Hall column: Friends in high places David Hall/Kinston Free Press Chuck Lofgren has never been nervous in front of a crowd. Since the age of 15, he’s played baseball before as many as 30,000 people in locales ranging from Japan to Venezuela to Mexico to all corners of the United States. He’s been cheered, feted, heckled, booed and hissed while remaining so locked in on the game that he hardly noticed it one way or the other. But this was different. When Lofgren, a former Kinston Indians left-hander who now pitches for the Milwaukee Brewers, found himself standing onstage with a microphone between Garth Brooks and Tricia Yearwood, he was more than just a fish out of water. Think Flavor Flav at a Kennedy family picnic. But Lofgren, who tied a franchise record with 17 wins during Kinston’s 2006 Carolina League championship season, somehow managed to hold his own. With Brooks, Yearwood and a full band backing him up like All-Star infielders, he sang “Much Too Young (To Be This Damn Old)” like an old pro on a Nashville, Tenn., stage last month. “It was one of the best experiences of my life,” Lofgren said Thursday from Los Angeles, where he’s working out before he tries to make the Brewers’ big league roster this spring. “It was unbelievable. It was tremendous.” How did it happen, you ask? The impromptu cameo was the result of a combination of Lofgren’s sense of adventure, his unwavering self-confidence and a generous heart. And it’s a testament to the old saying that no good deed goes unrewarded. It started innocuously enough. A couple of years ago, when Lofgren was in major league camp with the Cleveland Indians, he was approached by a Brooks representative to join a charity called Teammates For Kids. The foundation, which directs 100 percent of its proceeds toward non-profits that benefit children with an emphasis on health, education and inner-city services, was co-founded by Brooks in 1999. Athletes donate money for specific goals they attain (like wins by a pitcher, touchdowns by a football player or goals by a soccer player), and Brooks’ charity triples the donation. Lofgren, a 24-year-old Northern Californian who’s long been what he called a “huge, huge fan” of Brooks and George Strait, joined the group and began donating for each mound victory and strikeout. “It kind of gives you incentive to do better for these kids,” he said. Last month, some of the foundation’s benefactors were invited to Brooks’ Nashville home for a weekend that included a Friday meet-and-greet and a Saturday concert on Brooks’ property. That Friday, Lofgren and his girlfriend, Jen Maul, had some alone time with Brooks as they toured a giant barn that houses his many awards. They had a chance to discuss their favorite Brooks songs. (Lofgren’s is “If Tomorrow Never Comes.” Brooks’ is “The Dance.”) The end of the conversation, with the concert looming a day later, went something like this: Lofgren (half-jokingly): “Hey, don’t be afraid to call me up on stage. I can sing a little bit.” Brooks (laughing): “Yeah, yeah. I hear that all the time. I always have someone come up and say they can sing, but when they get on stage, they freeze up. They don’t know what to do. You get the lights on you and the crowd, and it’s a different experience.” Lofgren (still pitching): “Well, playing ball, I’m used to the big crowds and the noise and stuff. I get pretty excited about it.” Brooks (still laughing): “We’ll see.” About midway through the next night’s concert, which was attended by current and ex-major leaguers like Cliff Lee, Ryan Franklin, Casey Blake, Larry Walker, Joe Nathan and ESPN’s Barry Melrose and Steve Levy, Brooks, improbably, took Lofgren up on his offer. Before about 500 people, he called the stunned pitcher onstage. Lofgren grabbed a microphone and headed for the back of the band, beside Yearwood, where he thought he’d sing backup. Brooks pointed him toward center stage, made a joke about stepping up to the plate and started strumming the introduction of “Much Too Young” as Lofgren — more nervous than he had ever been on a mound — rubbed his hands together and fidgeted with his shirt sleeves. A steel guitar played, then a fiddle. And then Lofgren looked back at Yearwood and got a thumbs-up. He leaned forward, grabbed the mic and sang, right on cue, “This ol’ highway’s getting longer. ...” The place went nuts. Lofgren, whose performance can be seen in a
shot by Maul (just search for his name), settled into the spotlight, only struggling to remember the words a couple of times before Brooks leaned in to help. By the first chorus, Lofgren was smiling and pointing to friends in the crowd like a veteran of the Grand Ole Opry. He walked off the stage to a loud standing ovation, like he’d just struck out the side with the bases loaded. Longtime major leaguers, many of whom have well-documented dreams of being rock stars, congratulated him. One said he might have a career after baseball. If nothing else, Lofgren, who had only dabbled in karaoke performances of old Journey and Bon Jovi songs, has a highly unique story to tell his grandkids someday and a deep appreciation for what Brooks and Yearwood do for a living. “When I’m pitching on the road and I’m hearing the away fans scream and yell at me and stuff, I use it as motivation for myself,” Lofgren said. “It doesn’t get to me. But doing that in front of Garth, I tell you, that was nerve-wracking. “When you’re singing, it’s a whole different feeling.” And to think: It never would’ve happened if he hadn’t agreed to donate to Brooks’ charity a few years ago. Another good deed, in the coolest of ways, is rewarded.