Reunion Time- Part 2

May 13, 2013 may indeed go down as one of the top 5 days of my life.  Lemme tell you why.

Woke up this mornin' (no, I'm not going to break into a blues tune here), and prepared myself to go to the ballpark.  It was a bit more of a packing dilemma in the fact that it was also "getaway day" because after my game today I would be hopping a plane to head back to Minneapolis.

I arrived at New Shea at about 8:55 a.m. and was directed to the visiting team clubhouse where we would find out which team we would be playing for and what our uniform would be.  So there I was, roaming the underhalls of the stadium and walking along with my jaw dragging on the floor. Now, I spent 6 years wandering similar halls at the Metrodome, so I know how little the passageways offer as far as personality is concerned.  But here at New Shea they have framed 3'x5' framed photos of every Mets yearbook ever produced.  They are displayed in chronological order as you walk in a clockwise direction. Many of them provoking dozens of childhood memories from my personal collection at home.

I made my way into the visiting clubhouse and turned the corner to find the corkboard displaying the team rosters and uniform of the day. I found that I was a member of the Miracles and that we would be wearing the grey road jersey with "NEW YORK" displayed on the front.  The Miracles would be made up of members of 5 teams from January.  Our opponents would be the Amazins and they would be wearing the home cream-colored jerseys with "METS" across the chest.  The Amazins would be comprised of players from the other 5 January teams from our week in Florida.

I walked into the locker room and it was quite impressive, especially for a visiting clubhouse.  Far, far away from its Metrodome counterpart.  I found a locker and began to begin getting on my uniform.  As I did I was interrupted now and then by fellow players whom I hadn't seen in 4 months. All around the room similar greetings were being exchanged in the upbeat surroundings.  I made an attempt to take in all of the happenings before I readied myself for the walk which would take me to the playing field of my favorite baseball team.

I checked that everything on my uniform was set.  Shoes tied, belt buckled, hat on, shirt buttoned, sunglasses on hat, and of course zipper up.  So now was the time.  I made the left turn, down the stairs which I had seen many times on Mets broadcasts and headed out to the dugout.  The sun was out and it welcomed me to the green grass and finely manicured dirt of Citi Field.  Christmas Day was here.

I'm sure that I must've looked like I was awestruck as I moved slowly through the visiting dugout.  The field was kinda cluttered with the batting cage and multiple protective screens placed around the field which are used for batting practice.  We  gathered the group and talked with Doug Dickey about how things would progress through the day.  Batting practice would begin around 9:45 and that the game would begin around 12:30.  We would each get 7 swings for batting practice to keep things going, because there were about 90 players taking part in the game.

Each team would have 45 players so we all knew that we would only get one turn at bat.  There may be a small number who may get a second, but that would be a rare thing.  I would be batting 23rd for the Miracles and would hit the field in the bottom of the 3rd on defense.

Batting practice was a great deal of fun as we all soaked in the surroundings of the ballpark.  The time on the auxiliary scoreboards over our heads was moving far too quickly.  When I got my chance to hit, I hit only one foul ball and the other six I hit pretty much "on the screws".  So I was more than confident in my hitting abilities at that point.

After bp was over we had some lunch in the stands and then prepared ourselves for the game ahead.  We all made our way out to our respective foul lines and we stood at attention for the national anthem. After that it was time to play ball. It was in the high 50's as far as the temps were concerned, but it could've been in the high 20's for all of us on that field.

In the middle of the third it was time for me to take the field. I would be playing first base when I did.  I ran out onto that field as though I'd been shot out of a cannon.  I usually run onto the field in my softball league because I realize that there will come a day when I won't be able to do so, either because of physical ailment or just plain oldness. I don't want to get to that place and wish I had run onto the field each time.  I threw the ball around the infield to my teammates knowing that I was in the same territory as Ike Davis and others from around major league baseball.  We allowed a couple of base runners and with two outs the batter hit a slow roller towards the mound, but our pitcher swooped in, made a good pickup and throw and we nipped the runner at first.  The throw was a tough one to pick up as it kinda came over the runner's left shoulder but my concentration was keen and I made the catch to retire the side.  I was grinning from ear to ear as I ran off the field.

