Twenty months after Roy Halladay’s plane went down, Roy Halladay’s plane goes up. Roy III—Roy the son, Roy the Hall of Fame pitcher—is dead. Roy Jr.—Roy the father, Roy the commercial pilot—is blinking into the sunlight on a small private airfield outside Denver.
He hoists himself into the cockpit and smooths his headset over his Blue Jays cap. He runs through his preflight checklist and taxis out to intersection Bravo.
“Tower,” he radios. “Chipmunk one-nine-five-six Delta is ready on one-two left.”
Roy III never flew in this plane, a two-seat, single-engine de Havilland Canada DHC-1 Chipmunk.