Baseball Hall of Famer Dave Parker – Not Just a Client (1951-2025)
I met Dave Parker in 1989. He was a member of the Oakland Athletics Major League Baseball Club. I had been a fan since the mid-1970s when Parker, representing the Pittsburgh Pirates, threw a strike from right field to home plate in the All-Star game to prevent a runner from scoring. I had seen a similar throw by a Pirates right fielder a few years earlier in the World Series from a guy by the name of Roberto Clemente. I immediately put Parker in the defensive class with Clemente.
So, when I received a call from a former client in Pennsylvania who asked if I would be interested in speaking with Dave Parker about possibly representing him in a legal matter in Georgia, I immediately replied, “Yes.” It seemed Parker thought his current counsel was nickel-and-diming him on fees and not aggressively pursuing his side of the legal dispute.
My former client arranged a telephone call between Parker and me. He told me about his legal situation. His questions were rapid-fire, direct, and to the point; he had no time to waste. The Oakland A’s were locked into a pennant race in late August, 1989. His overriding concern was whether I could nail a runner at home plate and then stroll to the plate and hit a 3-2 slider for the game winner. Parker believed that I could. He said he would have his agent in Chicago contact me about fees for representing him.
His agent telephoned me and explained the legal implications of the case, informing me that Parker’s previous attorney had billed him on an hourly basis. They believed that this attorney was handling the case solely to collect a substantial fee. I quoted a modest, yet handsome fee for a Georgia lawyer seeking to bring his client’s legal matter to a quick and successful conclusion.
Within days, certified funds arrived with the file. I filed an entry of appearance in a case to represent a man born the same year I was born, who was working professionally as a Major League baseball player, which I had dreamed of becoming. When I met Parker in person, I realized why I hadn’t made the transition from college player to pro. I did not have the DNA structure anywhere close to the magnificent human frame that Parker possessed.
The litigation was fierce and strident. One of the attorneys on the opposing side of the case had a sister who was a huge Dave Parker fan, and this attorney resented the admiration his sister had for Parker, making it a personal issue for him.
Since I represented Parker, I became a target of this attorney’s ire. He attacked me in pleadings and court proceedings. This lawyer hurled blatant and subtle accusations about my competence in the law. I stood my ground and resolved to defend Parker’s interest in this legal dispute. What the other side wanted from Parker was money, lots of money, and I was the irritant, a person with a Law Degree from a night law school program, standing between them and Parker’s bank account.
One time, I was in a Fulton County Courtroom trying a civil case on the same day that a motion hearing was scheduled in the Parker matter in DeKalb County. I followed the Civil Rules of Procedure and notified the DeKalb County court that I could not attend the hearing because the rules state that trials take precedence over hearings in matters of conflict. The attorney who hated Parker and, by extension, me also telephoned the Black Judge during the trial and ordered him to release me so I could come to DeKalb County and allow them to pick Dave Parker’s pockets.
The judge, Clarence Cooper, who would later serve on the United States District Court for the Northern District of Georgia, told me after the trial about the message he received from my opposing counsel in DeKalb. He then advised me that if I had a problem in DeKalb, I should call him.
Later depositions were scheduled in the case, and Parker flew into town. The night before the deposition, my wife and I hosted Parker and his wife in our home for dinner. Parker and I grilled tuna steaks. He taught me how to grill tuna steaks and maintain their moistness. We were two 1951 babies at the height of our respective careers.
We hit it off.
The following day, we encountered a legal issue in Cobb County that differed from the matter in the retainer, but I agreed to attend the hearing with him. I picked him up from the Hyatt Regency Hotel in downtown Atlanta and drove out to Cobb County. As Parker and I sat in the courtroom waiting for our matter to come before the court, we noticed a heavy-set white man in the room making odd faces towards Parker. I didn’t know what to make of those strange faces. Parker had an idea, but he ignored the man.
