It would be easy for Perez to think of himself as in the shadows, or coming out of the shadows. His dad, after all, cast a long one. Tony Perez was no ordinary hitter; he was simply the greatest clutch hitter on one of the greatest teams in baseball history, the man the Big Red Machine wanted at the plate with men on base in the bottom of the ninth.
Eduardo could have shrunk from that, hidden in the shadow, taken the easy road and tried to be his father. It is a place many sons of greatness find themselves, none more than Pete Rose, Jr., who struggles this day to live up to and down from his father's legacy.
But it was never like that for Eduardo. Tony passed on the baseball genes, but he and his wife also instilled something more important in their son: the confidence to be himself. And that's why Eduardo Perez doesn't feel any shadow creeping over his muscular back, even as he takes over his father's old job with the Cincinnati Reds.
''I always told him to be Eduardo, not me,'' the father says. ''He's my son, but as a ballplayer, he's got to be himself. The most important thing I gave him was confidence in himself.''
Tony would be proud, because that is exactly what makes Eduardo such a force of personality - and a good baseball player.
''I don't put that pressure on myself, because there's no need for it,'' Eduardo says. ''He had a beautiful career, but he's retired now. If I do half of what he did, I'll be very successful. I'm just trying to be myself.''
Still, there are so many similarities between the father and the son, both on and off the field. Eduardo is perhaps not as talented as Tony but plays the same way, has the same sweet, powerful swing, the same interest in driving in the run, the same instinctual knowledge of how to win. They share outgoing personalities, the love of people, the dignity and grace of professionalism and kindness.
When you watch Eduardo, you see Tony.
''I see a lot of myself in him,'' the father says proudly.
Some might feel that is precisely what Eduardo has to live up to as he enters his first season as the Reds' undisputed starting first baseman. He would say what he has to live up to is simply himself.
''Actually, I feel more like I'm trying to come out of my mom's shadow,'' he says of Pituka Perez. ''Everybody knows me on the field as Tony Perez's son, but off the field, the first thing everybody asks is 'How's your mom?' People love her too.''
Yet Eduardo is keenly aware of the magical link between father and son, the fascination with the boy who is taking the old man's place.
''I don't want to stop and realize where I am because I might wake up from this dream,'' he says.
Ballpark Rat
Where Eduardo is in both a familiar and unfamiliar place. It is familiar because he grew up as a Cincinnati Red, hanging out in the Riverfront Stadium clubhouse and around the batting cage before games. The kids of the Big Red Machine were as much a part of the legend as the players.
''What do I remember about him?'' asks Ken Griffey, Sr., himself the father of a famous son, and a member of those great teams. ''I remember he was bad, just like all the other kids. But they were fun. They were the only team that could beat us in '75 and '76, and they let us know it every day.''
Eduardo remembers those days fondly, and they are the basis for who he is now, as a player and as a person. The memories and stories become blended together over time, but what he has taken from the experience is an appreciation for the game and the knowledge that it can be - and should be - fun.
''The beauty about it was that it was different every day and you learned something every day,'' he says. ''It's hard to pinpoint, but I can say one place I feel really comfortable is in the Cincinnati clubhouse. Those guys were my heroes, because they were allowed to put on a uniform and hit. I was just allowed to put on a uniform.''
In fact, it's that exposure to the game that makes Reds manager Jack McKeon so enthralled with him as a first baseman.
''He's always in the game,'' McKeon says. ''Having been around baseball, he's always on top of things. He always knows when he'll be called upon and what to do. He's become aware of the situations because he studies.''
Eduardo thanks Pete Rose for that. Eduardo was first allowed in the dugout in 1983, when he was 13 and his dad was backing up Rose at first base for the Phillies. One day Eduardo was sitting in the dugout flipping sunflower seeds when Rose came up and told him to pay more attention to the game. It didn't take Eduardo long to learn why.
''It's like learning a language,'' he says. ''Kids learn faster when they're younger. He taught me how to sit as a pup, and if you teach a dog how to sit the first few months, he'll always know how to sit.''
One thing Eduardo learned then was to appreciate the fans. Pituka says she was looking at a picture just the other day of a 2-year old Eduardo in a Reds uniform, signing autographs. Fast forward 26 years later and you're liable to get the same picture. Fans, Eduardo believes, are as important a part of the game as any player, which is why he does so much charity work. He even chats with them online occasionally.