In the top of the 5th I came to the plate with one down. I heard my name announced by Alex Anthony, the p.a. announcer who actually does the Mets games at home, and settled in for my at bat.  I took the first two pitches for balls and then laced the next pitch over the third base bag.  I reached first base and clapped my hands knowing that I had singled in my first at bat at New Shea.  I reached second on an infield hit and during a time out looked around and said aloud to myself, "I'm on freakin' second base at Citi Field! How cool is this?" The next batter went down on strikes and the inning was over, but my batting average of 1.000 was going to be great to go home with.

My day on the field was done for a few innings and I got to play defense again in the bottom of the 8th, this time at third base. So I ran like the wind to third base and thought about our captain David Wright, who hangs out there on occasion.  I didn't get any plays in this half inning, but it was great to have a chance to be out there again.

The game ended not too long after that, with the Amazins winning by a 6-3 score.  There were three innings in which the Amazins did not score and my team was responsible for two of them, so we were fairly proud of that fact.  When the final out was recorded we shook hands and reflected on our day.  None of us wanted to leave, but the time had come to get back to reality.  I made my way to the clubhouse and took a fast shower and dressed for the trip back to the hotel to get the luggage and then off to LaGuardia for the flight to Chicago.

The coolest thing about sharing this event with these guys is the fact that it adds to our common bond. We all love the New York Mets.  We all sit/stand around talking about great moments from the franchise.  We share stories about "where were you when...." and sentences that begin with the words "How about when......." or "Do you remember..........".  We live and die with this team.  We celebrate when they win and a part of us dies when they lose.  I cried a little when Johan Santana threw his no-hitter.  I'm sure I wasn't alone. Mostly because like many Met fans I never thought it would happen. We were playing at the home of our current heroes. We talk badly of them at times but never allow anyone else to do so.  We get to wear the same uniform of our heroes, as though we could be on the bench right along side of them if they needed us.  But it runs through us like a common thread.  I didn't travel the furthest distance to be there, as we had a guy from Saskatchewan who made the trip.  He, like myself, was a rookie this year and he wasn't going to miss it for the world.

We  received a DVD from our week in Florida as well as our own set of 100 baseball cards. They look just like regular baseball cards, same paper stock, same colors and they look great. My picture was taken with my glove on rather than my bat during a swing.

It's going to take me a couple of days to come down from this high.  I tried to describe it as best I could for you, but it's hard to put feelings of pure joy on paper.  Otherwise you would feel it right now yourself.  I've often wondered how different a place the world would be if every person could feel that sense of joy for one full day.  If you are reading this blog, I hope that YOU have the chance to feel that joy of your own.

If you've enjoyed my blog postings at all you can check out my "regular" postings by going to ramblinrod.blogspot.com.

I probably should've smiled on my card picture. But I guess I can do that next year.

Yeah, I said it. NEXT year.

Reunion, part 1

Since Fantasy Camp ended in January, nearly every one of us began looking forward to the reunion weekend during the regular season.  None of us knew when that would be, given the fact that the team had to decide when we could get the use of the field.  The Mets are hosting this year's All-Star Game, and that fact threw a monkey wrench into the planners for sure.

We found out in March that the reunion would take place on the weekend of May 10-13.  The visiting team would be the Pirates of Pittsburgh.  The schedule called for the campers to be on the field prior to the game on Friday night, attend that game in seats which would be in a group for players and their guest(s), then we would play ON THE FIELD on Monday the 13th.

The weeks passed slowly, especially here in Minneapolis, where the winter seemingly went on for....ever!  We had measurable snow as late as May 3rd, so the 10th of the month couldn't come soon enough. But the morning of the 10th eventually DID arrive.  I hopped a plane at 5:45 a.m. to Atlanta and arrived in Flushing, NY at about 2 p.m.

