A few years from now you’re standing in a LoDo bar, or eating at your favorite Colorado restaurant, and a familiar tune begins to play over the sound system.
A slight smile forms on your face and your eyes slowly look around the room.
The piercing tones of Tony Lewis and The Outfield ring out and you suddenly find yourself a part of a chorus of strangers who sing in unison: “Toniiiiiiight.”
These are your people. These are Charlie Blackmon fans.
Retiring after 14 seasons with the Colorado Rockies, Blackmon leaves behind a unique legacy that cannot be summed up in statistics, wins, losses, awards, or accomplishments.
Make no mistake, he has plenty of tangibles worthy of praise.
He ranks second in franchise history to Todd Helton in a myriad of offensive categories, won a batting title, and put up one of the best leadoff seasons ever in 2017.
He appeared in All-Star Games, the Home Run Derby, and the postseason, though only a couple of times.
During his peak, he was one of the best hitters in baseball and for most of his career, he was an underrated defender. What he did on the diamond should not be overlooked but it also stretches beyond his Wins Above Replacement.
Before you get to the touchy-feely intangibles, it’s worth noting that we will never know how much his example meant to his teammates.
He set the tone from his role as the leadoff man for most of his tenure, and he set the bar behind the scenes during his famous, and sometimes infamous, marathon training sessions. Whether he went 0-for-4 with three strikeouts or hit the walk-off game-winning home run, Blackmon always made time to be sure he was in shape for the next game by getting an immediate workout in.
We will never be able to capture what this type of leadership meant to the next generation of Rockies grinders like Brenton Doyle and Ezequiel Tovar.
And, personally, I for one always appreciated the way he set the tone with the media. Always willing to answer baseball questions, unwilling to engage in nonsense, always professional, and always hyping up his teammates, team, and city.
Then, of course, there’s the truly extra fun intangibles.
The beard grew a legend of its own. It’s an iconic image and sets itself apart even in a game with a long and proud history of memorable facial hair.
Sure, Blackmon should be mentioned along with the great leadoff hitters but also along with legends like Rollie Fingers, Dennis Eckersley, and Brian Wilson.
His glorious locks are part of a persona that came to be known as Chuck Nazty.
Chuck Nazty is an intriguing character. He’s a deadpan comic genius in local commercials. He’s happy to be mic’d up at the All-Star Game. And, most famously captured by a viral video, he’s a hit with the kids.
Chuck Nazty is just Charlie Blackmon turned up to 11, a part of him that no matter how goofy it got on the surface, never stopped the fans, media, or opposing pitchers from taking him seriously.
All of it – the nickname, the beard, the song – combined to create an experience unlike any other in the history of this team.
Being a Rockies fan has always been a bit more complicated than being a fan of individual Rockies stars.
The losses have piled up over the years, especially lately, and these days the prevailing sentiments toward the team tend to range from anger to apathy.
Near the beginning of Blackmon’s career, we saw the departure of Troy Tulowitzki, and near the end of it was the Nolan Arenado fiasco. In between, there were back-to-back postseason appearances but history will almost certainly remember this era as one of missed opportunities for the Colorado Rockies.
But through it all, there was Charlie Blackmon.
In the years when hope was fleeting and crowds were dwindling but you went to the ballpark anyway, you saw Charlie Blackmon.
In the times when everything felt fractured and it was hard to find something to cheer for, there was Charlie Blackmon.
If you were a fan of this team during his time, you endured a lot – sometimes even from fellow fans, media, and the team itself.
You almost certainly questioned once or twice why you keep watching, and hoping for more, as they headed toward another last-place finish.
But then you would look at the starting lineup for that day’s game and there he was. So you’d turn on the TV or radio or head out to 20th and Blake to sing along.
Over the next weeks, months, maybe even years, there will be a debate about Charlie Blackmon.
Was he a great ballplayer? Or just a great Rockie? Was he a product of Coors Field or just a fundamentally sound hitter? Should his number be retired? Or should that honor be reserved only for Hall-of-Fame players?
Blackmon might not have had a HoF career but he is a HoF person who made a HoF-level impact on his community. What he means to the people who showed up to cheer him on during his career will never be captured by a plaque in a room somewhere.
There will be plenty of time to look at his stats but none of them will tell you what his legacy is. His legacy can’t be explained by numbers, or even by words.
If you want to fully understand what he meant to his team, his city, and most importantly the fans who stuck around through thick and more than their fair share of thin – years from now, walk into a Colorado sports bar and listen for those familiar guitar chords.
And be ready to sing along.
