Two days before his life changed, Jim Joyce woke up and had coffee with his mom.
He knows exactly what he did that day, May 31, 2010, when he arrived in his hometown of Toledo, staying with his mom in advance of a three-game series between the Detroit Tigers and Indians at Comerica Park. His father, James Joyce, who worked in the U.S. Army Air Corps, had died a year earlier, and Joyce went see his headstone for the first time.
He went to a 7-Eleven, bought two beers, went to the cemetery, put a beer on his dad's headstone and popped open his own. He took one sip, poured the rest over the grave and had a beer with his dad.
He brought a baseball with him _ Joyce was umpiring at Fenway Park the night before; his dad's favorite team was the Red Sox _ and left it there. He drove around the city, past his old high school and took his mom out to dinner.
"It was, what I would call for me, a normal day," Joyce said. "It was good."
Joyce, then 54 years old, was in his 21st season as a Major League Baseball umpire. He was highly respected, in the upper-echelon or one of the best, depending on which former manager you speak with. Managers and players alike called him, "Jimmy."
