During nearly a decade as a major-league player, Jim Abbott often took time away from his preparation to talk to handicapped children and their families.

Now that he has been retired for almost a decade, Abbott, who was born without a right hand, works as a motivational speaker and mixes in stories from his baseball career, which included a Sullivan Award, an Olympic gold medal, a no-hitter against the Cleveland Indians and induction in the College Baseball Hall of Fame.

In 1999, he finished his career going 2-8 with a 6.91 earned run average in 20 games (15 starts) with the Brewers.

Friday afternoon, Abbott returns to Milwaukee and serves as the keynote speaker at the IndependenceFirst Power Lunch. Late last week, he spoke to OnMilwaukee.com by telephone from his California home and talked about his time his transition from player to speaker.

OnMilwaukee.com: You played with a colorful group of guys in Milwaukee back in '99: Jeff Cirillo, Fernando Vina, Marquis Grissom, Rocky Coppinger, Hector Ramirez, Jim Pittsley, Reggie Harris, Steve Falteisek. If we organize a 10-year reunion next year, will you come back?

Jim Abbott: Would they want me back? That's the question.

OMC: Do you keep up with any of the guys from that team?

JA: Not too much. Baseball is kind of sad in that way. You play with guys. You get very close. You spend a lot of time with them in the clubhouse. And then everybody kind of goes their different ways. They go to different parts of the country and families live in different areas. I don't keep up with as many of them as I'd like, but I have great memories of those years, playing for (manager) Phil Garner. I have great memories of that summer, although the crane accident (that killed three ironworkers at Miller Park) kind of lent a dark perspective to things.

OMC: Making it to the major leagues is an incredible accomplishment. When you look back on your career, considering the things you had to overcome, does it seem more special?

JA: I am proud of my career. I worked hard. There's times when I wonder if I could have gotten a little bit more out of my left arm and there's times when I think maybe I got everything I possibly could out of my left arm.

I was born missing my right hand. My time in the big leagues was spent ... I really wanted to be a good pitcher. I understood that I was different. I knew that my being born without a right hand made a difference to people. But, I always felt like if that was going to mean anything -- if I had some measure of success to attach to that, then it would provide an even better model. I think I did well enough to do that.

So, my time after the game has kind of gone in a natural direction toward speaking to people and continuing to reach out in a mentoring sort of way to say "Hey, anything is possible. Look at the circumstances that I grew up in. Look where I grew up -- in Flint, Mich. To end up playing on the West Coast, the East Coast in Milwaukee and Chicago. You can do it." I feel very privileged to be in that situation.

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