Daulton’s death leaves city without a dear friend
When death delivers its cruelest news, we are all susceptible to the blowback.
Family members taken when least expected. Friends lost amid times of tragedy. And almost inevitably, the demise of a public hero.
Darren Daulton was really none of these things. He was just a guy, one who experienced glorious success and deserved humiliation; one with character flaws and traits to be admired. And finally, another sad victim of the world’s worst killer.
When his cancer claimed him Sunday at the age of 55, however, there was an immediate outcry of grief on social media, and certainly at every social gathering taking place in the Greater Philadelphia area.
Darren Daulton was still a presence here, an almost undefined force of personality that could be part bad boy, part psychological advisor and at least 10 parts loving older brother to his colleagues and to any fan, old or young, who came to meet him.
Professional athletes are contracted to do just that — mix among the people. Fuel the fan fires with a handshake here, a quick grin there and a selfie or two as a bonus. Daulton was one of them; a player for nearly 15 years who eventually rose above his God-given talents despite debilitating injury.
Yet it was his leadership in the best of times during his Phillies career, his charizma in front of the cameras, and ultimately his pugnacious bravery in the face of a fatal disease that earned him a rightful place in this city’s soul.
He was a person that could connect on a very private level with very different people.
Former Phillies infielder and current
COURTESY THE PHILLIES
base coach Juan Samuel: “He was the best teammate I ever had.”
Yet he was a gangly kid selected out of Arkansas City (Kansas) High School in the 25th round, the 628th player overall in the 1980 MLB June Amateur Draft.
It was from there that his story would take shape, though it would take time. Daulton, already bucking the minor league odds, played in his first game with the Phillies in 1983. But he wouldn’t become the Phillies’ starting catcher until six years later, and had his effectiveness cut short in 1994 while in the third of three consecutive All-Star seasons.
By then, his celebrity had grown within and outside the city; his popularity inside a once-polarized Phillies clubhouse took on a rarified air. And it almost didn’t happen.
Daulton was a mediocre plate presence until manager Jim Fregosi challenged him prior to the 1992 season to not only hang with the boys in the clubhouse, but lead them — there and on the field.
“The culture of the Phillies at that time had to change and Darren led the charge for us, becoming a championship caliber team, and while doing so he not only became a leader and a friend, we became brothers,” John Kruk said via a Phillies team statement. “I will always be grateful for him putting us on his back and carrying us to the World Series. He taught us so much along the way that I will always be indebted to him for that.”
In 1992, Daulton hit .270 with 27 home runs and 109 RBIs, with a .908 OPS. And he had the audacity to tell his last-place teammates how good they could be.
In 1993, they’d be just that, winning the National League East, beating the hated Atlanta Braves in the NLCS before falling in six World Series games to the Toronto Blue Jays. Along the way, Daulton hit .257 with 24 homers and 105 RBIs with an .875 OPS.
He was seemingly en route to a career season in 1994, hitting .300 and having already accumulated 15 homers when in late June, Daulton suffered a broken right shoulder. Less than two months later, the remainder of the ‘94 season would be cancelled by a league strike, and Daulton’s career almost went with it.
He’d play just 98 games in 1995, only five games in 1996.
By 1997, nine career knee surgeries in, Daulton could no longer squat to catch. Yet he remained a Phillie. To people like Bill Giles, there was no greater thing than loyalty.
“Darren,” former club owner Giles said, “was a true leader of men.”
Daulton would have one more moment in the spotlight for his baseball career, via a rejuvenating trade to Florida midway through the 1997 campaign. He’d hit .389 in leading the Marlins to a seven-game World Series title win over Cleveland.
“He was the leader of our team, both on and off the field,” said Jim Eisenreich, a teammate of Daulton’s both with the ‘93 Phils and ‘97 Marlins. “He was like a brother or a best friend, and that continued long after our playing days were over.”
But Daulton could never escape a harsh limelight. He had two failed marriages, multiple arrests for DUI and a domestic assault charge.
He wrote a book called “If They Only Knew” in 2007, revealing his interest in metaphysics, the occult and whatever else. Before you knew it, Daulton was getting interviewed on a radio show with the main topic being whether he was nuts or not.
Yet he retained a presence among Phillies fans. He slowly straightened out his private life, reinvented himself as a baseball analyst on a Phillies radio pregame show. He became one of the most honored of guests at Phillies alumni events. He was the leader of the old guys again.
He settled into a long-term relationship with professional golfer Amanda Dick ... and the two were married.
The ceremony came after the glioblastoma diagnosis.
It was the same cancer of the brain that had killed two other beloved Phillies alums, Tug McGraw and John Vukovich.
It is a disease, however, that could never alter what Darren Daulton meant here.
A movie star look in a baseball uniform. A man with personal demons and foibles. A player who couldn’t be stopped by repeated waves of knee pain. A leader unlike any other in a Philadelphia clubhouse.
Just another guy who made the fans happy.
That was Dutch Daulton. Just ask his city full of friends. To contact Rob Parent, email rparent@21st-centurymedia.com