Youth baseball: Even through his tough times, Figert still has a love for the game

The road to Williamsport runs through Mark Figert.

The path may not cure his cancer or show doctors signs of what to do next, but it can — on the darkest of drives, on the worst of mornings — keep him awake.

He merged in cautiously when his only child, Chris, played tee-ball at 6 years old in Odessa. And they exited quickly.

Even at that age, the emphasis was on winning, not fundamentals.

When his son was 8, they gave it another try and Chris signed up for a coach-pitch league. In the first game, Mark watched from behind the first-base side of the fence, and another father was behind the third-base side.

The coach might as well have been in the stands.

“He was a nice guy,” Figert said. “He loved kids. But you could put everything he knew about baseball in a thimble and have plenty of room to spare.

“That’s how I ended up coaching.”

Seeing that the tee-ball and coach-pitch leagues did not have their own city tournaments, Figert organized them. Seeing, during Chris’ 11-year-old season, that the Floyd Gwin Little League president transferred out of town, Figert relinquished his coaching position and took over the job.

For Mark Figert, this was going to be a lifetime move. 

>> LITTLE LEAGUE, BIG COMMITMENT

Early in his tenure as Floyd Gwin’s president, Figert led an effort to install lights on a field at its park.

He had to convince others to take on $60,000 worth of debt for the improvements, but he stayed on as Floyd Gwin’s treasurer for more than two years while helping make sure the bill was paid.

With a seat on the Odessa Youth Baseball Association board, Figert favored a broad picture: what is best for the kids?

As in, everybody’s kids.

Because after Chris played his last baseball game at 14 years old, Figert did not have to remain involved. But he did.

Like the lights that still stand today, he became a fixture.

In 2003, Mark and Chris volunteered at the Little League Texas West State Tournament in Waco, two stops before the Little League World Series in Williamsport, Pa.

Mark did not have to go, but he wanted to help. For the first two years, he and Chris were scorekeepers. Then Mark became a game director, approaching it like an MLB playoff game.

“Another thing we do that I think makes a difference from a game-tempo standpoint is our own little set of hand signals,” Figert said. “If a coach wants a pitch count, he just taps his wrist. Tapping the head is for a special pinch-runner. And (he wheels his index fingers) this is for when a player and his sub are changing places. Coaches always say, ‘I can’t believe how fast we can get through a game here.’

“You can if you know what you’re doing.” 

>> CANCER CALLS

Mark and Chris made it a tradition to help at the tournament every year.

But in 2007, Mark was not the same. That summer during the district tournaments in Odessa, he had no energy, not even enough to help rake the infield before games.

He made it to the state tournament. About a week later when he was helping Chris move out of his apartment in Lubbock — he is a chemical engineering major at Texas Tech — he was short of breath after climbing stairs.

Mark saw a doctor in Odessa, and a colonoscopy was positive for colorectal cancer, the third-leading cause of cancer deaths.

A CT scan showed the cancer had metastasized, or spread, to his liver.

Five rounds of chemotherapy ensued, and, Figert said, “it really felt like the cure was worse than the disease.”

Sometimes still does. But Cathy, his wife, is his backbone. Chris is his best friend. Little League is his purpose.

“To be honest with you, I was gonna quit baseball before I got sick,” said Figert, who is 51 years old. “Because I thought I had other stuff I had to do. Now it’s the reason I can get up and fight every day.”

Figert loves everything about being a game director: show up, help rake, gather the lineup cards, set up the public-address system, get the correct pronunciations of the players’ names, announce the lineups, consult the rule book as needed.

“I am glad he has it,” said Cathy, who met Mark when they were in junior high. “Partly because of baseball, Chris and Mark are good friends.”

Mark Figert’s approach is a mix of detail and sensitivity.

He developed what he believes is a more efficient way of recording pitch counts. In some games, he will time an introduction song to end precisely when he is done announcing the names and begins to ask people to rise for the national anthem.

And he does not introduce new players as substitutes.

“We say, ‘reserve players,’ ” said Figert, holding back tears. “It’s a minor detail. But I’ve had parents tell me how much they appreciate it.”

Something like making and updating a tournament bracket is Figert’s forte.

“He’s probably the smartest bracket person, as far as making brackets goes,” said Jim Darden, a longtime Odessa baseball umpire. “I’ve umpired in Odessa for 39 years and sometimes I think I’ve done a lot, but not nearly as much as Mark Figert.” 

>> LIFE, AND THE GAME, CONTINUES

If only there was a Mark Figert of doctors. Recently one of Figert’s specialists told him he has no other options locally.

“He can’t — but I’m gonna find somebody who can,” Figert said. “I’ve never been given the, what I call, expiration-date diagnosis. What I’ll tell you I’ve learned is that typically people fall into one of two groups. They say either, ‘OK, I’m gonna fight this and figure out a way,’ or they say, ‘OK, I’m screwed.’ ”

Along with the lineup cards and microphone and scorebook Figert brings to games, nowadays he also carries his medicine, measuring a liquid cup while keeping an eye out on a left-hander’s pickoff move.

“I was telling Cathy and Chris the other day: ‘I can see how after fighting for two years, it would be really easy to sit down and walk away,’ ” he said. “It takes a conscious decision to get up and fight a little more.”

He has taken the fight to Houston clinics recently to explore options. A little less than three weeks ago, a doctor said he was not a candidate for a cutting-edge surgery that tries to remove metastasized tumors from the liver, because his liver was in too poor condition.

On these trips, Cathy accompanies him. She is pursuing a master’s degree and has a CPA firm in Odessa, but she has managed to make it work. Chris has stayed behind to keep helping with local Little League All-Star games.

If it were up to Mark, he would be at a shaky, hot, tiny Little League press box calling a game next to Chris. That is why he again is at the state tournament, which began Thursday in Fort Worth.

“Little League baseball is my favorite sport,” he said.

Figert tells his story at Midland’s Christensen Stadium during a Big Spring-Greenwood Junior League game earlier this month.

To be involved, to impact and keep track of many youngsters over the years, is a privilege. He enjoys it all, including the road he has seen young players navigate before they eventually pass him on the way to rest of their lives.

“One of the kids on the Big Spring team there,” Figert said, “I can remember working games with his brother, who’s now a receiver-slash-quarterback at (Texas) A&M. He doesn’t know me, but when I see him play on Saturday, I say, ‘Hey, I know that kid.’

“The little brother wears No. 21, which is the same umber his brother wore. That’s the kind of stuff that ...”

He does not finish the sentence. He does not need to.

>> ABOUT MARK FIGERT

Age: 51

Birthplace: Valparaiso, Ind.

High school: Odessa High.

Family: Wife, Cathy; Son, Chris, 22.

Involvement: Little League District 3 assistant administrator; Odessa Youth Baseball Association vice commissioner; Little League Texas West State Tournament game director;14 consecutive years volunteering with local youth baseball.