Cory Lidle's absent presence

LAKELAND, Fla. - Every time Kevin Lidle teaches a child to throw a curveball or change-up, he hears his twin brother, Cory.

Grip it like this.

Throw it like that.

"I'll say the same words to these kids that Cory said to me," Kevin Lidle said last week at the Lakeland Baseball Academy, where he is an instructor. "He frequently pops in my head. But that's OK. It's got to be."

Cory Lidle and his flight instructor, Tyler Stanger, died Oct. 11 when Lidle's Cirrus SR-20 crashed into a building in Manhattan. Lidle pitched parts of three seasons with the Phillies, until the Phillies traded him and Bobby Abreu to the New York Yankees last July.

Cory and Kevin Lidle are not identical twins, but they look identical. They talk alike, laugh alike and walk alike. They share the same acerbic sense of humor. Kevin, who spent 12 seasons in the minor leagues, even has the same throwing motion as his brother.

It certainly is strange not having Cory around this spring. In the past, when Cory played for teams that held spring training in Florida, Kevin might have seen his brother four or five times already.

"It's weird," said Kevin, 34. "But I've pretty much accepted the fact that he's gone. I don't know how to put this . . . we were very close. I've had worse responses when acquaintances of mine died. I try to think about why that is. I kind of chalk it up to this: We were so close that I almost feel that I lost a part of me. I'm not a selfish person, and when things happen to me it's not a huge deal. I'd rather me take on the burden than somebody else. I lost my brother. I feel like I lost a part of me. Somehow it's got to be OK. Nothing is going to change it, and that's how I'm dealing with this. I could make myself miserable every day, but that wouldn't change it."

The Lakeland Baseball Academy moved into its current facility last year. Kevin had his first lesson there Oct. 11.

A half-hour break followed that first lesson.

That's when he took the call.

"Was Cory in the plane? Was Cory in the plane?"

It was Dave Bletcher, the Lidles' Little League coach and a man Kevin said was a "long-time friend and like a dad." Bletcher was distressed.

"What are you talking about?" Kevin replied.

"Cory's plane crashed into a building. Is he dead, Kevin? Is he dead?"

That's the moment Kevin's phone started ringing.

"That must have been the moment it got on TV," Kevin said. "It was very strange. It didn't matter what anybody told me at that time because nobody knew if he was in the plane, if he was dead, whatever. I had already heard from three or four different people. I kept asking, 'Was Cory in the plane? Is he dead?' Some were saying, 'I don't know.' Some were saying, 'Yes.' Some were saying, 'I don't think so.' So nothing really mattered to me because nobody knew. We were certain by that night."

Attorneys for the Lidle and Stanger families have filed wrongful-death lawsuits against Cirrus. Kevin said there was reason to believe there was something wrong with his brother's plane.

Right now nobody really knows, and nobody might ever know, although the popular theory is that the plane was pushed off course by wind.

"The report from the NTSB said they probably knew they were in trouble for about three to four seconds at the speed they were going," Kevin said. "So it wasn't like two minutes of screaming. From what I understand - and what I want to believe - it was, 'Oh my gosh, we're in trouble.' Bam. Done. But that's all just opinion."

Baseball remains a major part of Kevin's life. That wasn't going to change. He played it professionally. He teaches it professionally. He watches it.

In the past, Kevin purchased baseball's premium package so he could watch Cory whenever and wherever he pitched. Now that Kevin gives lessons at night, he said it would have been tough to watch Cory pitch this season. But he acknowledged there is little point in shelling out the cash to get the package now.

"If I had to give you a list of my favorite teams, it would be the teams that he played for," Kevin said. "We both grew up Dodger fans. But I have all the respect in the world for the Yankees and what they've done. Oakland. Philly. They treated him really good. He enjoyed playing in those three cities more than anywhere else."

Kevin said Cory's widow, Melanie, and their son, Christopher, are doing well with the help of counseling. They will be at Yankee Stadium on opening day to throw out the first pitch. The Yankees will be wearing black armbands to honor Lidle throughout the 2007 season.

Lidle also will be honored in West Covina, Calif., where he lived. There are plans for a street to be named after him, and other honors. The family also plans to continue to run the Cory Lidle Memorial Charity Poker Tournament at Hollywood Park Casino in Inglewood, Calif.

Kevin even plans to build a memorial in his garage, complete with his brother's memorabilia.

Kevin is laid back like his brother, so often last week's conversation turned to laughter when talking about Cory.

"That guy at senior prom wore Vans with his tuxedo," Kevin said with a laugh. "A tuxedo and Vans."

"I know one thing for a fact," Kevin joked later. "Cory never did steroids. Did you see his gut? It looks like mine."

But the admiration for his brother has not faded. It never will. He thinks back to his brother's big-league career and puts its like this: "He made it on his own, man. A sub-six-foot-righthander throwing 88 to 90 m.p.h. And he did it for 10 years. He never big-timed anybody, either. That was really cool about him."