For Love of the Game - The Bill Hofstra Story

[Doc32]

"The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball." -Terence Mann, Field of Dreams




William "Bill" Hofstra, born October 11th, 1961 in Morristown, New Jersey to Richard and Caroline Hofstra, younger brother to Bethany.

"I love baseball but I was never really good. Sure I played with the Albany Senators for a couple of seasons but that was it. But my boy, named after Yankee great Bill Dickey... He will be special."

The words echoed in the delivery room as Richard held his newborn son. Surrounded by family, Richard made it be known that his boy would be a baseball player.

Richard owned a small sporting goods store in the small New Jersey town, he also spent his free time coaching little league. By the time William was two, he was wearing a ball glove and dawning a Yankees ball cap. The glove went with him wherever he went.

It wasn't until 1966 that William got his first glimpse of professional baseball. May 27th to be exact. The New York Yankees were at home to the Chicago White Sox. The Yankees were coming off a big 11-6 win against the California Angels. Mickey Mantle took the reigns against the Angels and was a perfect 3 for 3 at the plate with 5 RBI's. The Yankees didn't dissapoint for William's first game as they defeated the White Sox 4-1. A great pitching performace by Mel Stottlemyre paved the way to victory.

As the Yankees celebrated on the field, William looked up at his father with those young brown eyes and said..

"Daddy, I want to be a Yankee when I grow up."

A coy smirk came across Richard's face. Remembering what he said the day his son was born, his wish may come true.

Over the next few years, William lived a routine. School, homework, baseball. Shagging grounders, playing catch and swinging the bat.

The bat...hmm, that was a bit of a sour spot.

[Doc32]

You're too short!

My sister hits better than you!

Go build a sandcastle because you suck at baseball!


Kids can be cruel can't they? Growing up that is all he ever heard.

Some of it was true though, William wasn't a very good hitter. He was also very small in stature - 5'7" and 143lbs in his late teens. However, his glove was above average and his speed, well let's just say he could outrun the bullies with ease.

While his father gave up on his baseball career, Richard wasn't about to see William follow that path. Focusing on his strengths, his speed and glove, together they worked tirelessly. Brooks Robinson wasn't the best hitter but he made a living with his glove - maybe there was hope?

Well someone saw something. A scout from the University of Auburn was in the area to scout a kid by the name of Gregory Stills. Tall, athletic and a beautiful swing. Stills played on the same team as Hofstra. Stills was a CF while Hofstra manned SS. The scout had his eyes drawn to Hoftra's glove and his featherweight type feet which made him quick in the field and on the base paths.

A couple weeks later a call arrived at their house, it was the university. They wanted William to come play ball for them!

"He's a runt but he runs like the wind. His glove looks like it's already at a AAA level. His bat is well below average but you don't often see kids with the defensive tools he has." - Roland Kaiser, University of Auburn Scout on William Hofstra.

The road was paved, William was on the road to becoming a ball player.

[Doc32]

"It's not easy moving to a new city, let alone a new state. I am pretty sure there are more people here then there are back home. Alabama sure is different than Jersey. The only other state I've seen is New York... so much for life experiences."


Those words went through the mind of William as he stepped foot on the university campus. Enrolled in mathematics & statistics, he was a brilliant mind with numbers but his focus wasn't on school, it was baseball.

The first practice was your ordinary fundamentals. Some of these kids looked like Major League ball players already - their size, their swing, it was all there.

Then there was William.

The shortest player on the team, easily the lightest too. The only reason he was really noticed was because of how tiny he looked among his peers. Shorty they called him, William "Shorty" Hofstra. He didn't mind, he felt accepted and his peers seemed to like him.

During the first week of practice and training, it was common to see the cheerleaders in the adjacent field. tryouts, routine practice and of course, trading giggles and stares with the baseball boys. While practices wrapped up, it was quite common for the ball team and the cheerleaders to congregate. Flirting, joking and teasing were common place but it was something William never took part in. Instead his eyes were drawn elsewhere.

A young woman, long black hair to the middle of her back, dark green eyes always buried in a notepad, always sitting in the stands during the teams practice. Who was she?

"Watchcha' writing there?" William asked.

"Huh? what?" The woman replied, finally taking her eyes off her notes.

"I see ya here everyday just writing away, whatcha' writing?"