After checking into a hotel near Citi Field, I made my way to the check-in area at the stadium and greeted some of the guys whom I recognized from my Florida week in January.  We eventually got the group rounded up around 6:30 and we made our way onto the outfield warning track after getting ourselves in alphabetical order by last name. I was the 10th person onto the field as we went out.  By the time we were all out on the field I was just to the left of the 408' sign on the outfield wall.  It was such a thrill to look up and see the new Home Run apple raised up over the fence.  And way up above that was the large video board.  A few minutes later it was time to turn toward home plate as p.a. announcer Alex Anthony was going to be introducing us by name as we were going to be shown on the video board.  I turned and readied myself as I heard my name being spoken.  As it was I stepped forward and doffed my cap as I had seen countless players do prior to the All-Star Game,  the first game of the World Series or Opening Day.  They don't show the last two of those on television anymore, which is too bad. I guess the networks feel that that time is better spent on ads for beer or cialis.  I resisted the temptation to say "Hi, Mom!" as I already say that every day, whether I'm in uniform or not.

We got to stay out on the field for the national anthem, which was also a thrill.  After the anthem we began to make our way off the field.  NOW I was the 10th to last person to leave the field, which was very fortunate.  As we neared the bullpen door which we were using as out exit point, I looked over to the Mets relief pitchers who were making their way to the bullpen.  I yelled, "L.A.!" toward LaTroy Hawkins, who is a current relief pitcher for the Mets, but whom I knew from both of our times with the Twins.  He jogged over and we gave a quick hug to each other.  He asked if I was living in New York now, but I quickly told him that I was still in Minnesota. I told him that I left after the 2001 season and he said so did he.  I told him that I left the team because if he was gone, so was I.  We shook hands again and I walked off the field.  I immediately got major street cred as my fellow campers were stunned that I knew one of our current players.  I hadn't seen LaTroy in over a decade, but he still remembered me, so I was pleasantly surprised by that.

I made my way up to my seats and watched the Mets take on the Pirates. I had a chance to actually catch a foul ball off the bat of first baseman Ike Davis. I saw it all the way ,but still it went off of my left hand.  Foul balls are not my forte when I'm not wearing a glove on my left hand and it certainly showed on that night.

The Mets didn't fare well that evening against the Buccos and with the temperature falling in sync with the chances of pulling the game out many of us in the group started the exodus out of the New Shea before the final out was recorded.

So my return to the New York area is underway.  Tomorrow will be spent sightseeing in the city somewhere and then back to the ballpark for the Sunday matchup against the Pirates.  Monday is THE DAY as I take to the field with my fellow campers.  Sleeping on Sunday night may not be the easiest thing I've ever done.  I'm gonna be like a 10-year old on Christmas Eve.

Maybe a 7-year old.

Days 5 and 6 of 2013

19 January 2013

The end is near. Dammit.

One day closer to the end of camp. Easily the saddest opening of all of my posts to date. But true nonetheless. The day started like the last two did. After the morning meeting I made my way over to field 6 for our first game. It was the second round of the playoffs. They started yesterday but my team, the Jackson 11, did not qualify for them. The odd thing about the playoffs is that there were so many upsets in round 1.  The eighth-place team beat the leading team. The seventh-place team defeated the second-place team.  The sixth place team topped the third seeded team. Only the fourth seeded team defeated a team with a lower seed.

We dropped our first game today. After last night's Kangaroo Court where one team member stated that we were an awful team we were noodling with ideas as to how to inflict revenge. Someone brought up the hot foot possibility but none of us has all of the necessary items to make that work. My suggestion was that we duct tape Mr. Mapes to one of the flag poles in front of the clubhouse. That didn't win anyone over, but I thought it was funny. He might be 4'10" in his shower shoes so it wouldn't have taken very much duct tape. I was the starting pitcher and I was pitching fairly well for the first three innings. As a matter of fact, I was involved in practical joke in the first inning. The opposing manager, Wally Backman, asked that our pitcher throw an apple wrapped in cloth and with stitching drawn on it to his third batter, Mike Aranzullo. So, after pitching to the first two batters my catcher, Lynn Spuler, came out to the mound and she handed me the apple. I went back to the mound and immediately had to figure out how to throw this thing. How do I grip it? Then I wound up and threw a pitch on the inside of the plate. Aranzullo crushed it! Instant applesauce! I'm just glad I got it over the plate. It was fun to participate in that bit of theatre.

We kept the game close after I was done pitching. The strike zone disappeared on me again after I got hit by a pitch while batting and the pain in my hand was pretty bad. We dropped another 1-run game, unfortunately. After lunch we played game two. A light mist fell for the entire game. The sun never really did come out today. We were a coach short so Dwight Gooden helped coach the team. I singled to left to drive in two runs in the first inning. It was mega cool when after the third out was made Doc high-fived me as I ran off the field and said, "Nice hit!".

