First Person: To My Brothers in Arms (and Bats)

By Dave Kirk, member of the 1978 College World Series Tar Heels

Not sure when it hit me over this reunion weekend.

Maybe it was when Blaine Smith asked me what I remembered most about that '78 season. My answer? Those moments immediately following our regional win against Memphis State when I realized that our collective dream ride would last a couple more weeks or longer.

Or, maybe it was when I walked into the First Pitch Banquet room Saturday night and was struck by its sheer size and scope. Carolina Baseball was more than relevant and this was an event (and program) that I was honored and humbled to be a small part of.

Maybe it was when Mike Fox choked up Friday night addressing just us and then again (!) at the Saturday night banquet while sharing his personal feelings for our '78 team with the 500+ in attendance. Mike credited that year with laying the foundation for his future ascendance into the head coaching job at North Carolina. We were all humbled to have been a part of your remarkable success, Mike.

Or maybe it was when Jones Angell asked two of our senior leaders seated on stage, "What made our team and that season, just so special?" When a clearly emotional Matt Wilson couldn't find the appropriate words to articulate his love for his teammates seated before him, Clay Johnson deftly relieved Matt (and all of us) from unexpected moisture by quipping, "I think what Matt was trying to say… that we all really liked and cared for each other. We really wanted everyone to succeed."

Maybe, just maybe, after hearing my teammates tell one another time and time again over the weekend: "I love you"...that's when it hit me: the '78 Tar Heels are a brotherhood.

When I thought about my personal journey, I realized that my perspective was both a unique and shared. Unique in that I was a walk-on and a late addition to the '77 summer league team that allowed me the chance to squeeze onto the '78 roster and become a part of the journey.

But shared, because like everyone else, I had to prove to my teammates (and myself) that I belonged, And once I cleared that hurdle, I still had to prove that I could contribute on the field, in the dugout, and off the field. I was accepted as a player, but more importantly, I had to prove that I could be a great teammate. We all had to.

Luckily for me, I could observe and learn from 21 unique/talented/fun-loving teammates and three terrific coaches. What an education.

Where to begin?

Maybe with my fellow JV and walk-on brethren, Lloyd Brewer and Phil Griffith. Lloyd was forced to step in and catch inning after inning after inning that season (every inning but two in fact) when Dwight Lowery was diagnosed with an illness that sidelined him. Lloyd more than rose to the occasion, stayed healthy (thank God,) and became a critical component to the team's success. And sure-handed Phil Griffith, who had to step in and handle shortstop duties in numerous, pressure-packed situations. I could look at both Lloyd and Phil that season and tell myself that if they could do it, then so could I.

And how about the coaches...Randy "Worm" Warrick and Bobby "Boots" Guthrie? My "go to" guys for baseball advice and part-time therapy. Fully supportive, but objective and constructive in all things baseball and life. In the dugout or on the bus, Randy and Bobby were always there to lend a hand or an ear. They earned our respect.

And while he wasn't there for the reunion, we all reflected on just how unlikely it was that a 27-year-old coach could find a way to take a cast of characters like ours to Omaha in his rookie year.

Among the newcomers that year…

Charlie Beverly, my Omaha roommate, left Carolina and eventually transferred to Florida State. And yet, here was Charlie back in Chapel Hill for the weekend because he held this Carolina team in such high regard. James "Peanut" Parks was an early pitching force for us that season and went on the big things in the years that followed, but suffered a broken hand midseason and wasn't able to pitch the rest of the year. Still, Peanut was there every step of the way in '78.

Dave Barnett, an outfielder with amazing speed, great defense and a quick bat, who provided us with another great athlete. Roy Clark, the much-heralded JC transfer with soft hands, a sharp bat and a distinctive mustache who found his way on base however possible, The Philly boy, JD Henderson, who strode into Chapel Hill with an always-on smile and sweet swing. JD was ready to fill in at any time. We also added hard-throwing Bill Musser, who could bruise hands and break bats with his deadly fastball.

Mark McKinney, a confident, and maybe even cocky, freshman, with unrivaled bat strength and leg speed. He made his mark very early with a grand slam at Francis Marion and we were expecting big things to come. But Mark's severe head injury later that year had the strange effect of both staggering, then galvanizing, us emotionally that year. As Jim Atkinson shared Friday night, Mark chose not to attend because '78 was a life-changing year for him, but not in the positive way that we remember it. None of us could possibly have put ourselves in Mark's situation, so we respected his feelings, but we wished he could see what he meant to all of us.

Finally, we missed seeing Mike Brewer (aka "Brewbaker") over the weekend, a crafty lefty with a delivery and commentary that baffled both opponents and teammates...sometimes at the same time.

