June 22

Darryl Kile was Rick Ankiel's throwing mate every morning last spring when no one knew what would happen with his young teammate about whom he cared, and this spring, when we all knew. As the Cardinals stretched, Kile stretched next to Ankiel, and when they began their throwing and loosening, Kile played catch with Ankiel.

One morning, when he thought an ESPN cameraman was zeroing in on Ankiel as if he were some freak show, Kile came to me and cleared up the misconception. "I know you care about Ank," Kile said. "I just want to make certain. He'll feel better to know that you guys haven't turned on him."

Darryl Kile was a very nice man with a family he loved and a legion of people like me who respected him first, liked him second and admired his talent third.

That was Darryl Kile. Oh, he might have become a great pitcher earlier in his career, but he worried about a lot of things because he was human, like you and me and most everyone smart enough to know we're not bulletproof.

"I am really lucky," he once said, "because I grew up playing with Jeff Bagwell and learned what it means to play the game right and to care about teammates. I can't express what it means to be with Bagwell and Craig Biggio and Brad Ausmus and people like that. I owe a lot to them."

Kile signed with the Rockies in 1998, but his curveball and worrisome nature were never geared for that place. Still, he never complained. "He never made an excuse," says Don Baylor, who was Kile's manager in Colorado in '98. "It ate at him not to perform with the contract, but all he ever blamed was himself."

When Kile got to the Cardinals, he became the players' pitcher. He took Matt Morris under his wing, and when the great young ace was coming back from surgery, Kile kept him positive and focused. He tried to help youngster Chad Hutchinson when he had his control and self-confidence problems. Ankiel, meanwhile, was like his little brother.

Kile was one of those players to whom Cardinals GM Walt Jocketty or manager Tony La Russa could turn concerning other teammates. Oh yes, he was 36-20 combined for the Cardinals in 2000 and 2001, and the only reason he struggled at the end of last season was because his shoulder hurt so badly he could barely pitch. When I asked him this spring why he didn't say anything publicly about the pain he went through last year, he replied, "I don't make excuses." He had surgery immediately after the postseason, but didn't make it public because he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

There was no way he should have been ready to open the season. But he was there, toughing it out, getting better with every start, and in his last start on Tuesday was flat-out brilliant.

Darryl Kile was a very nice man with a family he loved and a legion of people like me who respected him first, liked him second and admired his talent third. I just cannot get that one moment out of my mind -- heart, soul and mind aside Rick Ankiel, because that was the type of man Kile was. Our hearts all bleed for his wife Flynn and their children. And forget about the pennant race -- everyone in baseball should offer their support to Woody Williams and Dave Veres and the leaders of that Cardinals pitching staff who have to pull their teammates back together. Because Darryl cared so much about them, this will not pass easily.

Perhaps the best way to deal with this tragedy is for every Cardinals player to try to spend the rest of the season acting like Darryl Kile. If they can, hopefully they'll hoist the World Series trophy in his memory.