I started the game in left field and then moved over to first base. Since we were losing potential pinch runners due to hamstring issues with many runners I actually ran a lot on the base paths. I drew a walk late in the game and while I was on first base the next batter tripled into the alley forcing me to run first to home. That was a very long 270 feet, kids. But it felt good to make it without asking for oxygen.  We dropped yet another 1-run game. We finished at 1-6 but we had three 1-run losses.  We could just not put it together on any consistent basis.

After the game it was time to stop in the conference room to take a look at the photos that had been taken during the week. We will be receiving our own baseball cards in the summer at CitiField. Having done that it was off to the hotel to shower and prepare for the awards banquet.

The story of that and the final day of camp lies ahead in my next posting.

20 January 2013

Not ready to leave town yet.

Well, it's all over but the shouting. As I sit at gate B1 at Palm Beach International Airport I have begun the process of.....trying to process what the heck just happened over the last 6 days. As David Letterman used to say, "Sure, I'm tired. But it's a good tired."

Like I promised yesterday, let me step back to last night and the awards banquet.

It was a great deal of fun attended by virtually anyone who has anything to do with the camp. Having arrived later than most of the attendees meant that not a great deal of seating was remaining.  Luckily, as it turned out, I found myself seated next to Ed "The Glider" Charles who was a third baseman on the 1969 Amazing' Mets. I started by asking him about the last out of that series and what he remembered most about it.  He said that what he remembered was how much he wanted to get to the safety of the clubhouse as fans poured onto the field in droves as Cleon Jones caught a fly ball hit by one Dave Johnson. Ironically, Johnson would be the manager of the club when they won their only other championship to date in 1986.

We talked about his early career and his childhood in Daytona Beach, Florida. How he'd had a chance to meet Jackie Robinson when Jackie had come through the area while playing minor league ball for the Montreal Royals. He was too shy to meet him as a kid, but he did later in life only months before Jackie passed away in 1972. It was a fascinating conversation with a gentleman who had to endure much of the same prejudices in his career that Robinson did. I was like a little kid listening to some of these things. He probably doesn't get asked questions like that very often so he was in great spirits as you could see some of the sadness in his eyes as he talked about playing in the '50s and '60s that were less than hospitable to minorities. I told him about seeing Jackie when I was 10 years old as my mother pointed him out at a shopping center near my home in Stamford, CT.  If I'd had any idea that he would pass away less than 6 weeks from then, little Rod may have gotten up the courage to say hello to him.  But I remember that moment like it happened last week. I will never forget it. One note about my time with Ed.  Ed thinks that my name is Bob, so he referred to me as "Bobby". I didn't want to make him try to remember my real name so I just went along with it.

As the evening proceeded, each team was introduced and team MVPs were announced. There were also awards for best hitter, best pitcher, best defensive player, best catcher.  I got a huge surprise when my name was announced as a nominee for Rookie of the Year. I posted a batting average of .450 for the week, but I never expected that, considering that there were probably 40 rookies at camp. I'm not sure that those stats are entirely accurate, but I'll take it.

I made my way over to see Doug Flynn as he wouldn't be with us for the pro game today. He is on his way to Cincinnati Reds Fantasy Camp in Goodyear, Arizona. It was so great to meet him. I asked him about playing with the Big Red Machine in the mid-70's and about game 6 in 1975 in Boston. I told him that I didn't actually see Carlton Fisk's home run. Not live, at least. I was watching the game in Stamford that night and when the game went to commercial in the middle of the 12th inning, the power went out in my neighborhood.  Don't know why, don't know how. But when the power came back on, the game was over and they were showing numerous replays.  So I missed it live. Doug is a class act for sure.