"Oh uh... well... just notes and numbers about the team. I am in the mathematics and statistics course." She nervously replied.

"Ah, well so am I." William puts out his hand. "William Hofstra, you can call me Shorty."

"Cecilia DeMateo.. a pleasure to meet you.. uhh Shorty."


It wasn't long before Cecilia and William took their relationship to the next stage. Little did he know, not only was she his first girlfriend, but she would be the main reason his life took the direction it did.

The season was well underway, manager Phil Nix had the boys playing well. Hofstra was playing well defensively but his bat was still cold. He stepped up to the plate, looking to improve on his .226 batting average. Already 0-1 with a strikeout, his next at bat looked promising, a 3-1 count, a fastball count - this was his chance. Catcher calls for a fastball... and the pitch...

[Doc32]

Black. Everything is black. This high pitched ringing, ugh it won't go away. What the hell is going on?


"Mr. & Mrs. Hofstra, the damage could have been alot worse. Judging by the scans and early diagnosis William may have permanent short term memory loss and he has lost some vision in his right eye. Your son likely won't play baseball again."


Richard's heart sunk. Not just because his son had been hurt by a pitch that got away which struck him in the head, but because his dream of seeing his son in the big leagues was over.

Without baseball, William didn't know who he was anymore. His thoughts, racing and scrambled didn't help matters. There was only one thought which was as clear as the day he first stepped on the field for Auburn... quit school. While he was close to going through with it, Cecilia was the voice of reason. Many nights she spent talking to him, telling him, pleading almost to continue his studies. She brought up the idea of trying a different major, one that still appealed to his love of baseball.

"There is a course called Sports Management. If you can't play, maybe you can manage?" Cecilia exclaimed.

Manage... manage baseball? I never thought of that, I always wanted to be a player.

A new path, a new challenge but a life in baseball was still possible.

During his remaining college years William volunteered as a statistician for the team. Many late nights spent at his typewriter given to him by his sister Bethany just before he went off to University. Statistical analysis, scouting reports, you name it he was recording it.

William graduated with a masters in Sports Management and back in his home of Morristown, during a celebration of his accomplishment he dropped down to one knee in front of all his family and friends. He proposed to his first and only love Cecilia and without hesitation she said yes.

He didn't have a ring but a promise was made that when he got his first job in Major League Baseball, he would get her the most beautiful ring with his first pay check.

But when would that be? ...If ever...

[nymetsfan5]

Originally Posted by Doc32

Black. Everything is black. This high pitched ringing, ugh it won't go away. What the hell is going on?


"Mr. & Mrs. Hofstra, the damage could have been alot worse. Judging by the scans and early diagnosis William may have permanent short term memory loss and he has lost some vision in his right eye. Your son likely won't play baseball again."


Richard's heart sunk. Not just because his son had been hurt by a pitch that got away which struck him in the head, but because his dream of seeing his son in the big leagues was over.

Without baseball, William didn't know who he was anymore. His thoughts, racing and scrambled didn't help matters. There was only one thought which was as clear as the day he first stepped on the field for Auburn... quit school. While he was close to going through with it, Cecilia was the voice of reason. Many nights she spent talking to him, telling him, pleading almost to continue his studies. She brought up the idea of trying a different major, one that still appealed to his love of baseball.

"There is a course called Sports Management. If you can't play, maybe you can manage?" Cecilia exclaimed.

Manage... manage baseball? I never thought of that, I always wanted to be a player.

A new path, a new challenge but a life in baseball was still possible.

During his remaining college years William volunteered as a statistician for the team. Many late nights spent at his typewriter given to him by his sister Bethany just before he went off to University. Statistical analysis, scouting reports, you name it he was recording it.

William graduated with a masters in Sports Management and back in his home of Morristown, during a celebration of his accomplishment he dropped down to one knee in front of all his family and friends. He proposed to his first and only love Cecilia and without hesitation she said yes.

He didn't have a ring but a promise was made that when he got his first job in Major League Baseball, he would get her the most beautiful ring with his first pay check.

But when would that be? ...If ever...

This is a great thread can't wait to see what happens

[Doc32]

"Welcome to the Watertown Indians, Mr. Hofstra."


A first base coach? Well that's not really what I had in mind but it's a baseball job!

