The Dick Doyle Story: As written by Dick Doyle

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In the tiny town of Watertown, Tennessee, 50 years ago today, a star was born. Some call it a lapse in judgment while others say the result of too much liquor. I know it to be fate. I was my momma’s sixth and my daddy’s thirteenth but in both cases, I’m the favorite.

Daddy was a working man so he didn’t have time to stick around. I was introduced to baseball as the reason he didn’t. I knew there must be something special about a game to choose it over me, so I set out to find out what it was. Momma hates the sport and blames dad for why. I just don’t think she understands it.

Dad didn’t have much money so he’d send sporadic care packages in lieu of child support. That’s how I got my first ball and glove. Organized sports weren’t too common in Watertown so I spent much of my time throwing a ball against the house. I made the High School team but didn’t get much playing time because the coaches son played shortstop and I refused to be demoted to second base. I’m still tied for the state record with a 1.000% on-base percentage, not because I got a hit, but because I was hit-by-pitch and knocked out cold by the only one I ever saw. Despite my incredible achievement, I received no scholarship offers to continue playing ball, so I hit the workforce.

I started selling beers for the Nashville Sounds at Greer Stadium when my dad tracked me down, ordered a six pack, and tried to deny my existence. He’s such a jokester. Re-united and it feels ok.

We spent the rest of the game splitting the rest of the beers on my cart and swapping manly stories. As we talked, he mentioned he had to be in Cleveland the next day. I got fired so with no other ties in Nashville, I tagged along. He let me drive his car so that he could get some shuteye and the next day I found out what my dad did for a living. He was the official Announcer for the Cleveland Indians. The Big Show, The American Dream.

We shared the booth together for years. He’d often let me take over around the fourth or fifth inning when his words became too slurred to be understood. We were the “Dream Team.” We were unstoppable. That was until we were stopped by the bullshit Balco Investigation of 2002. We were devastated but dad carried on without me. Deemed unhireable, I caught the next Mega-bus and returned to Nashville.

Down but not out, I was having a brew at Buffalo Billiards and struck up a conversation with a gentleman wearing two medals. He told me how he had just won both the Single and Double Foosball Tournament at the SoBros Big Hang and introduced me to Editor In Chief, Stoney Keeley. Last week after the Titans crushing defeat, I got a drunk text from Big Natural saying I was hired. The rest shall be history. Let’s do this, SoBros!

Dick Doyle is the Lead MLB Analyst for The SoBros Network. A former player and coach, Doyle is a firm believer in that you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Follow on Twitter: @SoBro_DickyD

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