Kile Left a Lasting Impact on Several Players, Teams

Theirs is a profession in which 40 is considered old, where time passes so quickly that temporary is an upgrade from fleeting.

Baseball players should be prepared for things to end quickly. But life? One of their own found dead in what should still be the prime of his career?

If the weekend death of St. Louis Cardinal pitcher Darryl Kile at age 33, from apparent blockage in his coronary arteries, showed how short the time on this earth and in this league can be, it also reinforced how much of an impact can be made in that span.

Teams get broken up, players move around. But a little bit gets left behind, things as simple as a haircut or a golf swing.

Kile played for three major league teams in his career, but outside of his current team it would be difficult to pinpoint any club that felt more of an immediate hit.

Take the Colorado Rockies, who opened a four-game series at Dodger Stadium on Monday night. After coming up with the Houston Astros and spending his first seven seasons there, Kile played for the Rockies in 1998 and 1999. But just three years later there are only four players left who wore Colorado’s purple and black with him: right fielder Larry Walker, first baseman Todd Helton, utility man Terry Shumpert and pitcher John Thomson.

“Even if there’s not a lot of guys here, it hits home,” Walker said. “It’s a baseball family, you know?”

The current roster also includes pitchers Mike Hampton and Todd Jones, who were with Kile in Houston, and Mark Little, who played with Kile in St. Louis.

You can probably find some connection to Hampton in every National League clubhouse.

The Dodgers’ Jesse Orosco had one season with Kile in St. Louis. (After 22 years in the big leagues, who hasn’t Orosco played with?)

When the Rockies heard the news of Kile’s death on Saturday, “It was a very, very somber day,” Manager Clint Hurdle said. “There were lots of heavy hearts on the field and in the clubhouse beforehand.”

There was some discussion about whether or not the Rockies or those close to Kile should play.

“We decided that to pay our utmost respects to Darryl Kile and the family, we all took the ball and played,” Hurdle said. “That’s just what we decided, because that’s all we saw him do for the two years he was at Colorado.”

They face more decisions, including whether to attend a memorial service Wednesday in St. Louis. Hampton and Walker have expressed an interest. It should be less of an issue for Hampton, who pitched Monday and won’t come up in the rotation again until the weekend. But Walker and anyone else who feels it’s necessary should go. (Hampton said after Monday’s game that he and Walker will attend.)

Baseball and division races don’t seem very important right now. I keep thinking about Kile’s wife, Flynn, their 5-year-old twins, Kannon and Sierra, and 10-month-old son, Ryker Davis.

That’s all I’ve been able to think about since Saturday.

On Friday afternoon, with school out, the Dodger dugout looked like a day-care center before the game. Players’ kids scooted around cracked-open sunflower seeds and played catch with the big leaguers out on the field. I thought about what a special perk it must be to have a father in Major League Baseball. And just like that, it’s gone for the Kile kids.

Family was the first thing on Hampton’s mind when he talked to Thomson on Saturday.

“Hampton was like, ‘The hardest thing is to realize, when the 5-year-olds ask Mom, ‘When’s Dad coming home from the road trip?’ ” Thomson said. “What’s she going to tell them? ‘He’s not.’ It’s going to be the biggest reality hit for the kids when the mom finally tells them.”

Even after he was traded to St. Louis after the 1999 season, the Kiles kept a home in Denver until last winter. The Walkers developed a close friendship with them, and Larry Walker said his wife has spoken to Flynn Kile.

“Not much of a conversation,” Walker said. “They were crying the whole time.”

Thomson said that Darryl and Flynn “were basically like the perfect couple.”

“Everybody has their own problems in their own house or whatever, but you never saw them not smiling when they were together,” Thomson said. “You could tell how much they were in love with each other and how much they loved their kids. It’s going to be hard now.

“I think it’s going to be sad for the 5-year-olds, but the 10-month old is really never going to know who his dad was, other than pictures and memories that his mom is going to tell him.

“The 5-year-olds, they’re 5. They didn’t get to spend really any time, just a few years that they’re going to remember.”

Thomson remembers a friend and a mentor, the first pitcher to take him aside and teach him.

He’ll think of him every time he looks in the mirror, sees his bald head and remembers the time he and Kile decided to shave their hair off in 1998.

He’ll remember his golfing buddy. They could both shoot in the 70s, which made for some pretty competitive rounds.

And he’ll face one of those nagging little questions, the little things that pop out of the void whenever someone dies.

“I’d always try to outdrive him, because he always hit the ball longer than me,” Thomson said.

“Who am I going to try to outdrive now?”

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J.A. Adande can be reached at: j.a.adande@latimes.com.