Roy Clark told us that he and his fellow newcomers realized that when they entered Boshamer that fall of '77, their initial goal was to not mess up the chemistry and winning attitude we had set in motion with a remarkable summer league campaign in which we only lost three games. But very quickly, these new additions were easily absorbed into our Tar Heel fraternity. If I heard it once over the weekend, I heard it a dozen times from Roy, "This is sooo great." Yes it was, Roy. Yes it was.

As for the veterans...

One had to gain the respect of Matt Wilson to be considered a part of the 1978 pitching staff. Matt was a big lanky southern boy with a blazing fastball and a "give me the dang ball" attitude. Matt both intimidated and inspired me. When Matt's arm failed him with a third of the season remaining (rotator cuff,) he was there to push and support a support staff that was unaccustomed to the spotlight.

Monty DeRatt, had that classic pitching technique that I so admired and wanted to emulate (except that he threw about 5 mph faster!) Monty was part of the initial starting rotation, but had an appendicitis during our spring Texas trip that sidelined him until later in the year. Yet, he pitched some huge innings for us down the stretch.

Blaine Smith and Greg Norris...our one-two punch aces. Greg's season was historic. During the Texas trip, he won a 12-inning gem against a highly-regarded Oklahoma State. Suddenly, we were getting noticed. Greg finished the year with a minuscule ERA and pitched a gutty final game against Southern Cal that he deserved to win. Greg was our workhorse and without him, we would not have been in a position to get an NCAA bid. Blaine had a remarkable season as well with a clutch complete game win versus Auburn IN Auburn to advance in the regional--another defining moment that season. No one expected us to win that game but Blaine and the rest of us. Blaine just plain got the job done in '78.

And to round out the veteran pitching staff, there was Clay Johnson, a great pal, fellow letter writer/reader (we "found" letters from opposing teams allegedly written to us,) bench jockey, and confidant. But when called on to perform, Clay pulled off the two best innings of relief work in the history of Carolina baseball on the world's biggest stage when he shut down Michigan with a blazing fastball (and ONLY fastballs!) to extend our stay in Omaha.

Kevin Caddell, he of curly hair and a sweet left-handed swing from Charlotte would play first and DH. Brad Lloyd, with his soft Atlanta accent, timely hitting, and great defense were both consistent contributors.

Greg "Mink" Robinson, our RBI leader who hit one of the most dramatic home runs in Carolina history that helped defeat Michigan ("I thought I was going to bury it in the fence.") Greg was also the architect of "pitcher's infleld" (he would conduct infield for ONLY pitchers in the outfield prior to select games. Mink's wit and commentary kept everyone involved and loose.)

Jim Rouse, another of the leaders on the team with an infectious smile and a deep southern voice laced with the toughness that came with a football player's mentality. Jim was so easy to like and admire. In fact, Matt Wilson suggested that Jim was such a talker, he was campaigning for an All-ACC team nomination every time an opposing player would reach first. Jim would talk his ear off. Jim was, and is, a great ambassador of Carolina baseball.

Jim Atkinson had the kind of season that left us all in awe and admiration. He was always in the middle of a rally or a comeback. When he wasn't batting, he was yelling encouragement. Jim hit bullets and towering shots. Jimmy A took a clinic-like approach to hitting; I was just glad he was on our team and I didn't have to face him.

And our final senior, Mike Fox, would never back down from a challenge. Mike did whatever it took to win, played wherever he was asked and found some way to get his jersey dirty no matter the position. Mike was another of our leaders on and off the field. He had greatness destined for him. Everyone on our team respected Mike Fox.

None of our position players played in less than 35 games or had less than 100 at-bats. EVERYONE contributed.

We had no business making it to Omaha. We had a future major league catcher sidelined all year with illness, we had a centerfielder with unlimited potential face a near-death injury, we lost two starting pitchers for the last half of the year and another starter for 20+ games. We were led by a rookie coach who suddenly found himself with an NCAA bid, and then a Regional Championship, and ultimately, a Final Four appearance in the CWS.

So...what I think I knew already, but hit me repeatedly with waves of love and warmth from my teammates, was that while I had had my own personal journey on this magical '78 tour, we had collectively built a team that earned its way onto the biggest stage possible; and, boy oh boy, did we savor the journey.

I will never forget the mood in our locker room following the Southern Cal game when, collectively, we realized that we had not only played our last game together, but that our journey was over. But the journey had to end and we had to move on. And yet, the experience of '78 lives on and will forever bond us all together in a unique way—not just as teammates and coaches—but as brothers.

Thanks to all of you for making this possible.

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