Goddard-Reagan Family Website

"How many years with the Sun-Times?"

 

Forty-two.

 

"How long are you going to keep going?"

 

Pardon me?

 

"A voluntary buy-out is coming. You might want to look into it unless, of course, you're planning to drop dead over your laptop 10 years from now."

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That thought had occurred to me but, all things considered, I would rather be smelling flowers on Earth than pushing them up underground.

 

Still, I waffled. Twenty-seven of my Sun-Times years had been covering the Cubs and White Sox.

 

It took a Sun-Times personnel department woman to seal my decision. She called to say, "Joe, you have 11.2 years left to live."

 

What? How does she know? Should I call Bronswood Cemetery? Do I have time to kiss my wife, Carol, two daughters and four grandchildren goodbye?

The personnel woman must have realized her announcement of my upcoming death had stunned me because I didn't say anything. "Sorry to scare you," she finally said. "I'm just going off actuarial charts. We hope you live 22.2 more years."

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Gee, thanks. So do I.

 

There was no time to waste. Concerns about retirement had to be addressed: Can we afford to do this? (check yes). Create a family budget (check).

 

Update insurance coverage (check). Review family wills (scheduled).

 

Dave Van Dyck, my longtime friend with The Sun-Times who's now with the Tribune, had another concern: "Do you have enough to do to stay busy?"

 

No problem. More on that later.

 

Thus, with only 11.2 years left to live ringing in my ears, I pulled The Sun-Times plug, accepting the buy-out package in May without looking back, thus ending a fascinating career of analyzing about 5,120 Major League Baseball games, including the World Series and playoffs, All-Star contests and exhibitions, and staying in some of the nation's finest hotels. I must have been OK at it because twice I finished second in Baseball Hall of Fame balloting.

 

The retirement word got out quickly when The Sun-Times gave Rapoport and me a rousing two-page sendoff under the heading, "The Final Farewell".

 

Here's what Sox manager Ozzie Guillen had to say:

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"Goddard is a real quiet man who always treated me kindly. Every time he wanted to ask me something, he'd call me off to the side. I don't have a bad thing to say about him. Good for him. I hope he enjoys his life after this, but he will be back."

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Then came a letter from Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf:

 

"Before you lose yourself in gardening and footsore ventures around Civil War battlefields, I would like to invite you to throw out a ceremonial pitch before one of our games this year."

 

I called to see if he was serious. He was. We'll settle on a date later.

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