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The Love Of The Game

City Native’s Life, Hard Work Honored As His Legacy Lives On

Tim Johnson was posthumously honored at the Congressional Baseball Game at Nationals Park in Washington, D.C. in June. From the left are his brother, Brett, who is holding a Medal of Merit commendation from the United States Capitol Police; his uncle, Dan Turnell, who is holding the Medal of Merit; and his brother, Steve, holds a commemorative bat. Photo courtesy of Kerry Turnell

When my wife, Vicki, and I walked into the lobby of the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum two years ago, the first thing we saw were the statues of immortals Lou Gehrig, Jackie Robinson and Roberto Clemente.

When we make our next visit, we’ll begin our homage to America’s pastime by taking a seat on a bench that bears the name of a friend that sits in front of that hallowed building.

Tim Johnson graduated from Jamestown High School a year ahead of us; was an award-winning broadcaster locally for WKSN radio and a cable television channel; spent nearly 25 years working in Washington, D.C. as a legislative assistant; and had a love for baseball and tennis.

And as I’ve learned since his passing a little more than a year ago at the age of 59, his friends in the U.S. Congress and the folks in Cooperstown cared deeply about him, too.

So much so, that they want to make sure his legacy will live on.

Johnson enjoys a Chautauqua Sports Hall of Fame-sponsored picnic at the Lakewood Rod & Gun Club several years ago. Photo courtesy of Chautauqua Sports Hall of Fame

“Everytime something happens, it’s a surprise,” said Kerry Turnell, Tim’s cousin. “It’s a gift that we get.”

– – –

Steve Johnson was sitting in his Virginia home earlier this week and, as he talked to me on his cell phone about his late brother, he found himself staring at a baseball bat belonging to Tim that was autographed by a “bunch of Hall-of-Famers,” including Tim Raines and Johnny Bench.

As Steve noted, Tim was “up to his elbows” when anything sports-related came his way.

The bat, it turned out, was presented to Tim in the summer of 2018 at the Congressional Baseball Game in recognition of his decades-long work for the annual philanthropic event. A coach for the Republican side as well as the secretary of Congressional Sports for Charity, Tim was the point man for the millions of dollars it has raised for various groups.

The plaque above honoring Tim Johnson is mounted on a bench in front of the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown. Photo courtesy of Kerry Turnell

Tim’s efforts aren’t lost on his friends and colleagues on Capitol Hill.

It all began when Tim, who arrived in Washington in 1994, worked for Congressman Mike Oxley (R-Ohio), when the latter was the manager of the Republican Congressional team and it continued when Tim was in the employ of Spencer Bachus (R-Ala.). The combination of politics and baseball was right in Tim’s wheelhouse.

“It has been … remarkable,” Steve said.

It was made even more remarkable when you consider that the game was played in its early years on a nondescript diamond with bleachers (think Bergman Park in Jamestown) and is now contested at Nationals Park, home of the World Series champions.

Helping make that huge leap was Tim, who still compiled stats, planned lineups and attended practices as he battled multiple myeloma, a disease he was first diagnosed a dozen years ago. It was a disease he was battling in 2017 when a gunman took aim at a Republican baseball practice in Alexandria, Virginia, wounding several. On that horrific day, Tim dove into a dugout on top of a boy to protect him from harm.

Tim Johnson was recognized by in June in the Congressional Record. Photo courtesy of Kerry Turnell

In typical Tim fashion, he told none of his family about that heroic deed.

Those actions that day were recognized posthumously in June of this year by the U.S. Capitol Police at the Congressional Baseball Game at Nationals Park in front of 20,000 people when the department presented the family with the Medal of Merit on Tim’s behalf.

“Even when they handed us the medal, it was like, ‘Wait, what?’ It was unbelievable,” Kerry said. “We had no clue.”

Dan Turnell, Kerry’s father, said he was glad that he didn’t turn around to look at the large video scoreboard in centerfield that displayed photos of his nephew.

“If we would have ever seen that, we would have fallen in a heap,” he said. “We were almost numb. The word I would use is ‘surreal.’ It was beyond my wildest imagination.”

Added Steve: “When Bart Stupak (a politician and lobbyist) read off the commendation in front of that big crowd, all we could do was mouth, ‘Thank you.'”

That wasn’t the last time the family uttered those two words.

– – –

Tim’s charitable efforts weren’t limited only to that wildly popular baseball game. He was also responsible for the minting of a special coin to raise money for that hallowed building in Cooperstown.

In fact, as communications director to Congressman Bachus, the House Financial Services chairman, Tim was one of the most important figures in securing passage of a resolution enabling the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum to have a specially minted coin as a fundraiser.