Today was the pro game at the big stadium. The stadium, formerly known as Digital Domain Park until about two weeks ago, is the place where the Mets play their spring training games.  It is currently being referred to as Mets Stadium on mlb.com.  It was originally known as Thomas J. White Stadium in 1988 when it opened.  The pros played a 3-inning game against the campers.  Games started at 9 am and continued until each of the 10 teams had their shot.  The top teams played first, in the thought that the best team would have the best chance of winning their game. The Jackson 11 wouldn't be playing until 1:00 or so.  I got to the complex around 11:30 and then quickly put on my uniform to head to the ballpark.  I had a little lunch and headed down to the dugout.  I took in the atmosphere while the 7th place team played and warmed up while the 8th place team played.  Finally it was time for the Jackson 11 to take the field.  I was the fourth batter and faced Kevin Baez.  I knew to look for a good pitch and I swung at the first pitch but popped out to the shortstop.  I was the starting pitcher and it was so cool to be on the mound in the big stadium.

 The leadoff hitter was Doug Dickey, who was the coordinator of this year's Fantasy Camp.  Doug did a fantastic job on the effort.  He told me, before we met, that this was his first year at the helm.  He had a tough off-season, that's for sure.  He had to deal with Hurricane Sandy and the fact that he lost his father in the past few months.  On top of that trying to organize this thing for about 110 attendees, trainers, kitchen staff and the pro players.

I hit Doug in the hip with the first pitch I threw.  I heard him yell to me, as he reached first base, "There goes your renewal discount!" I replied, "I was afraid of that!"

The next batter was Kevin Baez.  I threw him a pitch that was basically behind him, as he stood in the right-hand batter's box. He managed to lay down a bunt by switching his hands and maneuvering his body.  It was a good bunt and I pounced on it. I threw Baez out by about a step on a one bouncer to my first baseman.  Dickey moved to second.  The next batter was Lenny Harris, the major league leader in all-time pinch hits.  I walked him on four awful pitches.  Next up was John Stearns, 4-time all-star catcher.  John doubled down the first base line to bring home Dickey and Harris and the inning was over.  There's a two run limit for the pros per inning. Thank goodness.

I played third base in the bottom of the 2nd and ended up in the on deck circle when the game ended.  At one point while playing third Dwight Gooden came to the plate.  At about that time I realized that in a few short weeks the ground I was standing on would be patrolled by one David Wright.  It was a moderately surreal moment, to be sure.  One I will not forget.

When our three-inning game was over I went back to the clubhouse and changed to head off to the airport in West Palm Beach, about 60 miles away, for the flight to Atlanta and the connection to Minneapolis.

It was certainly tough to leave the clubhouse for the last time.  Most of the others had headed off to the airport as their games had been played earlier in the day.  Ron Swoboda, a hero from the 1969 champions, came over to me as I was getting dressed.  He extended his hand and said, "Mr. Collins, I don't believe that I spoke much to you this week, but I'm glad that you were here.  I hope you enjoyed yourself."  I told him that I had and that I would certainly talk to him much more next year.

That's right.  There's already discussion at my house about returning in 2014.

In looking back, I recall that virtually 90% of all of the players had some sort of ache or pain which they were favoring by the end of camp.  One guy actually broke a rib in a collision.  There were numerous sore arms, legs and whatnot. I, apparently, was one of the few who left camp in basically the same condition that I arrived.  My only "injury" is that I have a bruise between my thumb and index finger on my right hand from getting jammed on a few pitches on the last two days of camp.  Other than that I am unscathed.

I sincerely thank all of those attendees whom I met. Especially my teammates: Steve Cohen, Ross Valenza, Rob Graham, Rick Bayuk, Kevin Bellows, Rob Thomson, Steve Fisher, Mike Varrone, Lynn Spuler and Tom Napes.  I am looking forward to this summer in New York when I get to see most of these people once again and have the chance to play with them again at Citi Field.

Words cannot describe how much I enjoyed this past week.  So I won't even attempt to do so here.  All I can say is that it was a dream come true.  The feeling of putting on the uniform of my favorite sports team is took me back to my youth.  It was as close to heaven on earth as I may have ever experienced.  For that I am truly grateful.

If you have been following this blog since the beginning I thank you for taking this journey, albeit vicariously, along with me.  I hope you enjoyed it.  I certainly enjoyed bringing it to you.  Some of you have told me that it gave you an insight into who I am and you may have learned things about me that you never knew.  If you got anything out of it at all, then it was worth my efforts.

I'm considering another blog, mostly about sports and life's observations in general.  If I do so, I will let you know.

Thanks for taking this fantastic voyage with me.

Until next time........

