To Ed Hearn, Conquering Life’s Curves is more than just the title of a book. He has courageously battled “curves” that would make hitting off Nolan Ryan seem like a breeze. I know. I have seen the impact of both.

A February 27, 1995, Sports Illustrated cover story about the misadventures of “Dead End Kids” Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry described the 1986 Mets as “a portable party driven by alcohol, amphetamines, gambling, and drugs.” Clean-living catcher Gary Carter was depicted as being part of the team’s “underwhelming minority,” a group that also included Hearn, Carter’s backup behind the plate.

What has happened to Dwight, Darryl and Ed since those days is a perfect example of why people should never judge a player completely by his on-the-field performance. As syndicated columnist Erma Bombeck once wrote: “Do not confuse fame with success. Madonna is one. Helen Keller is the other.”

Gooden and Strawberry certainly went on to more fame than Hearn in baseball, but after seeing the road each has traveled, there’s no question in my mind which one found the true meaning of success. Ed has taken some of the worst knockdown pitches the game and life have to offer, and has persevered.

Anyone who has faced great challenges of any kind will find his story uplifting. It’s as inspirational as anything I’ve ever encountered in or out of baseball.

What makes Ed’s story so compelling is that he had to deal with losing a baseball career, then nearly his life. Even now, he must take loads of medication so his body can perform normal functions that you and I take for granted. The real miracle here is that Ed is using his own adversity in a positive manner, to send a message in his public speaking that inspires audiences all around the country.

In 1986, Ed’s rookie season, he was enjoying what players cherish above all else–being part of a World Series championship team. He certainly wasn’t the star of the New York Mets, but scouts for the Kansas City Royals obviously liked what they saw. The following spring they traded a promising, home-grown, minor-league pitcher named David Cone to get Hearn from the Mets. John Schuerholz, then our general manager, described our new backstop by saying, “This guy is solid in every way and could be our catcher for the next ten years.”
vWe were excited. Ed seemed to be one of the final pieces to the puzzle in our quest to return to the great teams we had in the late seventies and early eighties. That was important because I wanted nothing more than to win another World Series before I retired.

But while David Cone would become a twenty-game winner in New York and twice lead the National League in strikeouts, Ed’s career and his life changed dramatically. Pain in his throwing shoulder wouldn’t go away in the early stages of the 1987 season. He underwent total re-constructive surgery, and for the next three years, he waged a courageous, but futile, battle to resurrect his once promising career. In the spring of 1991, Ed resigned himself to the sad truth that he would never play baseball again.

“The worst trade in Royals’ history,” said Ewing Kauffman, our late team owner.

Players come and go, but often the most difficult transition is the one into the real world. Some don’t adjust well to life outside the batter’s box.

I wasn’t sure for a while how it would go for Ed. In May, 1992, I looked up into the stands at Kauffman Stadium just before the start of batting practice and barely recognized a man who a year earlier had been a strong, healthy professional athlete. Ed had just been released from the hospital after receiving a kidney transplant. Although he wasn’t supposed to be around crowds of people, he had asked a friend of his, Rick Austin, to bring him out to the ballpark. He just wanted so badly to hang out with the guys.

It was somewhat uncomfortable speaking with Ed as he sat slouched in the first row of the stands, barely able to speak complete sentences without stopping to catch his breath. It wasn’t as if I had never stopped to share an encouraging word with someone who was sick or physically challenged. But this was different. This guy was one of us.

As batting practice started and I said good-bye, I walked away wondering why these kinds of things have to happen. I was reminded about how fortunate those of us on the field that day really were.

When I see this man in action today as a professional speaker, many of my concerns of that afternoon have been eliminated. Ed can’t hit a baseball the way he used to, but he’s bringing crowds to their feet by motivating people with an inspiring message. That’s a special achievement for a man who at one time seemed to have lost everything.

When kids play baseball in the backyard these days, some might still pretend to be Dwight Gooden or Darryl Strawberry. They don’t pretend to be Ed Hearn. But when adversity hit, Ed’s courage and tenacity were worthy of imitation.

In July, 1986, late-night talk show host David Letterman poked fun at all the Mets who had authored books. On national television, he then held up a phony hardback entitled, Ed! The Ed Hearn Story, a detailed account of each of Ed’s 12 big-league hits. That drew laughs from coast to coast. But isn’t it ironic that of all those literary efforts by some of baseball’s biggest names, none will provide a message as enduring as the one told by a retired, second-string catcher with a bad arm.

Conquering Life’s Curves is no fiction. It’s a hard-hitting tale of Ed’s struggles in and out of the game. It’ll make you laugh and it’ll make you cry. This is a story about the best kind of comeback. Ed has come full circle from a man who almost lost his life to a man who now empowers lives.

Injuries prevented Ed Hearn from ever proving himself with the Kansas City Royals, but he’s proven himself in the game of life. His story is one of a true champion.

