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Letter to the editor

A Mother's Day that is twice as nice

By JOHN ROMANO
Published May 8, 2005

NORTH PORT - He could have walked from store to store, drove from mall to mall, and never found a Mother's Day present so perfect as this.

Considering all his parents had given him, mindful of all the guidance and protection they provided, there was but one gift that made sense in return.

It had far more to do with love than extravagance. It was not at all expensive, although it could have been quite costly.

Without really thinking about it, maybe without even realizing it, Joe Valentine came up with the ideal gift. He has given his mothers their due.

A relief pitcher in the employ of the Cincinnati Reds, Valentine has talked recently of being raised by two gay women. A political statement? Not on your life. This was personal. This was a son grateful for his parents.

And these are parents who adore their son.

"He's just Joe," Deborah Valentine said. "Our pride and joy."

"And that pride has nothing to do with baseball," Dee Price said.

"No, every day of his life has been a thrill to us."

"If he was a pizza delivery boy, we'd love him the same."

"He's just Joe. He's just ours."

It is an unusual circumstance, although it needn't be. An odd story, until you hear it told.

In a society where single-parent homes are, more and more, becoming the norm, Joe Valentine had it made.

His parents were in a committed relationship for five years before he was born, and have remained together for the 25 years since.

Parents day at school? They both went. Baseball and soccer practice? Dee had it covered. Dance lessons? That was Deborah's job.

They explained themselves to no one, except in the way they raised their child. And their devotion to Joe could always break the ice.

"There was, maybe, one or two people who wanted to take a step back. One woman who sort of asked, "Should our children be with them?' " Deborah said. "The way it turned out, her kids spent more time at our house and went on more vacations with us than their own family. When she finally let down her guard, finally got to know us, she became one of our best friends."

If their relationship was considered liberal, their parenting style was not. Price and Valentine were living in Las Vegas, where gay couples were less likely to cause a stir, when Deborah gave birth to Joe in 1979.

(His biological father is not a part of Joe's life and his conception is the only topic off-limits.)

Worried that Vegas was not a proper setting for a child, Price and Valentine moved back to Long Island, N.Y., where both had family.

They opened a beauty salon and went about the business of being a family. Sleepovers, proms, vacations. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

Except, perhaps, the boy who called two women "mom."

Their lives, for the most part, have been free of intolerance. Joe never complained about being teased, nor were his parents often excluded.

Still, there was a wariness at the edge of every picture. An uneasy hush known to people who live outside society's norms. In some ways, this has been a balancing act, lived without a net, going on 25 years.

They would not hold hands or kiss in public. Maybe flamboyance wasn't their style, but maybe it was also a good idea to stay low-key. They weren't trying to make a statement. They were just raising a child.

"You have to remember, years ago, this was much more taboo. We actually had to worry that someone might try to take him away from us," Price said. "As good as the people have been who have been in our lives, we know there are a lot of people out there who don't understand."

If they navigated the murky waters of suburbia without disaster through the 1980s and '90s, they had another hazard to face in the new millennium.

As a professional baseball player, Valentine was now a part of one of the most homophobic settings imaginable. A world where no active player, and few retired ones, have acknowledged being gay. A world where gay slurs are a normal part of clubhouse lingo, and conformity is the high religion.

With this setting as a backdrop, Valentine dropped a bomb last month.

During a routine interview, a reporter from New York's Newsday asked Valentine if he could talk to his parents. Valentine said sure. And then casually gave the reporter the names of two women.

If he acted as if this was nothing but routine, Valentine still knew better. A right-handed reliever coming off a solid rookie season, he was not a lock to make the major-league team out of spring training. He requested the story be held until after the 25-man roster was set.

When Valentine made the team, and newspapers hit door stoops, the reaction was incredible. Near-total apathy.

A few teammates asked about it and some other newspapers followed up. But, for the most part, no one seemed shocked or alarmed.

His parents were braced for a negative reaction, but have heard little. Their only concern was the story be presented accurately, and so they agreed to sit down for dinner to talk about their lives and their son.

"We want people to know us, to understand who we are, and maybe they'll say, "They're not so bad,' " Price said. "We are not two-headed."

They are retirees, like any others, who have moved to Florida.

After Joe was drafted by the White Sox in 1999, Valentine and Price sold the salon and moved to a home in North Port, just south of Sarasota.

They bought a laptop computer and subscribed to a service that allowed them to listen to radio broadcasts of Joe's minor-league games as he moved from one organization to another.

And here they sit, five years later, crowded in front of a computer to watch video feeds of Reds games.

There was talk last season Valentine might eventually replace Danny Graves as the Reds closer. The plan may still be in place, but Valentine has hit a bump in the road. He was sent to Triple A on Friday after a few poor outings.

Joe Valentine is 25, recently married to his high school sweetheart, and making better than $300,000 a year. With luck, he'll tear up the hitters in Triple A and be back in the majors before his parents know it.

Yet, it is hard to imagine them being any more proud of him than they are already. A son who loves his parents. A son who is proud of his parents.

A son not afraid to say their names aloud.

Happy Mothers' Day.

[Last modified May 8, 2005, 00:46:16]