Canzano: Addressing a blind spot... or three
What does it mean to "make it" as a pro athlete?
I had a blind spot as a kid. My vision was obscured for a year by the hope I placed in a promising right-handed hitting third baseman for the San Francisco Giants.
His name was Chris Brown.
Brown played his high school ball at Crenshaw High in Southern California alongside Darryl Strawberry and Eric Davis. He was a masher at the plate. The Giants drafted him in the second round, whisked him through the minor leagues, and at just 23, Brown made his big-league debut.
I was 13.
Brown, 6-foot-2 and 210 pounds, was built like one of those heavy-duty pickup trucks with two rear wheels on each side. He had a wide frame, and looked like he could have been a nightclub bouncer or a bodyguard.
When he made his debut in 1985, my favorite pro baseball team was on its way to losing 100 games. It remains the franchise’s saddest single-season record. I was a die-hard. I remember going to Candlestick Park for the final home game of that season with my family. It was “Fan Appreciation Day.” Some kid in my section won a bicycle in a drawing.
I had Chris Brown.