To Ed Hearn, Conquering Life’s Curves is more than just the title of a book. He has courageously battled “curves” that would make hitting off Nolan Ryan seem like a breeze. I know. I have seen the impact of both.

A February 27, 1995, Sports Illustrated cover story about the misadventures of “Dead End Kids” Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry described the 1986 Mets as “a portable party driven by alcohol, amphetamines, gambling, and drugs.” Clean-living catcher Gary Carter was depicted as being part of the team’s “underwhelming minority,” a group that also included Hearn, Carter’s backup behind the plate.

What has happened to Dwight, Darryl and Ed since those days is a perfect example of why people should never judge a player completely by his on-the-field performance. As syndicated columnist Erma Bombeck once wrote: “Do not confuse fame with success. Madonna is one. Helen Keller is the other.”

Gooden and Strawberry certainly went on to more fame than Hearn in baseball, but after seeing the road each has traveled, there’s no question in my mind which one found the true meaning of success. Ed has taken some of the worst knockdown pitches the game and life have to offer, and has persevered.

Anyone who has faced great challenges of any kind will find his story uplifting. It’s as inspirational as anything I’ve ever encountered in or out of baseball.

What makes Ed’s story so compelling is that he had to deal with losing a baseball career, then nearly his life. Even now, he must take loads of medication so his body can perform normal functions that you and I take for granted. The real miracle here is that Ed is using his own adversity in a positive manner, to send a message in his public speaking that inspires audiences all around the country.

In 1986, Ed’s rookie season, he was enjoying what players cherish above all else–being part of a World Series championship team. He certainly wasn’t the star of the New York Mets, but scouts for the Kansas City Royals obviously liked what they saw. The following spring they traded a promising, home-grown, minor-league pitcher named David Cone to get Hearn from the Mets. John Schuerholz, then our general manager, described our new backstop by saying, “This guy is solid in every way and could be our catcher for the next ten years.”
vWe were excited. Ed seemed to be one of the final pieces to the puzzle in our quest to return to the great teams we had in the late seventies and early eighties. That was important because I wanted nothing more than to win another World Series before I retired.

But while David Cone would become a twenty-game winner in New York and twice lead the National League in strikeouts, Ed’s career and his life changed dramatically. Pain in his throwing shoulder wouldn’t go away in the early stages of the 1987 season. He underwent total re-constructive surgery, and for the next three years, he waged a courageous, but futile, battle to resurrect his once promising career. In the spring of 1991, Ed resigned himself to the sad truth that he would never play baseball again.

“The worst trade in Royals’ history,” said Ewing Kauffman, our late team owner.

Players come and go, but often the most difficult transition is the one into the real world. Some don’t adjust well to life outside the batter’s box.

I wasn’t sure for a while how it would go for Ed. In May, 1992, I looked up into the stands at Kauffman Stadium just before the start of batting practice and barely recognized a man who a year earlier had been a strong, healthy professional athlete. Ed had just been released from the hospital after receiving a kidney transplant. Although he wasn’t supposed to be around crowds of people, he had asked a friend of his, Rick Austin, to bring him out to the ballpark. He just wanted so badly to hang out with the guys.

It was somewhat uncomfortable speaking with Ed as he sat slouched in the first row of the stands, barely able to speak complete sentences without stopping to catch his breath. It wasn’t as if I had never stopped to share an encouraging word with someone who was sick or physically challenged. But this was different. This guy was one of us.

As batting practice started and I said good-bye, I walked away wondering why these kinds of things have to happen. I was reminded about how fortunate those of us on the field that day really were.

When I see this man in action today as a professional speaker, many of my concerns of that afternoon have been eliminated. Ed can’t hit a baseball the way he used to, but he’s bringing crowds to their feet by motivating people with an inspiring message. That’s a special achievement for a man who at one time seemed to have lost everything.

When kids play baseball in the backyard these days, some might still pretend to be Dwight Gooden or Darryl Strawberry. They don’t pretend to be Ed Hearn. But when adversity hit, Ed’s courage and tenacity were worthy of imitation.

In July, 1986, late-night talk show host David Letterman poked fun at all the Mets who had authored books. On national television, he then held up a phony hardback entitled, Ed! The Ed Hearn Story, a detailed account of each of Ed’s 12 big-league hits. That drew laughs from coast to coast. But isn’t it ironic that of all those literary efforts by some of baseball’s biggest names, none will provide a message as enduring as the one told by a retired, second-string catcher with a bad arm.

Conquering Life’s Curves is no fiction. It’s a hard-hitting tale of Ed’s struggles in and out of the game. It’ll make you laugh and it’ll make you cry. This is a story about the best kind of comeback. Ed has come full circle from a man who almost lost his life to a man who now empowers lives.

Injuries prevented Ed Hearn from ever proving himself with the Kansas City Royals, but he’s proven himself in the game of life. His story is one of a true champion.