Originally published August 31, 2007 in the Observer (Dunkirk, N.Y.)
This weekend, many are reflecting on the deaths of Princess Diana and Mother Theresa, who both passed away one decade ago.
On August 31, 1997, I learned of the Princess’ death from the front page of the Sunday Observer.
Just below the headline of the princess’ tragic death, there was a
picture of a car crash. I naturally assumed it was Lady Di's and never
turned the fold over to read the caption.
I didn't learn the significance of that picture until after I returned
from a Bills opening day loss in Orchard Park that afternoon.
The deadly crash on the cover involved my old baseball teammate and fellow Silver Creek alum, Dave Howard.
The 19 year-old died in a drunk driving accident on Route 60. He should
not have been behind the wheel that night and all of us who knew Dave
know that. But that's not what this article is about.
This is about remembering Dave, and how every time the end of summer
rolls around and news outlets praise the lives of Diana or Mother
Theresa, it's hard for me not to spend time thinking about Dave Howard.
Aside from my father, who tore his rotator cuff throwing fly balls to me
in our back yard, both Dave and his father Jolly helped me learn how to
play baseball. They both showed me little nuances to playing the
outfield or third base and helped me become a better ballplayer.
In fact, when Jolly continued to coach us in Little League after Dave
went on to Babe Ruth, Dave would still show up at practices and games
and teach us little guys a few things, including some things our mothers
preferred he'd keep to himself. But he was the funny older kid we all
admired, so it just made our mothers' jobs that much harder.
Dave could be quite the clown at times. He once broke-up a perfect
game--by his own teammate. After we grew an embarrassing lead, Dave
decided to back up to the wall in centerfield saying a “heavy-hitter”
was up. Just then, the batter hit a blooper that could have easily been
caught had Dave been where he should have been.
The pitcher—Todd Fryberger--was furious. On the contrary, Dave, thought
this was hilarious. Thus, so did the rest of us, who had also followed
Dave's lead by wearing backwards caps, un-tucking our shirts and batting
left-handed during the blowout.
However, Dave played his best when it mattered most. In 1990, he was the
only Silver Creek 12 year-old pitcher who could shut-down an
unstoppable Dunkirk All-Star team for three perfect innings. Due to the
rules, however, he could only throw three innings that game.
Lucky Dunkirk.
In 1993, Silver Creek's Babe Ruth All-Stars took on an East Lake Prep
Team—a collection of Chautauqua County all-stars. Still, Dave and his
Catfish Hunter-like motion shut them down in order and kept Silver Creek
in the game, until a sharp comebacker hit him in the shin, thus taking
him off the mound.
Lucky East Lake.
Dave also went on to have a solid varsity career with the Black Knights
while he built great friendships. He was incredibly loyal to his
buddies, once throwing a would-be bully against the wall at a high
school dance, showing everyone in the elementary gym that night that his
friends—even us younger ones--were untouchable.
Dave’s toughness and sense of loyalty made a perfect candidate for the
Marines when he joined them after graduating from Silver Creek in 1996.
After Dave’s funeral, my friends and I went to the Howards' house.
Dave's mother, Martha, had some of Dave's clothes out on the coat rack,
as well as his baseball caps, and an old, white, Silver Creek 16-18 Babe
Ruth League baseball jersey, decorated with black pinstripes and gold
letters and numbers, also outlined in black.
Mrs. Howard, who was our team mother when we played together for Foliage
House, asked us if we wanted to take anything that reminded us of Dave.
I declined.
It's been ten years my dad showed me the caption below that tragic
picture. And in that decade, Dave's pinstripe Silver Creek baseball
uniform is the one jersey I most wish I could actually buy.
Thanks for everything, Dave. While the rest of the world remembers two
icons, those of us who grew up with you will never forget the impression
you left on us little guys, either.
