A House Call to the Doctor

It was December 13, 1986. We had taken the kids out of school and travelled to Florida for a much-needed vacation during what had been a very stressful period of time. We were living in Sharon, Massachusetts and were still recovering from the amazing 1986 World Series – when the NY Mets beat the Boston Red Sox in a playoff series replete with nail-biting games. This uplifting experience occurred shortly after I had been relieved of my position as CEO at my organization in Rhode Island.

Our week-long vacation started with rain and the long-range forecast predicted continued rain for our entire stay. If you have ever gone to Florida for vacation and encountered rain, you know how boring it could be – in an environment that heavily depends on sunshine, beaches, golf courses and swimming pools. Adding bored 11- and 14-year-olds to the mix just made things worse.

We got up early that day and made a hasty decision. We drove across the state to Tampa to see what it was like there. We had never been to Tampa before, so the opportunity to visit a new area despite the rain provided some level of excitement. We arrived in Tampa about 10:00 AM and stopped for some food. There, staring us in the face was the front page of the Tampa-St. Petersburg Times with a front-page story on the arrest of Dwight Gooden, Mets star pitcher, often referred to as “Doc” or “The Doctor.”

The article identified the street that Doc Gooden lived on in Tampa and, with little else on our agenda for the morning, we decided to see if we could find it. In the days before MapQuest and GPS devices, maps with street directories could be easily purchased, and we took off for the section of Tampa where the Gooden family lived.

As we approached the street, it became apparent that it would be very difficult to identify the exact address in a driving rainstorm, and once we did, it was very unclear what we were going to do to confirm that this was in fact the Gooden family home, let alone what we would do next. But as fate or luck would have it, there in a fairly run down section of Tampa, sat two clear homing devices – a huge satellite dish (at a time when these were not very common) and if there was any further uncertainty - a red Porsche sports car with a New York license plate Doc16 (16 was his uniform number).

As we sat in the car peering through the driving rain at the house, the next question was obvious – now that we are here what are we going to do? Never known for being shy, my wife, Blossom declared – “I didn’t come all the way here to sit in the car,” and before anyone could react, she popped out of the car, raced to the front door and knocked on it. A few seconds later Doc’s mother answered the door and Blossom explained that we were crazy Mets fans who live in Massachusetts and asked if we could meet her son. In clear sight behind her were doc’s Rookie of the Year and Cy Young Awards. Mrs. Gooden was friendly and cordial (and probably a little in shock) and told Blossom that Doc was still sleeping and had an appointment with his attorney later in the morning. She added that if we cam back in the afternoon, we could meet him.

We found a mall in Tampa and went there for lunch and to kill a few hours before returning. When we returned, we noticed that his car was missing and concluded that he had not yet returned. We again parked and waited. As we saw his car approaching, we all jumped out of the car and waited. Doc and his nephew Gary Sheffield (who would become a major league baseball star in his own right) stepped out the car. Doc greeted us warmly and took pictures with Blossom, Michael and Robyn. Ironically the biggest Met fan of them all was not in the picture because “selfies” had not yet been invented. That framed picture is still in our den today.

Years later, Doc was in significant financial difficulty and was paid to go to card shows and other locations to generate income. When he turned up in a motel in Paramus, NJ, Blossom went to see him and took with her the picture of his red Porsch and Doc 16 license plate we had taken while waiting outside his house.  He was so excited that he showed everyone the beautiful car he used to have and of course, autographed the picture for Blossom. I’m sure it was a bittersweet moment for him – demonstrating how far he had fallen.

For the Welfeld family it was a house call to remember!