David Parker II honors father’s legacy in Hall of Fame induction speech

Contributed   

COOPERSTOWN, N.Y. — Dave Parker’s likeness was all over the place for Hall of Fame induction weekend, from shop windows and lampposts on Main Street to the Clark Sports Center, site of the ceremony just outside the village, reported Dan Cichalski@NJ_baseball.

But nowhere is it more prominent than in his son David Parker II, the spitting image of the Cobra in his prime, ready to emerge from his coiled batting stance and strike at a fastball over the plate, Cichalski wrote.

“Have you seen his son?” Bert Blyleven asked on Saturday before teeing off at the Leatherstocking Golf Course. “It’s a mini Dave Parker, and it’ll be like Dave is there.”

The younger Parker stood in for his father, who died from Parkinson’s disease on June 28, on the induction stage on Sunday, delivering a speech that his father had begun preparing even before his election last December.

“[The speech] was something that was in the making,” David II said at the HOF Induction. “For a couple years, he knew it was coming. He just didn’t know when it was coming. So [there’s] going to be a lot of … his points in there. You’ll hear a lot of my dad’s own words in the speech.”

The speech by David Parker II follows:

I would like to begin by thanking the staff at the National Baseball Hall of Fame for bringing us together to celebrating not just five legendary players but the game itself.  I would also like to honor God and his eternal guidance, without which none of this would be possible.

My earliest memories are running up and down the baselines at Riverfront Stadium in Cincinnati.  What remains fresh in my mind as a young boy. A lot of players called him “Pops,” which of course is what I would call him – Eric Davis, Barry Larkin, players that he played with in Cincinnati. 

Pops said, “I know what my stats look like at every stop, and what the experts say, and what ancient YouTube videos show me in all their faded living color.”    Well, I just want you to know, to all the Pittsburghers and all our Queen City brothers and sisters, Pops’ journey up and down California to his one year in Milwaukee, every franchise cap that Dave Parker ever wore kept him warm and touched his soul. 

“Even Toronto?” I asked.  

“I’m known as Blue Jays Legend Dave Parker,” Pops joked, “For that minute my old teammate Cito Gaston called me on the phone, asking me to come on up to Canada and help him win this thing, leading to my sixth and final sip of that crisp, division-winning champagne.”

“Even Anaheim?” I asked.  

“Especially Anaheim. I got to spend months with my All-Star pal, Winny. We finally experienced moments as teammates that we used to joke about during all those midsummer classics.” Winny, Pops remembered every steak dinner on the road in 1991, where y’all shared your post-career dreams and plans. You affected Pops’ life more than you’ll ever know.  Thank you. 

“Even Milwaukee?” I asked my Pops.  He said, “I got to play with Robin Yount and Paul Molitor, son. Every night was an All-Star Game. I knew they’d be future Hall of Famers straight from the jump. I also found a dazzling rookie named Gary Sheffield, showing the league that he could be one of the best in the business.” Brother Sheff, Pops said that you were a brilliant athlete who became a brilliant and successful man. He was so darn proud of you. 

I didn’t have to ask about Oakland. Pops took this one himself. “Two American League titles, one sparkling World Series ring. All those breakfasts with Dennis, those nights out on the town with Dave Stewart and Rickey Henderson, my shopping buddy.” Pops often recalled the first conversation with A’s manager Tony LaRussa when he was traded to Oakland. ‘I don’t care about your numbers,” Tony said. “I just want you here for your leadership. Teach these kids how to win.”  The man gave Pops a purpose beyond personal goals.  And he never forgot that. 

Cincinnati, those astonishing rays of life bursting through the twilight of a career. Bob Howsam giving Pops a second chance in his hometown. From 1984 to 1987, Dave Parker spent hours upon hours teaching the inside baseball life to a young Eric Davis. Brother E., you sure showed the league what baseball awesome looks like, one of the greatest players of the 1980’s.   Pops loved telling the story of visiting the Silverton home of a college shortstop named Barry Larkin, convincing him to play baseball in our fine Queen City. Hall of Famer Mr. Larkin needs no introduction, but Pops always said that Brother Barry is as fine a human being as he was a shortstop. I know how much Dave Parker savored his role as the spiritual father to these young men.  

Cincinnati is our home, I grew up there, Pops grew up there, went to school there, worked at Crosley Field for years slinging lemonade and hot dogs. Hitting countless balls into Mill Creek. Dave Parker’s affection for the franchise spans decades, from Bob Howsam to Bob Castellini, Rick Walls at the Reds Hall of Fame, everyone who works at Great American Ball Park, the fans – oh the fans, you should’ve seen the smile on his face whenever people approached us when entering a Graeter’s ice cream parlor, or The Montgomery Inn.    “You got a lot of fans, Pops,” I would say to him often growing up.  My father would just shake his head pleasantly.  

“They ain’t fans, son. They’re friends. Forever friends.” No doubt that most of the arteries inside Dave Parker’s body always bled Cincinnati Red, a bottomless well of affection for our hometown people. 

Today, Dave Parker is entering the Hall of Fame as a Pittsburgh Pirates. That’s right, The ‘Burgh, The Bucs. We would drive into town for weekend events at the stadium, autograph things, meet and greets, we’d shoot through the Fort Pitt Tunnel, get hit with that blast of daylight overlooking those majestic rivers. We’d often see billboards and installations celebrating Pittsburgh’s cultural history. Pops loved to say, “Man, you see legends, I see old friends. You pass a restaurant, I knew Dick Primanti.  You pass a jazz mural, I knew Walt Harper. You pass the WQED building, I knew Fred Rogers.” Pops knew a lot of people.  

