Congratulations Mr. Haran - You've been upgraded to First Class!
(Editor’s Note: On July 21, Gerard’s contract was purchased by the St. Louis Cardinals organization. Please refer to the Last Nomad’s Part I & II on the website for prior installments of Gerard’s trek through the Independent Leagues.)
“You want positive,” one of the coaches asked me.
“It can’t hurt,” I replied.
“Your contract was purchased this morning by the St. Louis Cardinals, is that positive enough for you?”
I must have looked like a Looney Tunes character with my eyes bulging out of my head, my jaw wide open and my tongue rolled out on the floor.
“Well, that’s a start…” I said as I slowly sat down back down in my chair, trying simultaneously to act professionally and play it off as no big deal—and not faint.
There was an interesting reaction from my teammates. I had only known them for two weeks, but in St. George, that made me one of the longer tenured guys in the locker room! Most of them seemed genuinely happy for me, wished me the best of luck and gave me congratulations.
There were some jealous stares and snickers, as well. I cannot blame them. It did not make any sense to me, either. I was an un-drafted Division III free-agent, who had basically played his way into the doghouse and seemingly out of Utah.
I had to confirm this was not a mistake and immediately called Mike Girsch, the Scouting Department Coordinator for the Cardinals. When he answered the phone I tried to sound as respectful as my Jersey dialect would allow.
“Hello, Sir. This is Gerard Haran, catcher, for the St. George Roadrunners.”
“Don’t you mean, catcher for the St. Louis Cardinals?” he replied.
If you have ever seen how Willie Mays Hayes (played by Wesley Snipes) reacts to making the Indians roster in the movie Major League, then you know exactly what happened next.
I snuck under the bleachers—to the underbelly of the stadium—so I could be away from everyone. My solitude allowed for my emotions to flow through uninhibited. First, I held my hands up the heavens and jumped up and down while giddily laughing and smiling. Then I dropped to my knees and began to weep, covered my eyes with my hands and fought back an onslaught of tears.
A huge part of being a successful athlete is being able to handle adversity. Everyone has different ways of building walls and coping with the stress. Whether it is unrealistic fans, hecklers, scouts, coaches, or naysayers, it is a constant struggle to stay on an even keel.
The emotional roller coaster that my family and I had been through for over two years had finally culminated in a legitimate opportunity to chase my dream and prove my worth as a ballplayer. The scope of it all, and what this opportunity meant, was almost too much for me to take.
The first thing I did, was thank God and my guardian angels for my family. I can tell you, unequivocally and sincerely, this moment would have never been possible without the love and support of the Haran’s and Barnett’s. I am truly blessed, and undeserving, to be part of such a strong and altruistic family group—a family willing to give of themselves without question and never ask for anything in return.
Among the numerous times I looked to them for guidance and help, a conversation with my father, only a night before, seemed now to be more of a premonition.
My father stayed on the phone with me, after Thursday night’s game, for nearly two hours, until about 3am back east. As he has done on countless other occasions, he acted as my “life coach,” drawing from his own experiences to keep me focused, motivated and strong enough to face any situation.
He reminded me that my blue-collar Brooklyn roots, my New Jersey upbringing, and my college education had taught me to keep my chin up and shoulders back. No matter how adverse a situation seems, you can tackle it if you face it head on. He left of our conversation by imploring me not to give up. He truly felt my time was about to come and I was going to catch a break with an affiliated team before long.
I reminded him the reason for my call was because I was about to be released from a 7-31 independent team. A 1998 Armando Benitez fastball actually had a better shot of missing a Chipper Jones bat than I had of getting a contract.
It mattered not, he had faith, and his faith was rewarded.
For the first time in my life, I could not wait to leave a ball field. I counted the minutes until the game was over and I could get a ride back to my host family’s house. My flight into West Palm Beach was scheduled to take off from Las Vegas at 11am.
By the time the game finally let out, I had less than nine hours to call everyone I knew, arrange a 6am shuttle from the beautiful red cliffs of St. George to the Vegas strip and figure out how to pack all my gear, clothes, and electronics into two bags and a manageable carry-on.
Like I would have been able to sleep if I had time anyway!
My mind was racing a million miles a minute. How did this happen? Who was responsible? How different would affiliated ball be? Once on the shuttle, I closed my eyes and began to imagine myself in one of those beautifully crisp Cardinal uniforms batting behind Albert Pujols. Sure, I knew I was still an extreme long shot, but I felt so much closer. It’s corny, but I felt like it was OK for me to dream again!
To pass the time at McCarran International (with something other than Ms. Spears’ latest debacle) I marveled at how different the people coming into Vegas acted than the people leaving. People getting off the plane did so with extreme life and vigor. Viva Las Vegas Baby!
The people waiting in the outgoing terminals looked like the illegitimate offspring of Golum and an extra from the Night of the Living Dead. It was truly enthralling! I cannot believe MTV has not made a crappy reality show out of it yet.
My beloved people watching was interrupted by my name being announced over the loud speaker, in what must have been a Americanized-Jamaican accent.
“Ja-Rod HeRON to Gate 21, Ja-Rod HeRON to Gate 21 Please”
Oh, no. There is a problem. This can’t be happening. Could they have changed their minds? Why am I being called to the gate? Is there a problem with my ticket? Where my bags too heavy?
When something feels too good to be true it always is! I walked with utter trepidation to the pretty young woman at Gate 21.
“I’m Gerard Haran, were you looking for me?”
“Can I see your boarding pass Mr. Heron”
“Is there some sort of problem? Because I checked in fine and I passed security and..”
“There is no problem sir, boarding pass please.”
I was exhausted, skeptical, edgy and truly despise being cut-off, but against my volatile Jersey instincts, I acquiesced and quietly handed over my pass.
“On behalf of US Airways, I would like to wish you the best of luck in Jupiter, Florida.”
My flight is for West Palm. How did she know I was going to Jupiter?
“Congratulations, Mr. Heron, your ticket has been upgraded to first class”
George, that made me one of the longer tenured guys in the locker room! Most of them seemed genuinely happy for me, wished me the best of luck and gave me congratulations. 