Deaf Awareness Month has a deep, personal meaning to me. Observed each September, it is a celebration of being understood and included.
My baseball journey is unlike anybody else’s, and after so many years of people telling me I should write a book, I did: I Felt the Cheers, The Remarkable Silent Life of Curtis Pride was published last year.
When I first started succeeding in sports many people would ask me about the specifics of my lack of hearing. Simply put, I have been deaf from the moment I was born.
Moreover, since only a miniscule amount of the sound waves entering my ears are ever converted into any sort of actual sound, in medical terminology, I am also considered to be “profoundly deaf.”
The chances for me to play Major League Baseball were slim.
Since I am deaf, I also fall within the definition of having a “hearing disability,” and I specifically identify myself as having a “hearing disability.” But, I do not think of myself as being “handicapped,” “disabled,” or “hearing impaired.” All of those are no longer considered appropriate terminology in our society, and I agree. I have always felt I am “able” to do everything that others can do, except hear. I was pleased when in 2019 Major League Baseball ended its over 100-year use of the term “Disabled List,” and instead replaced it with “Injured List” for players who miss games due to a physical injury.
Before I was even one year old my parents made the decision to have me try to proceed down the educational path known as oral communication, which is the combination of teaching deaf individuals to read lips and use their voice to speak. Through literally thousands of hours of practice and working with speech therapists, I gradually improved my lip reading and speech to where it became, for me, a comfortable part of my life.
However, by focusing on the oral approach during my childhood and early adult life, I didn’t learn much about American Sign Language (ASL), until after my retirement from playing Major League Baseball when I accepted the job as head baseball coach at Gallaudet University. At that time, I took courses in ASL and, while I am not totally fluent in ASL, I can now have a conversation in ASL in addition to reading lips and speaking orally.
I raise this point because I am familiar with the strong beliefs and opinions that many have regarding oral communication versus ASL. I chose the oral path, but in no way do I have any negative feelings about ASL. For anyone with any degree of hearing loss, I support all methods of communication. It’s an individual and personal decision, and a person - and those helping them with that decision - should make whatever choice they think is best.
It was also an honor, of course, to play the game I love for so long.
The minor league stops were both challenging and rewarding. Playing in the big leagues for 11 years was amazing: The Angels, Yankees, Red Sox, Expos, Tigers, and Braves each gave me an incredible platform to play baseball at the highest level.
I never thought I would play for 26 pro teams. When I was drafted by the Mets, I thought I would play my entire career in New York. But I never played one game for them despite two different stints with the organization. I never played for the Dodgers though I signed with them as a free agent in 2000.
Eventually, I played with New York – with Derek Jeter, no less – but in Yankee Pinstripes. You think you are going to be like Cal Ripken Jr. or Tony Gwynn or Derek, but nowadays playing for one team is extremely rare. Even most of the really great players play for multiple teams. Mike Trout is a current exception.
There is no bad place to play baseball. I enjoyed every minute of my playing career, loved meeting a lot of people and seeing so much of the country. There were a lot of great people rooting for me, a lot of great memories. Mike Scioscia, my manager with the Angels, stands out. You never know where baseball will take you, what the game will teach you, or whom you will meet.
The word “journeyman” has a negative connotation in sports, but playing for many different teams never caused me to feel any shame. If anything, I took pride in joining a new club, quickly fitting in, and helping that team win. My two decades of traveling were not planned, but I wouldn’t trade them. I was living my dream, and wherever I played, I met friendly, supportive people who played a role in fulfilling that dream.
I hope you take some time to recognize Deaf Awareness Month. I hope you celebrate the contributions, culture, language, and achievements of the Deaf and hard-of-hearing community.
Baseball was more than a job to me. It was a joy. It is also a joy for me to promote understanding, inclusion, accessibility, and respect for everyone. It is one of the biggest reasons I wrote my book.
The story features excerpts from the book. Highlighted by a foreword written by Hall of Fame legend Cal Ripken Jr. and co-written by Doug Ward, it is published by Kensington and is available where books are purchased including Amazon.com. Imagery courtesy: I Felt the Cheers, The Remarkable Silent Life of Curtis Pride (Kensington).