All of us had known how hard the death of their son had hit them. Even prior to that, he had become somewhat of a recluse. A lot of his baseball friends had tried to get him out of the house. It's just a sad commentary on the effects of chronic depression.

It's still shocking he could get himself into the mental state where he could walk into a jewelry store and do that. He's certainly one of the celebrated closers of the game, always totally under control.

He was the consummate professional; as good as anyone and better than most at broadcasting baseball. He gave a complete, vivid picture. He had a great enthusiasm and love for the game; and a great love for the people in the game.

Tom took great pride in the fact he didn't miss a game. Like a lot of young broadcasters of the '60s and '70s, he learned that it was a 365-day a year job. You didn't take a day off just because you were ill. But, of all of us, he had the ironman streak.

It wasn't just a love of the game but a love of the people in the game that he'll be remembered for. Most of my close friends are out of baseball but most of Tom's are in baseball and it will take decades for people to think of anyone else as the voice of the Blue Jays.

We were thrilled to receive this donation, because we're a 100-percent donor-dependent organization. Last year's donation helped us make a wish come true for 159 children.