“Roberto Clemente taught me how to love like a Major League baseball player.”  

These four men, nurtured in the Pirates organization, instilled the very highest concern for others. Dock Ellis, Willie Stargell, Al Oliver, some of the people that I’m talking about. Dr. Doe, Pops never worried about you, because you were always the smartest one in the room. You always knew the score on or off the field. Baseball brought you both together, but life and love kept you tight all these years. 

The Pirates general manager Joe L. Brown chose Dave Parker, an injured high school football player, in the June 1970 draft and encouraged him throughout his years in the farm system. His managers Danny Murtaugh and Chuck Tanner provided the room to blossom and achieve great things. I know my Pops is so touched at how those Steel City fans have welcomed him back and each and every one of you meant the world to him. Yes, Dave Parker is a Bucco, Dave Parker achieved legendary things as a Bucco and he holds the organization close to his heart, from Bob Nutting, the late, great Charlie Muse and everyone today at PNC Park. Through all the individual and team accomplishments that he enjoyed during his 11 seasons with the Pirates, it’s the moments surrounded by his teammates and mentors that meant the most to my Dad.  

Pops wanted to say that this honor would never have happened if it weren’t for the efforts of so many folks in his personal life. He wanted to thank Coach Harry and Mrs. Helen Kugel, his high school educators who kept his eyes on the prize during his darkest teenage years of serious injury and family loss. 

We want to thank Sam Reich, the late Tom Reich and Barry Meister, his agents and close advisors, for handling all the details off-the-field during his career.  He loved you, gentlemen. 

We want to acknowledge Joe Leo and Mark Goodheart, who have dedicated so much personal passion to have Dave Parker join his contemporaries in the plaque gallery. Take a bow, fellas. Thanks for having Pop’s back all these years, I really appreciate you. I treat you men like family.

We also want to thank Doug King and Theresa King, for keeping the flame alive at the Dave Parker 39 foundation. Our annual Golf outing wouldn’t be as successful without Theresa managing every detail and Doug, you’ve been such a wonderful confident person to Pops and such a critical part of pushing us all forward in finding a cure for Parkinson’s Disease.  We ain’t there yet, but we gonna get there one day. 

We’d also like to thank Charley Frank from the Cincinnati Reds Community Fund, and all his work in supporting Major League Baseball’s RBI program and the Reds Urban Academy, as we brought together thousands of young kids through hundreds of clinics and events to allow the next generation to enjoy, love and appreciate Baseball. 

Dave Parker always wanted to write a book, waited decades for a writer to tell his story the right way, and along came Dave Jordan (DJ, as I would call him), who always came to town on a moment’s notice, away from his family, to help Pops set the record straight, to tell the tale in poetic and wild fashion. Pops said you got to finish up the second book, so D.J., you’re on speed dial, brother.   

To Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lonnie, you and Pops have been through thick and thin together, every up and every down, always at his side. no matter what. Pops loved you both and I love you the same. 

Pops wanted to say, “To my six darling children, 13 grandchildren, and four beautiful great-grandchildren, you are all the true achievements of my life, and the warmth, love and affection that each of you bring when we’re together kept me going through my daily struggles. I love you all so much.” 

For my mom, Pops said, “My dearest Kellye, my wife, my happily ever after, the one who, when the leaves turned brown, did everything in her power to keep me around. I love you so much, baby.  Thank you for all the good things in my life.”  

Pops played three sports in high school. Basketball kept him busy in the winter, football was his job, but Baseball was his love. More than other sports,    Baseball’s a cultural tradition passed down over generations, from mamas to sons, daddies to daughters. Standing on the baseball ballfields from Shea Stadium to Chavez Ravine, the small hot dogs, fresh cut grass and spilled beer always reminded Pops of his youthful America. It wasn’t a perfect America, but it was his, and it always made him feel like that 17-year-old high school catcher, watching from the stands, learning how to frame pitches like Johnny Bench. 

My father, Dave Parker, “The Cobra,” passed away last month at the age of 74. Working on the speech during his final weeks, Pops wanted to leave everyone with this poem that he wrote, that he gave to me a long time ago, and he said, if he ever made it here to read it:

Here I am. 39.  About damn time. 
I know I had to wait a little, but that’s what you do with fine, aged wine. 
I’m a pirate for life. 
Wouldn’t have it no other way. 
That was my family. 
Even though I didn’t go on parade day, I love y’all 
The Bucs own my heart 
Because those two championships I got 

Y’all played in the first part. 
I’m in The Hall now. 
You can’t take that away. 
That statue better look good 
You know I got a pretty face. 
Top-tier athlete
Fashion icon 
Sex Symbol
No reason to list the rest of my credentials

I’m him, period. 
The Cobra
Known for my rocket arm
And I will run any catcher over. 
To my friends, family, I love y’all
Thanks for staying by my side. 
I told y’all Cooperstown would be my last ride. 
So the star of Dave will be in the sky tonight 
Watch it glow
But I didn’t die 
On my documentary 
I told you I wouldn’t show.