Thank you, Nick Peters
March 23, 2015
My admiration for Nick Peters had relatively little to do with his writing ability, which was considerable, or his vast experience as a baseball beat writer, which was virtually unmatched.
Rather, I respected Nick for the ardor with which he lived and his seemingly innate identification with me. He considered me a kindred spirit; I considered myself lucky to be in such good company.
I’ll always associate Nick, who died Monday at 75, with vigor. He seemed to do everything with enthusiasm or in a robust manner, whether he was bustling across the clubhouse to interview a player, devouring a meal or just being himself. He and his saintly wife, Lise, traveled constantly, and I don’t mean just to the various and sundry National and American League garden spots (though they did that, too). They spanned the globe, apparently intent on sampling everything this world has to offer.
Also, I’ll remain grateful to Nick for treating me so well. I believe he sensed that I was a lot like him. We shared the feeling that covering baseball was a privilege; we shared a special love for northern California in general and San Francisco in particular; and we shared an appreciation for Giants lore.
Nick took an interest in my family and my health. He genuinely cared about what was going on with me. And when I wrote an article he particularly liked, he quickly sent a complimentary e-mail. Nick was a like a big brother, friend, favorite uncle, drinking buddy and confidant all in one.
That’s a lot of people to replace. There’s no use trying to do so, especially when all those figures are rolled up into one person. People like that are truly rare. God Bless You, Nick, and thanks for everything.
— Chris Haft