ARLINGTON, Texas — Maybe Andrew Heaney will carve “45″ in the dirt behind the pitching rubber when he takes the mound Sunday. Maybe he will start the game against Houston with a big overhand curveball, a pitch he does not throw. Maybe he will just look at his right wrist where there is a permanent inked version of the rubber tribute bracelets he and his teammates all once wore.
Or maybe he will do nothing at all.
Why memorialize the tragic death of his former teammate and best friend, Tyler Skaggs, when his mission is more about celebrating the life instead? It’s just that at this time of year when the anniversary of Skaggs’ death — Saturday marks four years — that’s when the questions come up.
The questions are even a bit more sensitive this year. Heaney, then with the Los Angeles Angels, is now a Ranger.
“I feel a little bit like I’m a guardian of his legacy,” Heaney told The Dallas Morning News during a 40-minute conversation this week, his face occasionally turning red as if holding back tears. “It doesn’t mean I don’t know what happened. If you want to know my friend, I’ll tell you about him. But to me, everything else is peripheral. Someone’s life is not defined by how they died, but more how they lived.”
For much of the world, though, Skaggs’ life has become defined by just how he died. The details are dark. On July 1, 2019, the day after the Angels arrived for a series with the Rangers, Skaggs’ body was found in a hotel room in Southlake. He died of accidental asphyxiation, according to the Tarrant County medical examiner’s office. He aspirated on his own vomit. A toxicology report later determined the presence of alcohol, oxycodone and fentanyl.
Further investigation determined an Angels employee had provided the drugs, leading to a very public trial and investigations into the presence of opioids in baseball. Heaney was among those called as a witness, based on his close relationship with Skaggs.
This is not about that. It’s about remembering a friend, not a death.
Devastating day
About the details, Heaney said he has “tried to block much of it out.”
Some things he can’t. He can’t forget texting Skaggs about lunch, their normal pregame routine, on the morning of July 1 and remembering it was odd he didn’t get a response. He initially figured Skaggs’ phone had died and he probably went out to get a phone charger, so Heaney headed over to the Apple Store in Southlake Town Center to look for him. Not there. He recalls returning to the hotel. Texting the Angels’ traveling secretary. And remembers starting out for Skaggs’ room to check on him. Everything after that becomes a blur.
Investigators. Teammates. Leaving the hotel for another. Tears. A team gathering. More tears.
There was food. The hotel staff prepared them food. He remembers that nobody touched it.
More tears.
The game on July 1 was canceled. The next day the Angels met at Globe Life Field. Management addressed the media with the entire team sitting in the back of the room. Then everybody walked back out with tears in their eyes.
Since then, Heaney has done nothing but try to remember his friend’s life. He had never before spoken at a memorial service and is an admitted introvert, but he found words to deliver at the service, partly with help from his father, who is a pastor and counselor.
“At his service, I said I consider myself lucky to call him my best friend,” Heaney said. “But I also said I think there are probably 50 other people that would also say he was their best friend, too. He had the ability to connect with different people from all walks of life and make them feel good. He just drew people in.”
And Heaney wrote.
“How do you summarize how much someone means to you in a series of photos?,” Heaney wrote in an Instagram post, chock full of photos of the pair together, three days later. “How do you properly say goodbye to your best friend? How do you capture such an amazing personality and spirit in a few short words? I honestly don’t know. All I can do is share with everyone just a glimpse of the countless good times I had with you. I loved you like a brother! We shared our highs and lows, our aspirations, our love for family and friends, our future plans together. You’ll always be with me in my heart and on my mind.”
Bonding with ‘Swaggy’
They met in 2015. Heaney had just been sent to the Angels from Miami and through the Dodgers in a series of same-day trades. A native Oklahoman, he naturally gravitated toward fellow Sooner Garrett Richards.
But there was a quick bond with Skaggs. They were both left-handers and, well, left-handers are a vibe. Heaney underwent Tommy John surgery in 2016. Skaggs had been recovering from it when they met in 2015, so Heaney leaned on the guy he came to know as “Swaggy.”
He marveled at Skaggs’ flair for fashion and passion for shoes. They debated the NBA since Skaggs, from Santa Monica, Calif., was an avid Lakers fan and Heaney grew up on the Oklahoma City Thunder. Since Skaggs was the Angels DJ, regularly touting the latest “bangers” and “slappers,” Heaney would regularly seek clarification on which song fell into which category.
Skaggs opened up In-N-Out’s burger secret menu for Heaney. And, along with their significant others — Heaney’s wife, Jordan, and Skaggs’ eventual wife, Carli — they dined and double-dated.
Protecting a legacy
“He was just more outgoing than I am,” Heaney said. “He’d be singing or dancing. And I’m much more reserved. Quiet. Introverted. We’d be at team functions or events, and he’d talk to people, keep conversation going. It was nice to hang out with him because I could just kind of be there. It was a nice mix. And we just kind of understood each other in that sense.”
In the aftermath, Heaney has understood his role. His role was to remember Skaggs’ life, not to turn it into a cautionary tale for others. He spoke at the memorial service. When he made his next start, on July 6, he threw a big over-the-top curveball — Skaggs’ signature — for the first pitch of the game, even though Heaney neither has an over-the-top delivery or a curveball.
MLB wouldn’t allow pitchers to wear bracelets, like the rubber bands emblazoned with “45″ to memorialize Skaggs, so Heaney just had a version of it tattooed on his wrist. When he built a home gym, which included a basketball court, he put Skaggs’ “45″ on the floor as a tribute to their shared love of basketball.
Heaney said it was eerie to come back to Texas to play after Skaggs’ death, but that baseball has a way of making people “compartmentalize” things. He did acknowledge, however, that walking into Globe Life Field, rather than constantly having to return to the park across the street has also helped.
“This stadium has a different meaning to me than a lot of other people,” said Heaney, who signed with the Rangers as a free agent in December. “To a lot of other people, it’s a beautiful new ballpark with a roof so we don’t have to suffer through rain delays and 110-degree summer days. For me, though, it was more like not having to go to that same clubhouse and relieve some of those awful moments over and over. This place just felt like a good reset.”
Heaney remains protective enough of Skaggs’ legacy and his family that before consenting to an interview, he first reached out to Carli Skaggs to inquire whether discussing his memory would create any additional grief for a still-grieving family. He has involved himself with the Tyler Skaggs Foundation, which seeks to keep Skaggs’ legacy alive by sharing his love of hard work and dedication to sports to empower another generation.
That’s how he’s dealt with the grief.
Rather than remember a death, he’s remembered a life.