The Commemorative Coin Act directed the secretary of the treasury to mint and issue not more than 50,000 $5 gold coins, 400,000 $1 silver coins and 750,000 half-dollar coins recognizing the Hall of Fame. Surcharges from the sale of the coins will be paid to the Hall of Fame to assist in financing its operations.

And that’s why Tim’s name is etched into a gold plate on that bench outside the museum. It reads: “In memory of Tim Johnson, who brought his love of the game and Cooperstown to Capitol Hill.”

“We had no idea,” Kerry said. “He’s hobnobbing with everybody famous and he gets his name on a bench.”

For posterity.

Noted Steve: “(Jeff Idelson, the former president of the Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum) spearheaded that. He had emailed me some time ago that he was going to do this. I was dumbstruck that someone would even think of that, and everybody in the family was awestruck that the Hall would even consider such an honor.”

But there is one more honor by which to remember Tim.

– – –

The Congressional Record, according to Wikipedia, is “the official record of the proceedings and debates of the U.S. Congress, published by the U.S. Government Publishing Office and issued when Congress is in session.”

Well, guess who was recognized in that document?

Yes, it was Tim.

On June 24, Rep. Henry Johnson Jr., an African-American Democrat from Georgia, paid tribute to Tim, a white Republican from Jamestown, on the floor of the House of Representatives.

“Madam Speaker, I rise today in loving remembrance of, and in tribute to Mr. Timothy Mills Johnson, a long-time Capitol Hill staffer with our former colleagues Mike Oxley and Spencer Bachus, and the president of the Capitol Hill Tennis Club, who passed away late last year.

“Tim, as he was affectionately known on the tennis court and in the halls of Congress, was an outstanding staffer, great tennis player and instructor, but most importantly, a friend to so many staffers across both chambers and across the aisles — and friendship is essential to the soul.

“To say that his was a life ‘well-lived,’ is the true meaning of understatement.”

What followed was the reading of Tim’s accomplishments not only in baseball, but also in tennis, a sport that he came to love as a youngster, thanks to his grandfather Nelson Turnell, a Chautauqua Sports Hall of Fame inductee.

In fact, for almost 20 years, Tim served as president of the Capitol Hill Tennis Club, which worked closely with the charity efforts of numerous tennis-related organizations, including the Washington Tennis and Education Foundation. Under the umbrella of that organization, Tim helped organize an annual celebrity tournament where members of Congress, professional tennis players, Congressional staff, community leaders and others played to raise money for critical causes around the country.

For good measure, Tim also helped Capitol Hill staffers with their games, an exercise that could be tedious at times.

“He got to the point that he could teach the finer points of tennis to people that really, really would not know the finer points of tennis,” Dan said.

Noted Johnson, in the Congressional Record: “Tim had one of the roughest duties, keeping the peace … as he fed them tennis ball after ball, rain or shine, and more often than not, helping someone perfect a grip, shot or foot movement on the tennis court with his trademark patience and equanimity.”

But then there would be times that Tim would occupy the other end of the tennis spectrum, connecting with the likes of Billie Jean King and Chris Evert, or stopping over to the British consulate in Washington for strawberries and cream while watching Wimbledon on television.

“He knew everybody,” Dan said.

Right up until his passing a little more than a year ago, Tim was receiving phone calls and messages from friends and associates from far and wide, including senators, governors and chiefs of staff. To Kerry, who became her cousin’s Hospice nurse, it was so touching.

“We never got to thank everyone who called in Timmy’s last days that gave him a sendoff that I can’t even articulate how beautiful and fitting it was for humble Timmy,” she said. “He finally got the showering of thank-yous for all he did. I think, as a family, we would all love to say ‘thank you’ as it was simply beautiful and bittersweet.”

– – –

I attended Tim’s funeral at St. John Roman Catholic Church in Jamestown in October 2018, a celebration of a life well-lived. During the service, Steve, gave a eulogy that also included thoughts that Tim had prepared before his death.

The “spiritual” gifts Tim left to family and friends were respect, love of baseball, spirit of Cape Cod, willpower, sense of public service, family bond, recognition, strength of faith, brotherhood, teaching, and hope and possibility.

And as he concluded his portion of the remarks, Steve offered these:

“Each one of these gifts that Tim has left us will remain special in our minds, and in our hearts, and in our souls forever. They are the pieces of his life. … We all hold pieces of the mosaic of Tim’s life. … But putting the pieces of the mosaic into a clear and cohesive whole, that’s beyond our reach. That’s beyond our comprehension. Only one being, our Heavenly Father, can do that.

“And so, God the father has taken the pieces and put them together to form the completed mosaic of Tim’s life, and laid it on top of an all-too-small pile of completed mosaics. And He said: ‘Good job, Tim. Good work. You did well with what I gave you. Come with me.'”

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