What am I supposed to do? I don't really know what a first base coach does.

The first evening after being hired, Hofstra sat at his desk. The sound of keys being pounded, that well known click of a letter being put on the page from a typewriter. It was loud and in a small one bedroom apartment it would echo through the rooms.

It was about 1:30AM, Cecilia rubbing her eyes and wearing only a Yankees t-shirt about 3 sizes too big for her walked into the living room and looked at her husband, furiously pounding those keys as if he were writing a term paper due tomorrow.

"Why are you up so late? What is so important that you need to be typing away like that?"

Finishing his last sentence, William looked up and took off his glasses.

"I don't know what a first base coach does. I was looking over old boxscores from last season and putting together some player reports. I think it's better to come into work with something over nothing."

Cecilia came over and sat on her husband's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck; she gave him a kiss.

"Sweetheart, it's Sunday. It's December, you don't go into work tomorrow."

Geeze... my short term memory really can be bad sometimes..

It was near the end of July before Hofstra knew it. While still not comfortable in his role, the one thing which made him content was the pencil and black notepad he always kept with him.

Notes... notes... notes and guess what? More notes.

Hofstra had what some would see as a fetish with those notepads. Constantly jotting down player names so he could remember them but also things about the game he would take interest in. Little things like how a batter would twitch when nervous in the batters box, how a pitcher would drop his arm slot when facing certain batters. He acted more like a scout then a base coach.

This caught the eye of a couple people in the stands. A couple of scouts and a man by the name of Frank Cashen, General Manager of the New York Mets. The Mets were looking to bolster pitching in their system and were there to catch a glimpse of a couple young pitchers - Doug Piatt and Brett Merriman.

After the game Cashen spoke to Indians manager Brian Graham about Hofstra. That evening a knock came at Hofstra's door.

"Is this the Hofstra residence?"

"Yes sir, and you are?"

"Frank Cashen, I am the General Manager of the New York Mets. May I come in? We need to talk."

What the hell does the GM of a Major League club want to talk about with a lowly first base coach? Hmm... maybe he heard about my wife's famous homemade lemonade. I know the guys on the team love it.

[Doc32]

"Skip the facts, just give me the details! -Dutch Schnell, Bang the Drum Slowly

Cold, it's so damn cold. I hate the cold.

January, it's a new year but the winter's in New York are so damn cold. Yea, this is coming from a boy from Jersey.

It's a little after midnight, the glow from the little TV is the only light in the Hofstra living room. Cecilia has long gone to bed, she works in the morning. Why am I still up? Well, I need my baseball fix so I popped in Bang the Drum Slowly on our new VCR... which I actually bought second hand at a garage sale.

Heavy eyelids start to plague William before he is shook awake by the ringing of the telephone.

"Hello, Hofstra residence."

"Billy! Frank Cashen, did I wake you?"

Frank Cashen... Frank Cashen - who is he? I remember the name, kind of. No time to look over my notes... just go with it William!

"Frank, yes how are you?"

"Good Billy, good! Listen, i'll make this short and sweet. I'll be in your neck of the woods tomorrow and i'd like to chat. What do ya say, coffee at Sandro's, say at 9?"

"Ugh, yea yea, sure. 9 is perfect, see you then Mr. Cashen."

Hanging up the phone I still can't remember who this guy is but I know hes important. I better go look over my notes. Maybe he's a player.

It didn't take long to figure out who Frank was, being tired and having some memory issues can sometimes be a pain but thank god for good record keeping!

The two men met at Sandro's as planned. Frank was nice enough to pay for the coffee. He looked at me funny when he asked how I take it and I responded by saying black with 5 sugars. I knew this wasn't going to be a hey how are ya chat, he wanted something. Probably my player reports.

"Listen kid, you aren't coaching material."

Well I could have saved him a trip and told him that over the phone. Taking a small sip from the freshly brewed coffee, a nod of agreement is given.

"I talked to Brian quite a bit over the last few months. He told me about your notes, your eye for the game, how you analyze stats. You got tools.You already know this so I am gonna skip the facts."

He hasn't touched his coffee yet, it's going to get cold. What a waste but at least he paid for it.

"Billy, we haven't won a championship in three years. We were six games back of the Cubs last season and three of our scouts jumped ship and one retired. I know you're young and inexperienced but I also like to gamble from time to time. I'd like you to be a minor league scout for us."