After resolving the legal matter, we headed to the elevator. The Cobb County elevators are notoriously small and always crowded. We squeezed ourselves into the elevator, and right behind us, the annoying man forced his way aboard. He did not turn to face the door; he looked towards us, making faces as we descended to the ground floor.
The man got off the elevator first, and as Parker and I were getting off, the man began to taunt Parker. At first, Parker ignored the man’s taunts. When we reached the outside of the building, Parker could not take any more of the man’s mouth. Parker shouted at the man to get out of his face. I saw his left arm begin to move, his left hand balled into a fist. I shout, “No, Dave, no,” as I reach Parker’s left arm to hold it back from striking the man. I had Parker by the forearm, “My God,” I thought to myself, “his forearm is as big as my thigh.”
While I struggled to hold his forearm down, Parker suddenly realized that this guy was baiting him so that he could get into his pockets, too. He relaxed, and I let go of his forearm. I’m not sure if I could have held his forearm much longer.
We drove back into the city, and Dave said he and his wife, Kelleye, would love to take Cyn and me to dinner at the Polaris Restaurant, located on the top floor of the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Arriving back in the city, Parker was aghast at how unexceptional the Atlanta skyline looked for a city with its international reputation. I wonder what he would think of the Atlanta skyline since the 1996 Olympics.
Over dinner, I quickly discerned that Parker had picked a good woman to marry in 1984. Kelleye had a finance background and managed the family affairs while her husband raised havoc throughout major league pitching staffs. When Parker transitioned, the Parkers had been married forty-one years.
Parker maintained his home in Cincinnati, where he grew up and was a popular high school athlete, which likely explained why he chose to enter the Hall of Fame wearing his Cincinnati Reds ball cap. He also maintained a home in the city where he played baseball.
After school let out for the summer, Kelleye would pack up the kids and move to wherever Parker was under contract to play. During his last year with the California Angels, Parker received an offer of $650,000 to re-sign for one more year. I thought that was a nice sum, given his age and the wear and tear the game had placed on his body, but Parker exclaimed, “I can’t leave home for less than $850,000.” He turned the offer down.
We eventually settled the civil matter Parker had hired me to handle. The plaintiff got far less than they thought they would. When it came time to hit that 3-2 slider, I hit it. That nasty lawyer on the opposing side was so angry that he did not get to raid Parker’s assets, so he sent a letter demanding that the funds be delivered to his office by noon on a specific date.
As a somewhat unusual move on my part, I hired a courier to deliver certified funds to the opposing counsel’s office at 11:59 a.m., and not a second earlier. The opposing lawyer started calling my office around 9:00 a.m., demanding that the money be in his office before noon. He called every half hour. No doubt, he was probably dialing my number when the courier sauntered into his office at 11:59 a.m. Parker’s initial instincts held. I nailed the runner at home with a perfect throw from 300 feet.
When I met Parker, he was nearing the end of his professional baseball career. He would play another five years. We discussed what it took to maintain his body in shape to perform at a high level and continue to contribute to his team. He adhered to a routine of hitting the gym early in the morning, eating a balanced diet, and arriving at the clubhouse early on game days.
He said that he kept a bottle of Tylenol on his nightstand, and the first thing he did in the morning to get out of bed was to take several capsules. Then, he had breakfast, went to the gym, had lunch, took a nap, ate again, and made a trip to the clubhouse.
Several years ago, when news reached me that Parker had Lou Gehrig’s disease, I recalled his discussion about that bottle of painkillers on the nightstand that helped him walk each day. Oh my, the unknown things professional athletes endure to work at their trade year in and year out.
Parker confided in me that he did not enjoy playing under Pete Rose at Cincinnati. He thought Rose was a pompous prima donna; these are my words, I believe Parker used another term to describe Rose. Now they are united again in that great baseball league in the bye and bye, while Pete, now eligible in death for the Hall of Fame, waits for a call.
So Mick, Hank, and Roberto, “if you hear any noise” up there, it’s just Dave and “the boys” rumbling through on their way to Coopertown.
Excellent article! Thank you for this.