 Monday will mark 30 years since Jim Abbott pitched a no-hitter for the Yankees and vaulted himself into a special place in baseball history. Actually, Abbott was already in a special place before the no-hitter against the Cleveland lineup that included Jim Tomey, Manny Ramirez, Albert Bell, and Kenny Lofton. No-hitters are special, very special. They tell the story of one day. But a one-handed Major League pitcher is much more remarkable because that's the story of a lifetime, a tale of talent, persistence, and devotion. James Anthony Abbott was born in Flint, Michigan in 1967 and he loved to grab things with his left hand, his only hand, and he loved sports. Abbott was a ferocious competitor who said he used sports as a way to fit in and gain acceptance. And Abbott fit in. Watching him tuck his glove under his right forearm, throw a pitch, and then instantly put the glove on his left hand to be in position to field is one of the most underrated athletic actions I've ever seen. I enjoyed covering Abbott because I love reporting on people who cared as deeply as he did. Two weeks before Abbott's no-hitter, I wrote in The New York Times about some of the ways the Yankees could potentially overtake the first place Blue Jays. I referred to Abbott and Milito Perez as underachievers because they had combined to go 15 and 21 with a 4.38 earned run average. Abbott as an underachiever, how could someone write that? I did. When Abbott saw me in the clubhouse, he screamed my name and asked, what's this? I told him he hadn't pitched as well as the Yankees expected and that meant he had underachieved. Not in life, surely not in life, but in that season. Red faced and angry, Abbott gripped the newspaper and kept barking at me. I doubt anyone had ever used that word to describe him and I had doubts about having used it. Eventually Abbott and I were cordial to each other, but we never really talked about the tense exchange. Years later, Abbott wrote about the confrontation in his book called Imperfect and Improbable Life. Abbott acknowledged that he had always asked everyone to treat him like a pitcher, not a one-handed pitcher, and that's exactly what I had done. He said I had been fair with him. That was a classy move by a classy guy. Thirty years ago, Abbott experienced his finest moment with the Yankees, two years in which he wished he had achieved more. Those are his words, but Abbott was much more than a pitcher who threw a no-hitter. He was a perfect role model, a perfect gentleman, and a forever inspiration. Someone whose impact stretches way beyond what he did on September 4th, 1993.