''There's not much fans don't know about me,'' he says. ''It's more what I don't know about them, which is why I think it's important to work with kids and learn from kids. When I was a kid, I'd go to elementary school and everybody knew what my dad did but I didn't know what their dads did. It's important to me that people know I'm just as normal as they are - only I was raised in a ballpark.''
Coming into his own
Perez's place this season is unfamiliar because he is entering the season as the Reds' starting first baseman for the first time. Consequently, he is more relaxed than ever, and he doesn't feel that each at bat is a tryout for a place on the team.
''Eddie's always been a mature hitter, but now he's putting it all together,'' says Griffey, the Reds' hitting coach. ''This is probably going to be a big year for him, because hopefully it's going to be the first time he plays 162 games. It's a new situation for him, where he's starting from scratch, but we're definitely going to see a good player.''
Perez started to come into his own last season, when injuries to Hal Morris forced him into action. Some in the organization doubted he could play every day, but he proved them wrong the last half of the season, hitting .253 with 16 home runs and 52 RBI in 297 at bats.
The cash-strapped Reds could not have afforded to keep Morris, who signed with Kansas City as a free agent in the off-season. But McKeon says even if Morris' price tag hadn't been so high, he preferred Perez.
''He's got upside and potential and he gives you some power. He's also a quality individual, but so was Hal,'' McKeon says. ''If we're going to go with young players, this is the way we had to go.''
It took Perez a while to earn an everyday spot in the majors. He failed in tryouts at third base with the California Angles in 1994 and '95, perhaps as much a fact of biology as talent. It's no coincidence that when he began taking eyedrops to correct a vision problem, he started hitting. It helped him see the ball better and led to his impressive rise with the Reds, who traded for him before the 1996 season.
''I always believed in myself,'' he says, as big a reason for his successes as the corrected vision.
Despite the solid numbers of last season, there are still questions he must answer this year. Can he do it consistently? Can he be a solid run-producer in a lineup lacking power? And if not, will backup Dmitri Young take his place?
All McKeon expects is what Perez did last year - drive in runs. If he does that, he'll keep the job. It's that simple.
''He's more confident now, and I think he's going to get better with more experience,'' McKeon says.
The personality
Chronologically, the 28-year old Perez is no rookie. But because he didn't begin to establish himself until last season, he's considered one of the young, cheap and hungry players the Reds are leaning on this year.
Funny, then, how he's becoming a leader.
''He's a leader in the way he plays, but the biggest thing is the way he knows the game,'' says backup catcher Brook Fordyce, one of Perez's best friends. ''He's so good at communicating with everybody, bouncing around, fooling around, but also taking the game seriously. That's how you develop as a leader.
''He doesn't change, no matter if he's struggling or the team's struggling,'' Fordyce says. ''He's the same guy all the time, off the field and on the field, and that's something I admire in him as a friend.''
Fordyce says he doesn't even think of Perez as Tony's son, just a guy who gets along with everybody.
''I just see how he talks with people, the sincerity. He's so trustworthy,'' Fordyce says. ''I don't think he has a bad bone in his body. He knows the game, but a lot of people know the game. It's the fact that he relates so well to people. That's what separates him from others.''
That, everyone acknowledges, flows from Perez's outgoing personality. He loves to have fun and clown around with anyone - teammates, coaches, members of the media. It's no surprise if he comes into the media room just to chat or critique a writer's typing style, or if he jokes around in the dugout during games, always with one eye on the field, able to dissect what's happening as well as any sour-puss.
During games, Perez can be seen joking with umpires, runners at first base or even clubhouse attendants. Four times this spring he has rubbed his bat on the bald head of Reds clubby Tim Hellmann as a joke before he bats - and has gotten three hits.
It is the truest side of Perez's personality - the fun-loving clown with the perpetual smile, yet also the guy who knows the game better than anyone.
''Who am I?'' Perez asks. ''I'm just a guy who loves being here, loves having fun, and enjoys life.''
Yet another trait he learned from Tony. ''Doggy was just the same,'' Griffey says.
That's what it always comes back to: the father. There is an undeniable link between the two, which neither would deny. And yet there is also a separation that makes Eduardo the man he is, and a sense of the self that has gotten him where he is.
''My dad has been a great influence on my life,'' Eduardo says. ''He's made me realize I have to respect my peers, respect the game and respect myself. He taught me you have to have fun at the ballpark, but once you leave, you have to have a normal life. You have to be yourself.''
That's all Tony ever wanted.
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