This is the hardest post I’ve had to write since we started Fan Interference, and I hope you all will forgive me if it’s short or doesn’t make much sense.
But we’ve lost a great man today.
Harry Leroy Halladay II, known as Doc to many, and Roy to most, died today when the plane he was piloting crashed in the Gulf of Mexico outside of Pasco County, Florida. He was 40 years old.
Roy Halladay was a hero to me. Those who know me well know that there are not many people in this world that I respect and love more than Doc. So this hurts. This hits hard. I have been crying for hours now and I’m crying now. It doesn’t feel real.
Doc was my Sandy Koufax. I mean, everyone knows that I love Greg Maddux, he is my favorite player of all time and the finest pitcher I’ve ever seen, but man. Roy Halladay was special. He was tough as nails and cold as ice, and he made everything look easy. Postseason no hitter? Easy. Perfect game? Easy. Complete games in less time than your average Disney movie? Easy. That was Doc. He only played for roughly fifteen years and his body failed him, but think back. Think about Roy Halladay. What do you think of? I know what I thought of – when he signed with the Phillies I was like, “Well, great. The Braves will never win another game against Philadelphia because Doc will be there and he won’t lose, ever.”
While some might think that his path to baseball immortality would have been tough, I have always thought that Doc was a shoo-in. He was the most feared pitcher of his time, and accomplished things that to this day still give me chills. That postseason no-no, for example.
But mostly, he was a good man, a caring father, a loving husband, someone who truly loved the fans and the game and his teammates.
We all lost a special person today. I don’t want to say goodbye. I love you, Doc.
[Edited to fix Roy’s career timeline and to add a photo that didn’t post originally.]