A scout? In the big leagues? But with the Mets... Father would never forgive me. But I could finally get Cecilia that ring!

I must have been silent and lost in my thoughts for too long, Cashen's booming voice snapped me out of it.

"What ya say Billy? Interested?"

"YES! Yes, of course! Thank you Mr. Cashen, thank you!"

"Glad to hear it, here's the address to my office. Ill have the legal department write up your contract. It should be ready by Thursday so we will meet that afternoon."

"Sure thing Mr. Cashen and again, thank you!"

Frank got up from the table, put on his coat and fedora. He tipped his hat to William and before walking away said these words.

"Call me Frank, oh and thanks for the coffee."

You're welcome? You never touched yours and also... you paid for it.

[Doc32]

October 11th, 1993. My 32nd Birthday. It should be a happy day. But we lost 103 games! The damn Marlins were better than us! The fans hate Bonilla and front office staff are coming and going so fast I can't even keep up.

Frank is long gone, ownership had seen enough. We've said goodbye to the likes of Cone and Jefferies and said hello to guys like Bonilla... wow do the fans hate him. Honestly, I'm not his biggest fan either... but I am just a scout.

Working from home I received a call from the team secretary. She informed me that Fred Wilpon and Nelson Doubleday Jr. wished to see me tomorrow at 8AM.

This can't be good. Why would the owners want to see a lowly scout? Was I going to be out of a job? I got Cecilia the ring, but we now have a baby on the way. It's only 2 in the afternoon, it's my birthday and I need a drink.

Sitting on the patio of our new two bedroom apartment, it's nice. It doesn't smell like old water, a beautiful view and more space. The patio is nice, enough room for a couple of chairs and a table. The glass of scotch is near the bottom, the pack of cigarette's is half empty with the ash tray almost full.

Alot of the scouts smoke. Cecilia was a smoker until she found out about the pregnancy, I picked up the habit late but to be honest, something soothing about a nice Marlboro Red after a day at the park.

Unusually quiet, Cecilia sensed something was wrong. She joined her husband on the patio, even if the autumn air was a little crisp. Looking down she notices his half smoked cigarette resting in the ash tray.

"Everything okay love? You've been quiet all afternoon."

Pausing, hesitating... what do you say to your pregnant wife?

"The owners want to see me tomorrow morning at their office. It can't be good news, especially after we lost 103 games."

A brief pause overcame Cecilia, a very brief comatose state. There was worry but the one thing about her was she was always the optimist. She reached down and grabbed the lit cigarette and took a drag.

"Honey you shouldn't be smoking, it could harm the baby."

"Oh relax, i'll just finish this one and never touch them again. I promise. But the news, while scary, you just don't know what may come of it.Stay positive. It's not your fault the team lost 103 games."

She was right, like she often is. I don't know what may come of this but I will go in with my head held high. I work hard, that must account for something.

[ayaghmour2]

This is an awesome read! I'm super intrigued and definitely going to follow! Keep up the good work!

[Doc32]

Four hours. I wish that was the amount of sleep I got. Four hours until I meet with team ownership. Maybe I'll get six sugars in my coffee this morning. Maybe I should wear my best suit, make a good impression. I'd call dad but he's still asleep.

It's 7:30 now, sitting on a chair in front of the bosses office. It's kind of comfy but there is a tear in it. My large black with 6 sugars from Sandro's is still hot. The place is kind of a dump but to me it's the best coffee in New York.

The secretary picks up the ringing phone, I don't remember her name but that curly red hair sure stands out. She looks over at me with the phone still on her ear.

"Yes... sure.... yes Mr. Wilpon."

She keeps eye contact with me as she hangs up the phone.

"Ownership is ready for you now Mr. Hofstra."

Ready for me? They said the meeting was at 8... it's not even 7:45... now I am worried.

A light knock is given at the door. Pulling down on the shiny brass handle I slowly push the door inwards. I creep in as slow as I opened the door. Straight ahead, a beautiful mahogany desk, behind it I see the back of a leather chair. This office furniture probably costs more than my monthly rent. Sitting on one of the chairs in front of the desk is Nathan Doubleday Jr. He pivots his body to look at me, the chair swings around with Frank Wilpon now facing me.

