Free The Rotation by Jim Salisbury Page B

34 jersey that Lee had kept warm. “I was holding out hope and trying to be as optimistic as possible that I’d end up here, and it happened.”
    Halladay’s first season with the Phillies was almost storybook. He pitched the 20 th perfect game in major-league history in May. In September, he wiped champagne from his eyes after pitching a shutout to clinch the NL East title and ensure his first-ever trip to the postseason. Eight days later, he pitched the
first postseason no-hitter in 54 years, blanking the Cincinnati Reds in front of a delirious crowd at Citizens Bank Park.
    Martinez, the guy who all those years earlier had tipped off Halladay about the Blue Jays’ plans to send him to the minors, watched that game on television.
    â€œI was so happy for him,” Martinez said. “That no-hitter was everything Roy had pined for—a good team, the postseason, the big stage, and excellence.”
    Actually, it wasn’t everything that Halladay had pined for. The 2010 Phillies lost to San Francisco in the NL Championship Series. Halladay reported to spring training in 2011 still looking to fulfill his biggest career desire, the goal that drove him to Philadelphia in the first place—a World Series championship.

ROY OSWALT
    T he HomePlate Fish & Steakhouse just outside of rural Weir, Mississippi, served a popular fish buffet and a 44-ounce steak in honor of its owner.
    It sat on land Roy Oswalt purchased from a timber company and personally cleared with his Caterpillar D6N XL, a $230,000 bulldozer he received as a gift from Houston Astros owner Drayton McLane for winning Game 6 of the 2005 National League Championship Series. Oswalt used the 35,000-pound yellow monster to move earth and timber because he wanted people in Weir (pronounced “where”) to have a place to eat on the weekends.
    â€œI built it for the community,” he said.
    Folks had to drive at least 20 miles to the nearest restaurant before HomePlate opened in November 2009. But being the only restaurant in town hardly guaranteed success. There are only 550 people in Weir, where Oswalt grew up, and less than 9,000 in Choctaw County, where Weir is located. Restaurants had come and gone because folks trying to make a living running them could not make ends meet. Oswalt hoped to do just enough business to keep the place open.
    HomePlate had wood paneling, fluorescent lighting, and baseball memorabilia on the walls. There was no wine list or beer selection. (Choctaw County is a dry county, which was fine with Oswalt because he lived down the road and did not want to worry about drunk drivers so close to home.) The food was affordable and business was good. It served dinner from 4 P.M. to 9 P.M. on Fridays and Saturdays—folks in Weir eat at home during the week, so it was closed weeknights—and fared well enough early on to eventually open for lunch on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.
    But as the economy soured, the restaurant struggled.
    HomePlate closed in the summer of 2011.
    â€œI don’t know what I’m going to do,” Oswalt said. “I may reopen it. I don’t know. It’s kind of sad.”
    Professional baseball players often relocate to Florida, Arizona, or California once they get a few bucks in their pockets because of the weather and training opportunities in the off-season. But Oswalt never dreamed of
leaving Mississippi. It is where he grew up, it is where he will retire, and it is where he will be buried.
    â€œIt’s home,” he said. “Everyone knows you as you, not for what you do. That’s what I like about it. Every once in awhile somebody gets excited about what I do, but most everybody is like, ‘That’s Roy. He’s on his tractor, pushing something. He’s no big deal.’ ”
    Oswalt has a deep connection with Weir, where he learned about life, work ethic, and baseball. His grandfather, Houston Oswalt, was a logger, until he retired at