ANAHEIM, Calif. — There’s not a lot that should make a big, bearded, burly NHL defenseman nervous. A certain fearlessness, after all, is built into their job description.
But nerves are exactly what Radko Gudas, a 35-year-old veteran on the Anaheim Ducks, felt when he was about to throw a ceremonial first pitch before an Angels game last season. So like so many others, he turned to Angels pitcher Carson Fulmer for help. Fulmer was scheduled to catch the ceremonial first pitch that day, like he does most days. Sometimes, that makes him a bit of a coach and cheerleader, as well.
“‘Don’t let it bounce,’” Gudas said Fulmer told him, before warming him up with a quick catch. A sport foreign to the Czech native suddenly felt more familiar alongside his new friend. “He made me feel really comfortable with what was going to happen, how it was going to be.”
Moments like these have become a daily occurrence for Fulmer. The ceremonial first pitch is a staple at every baseball game, and part of that experience is the brief meet-and-greet with the player who dutifully jogs out of the dugout to catch it. That job, however, is generally considered a chore, almost always reserved for bench warmers and middle relievers. Big-league players with gravitas graduate out of the responsibility.
But Fulmer, 31, doesn’t see it that way; he volunteers to do it at every single Angels game. The eighth pick in the 2015 draft, his career has been labeled a bust more times than he can count. He bounced around seven organizations in three years, and has been DFA’d, released and left for retirement time and again. This year, he has a 4.18 ERA in 28 innings for the Angels, having evolved into a reliable bullpen piece in his ninth major-league season.
Fulmer’s journey has made him appreciate just being there, making him a living contrast against the stereotype of a jaded big-league diva — a player who’s been there and done that just long enough to forget how rare being a major leaguer actually is. This nightly gesture is Fulmer’s small way to make sure that never happens.
Anaheim Ducks defenseman Radko Gudas formed a bond with Carson Fulmer through his first-pitch experience. (John Cordes / Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)
About 15 minutes before each game starts, he runs out of the dugout, gets in a crouch and catches the pitch. Sometimes for multiple people. He greets them, chats with them, signs the ball and takes a picture. Then does it again the next night.
“I don’t take days for granted here,” Fulmer said. “It feels like I can do something to give back. I cherish every day that I’m here.”
The Angels’ communications staff has long been in charge of finding a first-pitch catcher before every game. It’s not always easy, and many players have said no, often citing pregame routines. The staff set up a system where if you catch it one day, you can nominate a teammate to do it the next.
It’s a “delicate” process, said communications director Adam Chodzko. You don’t want to go to the same players too often, though options then run thin. Even when a player does agree, it’s not rare for them to forget to show up.
The only other Angels player in recent memory to regularly catch the first pitch was pitcher Hector Santiago, who spent the 2014-15 seasons in Anaheim. With Fulmer, everyone’s job has been made easier.
“He’s been through so much, the ups and downs. That can give you a real clear perspective on things,” said veteran starter Kyle Hendricks. “He just cherishes every moment. I think it’s been rubbing off on me. It rubs off on a lot of the guys.”
Teammates, while thankful that he does it, still poke fun at Fulmer’s first-pitch proclivity. He said he’s happy to cede the job for a day, should a teammate request it. That has yet to happen.
Fulmer typically doesn’t meet the fans beforehand. He’ll come from the dugout, flanked by a game-day staff member. The first-pitch thrower — who typically mills about behind home plate for 15 minutes — meets Fulmer after he delivers the ball back.
The job requires quick feet. Sometimes that means a leap if the ball is above his head, a lunge if it’s off to the side, or a scoop if it doesn’t reach him. He’s self-assured in his ability to make the play, no matter what.
If it’s a good first pitch, he’ll deliver a compliment. For those with particularly bad tosses, it’s “You made it through.” Oftentimes, they’ll tell Fulmer they had no idea how far the mound is from the plate until they actually got out there.
“The majority of the time, you shake their hand, they’re shaking pretty badly,” Fulmer said with a grin. “It’s funny every time you meet them.”
Sitting in front of Fulmer’s locker is a hockey stick, gifted from Gudas. Sitting on a mantle in Gudas’ native Czech Republic, next to other prized trophies, is the ball he threw to Fulmer.
The two have remained friends, texting back and forth. When the Ducks played in Seattle, where Fulmer calls home, he sent his baseball counterpart tickets to the game. Two men of different sports and wildly different backgrounds formed a bond out of this brief baseball moment.
“I felt confident with him,” Gudas said. “He knew exactly how to work with a guy that didn’t understand, and show him the way. He’s a good soul. I really hit it off with him. He’s got a cool aura about him. Everything about him feels like he’s doing the right thing.”
Gudas’ first pitch, notably, did not bounce. And when it landed in Fulmer’s glove, he lightly pumped his fist, looked up, grinned, then walked over to give Fulmer a hug.
For the Angels pitcher, nothing in baseball has ever been guaranteed. He’s pitched well, but the reality is, he could always be next on the chopping block to be DFA’d. Such is the reality of a journeyman long reliever; you’re never safe from a summons to the manager’s office.
But for as long as they let him put on the uniform, he’ll do this, every single game.
“We’re in a position where they’re nervous doing it, and they look up to us,” Fulmer said. “I really enjoy it. It’s something that hopefully I can do for a long time.”
(Top photo: John McCoy / Getty Images)