"Bill, come in, please sit."

Mr. Wilpon sure is a down to business type of guy. No pleasantries. I wonder if there are any teams out there in need of a scout..

Taking my seat beside Doubleday, rubbing my palms along pants. To say I am nervous is an understatement.I reached out my hand afterwards to shake Franks, he had no interest in returning the gesture.

"Bill Hofstra, you've been a scout with the team for a few years. Helped bring in some good kids."

"Thank you Mr. Wilpon. Even with a bad eye, I like to think I got one good eye for talent."

I let out a subtle laugh, I tried to be funny. They didn't laugh. Why am I digging my own grave deeper?

"...Yes. Well we aren't here to discuss your talents as a scout. There is a more pressing matter and I am going to get right to the point."

My heart is sinking. I am going to be fired. I am out of a job. What am I going to tell my wife? With all the thoughts going through my head I can do nothing but twirl my wedding band on my finger.

"We no longer want you as a scout.."

Here lies Bill Hofstra. His career dead in the water. At least my father may be okay with it now that I am no longer part of the hated Mets.

"The team is going to be going through quite a few changes. That's to be expected when you lose 103 games and place behind an expansion franchise."

I sat there thinking the fifteen seconds it took him to say that felt like fifteen minutes. I looked to my right and noticed Mr. Doubleday ruffling through some papers in a folder. Walking papers probably.

"We want you to be our next General Manager. You're young, you have a way with spotting talent and your unorthodox approach may be what's needed to kick start this franchise back to it's winning ways."

I couldn't move. I couldn't think, did he really just say General Manager? Me? There are players on the team older than me. Nathan Doubleday hands me five pages from the folder he was looking through.

"This is the contract, you need to sign each page if you accept the job. I'll get the paperwork filed afterwards."

I took the pages from him. I didn't hesitate. I pulled a pen from my shirt pocket and signed those pages like I was signing for a million dollar check to be put into my account. Nathan took the pages when I was done with them and methodically left the room. My attention was back on Frank.

"I wish all the luck to you Mr. Hofstra but before we part ways for the day we need to discuss your first order of business as GM."

"Sure thing Mr. Wilpon, whatever you need."

"When the off season is underway, I need you to trade Bonilla. I don't care what you do but I want his contract off the books. Judging by fan reaction, people will probably actually buy a ticket knowing he's not in the lineup."

"I will do my best sir, and thank you again for this opportunity."

"Good luck Mr. Hofstra. I would say that concludes business for now. Nathan and I have some financials to go over in regards to the operating budget. We will be in touch.

I got up and reached my hand out. This time he shook my hand. Thinking back on it, I should have probably wiped it on my pants first... it was probably pretty sweaty. I made my way to the exit just as Nathan was walking back into the office. I nodded at him, he nodded back. I took the deepest breath of my life as the door shut behind me. A smile came across my face as I made my way out of the building. Just wait until Cecilia hears the news!

Meanwhile, back in the ownership office..

"Okay Nathan, now let's talk about Mr. Hofstra..."

[Doc32]

The ink hasn't even dried on the contract and there is already business to be done. This is unusual though. A scout in the majors for around five years and his only front office experience came when assisting Frank Cashen with deals involving prospects.

"Hofstra? Frank have you lost your mind? He's a good scout and all but a GM? We may lose another 103 games this year!"

"Nathan, we got into this to make money. Yes, a loser doesn't bring in the fans but calculated moves can save us some dollars while also making us some dollars."

Nathan took a seat by Frank's desk. Resting his left leg up on his right he leaned back in the chair willing to see where Frank was going with this.

"First things first Nathan. Hofstra is cheap. He will make half as much as most seasoned GM's in the league. Sure you can go and try to pry a guy like Gillick from the Jays but how much is that going to cost us?"

"That's a fair point but a few thousand dollars saved isn't what I would call shrewd savings."

Frank gets up from his desk, looking Nathan straight in the eyes while pointing to a cabinet to his right.

"Scotch?"

"It's 11 in the morning... but what the hell."

Frank pours two glasses of scotch, handing one to Nathan before sitting back at his desk.

"I told Hofstra to get rid of the Bonilla contract, that's a few million saved right there. There will be teams wanting a guy with power like him."

