Grace is a good word to characterize Doerr. There's really not much else needed to describe him.
I have a couple of Doerr stories. The first one, Winter Haven, early February 1992, lower fields. An early incarnation of the Red Sox Fantasy Camp. Day one, a Sunday, field work ending, everyone was headed to the locker rooms as dusk approached. Doerr, Pesky, Petrocelli and me were the last figures on the field as it got dark. We were clustered around second base.
Pesky and I had been debating methods of double play pivot technique at the 2nd base bag, whether feeding or receiving from the SS side or 2B side, what steps or moves worked best, where you wanted the ball, shifting for the throw to 1B, etc.
Doerr, returning from one of the other fields noticed the conversation and joined the debate. Petrocelli a few minutes later. In the end, the four of us were there the better part of an hour, each executing feed and pivot technique finally lighted only by the minimal and distant lights of Chain-O-Lakes. Doerr feeds Pesky, Petrocelli feeds Doerr, Pesky feeds me, round and round, over and over. All the while debating "best" pivot technique. Note: the question was never settled.
None of them wanted to leave. I'd met them for the first time only hours earlier. To this day, I teach kids the methods and techniques discussed and debated that evening.
Maybe I'll tell the other story tomorrow. I'll be thinking of Bobby. He defined grace. A good life, well lived, on his own terms.