On July 17, 2015, Clate Schmidt and his family stepped onto Turner Field and saw beacons of light in big league uniforms.
A 21-year-old junior at Clemson, the right-hander had begun chemotherapy treatment for nodular sclerosing Hodgkin’s lymphoma roughly a month beforehand. Times were trying, but the visiting Cubs provided two examples of inspiration for the Atlanta area family: Jon Lester and Anthony Rizzo, who had battled other forms of lymphoma before enjoying decorated careers.
Clarke Schmidt of the New York Yankees pitches against the Mariners at Yankee Stadium in May. (Photo by Jim McIsaac/Getty Images)
“This was in the heart of my brother getting treatments and stuff,” Yankees starter Clarke Schmidt, set to pitch against the Cubs on Saturday, told the Daily News. “So it was cool for not only my brother to get perspective and see the other side of this, but also for my family. There’s not a lot of bright moments when you’re going through something like that.”
The Schmidts — the two brothers, their parents, their grandma and a friend — were invited to that day’s Cubs-Braves game by Lester, who fought anaplastic large-cell lymphoma as a 22-year-old Red Sox rookie in 2006. The World Series-winning lefty diverted from his routine that day, spending all of batting practice and then some with a family still searching for advice.
As Clate fired off questions regarding the challenges ahead of him, Lester answered honestly.
“He was like, ‘Look, man, this is not going to be an easy road,’” Clate told The News. “’There’s definitely a high chance you’re never going to come back to the way you were before, but there’s also a chance that you can, and be better after.’ And so that was the thing that I really appreciated. He kept reiterating, ‘I put the work in day in and day out to be able to get back to 100% health.’”
Clarke Schmidt (l.) passed up an opportunity to pitch in the Cape Cod League so he could be with his brother Clate at his chemo treatment. (Courtesy of Clate Schmidt)
Lester added that Clate’s baseball aspirations would have to take a back seat to getting his body healthy. Treatment, Lester said, would likely be the hardest thing Clate ever went through. He would have to lean on his family.
Eventually, Clate and Lester began talking about their other interests, including baseball, hunting, Lester’s favorite restaurants and the All-Star’s property in Atlanta. “I wanted to be just like him,” Clate said, but Lester also tended to the entire family that day, reassuring Clarke, their parents, Dwight and Renee, and their nana, Janet.
“When someone in your family goes through cancer, it feels like the whole family’s going through it a little bit,” Clarke said. “There’s a lot of moments where it’s just very dull and there’s not a lot of positivity. You try to be as positive as possible, but it’s obviously a very impactful disease. Being able to have those conversations with [Lester] and just talk through what it’s like to go through this and know there is light at the end of the tunnel, it was like a little bit of hope almost. It gave us some perspective. He was awesome taking a lot of time out of his day. Now I know how it is. When you’re going through this day in and day out, it’s kind of hard to give. We were just a random family to him, and he took a lot of time out of his day and spent a lot of time with us, and so we’re obviously very appreciative of that.”
Added Dwight: “From my perspective, it was huge. It gave him hope. He saw an individual like himself that was able to beat it.”
With a bond established, Lester regularly reached out to Clate in the months that followed. Just as he had predicted, the Schmidt family proved pivotal in Clate’s recovery.
Clarke, two years younger and pitching at South Carolina, played a special part, serving as his big brother’s rock whenever Clate felt ill or down. Clarke attended Clate’s first chemo treatment, and he passed on a chance to pitch in the Cape Cod League — a valuable opportunity for a rising prospect — so that he could be present for the rest of his sibling’s appointments.
“My initial, visceral reaction was pissed,” Clate said of that choice. “I pitched in the Cape. I understand what an opportunity it is and how prestigious it is to be able to do so. So I’m like, ‘Oh god, well now I’m the hindrance here.’”
Clarke called it “an easy decision,” and he ultimately found time for summer ball in South Carolina.
“I would have sacrificed anything to spend more time with him and be around him more,” Clarke continued. “You just don’t know. There is a higher success rate with the chemo and that cancer, but still, you don’t know. It’s still cancer. So I wasn’t gonna miss those moments being with him. Yeah, I sacrificed being able to play summer ball and stuff like that, but those memories and that bonding, you can’t replicate something like that.”
With his family and doctors assisting him every step of the way, Clate underwent his last round of treatment on Sept. 1, 2015. With his truck packed for baseball practice, he drove straight from the hospital to Clemson so that he could sneak into a workout.
Doing so went against his doctor’s advice— and Lester’s warnings about putting his body before baseball — but a stubborn Clate was tired of waiting.
“It was conditioning and all this stuff. Needless to say, I lasted all of about five steps before I wanted to vomit and die,” Clate said. “You gotta imagine your body is on a complete and total reset button. It’s like you have just selected everything on your computer, control, alt, delete, and everything is gone inside your body. So all the muscle mass, all the conditioning, all the good stuff I had built up, was deleted because that’s what chemo does. It erases the good and the bad, because it has to.
“So it was, the entire time, one of the most mentally and physically exhausting things to be able to come back from, to say the least.”
Clate knew it would take some time to get into baseball shape, but he relished the chance to throw again. In the ensuing months, he worked tirelessly as he regained his strength.
The Schmidt brothers pose with family in March 2016 after Clate recovered from his cancer treatment and returned to Clemson. (Courtesy of Clate Schmidt)
That effort led to him being named one of Clemson’s opening weekend starters in 2016. Clate had set that goal for himself, and he went on to record a 4.83 ERA over 18 games before the Tigers, who had also drafted him out of high school, used a 20th-round pick on him.
Clate spent a few seasons in the lower levels of Detroit and Cincinnati’s systems, but he stopped playing professionally after the 2019 campaign. With the pandemic wiping out the 2020 minor league season and Clate feeling pain in his shoulder the previous year, he tried his hand at medical sales before going to flight school. In doing so, he took after his father, a longtime Marine Corps and Delta Air Lines pilot.
Clate is now approaching 1,500 hours logged in the air. Better yet, he’s been cancer-free ever since that drive to Clemson.
He also remains in contact with Lester, as the former big leaguer sees the Schmidt family every November at a silent auction for the Rally Foundation, a nonprofit that raises awareness and funds for childhood cancer research. Clate doesn’t talk to Lester as much as he used to in the months between, but he considers the former Cub a “mentor.”
While Clate did not follow Lester’s big league path post-cancer, he has embodied the pitcher’s willingness to share and help others going through similar fights.
“Why can’t I be the one leading from the tip of the spear?” Clate asked himself after he first heard his diagnosis. “This is not going to be a story for me. It’s going to be a story for those that come behind me.”
