Carter always called his own game

What does it mean to lead a life with tunnel vision and without a filter? A life you share in real time with everyone around you and, if you're famous, everyone who merely knows of you?

If you go that route having established a foundation of kindness and decency, you'll be celebrated and mourned when your journey concludes.

On the way, however, you'll likely step on some toes.

When Gary Carter died Thursday, succumbing to brain cancer at the age of 57, the expressions of grief came from all over the baseball world. Carter touched people deeply because you knew exactly where you stood with him. He was an open book, and people connected with that sincerity.

"Gary was a guy that grated you the wrong way when he was the enemy. There's no question," Keith Hernandez told Newsday's Steve Marcus after Carter's passing. "But as a teammate, he was fine. It was all part of our blend, our chemistry as a team. You can't just have what I see a lot today, 25 bland personalities. You can't have too much of one type. Gary was fiery, I was fiery."

Hernandez used another word to describe Carter during an SNY broadcast in 2008, and he didn't mean it in a positive way: "Unconscious."

That came in the midst of tough times for the Mets; manager Willie Randolph was losing control of the team, and Carter shockingly went on a national radio program and lobbied to help out his old club by succeeding the still-employed Randolph. By "unconscious," Hernandez meant "oblivious" or "clueless"; Carter didn't understand how his words and actions -- he actually called a Mets official during this time, reiterating his interest in the manager job -- could rub people the wrong way.

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A month and a half after that imbroglio, Carter appeared at the 2008 All-Star Game at Yankee Stadium and still had no idea why people were so offended by his remarks. I remember standing with him at a media session, trying to get him to appreciate the other side of the argument. He couldn't have been more polite in our exchange, yet we could've gone at it for another five hours and he seemingly wouldn't have come closer to grasping his transgression.

Yes, the post-retirement years had to be frustrating for Carter. You can wear your emotions on your sleeve when you're an All-Star catcher, helping the Montreal Expos reach new heights and leading the Mets to a World Series title, and it captivates people. Not so much when you're trying to climb the management ladder.

Bob Tufts, a Queens resident and Examiner.com writer who pitched for the Giants and Royals in the 1980s, wrote this Friday on my Newsday.com blog: "You cannot turn off the drive that makes you an elite athlete, even if your physical abilities change and age erodes your talents. And what is appropriate on the field as a competitive person doesn't always translate to life off the field."

That same drive, faith and openness, however, worked in Carter's favor in a way no one wanted. The final nine months were so painful, but Carter and his family couldn't have handled the terminal diagnosis with more grace. Carter's daughter Kimmy kept the world in the loop with a blog about her dad's illness and treatment. Carter spoke at his foundation dinner last month, ensuring that his final public words would be fittingly inspirational and memorable.

Carter's past tension with Hernandez, Randolph and Mets management couldn't seem less significant now.

Sure, Carter annoyed some people during his journey. Now that it's over, though, such speed bumps seem a worthwhile payment for someone who brought so much joy to so many by being true to himself and others.