Fishermen can’t fake it. You are one, or you aren’t.
We can tell.
So it was funny Tuesday when Rockies icon Charlie Blackmon said he soon will be living among his “normal friends” upon retiring from baseball after 14 seasons largely spent as the bearded face of the franchise.
Normal guy? So nothing’s going to change?
“Yes, he’s one of the best baseball players in the world,” said Ivan Orsic, a longtime Colorado guide who’s fished with Chuck from Colorado to Belize to the Florida Keys. “But he’s just a normal dude who's a freaking awesome guy to hang out with and fish with.”
Now the 38-year-old Blackmon owns the doubleheader of man compliments: Coors Field serenading his at-bats (6,146 with the Rockies, home and road) with an irresistible soundtrack (“toniiiight”), and he’s a freaking awesome guy to fish with. Retirement would be an ego blow, if he had one.
“I feel like I never worked a day in my life,” Blackmon said. "But I do work really hard.”
Humility and consistency were Blackmon’s hallmarks as a ballplayer. But his normal guy-ness is why Colorado adored a man who played only for the Rockies. Where does Blackmon rank among Colorado athletes? With Blackmon, that’s the wrong question. Where does he rank among Colorado fan favorites — for a losing team that often had two highlights, sunsets and Chuck?
That’s the right one. Plus, he never left or tried to leave, when others did.
“This is really such a great place to play,” Blackmon said.
First and foremost, there was the beard.
“My wife has never seen me without it, so I’m a little bit concerned with how it will be received (at home),” Blackmon said, glancing toward his better half, Ashley, who was tearing up.
And the walk-up song, “Your love,” by The Outfield. The tradition began at Georgia Tech.
“You can’t listen to that song and not think about baseball and think about hitting,” he said.
And the production, which few Rockies have matched. Blackmon will exit after Sunday’s finale against the Dodgers in the top six of 10 Rockies stats, at least: games played (1,618, second in team history), runs scored (991, second), hits (1,797, second), doubles (333, second), triples (67, first), home runs (226, sixth), walks (482, third), extra-base hits (626, second), total bases (2,942, second) and RBI (797, fourth). Only Todd Helton played in more games, and Blackmon’s the final Helton teammate still remaining.
No. 19’s retirement is the end of an era. Here’s a hunch his jersey one day hangs with Helton’s 17 and Larry Walker’s 33 in right-center field.
Blackmon’s had conversations with Rockies brass about staying connected to the team — at spring training, during batting practice, those types of things, but not as a full-time coach.
Blackmon brought his two kids to the dais for the retirement press conference — 3-year-old Josie and 1-year-old Wyatt, who stole the show by blowing raspberries into the microphone.
Pffffft.
After Sunday, there will be more where that came from. Chuck's “normal guy” life will include summer trips with the fam (“We’re going to the Kentucky Derby next year,” he said) and when the walk-up song is a crying toddler.
His normal guy-ness tops the reasons Blackmon built the following of an indie rock star here.
He took his baseball career maniacally seriously and never took himself too seriously.
Blackmon was a regular at the old Fly Fishing Film Festival on South Broadway and farmers markets on South Pearl. He spent off days wading the South Platte, floating the Colorado or researching the next series of pitchers.
“I never really considered myself a good enough player to be successful if I wasn’t doing things the right way," he said. "The only way I could mentally free myself to play the game and not worry about negative consequences was to do everything I could ahead of time to make sure I was in a position to succeed.”
He just happened to be a four-time MLB All-Star who worked harder than any athlete I’ve met.
A couple of months ago, Charlie lost a close friend. His name was Tanner Smith. Tanner was 36 when he died from cancer, and some of his best memories were thanks to Charlie. They met on Instagram when Blackmon, a bass fisherman from Georgia, was searching out “the fishiest dudes” to learn about fly fishing.
That friendship meant the world to Tanner, a native and lifelong Rockies fan. He’d wear Blackmon’s All-Star jersey while rowing his raft. Next year was always the year. He attended Charlie and Ashley’s wedding.
“For Tanner, at first, it was an honor to fish with Chuck,” Orsic says. “Then it just became, ‘We’re going fishing with Chuck,’ because he's the best.”
Fishermen can’t fake it, and Blackmon being a normal guy is why Colorado adores the man.
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