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A project with the long, slow development curve of Baseball
has any number of heroes. Many of the names you know: Gary
Huckabay, Chris Kahrl and Clay Davenport have been among the core players
in the group since its inception in 1995. Other people have been less
visible, but just as valuable at various points: Joel Zuhars, who
bankrolled Baseball Prospectus 1997, or Will Allison, whose editing
work on the last two editions of the book has improved it substantially, or
Steven Carter, who founded "The Week in Quotes," a column that
was close to our only regular Web site content for a while.

This column is about one of those people in the background, one of the ones
without whom Baseball Prospectus, and countless lives, would have
been less. I speak of Mary Angela Gonzalez–"Angie" to the
world–my mother-in-law.

I only knew Angie for a short time, about six-and-a-half years, but the
impact she made on my life is indelible. She was a remarkable woman; the
oldest of nine children growing up in a small Colorado town, she helped to
raise her eight brothers. After moving to California, she raised six
children of her own, including a stepson and a goddaughter. She worked at a
number of jobs while bringing up her brood, becoming an excellent
bookkeeper and clerical worker despite never completing high school.

I came to know her later in life, after she’d retired in 1992. She was the
antithesis of the archetypal mother-in-law: welcoming, rather than aloof;
accepting, rather than judgmental. She never took me to task for things I
did, and heaven knows she had many opportunities. When I made what can only
be described as "interesting" career decisions, she and my
father-in-law held their tongue and gave me rope when they no doubt would
have preferred to use it as a noose. That patience and support was a key
element in the production of the early editions of the book and in the
development of the Web site over the past two years.

Angie told great stories, and enjoyed regaling me with tales of growing up
in Starkville, a place I envisioned as something out of a Dickens novel but
with more snow. She liked talking about her younger days with her husband
Henry, when they would dance into the Los Angeles night. She would always
return from trips to Laughlin, Nevada with more money than she left with
and stories to go with the winnings.

Angie’s last few years weren’t easy. A stroke in July of 1998 weakened her
and left her unable to pursue some of her favorite activities, like
crocheting. She lost some ability to speak, but worked hard to repair the
damage. She never lost her sense of humor, often laughing at her inability
to come up with a word or a name. It had to be terribly frustrating for a
woman of such independence to become so reliant upon others, but she did
her best to adapt and adjust, as much for our sake as for hers.

On Wednesday, one day shy of her 71st birthday, God decided it was his turn
to have Angie for a while. In the end, she performed perhaps her greatest
feat of all, bringing her daughters together to spend her last hours
surrounded by them and her husband, Henry, himself a man of character and
achievement who has my respect, admiration, and love. Her loss is deeply
felt not only by those of us in the family, but by hundreds of others who
knew her as a friend, as a co-worker, and as a woman of tremendous strength.

On my last day with Angie, I was able to show her the latest edition of the
work that she had, perhaps unknowingly, helped me create. She was too weak
to even hold it, but she could see the title and the names and she smiled
with what I hope was pride.

I figure God is a baseball fan with broadband access, so I hope he can pass
this message along: Angie, we miss you, and we will always keep you in our
hearts. Thank you for touching so many people, and for making it possible
for one young man to work towards his dreams.

And don’t worry: we will all take care of Henry for you. I promise you that.

Joe Sheehan is an author of Baseball Prospectus. Contact him by

clicking here

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