It's all in the family for Romano

Treading through life as a teenager is hard enough. Each high feels like a life-changing, “I’ll remember this forever,” kind of moment; each low makes it feel like, “Wow, life is just too hard and life is just not fair.”

The delicate balance between the two is an emotional juxtaposition that you aren’t able to fully grasp until a few years down the road, for some, or many more years down the road for others.

Like a seesaw, just when it seems like you’re at the top, there’s an innate force that somehow, someway, brings you down. And because of this seesaw battle of inner feelings, it is beyond critical to have some kind of support group, some kind of inner circle to keep you on an even path until a young adult can truly figure out the way to consistency.

Now let’s throw a life-changing decision into the mix; let’s throw thousands of dollars into the life of a teenager; and let’s throw the cutthroat business of professional sports as the Black Swan of decisions. Rare. Dignified. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

For Sal Romano, this was his life last week. He was just a regular teenager, returning home from college summer classes and baseball practices, excited to reunite with friends, family and the like before returning for that vital freshman year – that all-changing freshman year – in college.

Then he got a call that probably went something like this – “We want you to play baseball with the Cincinnati Reds and here’s what we want to offer you.”

And oh how the next three days would change his life. As you noticed, Romano is a Red. You can read the other story for that information. But what you may not fully grasp from that story is the impact that aforementioned support group had on Romano.

As I watched the signing process Saturday morning, many things popped into my head. Wow, what an opportunity. Geeze, that’s a lot of money. You know, I’m really happy for a great kid who will represent Southington well. Boy, I’m a little sleepy – did I leave my windows down?

But while soaking in every moment as simply a fly on the wall, I noticed one more thing: No matter how much money and no matter what kind of fame may be achieved someday, the way Romano got there was not because he throws a lightning fastball, or a knee-buckling curve, or that he’s 6-foot-4 and still growing. It’s because of that support group, which starts with mom and dad.

Every step of the way in the signing process, Romano would turn to mom, Lynne, (Sal, his father, joked when it comes to signing stuff, that’s mom’s job), and he would look at her like, “What does this piece of paper mean,” or “Wow, this is kind of crazy and overwhelming,” and each time mom would look back with a kind smile or a reassuring, “Don’t worry,” and everything seemed like it’d be OK. And don’t worry, dad was there too to lend a comforting pat on the back.

So often in professional sports we see oodles of talent wasted, thrown away, money squandered. Just Google “professional athletes” and “broke” and you’re sure to come up with quite a few hits. While there are a lot of reasons bad things happen sometime, a lot is because there just always isn’t a support group there.

On Romano’s side, greater than the $450,000 bonus, greater than the fastball, curve, slider or change, bigger than the 6-foot-4 frame and 16 size shoe, is the support group around him. Mom and dad and don’t forget brother and sister, Vin and Maryssa.

Holding his hand, figuratively or literally, they are there for him. If all else fails, they’re still there for him. If success comes like a final lap at the Indy 500, they’ll still be there.

And for a kid that doesn’t turn 18 until October, that’s really more important to his chances than anything else.
While the support group for some may be a different combination, the key is that it’s there. Some people don’t have it and for many, it’s not their fault. But in Romano’s case, he’s got it.

Both parents believe in their son like nothing else and said in five years, they have visions of him pitching in Ohio, with the Reds.

But last Saturday, as the older Sal put it, “He still needs a little help from his mother.”

And for the younger Sal, that was probably the best help he could get.