan's wife, had a glow on her face that can only be explained as love.
Tim and Kim Ketchner, Ryan's parents, who flew in from Sebring, Fla., to watch their son speak and pitch for the Beavers, were both overjoyed and overwhelmed.
"It never ceases to amaze me," Kim Ketcher said. "He's able to touch so many people when he speaks. It's so powerful. You can see him affecting and changing these kids' lives. And they really look up to him as a role model. It's beautiful."
Kim wiped away tears as she finished the last sentence.
Tana Ketchner had tears slowly streaming down her face as she began to speak.
"I fell in love with Ryan because of this," she said. "When he's speaking to the kids, and they can see someone like him accomplish so much, it's mesmerizing."
No different
The crack of a wooden bat when it's swung hard and connects with a 94 mph fastball, hitting the sweet spot.
A sharply hit liner smacking into a shortstop's glove.
A call for an infield shift by a second baseman.
Vendors, public address announcers, fans who heckle and cheer.
These are the sounds of baseball.
These are the sounds that Ketchner cannot hear.
When throwing on the mound, Ketchner (0-3, 3.79 ERA), looks like every other minor league pitcher trying to make it to the big leagues.
He has four pitches (fastball, curveball, change-up, slider). He wears a uniform. He looks poised and confident when the game starts. He sweats and paces when opponents threaten.
But get up close to Ketchner, real close, and you'll notice something slightly different - two clear hearing aids connected by a thin electrical cord, one in each ear.
Ketchner, who was born 90 percent deaf, uses the devices to help hear extremely high-pitched and low-pitched noises.
"That's probably the only thing that makes him different that anyone else," Beavers manager Rick Renteria said. "But he carries it like it's nothing. He's very self-deprecating and even-keeled. He just goes out on the mound and works hard like everyone else who wants to keep playing professional baseball."
After an up-and-down 2006 season that saw Ketchner trying to relearn his craft and regain arm strength, he has bounced back to become the Beavers' No. 2 starter.
Working with Renteria and pitching coach Gary Lance, Ketchner has improved his delivery, picked up speed on his fastball and gained confidence.
Ketchner was hit hard in his first three starts of 2007, allowing 21 hits and 11 earned runs in 15.1 innings. But since then, he's given up just six earned runs in his last five starts, highlighted by a two-hit, eight-strikeout performance on May 3.
"He can definitely pitch," Renteria said. "It's all about consistency with him. He just needs to make sure he keeps the ball down and doesn't let what's going on on the basepaths deter him from his strategy. When he keeps the ball down, he's very hard to hit."
Renteria isn't Ketchner's only admirer on the Beavers. In fact, Portland's team is filled with them.
Ketchner has become a clubhouse favorite, renowned for his jokes, card playing and positive, laid-back approach to time away from the game.
"We all love him," Beavers second baseman Craig Stansberry said. "He's an ace on the mound and a blast to be around. After you're around him for a while, you tend to forget what he's dealing with. He's that cool of a guy. It's inspiring."
Ketchner deflects the compliment.
"I don't know," he said smiling. "I just pitch, that's all I do. I love to pitch. I've been throwing since I was 13. All I want to do is make it to the major leagues."
Ketchner's dream may soon become a reality.
Though the San Diego Padres' pitching staff is loaded - the Padres team ERA of 3.09 is tops in the majors - Renteria said he likes Ketchner's chances in the long run.
And after former Beavers starter Justin Germano was called up by the Padres on May 7, Ketchner became Portland's most reliable starter.
Should Ketchner get the call to the majors, the name of Luther "Dummy" Taylor would be replaced in baseball history by Ketchner's.
The ghost of 1908 would be laid to rest.
"I've dreamed of it," Ketchner said. "Maybe one day soon it'll come true."
The year 1908 holds a special place in the memory of many baseball fans.
It's the last year the Chicago Cubs won the World Series - the longest championship drought of any team in the four major professional sports.
To many, the year signifies futility, frustration, heartbreak.
But to Portland Beavers starting pitcher Ryan Ketchner, 1908 has a more personal importance, providing a link to the past and signifying hope.
Why?
It's the last year Luther "Dummy" Taylor pitched in the major leagues.
Never heard of Taylor? Fear not, most haven't.
Taylor threw in the majors from 1900-1908. He posted a career 116-106 record, spending all but part of one season with the New York Giants.
Still not ringing a bell? Then, consider this: Taylor was deaf.
And with this one simple fact, Taylor and Ketchner share a bond.
For if Ketchner, 25, makes the major leagues, he will become the first deaf pitcher to do so since Taylor retired.
It has been 99 years since Major League Baseball had a deaf pitcher.
Ketchner plans to change that.
Being heard
The bleachers inside the gymnasium at the Washington School for the Deaf are packed.
It's May 4, a school day. But no one's in class. Everyone's waiting to see Ketchner.
Students fill up the rows, teachers stand in the aisles. All are angling to get a view of Ketchner.
The 6-foot-1, 190-pound southpaw stands tall in the middle of the WSD gym.
Moreover, he looks like any other professional baseball player.
Baseball jersey, loose blue jeans, tennis shoes, short brown hair with a goatee and sideburns.
