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As Donald "Skip" Parsons recalled walking into the war room for the 1996 MLB draft after being given the power over all personnel decisions, he knew that there was only one guy to pick with the number one overall pick in the draft.
The kid was dynamite on the hill. Unflappable. His father was a coach and a former collegiate catcher. He lost his mother to cancer but came out stronger. Whatever the kid tried, he excelled at. He had won more championships in high school than some entire schools ever won. He even had a full-ride to play football at Ohio State, but he soon would have a few million reasons not to.
The scouts that saw him pitch couldn't stop talking about him. He was the real deal. Better than Clemens was at his age. Better than Ryan, some even said. Could be a major league hitter, too, many speculated.
It didn't hurt the kid that he was also from the Gulf Coast. Skip was born and raised not far away in Fairhope, Alabama, a sleepy town along Alabama's coast. Skip was certain that they'd probably have a lot of the same stories, and with any luck, the same Southern Grit that helped him persevere through the grind of professional baseball.
Skip Parsons dialed the number that led to a phone in Pass Christian, Mississippi.
"Madison residence," the voice answered on the other end.
"Cooper?" asked Skip.
"Yessir," answered Coop, hands trembling.
"Son, are you watching TV right now?"
"Yessir."
"Well, I suggest you turn up the volume a bit so everyone can hear what's about to be announced."
"Yessir." Cooper motioned to any one of the thirty-five people that were crowded in his home for the draft party to turn up the volume on the television. It was well-known that the Cubs wanted Cooper with the first pick, but nothing in life is certain, and Cooper had been on pins and needles all day waiting for a phone call.
Coop had even put-off hiring an agent because if he wasn't selected high enough, he wanted to make sure that his NCAA eligibility would still be intact.
The crowded house grew deftly silent as they watched the MLB commissioner stride to the podium on the Madison family television. The worst-kept secret in professional sports was about to be revealed.
The commissioner addressed the microphone looking like a man who knew the name he was about to announce had the possibility of being the new face of baseball. In recent years, the MLB had taken a hit in the public eye due to a player strike that ended the 1994 season early, and the young hurler from Mississippi was going to be the shot in the arm that baseball needed. It was time baseball had its own Michael Jordan or Joe Montana.
"With the first pick in the draft," the commissioner announced, "the Chicago Cubs select Cooper Madison, pitcher, Pass Christian High School."
A roar exploded in the Madison household, likewise in every sports bar on Chicago's North Side.
The "expert" television baseball analysts immediately shared their opinions on whether or not they thought it was a good pick in the background, though nobody in the raucous gathering could hear them.
Jeffrey Madison, after giving his son a congratulatory bear hug, took a step back to collect himself and watch the spectacle unfolding before him. He thought about how proud Kelsey would've been of her boy, and at the same time hoped she was proud of the job he had done without her.
As Skip Parsons turned his thoughts back to present day and the end of the 2006 season, he wished that it would have turned out differently for Cooper Madison, and himself.
