Tragedy at sea brings back chilling memories of Anthony Latham (cont.)

Latham was selected by Boston in the fourth round of the 1983 draft, and hit .275 with two home runs and nine RBIs in 40 games at Winston-Salem. Considering he had gone straight from college to the minors to the instructional league, it had been a long year of baseball, and the fishing trip seemed like an ideal chance to relax and take his mind off the game.

"So we go out there, and before too long the boat starts holding water," said Mitchell. "It was a slow leak, and [Zastrowmy] told us we had to take the boat in. I don't think anyone was overly alarmed, because the water wasn't coming in too fast, and we figured we had time."

The ballplayers were so casual, in fact, that the man at the wheel was the inexperienced, sea-fearing Latham. The boat was rolling along, heading closer to shore, when a wind blew Zastrowmy's baseball cap into the waves. "Do you want me to stop so we can get that?" Latham asked.

"Sure," said Zastrowmy. "It'll only take a minute."

Not knowing how to deftly handle a boat in choppy waters (or, for that matter, a boat in any waters), Latham shifted to full throttle, crossing his own wake in the process. Boom! Waves slammed over the side. Latham slowed down, and the water came even higher, faster, harder. "Maybe we had too much weight up front," said Mitchell, "but the boat nosedived. The thing went straight down. There was no delay -- just down to the bottom, like a rock."

The four men plunged into the water, then bobbed to the surface. "I can't swim! I can't swim!" Latham screamed. Mitchell grabbed a nearby life preserver and tried throwing it to his teammate, but the wind blew it away. He then made his way to Latham, grabbed his arm but was unable to keep him afloat. Mitchell saw Skripko and yelled, "He's got to have something, he's going to drown!" Skripko threw a small cooler toward Mitchell, who placed it below Latham's chin to use as a flotation device. "Then I let go of Tony and turned my head," Mitchell said. "When I looked back, he was gone."

* * *

For the ensuing 22 -- yes, twenty-two -- hours, Mitchell lived by grasping a five-gallon minnow bucket. "I held it upside down to trap in the air," he said. "I kept it under my chin throughout the night, just trying to kick my feet and stay awake."

Mitchell thought he was destined to die. Knew he was destined to die. One hour turned into three hours. Three hours turned into 10 hours. Ten hours turned into 17 hours. At first, he was able to keep in contact with Skripko and Zastrowmy, both of whom were holding on to coolers. But over the course of the night, when the sky turns pitch black and the imagination does cruel things, the three were separated. "I actually fell asleep a few times, with my head on the bucket," said Mitchell. "But then a wave would come ..."

What is it like, being alone in the ocean, left to die? Mitchell does not have the words. Scary, for sure. But more than that. His mind wandered. To his family. To his friends. To Tony Latham. Was this how it was supposed to be? Mitchell was 23 years old, with a long baseball career ahead of him; a long life ahead of him. "I never gave up," he said. "I couldn't."

At one point, Mitchell saw a boat in the distance. He screamed for help. Screamed again and again. Nothing. "He didn't hear me," he said. "Help wasn't coming."

Finally, at 12:30 Monday morning -- nearly a full day after the boat had capsized -- Skripko, bobbing five miles away from Mitchell, spotted fishermen 150 yards in the distance and was able to attract their attention by whistling. Two hours later Mitchell was picked up, too. He was suffering from hypothermia but otherwise OK. Like Latham, Zastrowmy had drowned. He was 35 years old.

"I don't think about that experience all the time anymore," Mitchell said. "But it will never leave me. Never."

* * *

Much like the recent tragedy, when Schuyler's rescue gave optimism to the families of the three other victims, Tony Latham's parents and sisters learned of the disaster and drove straight to Sarasota, where they hoped good news awaited.

"We prayed for the best," said Shirley Latham. "We prayed and prayed. But in my heart, I knew. I knew from the first time they called to tell me what happened, when I just dropped the phone and started crying. That was my baby. My baby boy."

As the days passed and Tony Latham remained lost, hope turned to dread, and dread turned to crushing acceptance. Finally, after waiting for more than a week, Shirley, her husband Josephus (who died in 2003), and their daughters decided to return to Robersonville.

"That's when they called me and said they had some good news and some bad news," said Presley. "The good news was they had found Anthony. The bad news was that he was dead."

The family went to a dock, where they were shown a black bag containing the body of Anthony Latham. Josephus looked at his son's face, an image that surely remained with him until the day he passed. "But the rest of us didn't want to see him, so we chose not to," said Presley. "We wanted to remember him the way we last saw him."

As the days turned into months, and the months turned into years, the pain gradually dissipated. Horrible memories are replaced by funny stories; the mental images of Anthony Latham dying are locked away, replaced by the mental images of Anthony Latham living. When people ask about her brother, Vickie likes to share a poem he once wrote, titled, I Am.

As an athlete, I am quite talented.
I can participate and accomplish almost any feat in any sport.
As a student, I am quite regular.
I enter each course with an open mind and with the thoughts of trying to comprehend the course as quickly as possible. The sooner I do, the better my grades.
As an everyday person, I view all problems with an open mind. When problems, whether personal or not personal arrive, I try to solve them with the most reasonable and logical answer. At times, I find myself to be quite impassive in my reasoning.
I am not an egotistical person.

One of Shirley's grandsons is named Anthony Williams. He took lessons on his late uncle's saxophone; followed his athletic path and played second base for Mount Olive College in North Carolina before recently graduating. "I have a 19-year-old daughter named Tai," said Presley. "She's a sophomore at Bethune-Cookman, and I always think how proud her uncle would be of her."

Skripko, who declined an interview request for this story, went on to play five seasons in the minor leagues, compiling an 18-19 record but never rising above Class AA. He lives in New Jersey. "The last time I saw him was years ago in Atlantic City," Mitchell said. "The accident never came up. I don't think it's something we want to talk about."

Mitchell, Boston's seventh-round pick in 1983, spent parts of five seasons in the major leagues, earning a World Series ring with the 1986 New York Mets by appearing in four games, and winning a career-high six games with the 1990 Baltimore Orioles. He now lives in Nashville, where he works for a company that makes municipal castings. He is married with three children.

His 13-year-old son is named Johnny Mitchell.

Johnny Latham Mitchell.

Send a comment to Jeff Pearlman at anngold22@gmail.com.