Then Ketchner speaks - with his hands.
The students at WSD go crazy.
They laugh, shout, smile and sign back.
Ketchner began the affair by talking about himself, explaining what he does and how he does it.
Now, it's question-and-answer time. And, boy, do the WSD students have questions.
- "Have you ever played against the New York Yankees?"
- "Have you ever pitched to Barry Bonds?"
- "How many home runs have you hit?"
The last question makes Ketchner blush.
"I'm a pitcher," he signs. "I...don't really hit home runs."
The students break into laughter and stomp their feet on the bleachers, making the tiny WSD gym sound like a storm.
Q-and-A session over, Ketchner takes a group picture. Then individual pictures. Then he signs glossy photos.
The outing is a rousing success. Ketchner is smiling. The students are thrilled and inspired. Moreover, the outing is also a return to form for Ketchner.
He was named the Deaf Male Athlete of the Year by the United States Deaf Sports Foundation in 2003.
But after missing the entire 2005 season due to "Tommy John" surgery and spending most of 2006 rehabilitating his arm, Ketchner stopped speaking at public engagements.
"I wanted to be healthy first," he said. "I consider myself a pitcher first and then a deaf person. Pitching is what I do."
But Ketchner's ability to reach out and impact the lives of persons in the deaf community is remarkable.
And he touches other lives as well. Because if you were to have looked to the back row of the WSD gym on May 4, you would have seen three people watching the entire event with tears in their eyes.
Tana Ketchner, Ryan's wife, had a glow on her face that can only be explained as love.
Tim and Kim Ketchner, Ryan's parents, who flew in from Sebring, Fla., to watch their son speak and pitch for the Beavers, were both overjoyed and overwhelmed.
"It never ceases to amaze me," Kim Ketcher said. "He's able to touch so many people when he speaks. It's so powerful. You can see him affecting and changing these kids' lives. And they really look up to him as a role model. It's beautiful."
Kim wiped away tears as she finished the last sentence.
Tana Ketchner had tears slowly streaming down her face as she began to speak.
"I fell in love with Ryan because of this," she said. "When he's speaking to the kids, and they can see someone like him accomplish so much, it's mesmerizing."
No different
The crack of a wooden bat when it's swung hard and connects with a 94 mph fastball, hitting the sweet spot.
A sharply hit liner smacking into a shortstop's glove.
A call for an infield shift by a second baseman.
Vendors, public address announcers, fans who heckle and cheer.
These are the sounds of baseball.
These are the sounds that Ketchner cannot hear.
When throwing on the mound, Ketchner (0-3, 3.79 ERA), looks like every other minor league pitcher trying to make it to the big leagues.
He has four pitches (fastball, curveball, change-up, slider). He wears a uniform. He looks poised and confident when the game starts. He sweats and paces when opponents threaten.
But get up close to Ketchner, real close, and you'll notice something slightly different - two clear hearing aids connected by a thin electrical cord, one in each ear.
Ketchner, who was born 90 percent deaf, uses the devices to help hear extremely high-pitched and low-pitched noises.
"That's probably the only thing that makes him different that anyone else," Beavers manager Rick Renteria said. "But he carries it like it's nothing. He's very self-deprecating and even-keeled. He just goes out on the mound and works hard like everyone else who wants to keep playing professional baseball."
After an up-and-down 2006 season that saw Ketchner trying to relearn his craft and regain arm strength, he has bounced back to become the Beavers' No. 2 starter.
Working with Renteria and pitching coach Gary Lance, Ketchner has improved his delivery, picked up speed on his fastball and gained confidence.
Ketchner was hit hard in his first three starts of 2007, allowing 21 hits and 11 earned runs in 15.1 innings. But since then, he's given up just six earned runs in his last five starts, highlighted by a two-hit, eight-strikeout performance on May 3.
"He can definitely pitch," Renteria said. "It's all about consistency with him. He just needs to make sure he keeps the ball down and doesn't let what's going on on the basepaths deter him from his strategy. When he keeps the ball down, he's very hard to hit."
Renteria isn't Ketchner's only admirer on the Beavers. In fact, Portland's team is filled with them.
Ketchner has become a clubhouse favorite, renowned for his jokes, card playing and positive, laid-back approach to time away from the game.
"We all love him," Beavers second baseman Craig Stansberry said. "He's an ace on the mound and a blast to be around. After you're around him for a while, you tend to forget what he's dealing with. He's that cool of a guy. It's inspiring."
Ketchner deflects the compliment.
"I don't know," he said smiling. "I just pitch, that's all I do. I love to pitch. I've been throwing since I was 13. All I want to do is make it to the major leagues."
Ketchner's dream may soon become a reality.
Though the San Diego Padres' pitching staff is loaded - the Padres team ERA of 3.09 is tops in the majors - Renteria said he likes Ketchner's chances in the long run.
And after former Beavers starter Justin Germano was called up by the Padres on May 7, Ketchner became Portland's most reliable starter.
Should Ketchner get the call to the majors, the name of Luther "Dummy" Taylor would be replaced in baseball history by Ketchner's.
The ghost of 1908 would be laid to rest.
"I've dreamed of it," Ketchner said. "Maybe one day soon it'll come true."