Phillies

I Finally Got to Meet My Dad

By Kyle Pagan

Published: Jul 15th, 2025 · 10:39 AM EDT

---

Well, it finally happened. After years of being a bastard around the Delaware Valley, growing up fatherless and unable to hit a curveball, I finally got to meet my father, and man let me tell you this, my dad could kick your dad’s ass:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Kyle Pagan (@kylepagancb)

My dad is jacked! He’s 6’5 with a jawline that looks like it was chiseled out of granite. He’s got shoulders that could carry the weight of the world and when I shook his hand he crushed my fingers like a boa constrictor, but his palms were surprisingly smooth, like a recently-tarred road. My dad had no idea who I was. Why would he? He gave me up when he went to go play for the Padres at 18 years old. One tryst during a Malvern and Villa high school party was not going to stand in his way of achieving his dreams of making it to the big leagues. He’d rather ride on a bus around Rancho Cucamonga and Mobile, Alabama than raise some scrawny little shit who couldn’t even roll on his stomach like the other babies could. My mom would be the only person in the Delaware Valley with a subscription to the San Bernardino Sun so we could keep track of how pop was doing in the minors. She’d clip out his stats and hang them on the fridge. My block head would struggle to lift that high, but when I could muster the strength I’d see Pa went 1-3 and shit my pants in excitement.

I’ll never forget the day he was called up to the Padres in 1998. By then I was five and starting kindergarten. Dad wouldn’t send money home, but he would mail signed baseballs from Tony Gwynn. I later found out he forged them himself, but at least he was thinking of me! Pop’s career might not have turned out how he wanted it, but I was always proud of him! I’ve always said I get my intelligence from dad! Where guys who were naturally gifted used their athleticism to hit to all areas of the field, my father would have to rely on his smarts. He was always using his noggin. Just ask the Diamondbacks. They never saw it coming!

My dad is my hero even though he abandoned me. Sure, I peaked in high school when I was named an All-Catholic Honorable Mention and might not be playing D1 baseball like my half-brother, but that doesn’t matter. Maybe I didn’t get his athleticism, but I got his resilience:

At one point I was the strongest swimmer and no one can take that away from me. Can’t wait to see you on the next broadcast, dad!