Rod

19 January-Day 5

19 January 2013

The end is near. Dammit.

One day closer to the end of camp. Easily the saddest opening of all of my posts to date. But true nonetheless. The day started like the last two did. After the morning meeting I made my way over to field 6 for our first game. It was the second round of the playoffs. They started yesterday but my team, the Jackson 11, did not qualify for them. The odd thing about the playoffs is that there were so many upsets in round 1.  The eighth-place team beat the leading team. The seventh-place team defeated the second-place team.  The sixth place team topped the third seeded team. Only the fourth seeded team defeated a team with a lower seed.

We dropped our first game today. After last night's Kangaroo Court where one team member stated that we were an awful team we were noodling with ideas as to how to inflict revenge. Someone brought up the hot foot possibility but none of us has all of the necessary items to make that work. My suggestion was that we duct tape Mr. Mapes to one of the flag poles in front of the clubhouse. That didn't win anyone over, but I thought it was funny. He might be 4'10" in his shower shoes so it wouldn't have taken very much duct tape. I was the starting pitcher and I was pitching fairly well for the first three innings. As a matter of fact, I was involved in practical joke in the first inning. The opposing manager, Wally Backman, asked that our pitcher throw an apple wrapped in cloth and with stitching drawn on it to his third batter, Mike Aranzullo. So, after pitching to the first two batters my catcher, Lynn Spuler, came out to the mound and she handed me the apple. I went back to the mound and immediately had to figure out how to throw this thing. How do I grip it? Then I wound up and threw a pitch on the inside of the plate. Aranzullo crushed it! Instant applesauce! I'm just glad I got it over the plate. It was fun to participate in that bit of theatre.

We kept the game close after I was done pitching. The strike zone disappeared on me again after I got hit by a pitch while batting and the pain in my hand was pretty bad. We dropped another 1-run game, unfortunately. After lunch we played game two. A light mist fell for the entire game. The sun never really did come out today. We were a coach short so Dwight Gooden helped coach the team. I singled to left to drive in two runs in the first inning. It was mega cool when after the third out was made Doc high-fived me as I ran off the field and said, "Nice hit!".

I started the game in left field and then moved over to first base. Since we were losing potential pinch runners due to hamstring issues with many runners I actually ran a lot on the base paths. I drew a walk late in the game and while I was on first base the next batter tripled into the alley forcing me to run first to home. That was a very long 270 feet, kids. But it felt good to make it without asking for oxygen.  We dropped yet another 1-run game. We finished at 1-6 but we had three 1-run losses.  We could just not put it together on any consistent basis.

After the game it was time to stop in the conference room to take a look at the photos that had been taken during the week. We will be receiving our own baseball cards in the summer at CitiField. Having done that it was off to the hotel to shower and prepare for the awards banquet.

The story of that and the final day of camp lies ahead in my next posting.

Days 3 and 4 of 2013

17 January 2013

Quite the day, I must say.

Today we had our first day where we had nominations for the brown rope and gold rope. The respective ropes are awarded to the top performer from the previous day(gold) and most dubious performer (brown).  Along with each the winners both receive a small plaque which can be displayed on the wall at home, or not, if the award is for something stupid.

We ended the meeting and headed over to the main ballpark. The stadium, formerly known as Tradition Field then known as Digital Domain Park and now not known as ANYTHING because the name was removed about 2 weeks ago. Ahh, the perils of corporate sponsorship deals on stadiums.

Today's first game for the Jackson 11 was against The Titans, coached by Tim Teufel. I was actually tabbed as the starting pitcher for game 1.  I don't much like pitching, nor am I very good at it, but we have limited viable pitchers. I breezed through the first inning, retiring the side on 7 pitches. The second inning went well too. By now my teammates are wondering why I didnt pitch yesterday. We scored a couple of runs in a long half inning and when I went back out to the mound I apparently had run out of talent. The width of home plate is 17".   By the time I was six hitters into the inning it felt like it was 17cm wide. We were down by 3 runs when I was removed to the third base position.

I was going to get ice on my arm from one of the trainers but when I told the trainer I had never iced in my life he told me to get out of the training room, so I did. 

