Blackmon’s bats had to be perfect, too.
He swung Old Hickory bats — 34 inches, 31 1/2 ounces — his entire career. He visited the factory in Goodlettsville, Tenn., to see how his bats were made.
“Charlie has weighed every single bat for as long as I’ve known him,” Pontarelli said. “Not only that, he’d measure the taper of his bat handles to make sure they were perfect, too.
“A lot of guys are just happy to get a dozen bats and just go out and use them. Not Charlie. He had to double-check to make sure they were perfect. So, in a batch of a dozen bats, he might discard three or four of them.”
Blackmon is a man who knows what he likes. Arenado prefers the word “stubborn.”
“That’s what made him great: He stuck to his ways,” Arenado said. “If you tried to get him out of his ways, it was like, ‘Don’t talk to me, don’t come near me.’”
When the two were teammates, Blackmon and Arenado often went out to dinner together. Aside from baseball, they didn’t have much in common: Arenado, a Southern Californian who loves to play golf and go to the beach, and Blackmon, an outdoorsy Georgian who loves to fish.
So they would go out to dinner and inevitably end up talking baseball. And arguing, especially if Arenado tried to give Blackmon advice on how to escape a slump.
“I could say, ‘Hey, Charlie, try a lighter bat’ and he’d be like, ‘Hey, don’t tell me what to do,’” Arenado recalled with a laugh.
During his early days with the Rockies, Blackmon continued driving the beat-up 2004 Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo he’d had since high school. He put close to 200,000 miles on his beloved Jeep, pushing the vehicle to its limit.
Blackmon’s stubbornness caught up to him on a brisk Atlanta morning in January 2016. On his way to a morning workout, he ran out of gas on a busy freeway. Second baseman DJ LeMahieu, Blackmon’s close friend and former teammate and roommate, had to come to the rescue.
“My gas light was on in my Jeep when I left to go work out that morning,” Blackmon recalled. “I knew it was almost empty, but I like to push it. It was crazy cold that day. It wasn’t safe. So I called up DJ, ’cause I knew he was probably behind me. He was.”
LeMahieu showed up with a gas can. As Blackmon poured gas into his Jeep, LeMahieu sat in the warmth of his car, snapped a picture with his iPhone, then
Charlie Blackmon’s postgame dining habits shocked and awed Nolan Arenado.
As a 22-year-old rookie, Arenado came walking into the training room when he spotted Blackmon, neck-deep in the cold tub, chowing down on his postgame meal.
“Guys would be like, ‘That’s weird,’” Arenado recalled last week. “But that’s Charlie. He was a trip, man.”
Arenado, the Cardinals’ star third baseman, was Blackmon’s Rockies teammate from 2013 to 2020. Over those eight seasons, Blackmon left a lasting impression.
“His work ethic was the best I’ve ever seen,” said Arenado, a likely Hall of Famer.
Rockies fans know all about Blackmon’s drive, strict routine, and Charlie Hustle style. But the man behind the beard is infinitely more interesting than the four-time All-Star and two-time Silver Slugger.
“When he’s at the ballpark, it’s all baseball,” said Ashley, Blackmon’s wife of nearly seven years. “He’s ‘Chuck Nazty.’ He’s ‘Locker Room Charlie.’ But I don’t know who ‘Locker Room Charlie’ is. I just know Charlie-Charlie, and he’s a wonderful man.”
Blackmon, 38, plays the final game of his iconic 14-year major league career Sunday when the Rockies host the Dodgers in their 2024 season finale.
Rockies’ faithful took “Chuck Nazty” into their hearts, and it will be tough to say goodbye. They watched his Grizzly Adams beard grow, and grow, and grow some more. They sang along with his walk-up song, “Your Love,” by The Outfield.
But Ashley fell in love, not with the Rockies’ icon, but with the kind and affectionate man who cuddles their two children, daughter Josie, 3, and son Wyatt, who will soon turn 2.
“Charlie’s a multifaceted person,” Ashley said. “He presents himself as this stoic and serious person, but the exterior can sometimes lead people to believe he’s unapproachable or that he’s reserved. Beneath that tough facade is this warm, gentle, fun-loving guy with this love-of-life spirit.
“He often goes out of his way to make others feel valued and appreciated and supported. He has a deep love for the Lord and his family. Oh, and fly-fishing, too.
“His seriousness at the ballpark stems from his deep sense of commitment and responsibility to the game and his career.”
And what a career.
Blackmon entered his final weekend with 1,802 hits, 2,953 total bases, 334 doubles and 1,621 games played, ranking second in Rockies history in all of those categories to Hall of Famer Todd Helton.
Blackmon made almost $140 million playing baseball, but money didn’t change the man.
“He’s just a normal guy, a normal dude who likes being outside,” said Ivan Orsic, who became Blackmon’s Colorado fly-fishing buddy. “He was already an All-Star when we met in 2016, but he made it super easy to become friends. He’s just Charlie, a guy who happens to be really good at baseball.”
Longtime Rockies outfielder Charlie Blackmon fishes Colorado’s Arkansas River (Photo courtesy of Ivan Orsic/Orsic Creative)
Beginning in 2015, Blackmon decided he wanted to explore the wilds of Colorado and learn how to fly-fish. Since Blackmon never does anything halfway, he reached out to Orsic and Colorado fishing guru Tanner Smith …read more
Source:: The Denver Post – Sports
