I was hitting .360 when I was diagnosed. I didn't forget how to play while I was recovering. I don't know if the cancer is gone for good. I don't think anyone ever knows, but no one is going to steal my joy for as along as I'm able to play baseball.
I'd never heard of colon cancer. Baseball wasn't even important to me. I have a wife and two girls. That's what was important. The doctors told me and all I could say was, 'When are we going to get this thing out?'
I love the game, it's the greatest game on earth, that's why I can't understand all of this talk about trying to make the game better. People talk about the high strike zone and changing this and that. Why? To speed up the game? That's the beauty of baseball. There is no time element.
I could've played basketball, but my mind was on baseball. I didn't know what I was in for. In high school it was a matter of talent. No one told you what to do.
Baseball is not what I love. It's my job.
I'm no different than others with cancer. I just happen to play professional baseball. I'm part of those statistics that cancer has touched as well.
I was able to get operated on four days after I was diagnosed. It was just a matter of getting this baseball-sized tumor out of me. I reflect now on how lucky I was to be in the situation where I could get the best possible help and treatment.