We didn't win that game as we lost 11-6. In the afternoon we played Wine and Dine, coached by Bobby Wine. I was sent to play right field, even though I specifically told my coaches that I was an awful outfielder. Our first 9 batters all reached base and they changed pitchers to a guy who was best pitcher in camp in 2012. I was the first batter he faced. I knew this prior to getting into the batters box. I was ready. With the count at 0-2 I hit a ball down the third base line past the third baseman. I'm pretty sure that it was foul but the umpire called it fair and I reached base. I faced this guy three more times and went 3 for 4 with 4 runs batted in.

During the game Dwight Gooden arrived in our dugout. Dwight. Freakin'. Gooden.  The guy I was mistaken for when I played softball in Tampa in the mid-80s? Partly due to the fact that Dwight was raised in Tampa and that I was an above-average softball player at the time. We also shared a fashion trait in that we both sported the popular jeri-curl on our heads at the time. I hadn't seen him in person in years. He will be with us at camp until Sunday. Maybe I will get to hit off of him on Sunday. Who knows?

I got to the plate each time and hit the ball hard. The one out I made was as I hit a frozen rope to the third baseman. I hit that ball "on the screws", as they say. I had a great hitting game and my teammates were very cool about their accolades. I was  pleased with my effort. It was fantastic. Best baseball game, for me, in many years. We won the game 12-9 and are now 1-2.

Following the afternoon game we had a bull session with all of the pros. We could ask questions of any of them. One funny moment was when someone asked Joe Pignatano to tell a story, any story, about Casey Stengel. At that point all of the pro players got up and walked out of the meeting, as a joke, of course. But a very funny sight.

So I lit it up in game 2 today. Hopefully I can continue the streak tomorrow in game 1. I'm gonna probably get tabbed to pitch again, so I need to find that 17" plate again. Right?

I can't tell you how much I enjoyed today. It was an amazing feeling to be on the field, in full uniform, great weather and atmosphere. Priceless moments to be sure. I was 10 years old again today.  That is until I had to drive to get dinner. I wasn't driving at age 10/ Funny how life gets in the way like that sometimes. 

If I wasn't so tired I would be too wired to sleep.

 

18 January 2013

A number of years ago, I'm not sure of how many, I heard Vin Scully say on a baseball broadcast, "Every 24 hours the world turns over on the guy who was sitting on top of it yesterday". I'm sure that this quote is attributable to someone, but I know not whom. Today was a good day to remember this phrase though.

My day started well. I was nominated for the golden rope for my 3 for 4 yesterday. I found out that after yesterday's games I was leading my team in hits (6) and batting .550. It felt so good to have my name called, I stood up and had a bunch of people applaud for me.

Game 1 started well as we scored early but gave the lead away slowly and surely. I had a single in my first at bat but that would be my last hit of the day. We struggled to prevent it, but it proved to be futile. I was moved to left field. Only once did a ball get over my head for a triple. I did make one catch out there. We lost and went to 1-3 on the season.

The playoffs were set to begin this afternoon but the Jackson 11 would be outside of the playoff schedule. We played the tenth place team in the afternoon. We were the 9th seed. We played on field #2, which is the furthest field from the field which is closest to the stadium. It has artificial turf in the infield. There are very few major league teams who have artificial turf on their home fields, but I imagine that it's helpful for the minor league players who play on that surface in their travels. I made a brilliant play at second base in the second inning, diving to my left, and throwing the runner out. But later I made a play with the game tied which didn't pay off and I felt badly about it. I couldn't shake it for a while, especially when we started to come back in the last inning. We ended up losing 11-9. My walk back to the clubhouse, from the field located the FURTHEST from the clubhouse was quite long.

Tonight, after the games we had the Kangaroo Court where many campers were picked upon for making mistakes on the field, saying stupid things on the field or anything else like that. It was an hysterical time led by "judges" Doug Flynn and Bobby Wine, each wearing those old-timey wigs from ye old England. I managed to escape getting fined myself. I did have to pay a fine as one of my teammates, a kindly chap named Tom Mapes stated that he tried to take his team photo with a team other than his own. When he was asked why, he said it was because we "sucked".  Okay, we're not very good, but that's kinda extreme. But I've gotta give him credit, because Tom is chasing 70 years old and is moving out there as fast as he can. All fines collected will go to the Gary Carter Foundation this year. 

