When the GIANTS honored me at Candlestick Park with "Dave Dravecky Day," they also honored me in another way. They let me throw out the opening pitch.

For one last time in a Giants' uniform I walked onto that field in Candlestick Park. I stepped a few yards in front of the mound, wrapped my hand around the ball, felt its stitched seams with my fingers. Then, in front of 46,740 fans, this one-time finesse pitcher lobbed the ball to the catcher. And one final cheer arose for number 43.

Afterward I took my seat in the stands. It was great sitting there, but at the same time it was hard, too. Seeing all those lean athletic bodies limbering up on the field. Watching them trot off to their positions with such graceful ease. Looking at them, their hands pounding the pocket of their gloves, crouched and ready to play.

Giants' pitcher Trevor Wilson got the first two batters out. At the end of that inning Darryl Strawberry came up to bat. Trevor threw him heat. Swing and a miss. The ballpark roared. How I used to love that roar when I was out there on the field. Two more pitches and Darryl was out. Three batters had come up to bat, and the left-hander on the mound had sent all three of them sulking toward the dugout.

"Way to go Trevor!"

First baseman Will Clark got the first hit for the Giants. He belted a long ball into right field for a stand-up Triple. Everyone in the stands jumped to their feet, cheering.

I jumped and cheered, too.

I was a fan now. And it felt good.

During the course of the day, a lot of other fans came by to talk. They thanked me for the memories, expressed their love, wished me well. A lot of them had seen my comeback game and remarked how much it meant to them.

It made me realize that when I was out there on the mound in my comeback game, I wasn't out there alone. I was out there with every other person who had faced adversity and who had the opportunity to overcome it. Now I am without my arm, without the possibility of making a comeback, and I'm not alone there, either. A lot of people are standing with me who don't have the opportunity to overcome their adversity. I hope that for those

people my story has been an encouragement. I hope they realize that even though they can't overcome their adversity, they can find the grace to endure it, and they can find peace. Many fans I talked with at Candlestick Park were saddened by what cancer had done to my life. They didn't say it in so many words, but you could see it in their eyes and hear it in their voices. They thought it was a tragedy.

I don't feel that way. There is a scene in Field of Dreams where Ray Kinsella tracks down an old ballplayer named "moonlight" Graham. Graham's career in the major leagues was so short it wasn't even a flash in the pan. He played only a few minutes in one game in the majors, and he never got a chance to bat. That was decades ago. Graham was an old man now. He had become a doctor and had given his life to alleviate what suffering he could in the small town where he lived. They talked about his experiences as a doctor, and then the conversation turned to baseball. Kinsella couldn't get over how short Graham's career was: "For five minutes you were that close to your dream. It would kill some men to be that close to their dream and not to touch it; they'd consider it a tragedy."

Graham looked him in the eye and with a wistful smile said: "Son, if I'd have been a doctor for only five minutes, now that would have been a tragedy."

When I look back over my cancer battle and see all I've learned from other people who have suffered, all I've experienced of other people's love, all God has shown me of his mercy and comfort, all the encouragement my small measure of suffering has given to others, I think: If I'd have continued on as a ballplayer and missed that, now that would have been a tragedy.

My battle with cancer was the catalyst for the formation of Dave Dravecky's Outreach of Hope, a national ministry of hope and encouragement to hurting people, especially those battling cancer. You can find out more about the ministry and my battle with cancer on our other websites. In my estimation, what God did though my cancer was a triumph, not a tragedy.

Portions adapted from "When You Can't Come Back" by Dave Dravecky, Zondervan Publishing, Copyright 1992.