Free Inside Baseball: The Best of Tom Verducci by Tom Verducci Page B

test results to prove it. “I want the tests,” he says. “It’s one thing to say it and another to have the proof.”
    He has devoted himself to his three-times-a-week Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and his two-times-a-week sessions with a personal counselor in New Port Richey, Fla. One of the members of his AA group is a 70-year-old man who has been attending such meetings for the past 30 years. Gooden was shocked to hear him talk about episodes of still wanting to go back to alcohol. Another AA group member explained he has had nine relapses and is working hard to stave off a 10th.
    “I see why,” Gooden says. “You can never have this thing beat. I have to accept that. I still have my days where I get down. The difference is it doesn’t stay with me as long as it did in August and September.”
    On Jan. 27 Gooden flew to New York to meet with Millman and Solomon. As the plane descended to LaGuardia Airport, the side on which Gooden sat banked toward Shea Stadium, as if genuflecting. Gooden caught sight of the giant horseshoe with the great expanse of green laid out so invitingly. Overwhelmed, not with sadness but with joy, he nearly cried. At that moment he wanted to be standing on the mound, a fresh baseball in his hand, the possibilities all new again.
    “C’MON, LET’S get inside and talk,” Gooden says, gesturing toward his Mercedes as the rain begins to fall. The wheels are equipped with brilliant rims that gleam even in the late-morning gloom. Gooden selected the rims and ordered another set for Monica’s Mercedes convertible. To keep himself occupied, he has turned his love for customizing cars into a serious hobby. At the moment he is tinkering with a 1974 Porsche and a 1969 Chevy. Renovation. It is what he’s doing with his life.
    Slipping behind the steering wheel, Gooden is still perspiring slightly from one of his typically grueling workouts with his personal trainer. He appears to be in terrific shape, and when he throws the baseball, he says, it feels like it is flying out of his hand again. “Not having alcohol in your system,” he says, “it seems like it makes you meaner, quicker.”
    Wearing blue Mets shorts and a blue nylon Mets training jacket, he looks and talks as if he were still the Mets ace. In fact, he has no employer, which would seem to be a daunting proposition for someone who supports an extended family. Beginning in 1987, with a $320,000 house for his parents and a $530,000 house for himself and Monica, Gooden has purchased five of the seven homes on his block, a waterfront cul-de-sac. One of the houses is the home of his nephew, Marlins outfielder Gary Sheffield. Gooden wants to buy the remaining two houses and then erect a security gate at the entrance to the street, though he says, “It’s Gary’s turn to buy.”
    Gooden, who last year finished a three-year contract originally worth $15.45 million and has earned about $25 million during his major league career, says he is financially secure. What he wants is simply to pitch in the major leagues again—even before his suspension is scheduled to end in November. He says he has been told by baseball officials that he could be reinstated by midsummer if he shows he has put his life in order, a claim Major League Baseball does not confirm. He has a standing offer from the Mets to start talking about a new contract as soon as he is reinstated to the game. He wants nothing other than that.
    “It just feels like New York is my home,” he says. “I belong to New York. It seems like I did all my growing up in New York.
    “Obviously, I’d like to apologize to the fans for my actions, but I can honestly say I’m on the right track. I’m getting myself in the best possible shape physically so when that chance comes I’ll be ready. It may be time to quit feeling like it can be 1985 again. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to win 20 games again.
    “I keep having these daydreams about coming back. If they let me come