With Todd Helton, it was always about more than stats and a swing

As a 12-year-old, I marveled at how far the ball went. Little did I know that 37 years later the swing that propelled a baseball to go farther than I dreamed any 12-year-old could send one would land in the Hall of Fame.

Congratulations Todd Helton on becoming only the second SEC player to be enshrined at Cooperstown

I have had the pleasure of growing up and living in East Tennessee my entire life. I had the opportunity to play and watch friends in youth baseball venues from Fountain City Ball Park to Badgett Field, Alice Bell and many others fields in the area. 

And as youth players, no one could do what Todd Helton did. Little did I know at the time that my career path would give me the opportunity to watch Helton all the way to Cooperstown. 

And I say it’s about time he gets there. Baseball purist have given Coors Field too much credit for Helton’s stats because Todd Helton’s swing was pure and it would travel anywhere. 

Maybe he would have a few more doubles than home runs if his home field was somewhere other than Denver, but anyone suggesting that the Rocky Mountain air is the reason Helton was so good, isn’t giving Helton, or his swing, it’s proper due. 

But for me, the essence of Todd Helton isn’t in his stat lines. It’s in his vital signs. 

Helton is a complex guy. Private. Shy. Unassuming in some ways while confident, and sometimes brash in other ways. 

Helton’s greatest trait — his competitiveness. 

Whether it was on the football playing for is uncle at Central High School in Fountain City, Neyland Stadium or it was on the baseball diamond, Helton wasn’t backing down from the moment. If you were competing with him, you weren’t either. 

In 1994 to open the football season, Helton was thrown into action at UCLA after Jerry Colquitt’s injury. After another three and out, the junior got on the headset and told offensive coordinator David Cutcliffe to get his mind right. 

“It’s absolutely true,” Cutcliffe said. “He said ‘hey coach cut when you got a bad pitcher on the mound you got to call a good game. Now get off your ass and call the game’. We had a unique relationship. Being from Knoxville, I pretty much solely recruited Todd. I chuckled when he said it and it relaxed me. We almost game back and got the win.”

It was classic Helton.

In his three seasons at Lindsey Nelson Stadium, Helton wowed in every way possible. There was his three home run night against Arkansas where Mike Keith’s adios call landed me against the wall thanks to excessive celebration. The third blast that screamed over the left field wall and into the street – now named Todd Helton Drive – put the cap on a helluva show.

There was his epic complete game win at the College World Series in the Vols’ opener against Clemson where Helton demanded the ball and the start because he knew the moment might be too big for others, but it wouldn’t be for him. 

Then there’s my favorite Helton moments. Moments that had nothing to do with that beautiful swing but everything to do with his competitive heartbeat. 

Whether it was a midweek Tuesday night against a directional school or a weekend tilt against an SEC foe, we all knew when it was Helton time. 

From his first base perch, if he saw his pitcher laboring, it was Helton who took control, looking into the dugout asking, begging, pleading and at times demanding the baseball to close things out. He would even call time to go visit with the pitcher just to make sure he had the coaching staff’s attention.

“As you know, because he pitched and played football his whole life, his arm was tender. He could only throw so many pitches. He would come up to me and say ‘coach I got 12 pitches today,’ meaning give me the ball in the ninth. Many times, I would look over and he would move his shoulder saying come give me the ball because he was one of the most competitive players I ever coached,” former head coach Rod Delmonico said. “He was the guy I wanted at the plate with the game on the line or on the mound. People don’t realize what a great pitcher he was.” 

Helton saved 23 games in 1994 and 1995. He won 13 games. He gave up 19 earned runs and struck out 125 batters in 126.1 innings of work. He still holds the record for scoreless innings pitched at 47.2 in 1994. 

It was poetry. The various arm angles, the fall off the table breaking stuff. It froze batters. It made them look silly. It was just Helton’s will to win was greater than his opponents. 

It was essential Todd Helton, and in doing so, he turned Tennessee baseball into a serious thing in Knoxville. 

“Every program has a player that turned the program around. Todd Helton was our guy that turned the program around and took it to another level of excellence. He was my best hitter, my best pitcher and he wasn’t on scholarship,” Delmonico stated.

Back in November, I was loosening up my old man golf swing on the driving range when out of now where Helton drove up, said hello, asked me how I was and my family was. I asked him if he was going to get loose before he hit the first tee. 

He said he was good and drove off (he roped it down the middle by the way) and I thought to myself, ‘of course he was loose and ready, it’s Todd Helton.’

Today, Todd Helton is officially in Cooperstown and his rightful place with baseball’s elite thanks in part to a beautiful swing that was crafted from years of work. He’s also there because of a competitive fire that was brighter than any light he ever played under. 

And I am one of the lucky ones who got to watch it early and often over nearly four decades.