THE OBJECT OF THE GAME was to be the first boy to make it across the street. The most important rule was to look both ways before starting across. Tug Hulett always won the game. The 10-year-old was older, bigger and faster than his three brothers. But that July day in 1992, Sam Hulett, four years younger than Tug, vowed to win the race. He would be the first to cross Greenside Drive on the way home to the family's apartment complex in Cockeysville, Md. In Tug's mind's eye, he can still picture Sam, competitive juices flowing, leaving the curb a split instant too early. Maybe the oncoming car was traveling a bit too fast. Almost assuredly, a truck parked between the boys and the car blocked the view of both. The agonizing details, revisited for a dozen years, can never lead to a different result. Sam either didn't hear or didn't heed the "Don't go!" that one of his brothers yelled. The car struck Sam, causing severe head injuries, and the rambunctious boy died the next day. "I felt responsible because I was the oldest and I was in charge when we crossed the street," said Tug, now 21 and an infielder with the Spokane Indians. "I felt responsible for about three years and really struggled with it." What Tug didn't know at the time, and what ultimately eased his guilt, was that every member of the Hulett family felt responsible for the accident. His brothers, Jeff and Joe, also thought they should have stopped Sam from leaving the curb. Mother Linda blamed herself for not being with the boys. Father Tim, who played 12 years in the majors with the Chicago White Sox, Baltimore Orioles and St. Louis Cardinals, was on the road with the Orioles. Only when Tug sat down to talk to his mother did his grief diminish. Her comforting message to him was that nobody could have stopped the accident, and the family members, according to their Christian faith, believed they would all see Sam again in the afterlife. "We decided as a family that we were going to make it bring us closer together, and not allow it to tear us apart," Tug said. "We would be open with it and talk about it." The family healed over time. Tim Hulett retired from pro ball in 1995, in time to witness Tug's teenage years. Tug's high school in Springfield, Ill., had an enrollment of less than 100 and offered below-average athletic competition. After Tug's sophomore year, the Huletts relocated to Shreveport, La., where they found a Christian school with serious athletic aspirations. Tug said he wouldn't have been recruited by Auburn (Ala.) University if his family had remained in Springfield, the town where his parents had met. Tug played three seasons at Auburn before the Texas Rangers selected him in the 14th round of last month's draft. "I wasn't drafted out of high school," Tug said. "Nobody wants a 5-foot-8, 150-pound shortstop." Hulett, now 5-10 and 185, has been a regular at second base for the Indians this summer. In his second full game with the Indians, Hulett went 3 for 4 with three runs batted in and two runs scored. Tim Hulett was also a fair hitter in his day. He cracked 17 home runs for the White Sox in 1986 and batted .300 for the Orioles in 1993. "If I'm struggling too much, I'll call Dad and ask, What do I need to do here?' " Tug said. "Getting inside tips from a big-leaguer is pretty neat." Tim and Linda plan to visit Spokane later this month to see their oldest in his first professional season. "As a parent, you bask in the glory of it, as well," Tim told the Baltimore Sun last month. All of the boys are serious baseball players. Joe, 20, hit .305 this season as a catcher at McNeese State in Lake Charles, La. Jeff, 16, catches at Evangel Christian Academy, where his father was just promoted to head coach. Tim is making up for family time he missed while playing in the majors. He was in spring training with the White Sox when Tug was born in late February 1983. "I was a couple of weeks early," Tug said. "My parents had talked about names, but nothing final." Pressed by the hospital to come up with a name, Linda selected Timothy, saying her first born greatly resembled her husband. Timothy Jr. had never heard that story until last week. "But they needed another name, so that 15 years down the line if somebody called for Tim, we wouldn't have to ask, Big Tim or Little Tim?' " Tug said. So Linda suggested "Tug," after one of her favorite players, quirky reliever Tug McGraw. McGraw, who died in January, had a soft spot for the first name Tim. One of his surviving sons is country music star Tim McGraw.
