Good Great Gabe
On Gabe Tanner’s Signing with the White Sox
by Joe Horton
On Thursday, I had brunch with Gabe Tanner. He scraped inquisitively at the huckleberry deserts. He ordered chocolate milk. Twice. When we were leaving, he made sure to drink what was left. Finished what he started.
“Gabe loves chocolate milk,” his girlfriend Bella said on Friday on the way to what would be his last start as a Baller. “He even has his favorite brand, Crystal. The big jug. We drive around looking for it sometimes.”
I hope there’s plenty of the good stuff where he’s going, which is onward, which is upward, which is joining the Chicago White Sox organization.
I was at the game in Marysville last season when Gabe tossed the first complete game in Ballers’ history. I sat near Bella and Gabe’s mom—cool as cucumbers—and Gabe’s dad, who was pacing so far away it was unclear whether he could even see the game. I got a picture of the hug he shared with his parents after 93 pitches. He’s a hugger, he’s a finisher.
Gabe dug deep as the starter for Game 4 in the championship series last year. Anyone who was there can tell you it was the odd vibes game—it didn’t have the flyovers or energy of Games 3 and 5; the Chukars went up 2-0 and led until the fifth. Nerves crept into Raimondi’s stands for the first and maybe only time in the home series. He had to grind it out, and he did. Pitch by pitch, inning by inning. But my favorite memory is coming to Game 5 and crossing 20th at the same time as Gabe, who had his cleats in hand. “If they need me, I can go,” he said. He’s a gamer.
I got a B’s tattoo with Gabe at Pastime Tattoo as Bella was getting some new ones and another touched up. He kept asking if mine hurt, I kept telling him no, but he kept checking in. Months later, he’d ask how it was. By now it was a joke, but not entirely. He’s a sensitive guy, he cares, he remembers.
I was at the last game Gabe pitched for the Ballers, this Friday in Great Falls. We’d booked seats months before right behind home plate. I texted him ahead of time to see if we should move, if that would be distracting to him. No need to, he wrote back, Fire me up. And he was feisty all game—talking to himself, to the umpires, to the batters, the ball, the universe. But once he was in the dugout he was smiling, quick to support his teammates. All sides of Gabe. Always unabashedly himself.
Our Dispatches man on the scene Mike Chouinard was there last night after Gabe got the news. “Thanks to our insider Bella, we were able to wait until Gabe came out after the game to have him sign our card. He apologized for his hand shaking but then went straight into complimenting the team for hitting despite the week’s pitching madness. To top off our farewell Gabe also found a door for our escape because we got locked in the ballpark during the celebration.”
The White Sox organization isn’t getting a good one. They’re getting a great one.
I would say remember us, Gabe, wherever you go from here, but I don’t need to. He will. He’s that kind of guy. He loves Oakland, loves the Bay, loves the Ballers and this fan-ily. Almost as much as he loves chocolate milk.
With photos from Chris Drue and additional reporting from Mike Chouinard.
Joe Horton is the editor of Dispatches from Raimondi.
