I will never forget it.After tearing up the Arizona Fall League, Mike Piazza was brought in to fill the shoes of the second-best catcher the Dodgers had ever seen, Mike Scioscia. His 1993 season started with a bang, and before long, Piazza had secured a Silver Slugger award, a Rookie of the Year award, and placed ninth in MVP voting, while helping the Dodgers to a .500 record.He led the team in batting average, slugging percentage, OPS, runs scored, total bases, home runs, RBI, and just about every other offensive stat that didn't involve running He was the new king of LA. He was a star. That same year, my fourth-grade teacher, knowing how big of a Dodgers fan I was, called up her buddy Mickey Hatcher to get me some Dodgers' paraphernalia. What I ended up with was an uncut sheet of the entire 1993 team and a ball signed by Mickey and "some other guy who wanted to sign it", Mike Piazza. How lucky a kid was I?This floored me, and to this day, if I ever have five minutes alone with Mickey Hatcher, I will tell him this story and thank him.

That autographed ball meant more to me than the one I got myself the year before. It meant that Mike Piazza cared about his fans.As Mike was starting out, he was oftencriticized for his terrible defense. No one can argue that the man had trouble throwing runners out, but at the same time, the critics all ignored his ability to call games and block the plate. Few remember the 1995 Ramon Martinez no-hitter that Piazza called.

Even fewer recall the 1996 Hideo Nomo no-hitter at Coors Field that Piazza sat behind the plate for.Piazzawrangled a pitching staff made up of Rick Reed, Glendon Rusch, and Bobby Jones, and took them to the World Series. Once Piazza got away from the wild-throwing foreign pitchers in L.A., he kept his passed-ball count in the single digits. He even had a season with 121 games behind the plate, where he allowed only eight passed balls and 15 wild pitches. The Dodgers broke my heart in 1998. I can tell you the time of day, the month, the year, my location, and recall a significant number of people with me the minute that I found out Piazza had been traded to the Marlins.In a fire-sale exchange that was too good for L.A. to pass up but stupid enough to make, Piazza was moved to Florida for a slew of players I still boo to this day.  Thankfully, eight days later, I was able to be happy for Mike again, as he had been traded, and given a long-term deal with the New York Mets. Watching Piazza in the orange and black proved to be difficult for the first few years. As the Mets made their stops in Arizona, I would put on my black Piazza jersey and stand and cheer for him.