No Ordinary Life

Dana Hammonds lost her younger brother and former major league pitcher David Elder to suicide in January 2023. While his legacy lives on in those he loved, coached and mentored, the sting of his absence still burns two-plus years after his tragic death.

He was the second of three children born to Butch and Debbie Elder, and from the moment he entered the world on Sept. 23, 1975 to the day he left it on Jan. 31, 2023, he kept everyone on their toes. David Elder was one of a kind, no matter the pursuit. All who were fortunate enough to cross his path were never the same again, and for those closest to him, the impact resonates much deeper.

Dana Hammonds, a nurse at Dr. Lisa D. Miller Pediatrics in Covington, had the privilege of being Elder’s older sister for all 47 years, four months and nine days of his life. She saw the story in its entirety.

“He was good at everything he did,” Hammonds said. “Always on All-A honor roll. So smart. He always had a lot of friends and was so busy. He never sat still. He was a mischievous child, and that never changed. He was driven even as a kid, and he wanted to always win and be the best.”

Elder excelled in various sports but found his true passion in baseball. While Hammonds stayed behind to attend nursing school, Butch moved the rest of the family to Pensacola, Florida, in 1990. There, Elder thrived at Booker T. Washington High School. He was a power-hitting, howitzer-armed third baseman but shined more brightly as a pitcher, throwing four no-hitters during his prep career. Those exploits earned him a scholarship to Georgia Tech, where he returned to the Atlanta area with his hometown Yellow Jackets. Elder stood out as both a starter and a reliever, often brought to the mound by AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” as frenzied fans replaced the Australian rock band’s chants of “Thunder!” with those of “Elder!” at Russ Chandler Stadium. Imagine the goosebumps.

“He was such a wonderful brother. I just miss him and can’t believe he’s gone.”
Dana Hammonds

A Second Team All-Atlantic Coast Conference selection as a junior, Elder was chosen by the Texas Rangers in the fourth round of the 1997 Major League Baseball First-Year Player Draft. He spent parts of five seasons in the Texas farm system—he missed the entire 1998 campaign due to Tommy John surgery—before Cleveland acquired him in a December 2001 trade for former Atlanta Braves closer John Rocker. Elder made his MLB debut with the Indians in 2002 and struck out the first batter he faced: former American League MVP Jason Giambi. He continued to pitch well out of the bullpen for Cleveland, as he compiled a 3.13 earned run average in 23 innings of relief. Elder racked up 23 strikeouts and held opposing hitters to a .220 batting average.

“It was so surreal,” Hammonds said. “I was so proud of him. We all were. He’d made his childhood dream come true.”

Injuries and ineffectiveness plagued Elder throughout 2003, the year he also became a footnote to history by surrendering the 500th home run of Rafael Palmeiro’s career in a May 11 outing against Texas. “That was the longest 20 minutes of my life,” he once told me with a self-deprecating smile, remembering his wait on the mound while the Rangers celebrated Palmeiro’s feat. Elder went under the knife for a torn labrum in his shoulder soon after, and Cleveland released him at the end of the season. While he bounced from organization to organization in an effort to keep his dream alive, he never again returned to the major leagues. Elder retired in 2007 at age 31.

“The arm injuries were hard on him,” Hammonds said. “It was always a worry that he wouldn’t be able to pitch again, but he would work so hard to make it back. He handled it better than I thought, but he still struggled with how life was going to change. I know he missed it. It’s so crazy to say, but he seemed larger than life, like he wasn’t meant to live an ordinary life. He was meant for something more.”

Elder inevitably turned elsewhere to scratch the baseball itch once his playing career concluded, and he settled in as a coach and instructor with WOW Factor Southeast—formerly Bullpen—in McDonough. There, he established his own gravitational pull, passing on his knowledge and wisdom to the next generation. It was where I met Elder in the fall of 2020, as he undertook instructing my two sons. He became a friend, mentor and confidant, and weekly trips to his facility soon involved our entire family. Baseball was at the epicenter of it all, but they discussed everything from girls and grades to movies, television shows and the importance of always respecting their mother. Elder had lost his beloved Debbie to cancer years prior.

“He absolutely loved coaching and giving lessons,” Hammonds said. “I think he felt like he was making a difference in each kid. He was personally vested in them. He liked being busy and he loved people, and he always wanted to help kids and be someone that people looked up to.”

Though none of us knew it at the time, my boys had what would be their final lesson with him on MLK Day in 2023. “Y’all be careful,” Elder said as we left. He disappeared behind the door as it shut behind us. A little more than two weeks later, the devastating news reached us: David Matthew Elder was gone. Hammonds was at work when she heard.

“My dad was coming by to pick up something from me, so I had told him to come up front to the main entrance,” she said. “He messaged me and said he was around back and to just come down there. As I approached, he rolled his window down, told me he needed to talk to me and to come sit in his truck. Little did I know that my life was about to be completely turned upside down. I honestly thought my dad was going to tell me he had cancer or something like that, but he looked at me and said, ‘Dana, your brother David took his life this morning.’

“My heart stopped beating,” Hammonds added. “My dad broke down crying, and I lost it. I started hyperventilating, and I jumped out of the truck. I couldn’t breathe. My baby brother? Dead? No, it couldn’t be. I needed to talk to him. I was completely heartbroken and shattered.”

A standing-room-only crowd attended Elder’s funeral at Crossroads United Methodist Church in Conyers. Tributes poured in amid laughter and tears. Left behind were countless friends, former players and adoring family members, most notably his 9-year-old daughter. “She was the light of his life,” Hammonds said. Warning signs were few, and none raised the alarm that he had turned down a dark path in the final months of his life. Caution and wisdom were born out of tragedy.

“Be there to be present for your loved ones that you know are struggling,” Hammonds said. “Don’t ever assume that they’ll come to you if they need help. They may be too embarrassed, or they may not want to bother you. I wish I would have been more involved with him, talked to him more, pressed him more. I would ask if he was OK or if he needed anything, and he would always say he was good. We were very close. He was such a wonderful brother. I just miss him and can’t believe he’s gone.”

Hammonds did not have to search far for comfort.

“He was a Christian and had a strong faith in God,” she said. “Knowing we’ll see him again one day gets us through our grief.”

Elder would have turned 50 in September, which happens to coincide with National Suicide Prevention Month. Hammonds admits that knowing her late brother’s legacy will live on in those he coached provides some peace in his absence, though the void that remains can never be filled.

“When we had to clean out his apartment, I found a piece of paper with something my mom had written,” she said. “It was near him when he died. It said, ‘To live in the heart of those you leave behind means you live forever.’”

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