It's a beautiful day for baseball weather!
Somehow the too small, crooked hat always stayed on. Somehow the developmentally disabled kid with a genetic disorder from birth lived past doctors' predictions and lived a richer life in 35 years than most people do in 70. Mike Duzan died this past Tuesday, and those of us who knew him understand that we are all somehow enriched for being a part of his rich life.
Everything about Mike was big: big smile, big wave, big greeting, big slap on the back, big zest for life, and a big love of baeball. There are very few baseball memories for me from Babe Ruth to my senior year that do not include him. He was an assistant coach and the team's biggest fan. Mike would go over signs with us before the game, and each time ended it by pointing to the fence. He thought big. He believed in us big time.
This past Tuesday I had no idea that Mike had died. I was busy coaching my own baseball team of 7th and 8th graders, Navajo kids who don't pick up a ball until 7th grade. My team was playing a very poor game on their way to getting beat by a conference team for the first time in over three years. As we were getting drilled 11 to five I thought about Mike several times. Even in those tough losses, those times of utter frustration, Mike made it a better moment. Just thinking of him during our game made a bad loss not so bad at all. At least it was a "beautiful day for baseball weather" like he used to be fond of saying.
The last time I saw Mike was last summer. My parents had picked up Tracy and I from the Indianapolis airport, and we stopped in Worthington at Vests' to get some gas. I knew Mike would be in there working. As soon as I walked through the door he spotted me, gave me that big smile, gave me that big greeting, and gave me that big slap on the back that took the wind out of me. As we parted he said, "Take care, friend."
Mike Duzan was a friend with a big heart. His passing is a big loss for us all.
posted by CHUSKA NATIVES at
11:01 PM
2 Comments:
I didn't know Mike, but Jesse talked about him when he talked about Babe Ruth baseball. This is a beautiful write-up and made me cry. I know that Mike must be enjoying heaven right now. :)
Tracy Crane
By
Anonymous, at 5:45 AM
This is a very accurate portrayal of Mike. The big back slap, the constant encouragement, the point to the fence and the honest excitement to be involved with the team are all memories I have of Mike from school. I can still hear him say "good job Jarrod" as I would come off the field between innings. He said this to me nearly every inning for four years. People have commented a lot in recent days about Mike's uncanny ability to remember names and the sheer number of friends and acquaintances he had, and this is true, but I think Mike's most endearing quality was his sincerety. He truly cared about those people he got to know. He cared about sports, he cared about work and he cared about God. I saw Mike take some teasing in our younger years and I saw him interact with those who weren't familiar with him, not once did I ever here Mike say a bad word about anyone. He was special. Bloomfield will miss him.
Beech
By
Anonymous, at 7:25 PM
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