Nathan sips his drink, looking deep in thought he stares at the glass in his hand before coming up with a repose.

"Frank, you know I like to make money as much as you. Tell me exactly how trading our biggest power threat is going to help. We save a few million on payroll but people want to see a winning team."

"Think outside the box my friend. You remember how I told you I had some investment opportunities outside of the team? Well it looks like it could go places. With a few extra million in our pockets we can invest that money and double, heck, maybe even triple the return. Once we get some capital under our belts then we can look at investing some into the team."

"Sounds like a dangerous game, but you don't make money playing it safe. I still want to see a good team put on the field."

Frank hands Nathan a folder which has an outline of what they will look to have Hofstra accomplish while he is the GM. Contracts to be moved, personnel hires and fires and other team related matters.

"I want you to be the point of contact for Hofstra when it comes to these team matters. I'll take care of the investment side of things. When things are ready to move forward I will let you know my friend."

Nathan flips through the documents, not appearing too shocked by some of the ideas. It doesn't scream a total team tear down.

"Sounds good Frank, by the way, who is this investment guy you're talking about? Have I heard of him?"

"You may have. Mr. Bernie Madoff."

[Doc32]

Wow! I am a General Manager! Cecilia couldn't believe it, frankly neither could I. Ownership gave me a task, there wasn't much time until spring training. I knew the season would be right around the corner. I remember talking to my dad when I was just getting started in baseball on the scout level. He was old school. A good bat before power is what he always said.Well, I kept that line in the back of my mind as I settled in.

Sitting at my desk, my trusty typewriter in front of me. I still loved the old girl. I was always told to get a computer, it makes things so much easier. I don't know, something about this and all my binders of information brought me bliss. A picture of my beautiful wife also adorned the desk. A phone, some pens, pads of paper... nothing flashy. I kept things simple, but now I knew I had to pick up the phone.

Ring....ring....ring...

"Please pick up...

FINALLY! Sound on the other end... moment of truth.

"Hello? Gillick here."

Nervous, sweating. Pat Gillick, two time World Series Champion Pat Gillick. I need to sound confident.

"H...Hi... Mr. Gillick, Bill Hofstra from the Mets."

"Who? You work for Harazin?"

"Ugh... no, Mr. Gillick. Al was fired, I am the new GM, Bill Hofstra."

"Ah, well welcome to the club. So what are ya calling for?"

"Well first off, congratulations on the World Series win. Back to back, that's tough to do."

"Yea, thanks. We had a good group. Hard to lose a guy like Henderson. Winning is everything, I just hope I can pull the magic again this year ya know?"

"Actually that's what I was calling about. I'm shopping some players around and I was wondering if you were interested?"

Uh oh he paused... he must think I'm a joke. There isn't much from a 103 loss team he is going to want.

"...Well, there is some intriguing names on your roster. Who ya got on the block?"

"I have a power bat that you might like Mr. Gillick, how are you on Bonilla?"

"Bonilla? 34 home runs and you're wanting to give that up? What's the catch?

He is going to laugh at me and just hang up the phone. Before I answered I looked at the picture of Cecilia on my desk. Suddenly it felt like a warm blanket was around me. Just be straight with him Bill, get the talks going!

"I want Alomar."

A pause, silence. Oh boy this can't be good..

"Alomar? For Bonilla? You have to be kidding! Who is going to play second for me? Bonilla can't play there!"

I knew I was asking for the moon. But I had to try. I could sweeten the pot but that's not what ownership laid out for me. But I have to try, right?

"It's a start. Mr. Gillick, how about this. I'll throw in Kent, but you need to give me Sprague and Alamanzar. You're getting a power bat you need and a young player with years of team control left. Alomar will enter free agency and if you want that championship you will want Bonilla's bat. Plus he can cover third or even the outfield for you!"

Wow what a sales pitch. Even I am impressed with myself.

"That's intriguing but not enough. Bonilla's three plus million is alot to eat."

"We will retain twenty five percent."

Gillick was only silent for about ten seconds but you could have fooled me. It felt like ten minutes."

"twenty-five percent huh?"

"Yes sir."

"Welcome to the big leagues Bill, you have a deal. Let's get the paperwork sent to head office."

WOW! My first deal. I did what the owners asked and I got a great player in Alomar! I wonder.... what else could I do to turn this team around..