Solari on Smoltz

It didn't take Marcia Doherr long to learn what that thumping sound was coming from her new neighbors' house.

The kid who moved there with his family in 1977 was always outside chucking a ball against the bricks. Over and over. Thwack, thwack, thwack.

Occasionally, there'd be a clang when an errant toss would smack the aluminum screen door next to the spot where he had taped a strike zone to the wall.

That boy was John Smoltz.

"That's all the kid did, was throw that ball," Doherr said. "I think every day, he was throwing that ball. He was constantly throwing that ball."

It was like that all summer. It would be like that for years to come.

Doherr now wishes she'd taken that screen door when the family replaced it and offered her the old one. It would be her link to baseball immortality.