Saw the headline “Boone Reveals Battle With Alcohol” on MLB.com and my immediate thought was good for him. Good for him for getting it out there in the honest fashion that he has employed his entire baseball career. “The Boone” was plenty human. Please don’t fault him for that.

He admitted to alcohol being a problem even in his best days with the Mariners. He thinks that drinking cut his career short. I don’t want to hear that he was stealing money from the team if he indeed was drinking that much at the time. As I said, he is human. Baseball players have the same problems that the rest of us have. Doesn’t matter what their paycheck says, none are immune to any illness that can befall any of us.

Did I know at the time? No. He spoke of heading straight to the hotel bar after road games. That’s a place I try to avoid. I figure the guys don’t need a reporter present in their down time. I’m not out there looking for bar stories about these guys. I did know however that Bret was having some problems since he retired and that his friends were worried. I was relieved when one recently told me that Bret had gotten it together.

Since Bret had put it out there I decided it was safe to talk to Mac about it this morning. He talked of his feelings for Bret, of his support, and told some good stories that I think kind of illustrate who Bret is. While he has a ton of fans, there are people who don’t quite understand him. You hear the stories of his cockiness and referring to himself as “The Boone.” I think if you were able to spend some time with the guy, maybe more than one meeting, you would get a better understanding and probably an appreciation for him. Mac’s thoughts can be heard here.

As for my thoughts if you are interested, I really liked the guy. Ask anyone who has ever played with him or covered him and some of the first words out of their mouth would be stand up guy. He was always there to face the media and take that pressure off his teammates no matter what the situation was. He would razz us, call us clowns from time to time, sometimes be a flat out pain in the ass, but nothing was ever mean spirited. The guy had heart on the field and a good heart off the field.

I asked Mac just how it was that he could be a guy that you would want to strangle one minute, but after a couple more, you might want to put an arm around. He summed it up nicely saying that Bret “had a little Leave it to Beaver” in him.

I think my mom put it even better when she said that she loved watching him play because she saw some of my little brother in him. Bret even as an adult seemed like the 6 year old that got up at 6 am on game day and immediately put on every piece of his uniform. He has more passion and respect for the game than any other player I have ever encountered. He has to, because with his pedigree, it is a piece of him.

You want stories, I will give you two. The first is probably the story I tell the most of all of my adventures in trying to cover a baseball team. I am not big. 4’11 to be exact. There are certain hazards to being 4’11, and one of them I encountered when Bret joined the team.

Bret is all about baseball and all about fun. He is the most gifted mimic I have ever come across in the game. Teammates, media, staff, no one was immune. The first year with the club I think he viewed me as a toy. My immortal line of “put the reporter down!” was first directed at him. He would from time to time try to pick me up. Probably just because he could. If I immediately dropped to the floor I had a chance. If not, I would end up over his shoulder. Not very dignified, but not something I haven’t had to deal with in any other job.

“Bret! You can’t do that, I’m a reporter!” I would cry while trying to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. He didn’t mean anything bad by it, he was just having fun. He only really got me two or three times and other than that, he would show me great respect and answer my questions both on and off the microphone. He was kind of like the big brother I never wanted.

So he was playful. One day though, it went a little too far. We were in Minnesota where the visiting clubhouse more resembles a high school locker room. The lockers were made of iron, not wood as most are. Bret was at his locker after a game answering questions. After awhile I asked one. When I asked the question he reached up to my shoulder to pull me down to give me a noogie. Unfortunately, I was wearing heals and lost my balance. I fell head first into the partition between the lockers. The clank my head made hitting the metal could be heard throughout the clubhouse. Ben Davis who was sitting at a table across the way looked up and said “ Shannon ’s on the DL!”

I was seeing stars. I fell into Bret’s lap. Very professional. He was in a panic. He started combing through my hair like a parent would a child and found a huge goose egg. “Oh my God, oh my God, are you okay?” he stammered over and over. I told him I thought I was and to give me a minute while I tried to get my bearings. He then whispered into my ear, “I am so embarrassed!” The Boone embarrassed was a very rare sight. He was genuinely concerned. “Bret,” I said, “I am not a toy, you have to be careful.” “I know, I know, I couldn’t help it, I am so sorry.”

I forgave him of course. When I was walking out to catch the bus he came running up to me. He wanted to be sure I was okay and also be sure that I wasn’t mad at him. Was there anything he could do? I told him there was. I told him that when he made the World Series, I would get the first interview. “Deal,” he said. Didn’t happen, but I know he would have.

Any other player I may have been mad at but as I said, as crazy as it sounds, he treated me with respect. I could ask him the dumbest question and he would answer it. If I needed something explained, he was there to explain it to me. He also gave great interviews and was always there. Most importantly, he treated me like he thought I knew what I was doing. Others saw this and this helped give me credibility with guys who did not yet know me. This was huge, the most valuable thing any of these guys could give me. I was more than willing to put up with a little teasing in exchange for what he gave back.

The second story is about the second hardest day I have had in this game. The day Boonie was cut. I heard the news on the radio on the way in. Yes, he had been struggling and yes, it appeared that his struggles may have been impacting the team. Still, he was Bret and each and every one of us who covered him knew that baseball meant everything to him. This was hard. It was sad. It was also worrisome. What would Bret do without baseball?

I walked through the clubhouse door, shaken by the news and apparently, I didn’t hide it well because Pat Borders took one look at me and said, “Come with me.”

I followed him down to the dugout where he sat me down. “Are you okay?” He asked. “No.” I replied. “This is hard. I hate losing guys, and this is Bret.” I then got a speech from the veteran catcher that I will never forget. Not so much for the content, but because I got it. A speech from a veteran catcher. It was just like the movies. “ Shannon,” he said, “we lose people from day one. It is part of the game. From day one of rookie ball to the day we go out people are always leaving. You can’t get sad. It’s part of the game. It doesn’t mean that we are not going to still be friends. That doesn’t change. People just move on. Now, are you going to be okay because you can’t go into that clubhouse looking like you are going to cry.”

I thanked Pat, got it together and walked into the clubhouse. Bret had left. Left in his sliding shorts, long socks, undershirt, elbow guard and shower shoes. He heard the news and had to get out of there immediately. I could understand that. He later laughed about driving over the bridge in that outfit, elbow pad hanging out of the open window and people driving by going “Isn’t that the Boone?”

We were told he would be back after the game and he was. It was getaway day and he would talk after the team left. In the meantime, he was sitting at his locker saying goodbye to his teammates. I had a problem because I was leaving with the team. I wasn’t leaving without thanking him for everything he did for me

I asked if I could go in even though the clubhouse was closed. I was told that would be okay. I walked to his locker and it was obvious that he had been crying. I leaned down to give him a hug. He didn’t let go. He cried a little and apologized for the tears. He said that he didn’t know where they came from. I told him it was okay, that the tears came from his heart. He said he didn’t know how he was going to get through the press conference. I told him he wasn’t going to, but that was okay. We knew him, we understood him and we appreciated the honesty of his emotions.

If you follow my work at all, you know that I try to seek out what is real, what is human in baseball. Bret is both, for better and for worse. I met his mom once in Anaheim . I introduced myself to her and said, “I love your son, 90 percent of the time.” “It’s the 10 percent,” she answered, “that keeps him real.”

Right now I’m rooting for 100 percent of Bret Boone.