NewsHulett tells tale of tragedy, redemption
Young ballplayer had to recover from loss of little brother
By Rustin Dodd / MLB.com
05/28/09 4:11 PM ET
KANSAS CITY -- Tug Hulett doesn't have much time.The Royals play the Tigers in about 70 minutes, and Hulett is the newest position player on the Kansas City Royals. It's his second time in the big leagues and he's here because Royals shortstop Mike Aviles went on the disabled list.
He doesn't have much time, but this is his story, and he'll tell it one more time. His story has saved lives. His story has made grown men cry. And his story has rocked the lives of a family.
"It was 1992," Hulett says, beginning his story. "We were in Baltimore."
The Hulett brothers were playing in the street before dinner. Their dad, Tim, was playing for the Orioles in Chicago, and their mom was cooking dinner.
The Hulett brothers always played together, always made everything a game, always made everything competitive.
Tug, at 10 years old, was the oldest. Joe was 8. Sam was 6. Jeff was 5.
"We'd look both ways, then we'd run across the street," Hulett says, "gold, silver, bronze."
The next part happened so fast. Hulett remembers Sam saying he was finally going to win the gold. He remembers it was almost time to go home. And he remembers his brother, Joe, yelling, "Sam, wait!"
Sam didn't see the car.
"I reached to grab him and I missed and the car hit him." Hulett says. "I remember at that point, for the first time in my life, feeling completely hopeless."
Hulett did the only thing he knew to do. He grabbed Jeff and Joe, slammed them down on the curb and began to pray.
The next part happened fast, too. His brother Sam was gone. His mom called his father, and he flew home from Chicago.
"I remember Dad coming home and gathering the family together, and saying 'A tragedy like this either tears a family apart or brings it closer together, and we will not let this tear us apart,'" Hulett says.
Hulett's family had always been close. Now they'd become even closer.
Hulett would eventually go on to play college baseball at Auburn. His family had moved to Shreveport, La., and he was just 5-foot-8 and hometown LSU didn't want him. But he found a place where'd he excel. He would be drafted in the 14th round by the Texas Rangers in 2004. He would be traded to the Mariners organization and finally make it to the Majors in 2008. He'd hit a broken-bat single to center field at Kauffman Stadium off future teammate Gil Meche for his first Major League hit.
"I got the ball," Hulett says.
But before he could do any of that, before he could start living again, Tug Hulett had to find peace.
For the first few years after Sam's death, Hulett carried around a burden on his shoulders. He was the oldest brother. It was his game, that race that ended in tragedy. He was just 10 years old, but he was supposed to be in charge, supposed to look after Jeff, Joe and Sam.
"I was pretty dead inside," Hulett says. "I was pretty guilt-ridden for a long time."
Hulett tried to deal with it. He tried to be strong. He tried to hide the hurt. He couldn't.
On the third anniversary of the accident, Hulett couldn't stop crying. He went to his mother and, through tears, he could only say one thing.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Hulett's mom knew what he meant. She looked at her son. She told Tug that they were going to pray, and the pain was going to go away. So they sat, and prayed.
"God will grant you the peace which surpasses all understanding," Hulett says, repeating the prayer more than a decade later.
"I just remember having a peace that I hadn't had in a long time, a joy that I hadn't had in a long time," Hulett says.
He realized that Sam's tragedy didn't have to have a sad ending. He had found peace. Now he would lean on his faith. He would use his story to help others.
Hulett is 26 years old now. After playing 30 games for Seattle last season, he was designated for assignment in February and claimed off waivers by the Royals on Feb. 19. He played 39 games for Triple-A Omaha and hit .296 before being called up to Kansas City.
"I was pleasantly surprised," says Hulett, who saw the infielders ahead of him in Kansas City and wasn't sure if there'd be room for him.
Royals manager Trey Hillman calls him a "ballplayer." A ballplayer that brings energy whether he's in the lineup or on the bench.
"He certainly hasn't been given anything," says Willie Bloomquist, who played with Hulett last year in Seattle. "He's a grinder. He plays the game hard, and plays the game the way it's supposed to be."
A Bible sits on the bottom shelf of Hulett's locker. At just 5-foot-8, Hulett could be mistaken for a clubhouse attendant. The Royals list him at 5-foot-10, but ... "If they've got me at 5-foot-10, I'll take it," Hulett says.
Hulett spent his childhood around big league ballplayers, something that Hillman called an asset.
He idolized his dad and Cal Ripken Jr. and the rest of his dad's teammates on the Orioles.
Now he's getting his second opportunity at the Major League level, and he'd like to stick around for a while.
He can play the infield and he'll play the outfield if that's where he's needed. He said he'd flip balls in the batting cage if that helps Kansas City win.
"Everybody wants to play," Hulett says. "The goal is to play every day, be an everyday guy, but if it takes being a utility player to stay here, I'll do that, and I'll be happy with that."
There isn't much time left, and Hulett has to finish his story. The part where he saved a life.
A few years ago, he went to speak at a school in Alabama. He went to tell his story, and he met the principal before he spoke.
"I know your story," Hulett remembers the principal saying. "Just say what you have to say."
Hulett began to speak, began to speak about his brother Sam and his family and the tragedy that changed his life.
But as he spoke, he looked out at the students and saw nothing. No reaction, no emotion, nothing. He left that school wondering if he even should have been there.
A couple of years later, Hulett was sitting in a clubhouse opening mail and a letter appeared.
It was from a kid who'd been at that school in Alabama. He wrote that he'd been a freshman. He'd lost a brother too, and he didn't know how to deal with it. He'd had a suicide note ready. But he'd listened to Hulett, and the words had saved his life. Sitting in the locker room, Hulett began to bawl. He thought about his brother Sam, and he thought about the kid in Alabama.
"All things kind of work together for good," Hulett says sitting in his chair in the Royals clubhouse. Then he finishes his story.
"It turns out," Hulett says, "that was the principal's son."
Rustin Dodd is an associate reporter for MLB.com. This story was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs.