And that takes me back to the quote which started today's post.

We have two more games tomorrow even though there's a possibility of rain. I can't really feel like the guy who has has the world roll over on him today. I certainly felt like I was on top of it yesterday.  But even if I'm not back on top of it tomorrow, the fact that I can play this great game at this age and this location far exceeds winning or losing.

I once asked someone if they could imagine a world where everyone had a chance to have the feeling I had after yesterday's games. Think about that for your own life.  If it doesn't bring a smile to your face and put a warm feeling in your heart, then maybe you need to find something that will.

Days 1 and 2 of 2013

Day one has come and gone.  In a word it was.............well, it can't be described in one word.

I landed shortly after noon into West Palm Beach and then, after picking up the rental car, made the drive up I-95 to Port St. Lucie. After a stop into the hotel it was off to the complex. The room wasn't ready yet so I figured I'd go over for the workout. Upon arrival I realized that even though I had my baseball pants in my bag in the trunk, I had no shirt to wear with it, unless I wanted to wear my dress shirt. I decided against it and went back to the hotel to get my softball jersey.

I got back to the complex a few minutes later and walked into the clubhouse. I was directed to the correct row of lockers and there it was.... my locker. Over the top of it was a nameplate with my last name on it. In the locker were two jerseys. One grey road version and one cream-colored home version. Also 2 pairs of pants, a hoodie, a t-shirt and a pair of socks. I was speechless. I met a clubhouse manager who asked me what hat size I wore. I told him 7 5/8. My cranium is freakishly large. Just slightly smaller than that of Jack from the Jack-in-the Box commercials or Mr. Met himself.

I put on my softball jersey, grabbed my gloves and headed out to the fields. My first stop found me just kinda out of sorts, so I moved over to the adjoining field. The energy was very positive over there. Mostly because of the loud voice I heard. It belonged to John Stearns, former catcher and one of the staff here at camp. The first coach to mention my cool Rockets jersey was Kevin Baez. Some others thought it was pretty sweet too. I introduced myself and went down near first base to take some throws."Hey, is he a camper or on the staff?", Stearns yells at no one in particular.  Then he starts yelling at me."Hey, Rocketman! What do you play?" "First base", I replied. "Great! Get two, Rocketman!" So he hits me some grounders and I make the play on most of them. Keep in mind I've not thrown at all. But it didn't give me a chance to be nervous any more. I had the chance to get some swings in the cage as well. I hit pretty well, so my confidence is high right now.

After a little more fielding other campers grounders we came together in a group for instructions about what happens to us next. We had the opening banquet at 7 tonight and tomorrow morning we meet at 8:45 a.m.before we have player evaluations. The coaches will draft players for the 10 teams during the lunch break. It matters not what team I end up on. It's just a thrill to be here.

The banquet was a lot of fun. They introduced all of the coaches and after dinner the first-year campers got to introduce themselves. I stood up to tell everyone how I'd gotten here. When the group heard that I'd taken money that I received from my major league pension from the Minnesota Twins there was a large amount of applause.  

Tomorrow morning I will be on the bus to the complex around 7 to partake in breakfast and work my way into the day.

My locker is 3 down from Tim Teufel. As I sit in front of it to my 5 o'clock is Ron Swoboda and at my 7 o'clock is Mookie Wilson. I got to sit in on a photo taken with Ed Kranepool, Al Jackson, Ron Swoboda, Duffy Dyer, Ed Charles and Joe Pignatano.

How am I gonna fall asleep after a day like that?

My inner 51-year old will be asleep before the 11:00 news is over.

My inner 10-year old will be awake 24 hours a day for the next five straight days. 

Luckily, he doesn't drive.

Day 2. Phenomenal.

Got up and caught the 6:45 a.m. bus to the minor league complex. Had a little breakfast in the cafeteria and then put on my uniform for the very first time. It felt so great to be full uniform. We split up for evaluations at that time. But before that we had calisthenics. Some guys got through it without much issue, but a few guys were slowed by the rush of activity. I was not one of them.

My group started in the outfield section with Mookie Wilson and Rodney McCray. My outfield skills weren't horrible. They are nonexistent, actually. I made a few catches look easy, but that was luck. I pitched about 10 pitches at the pitching station. I was asked about that too, but I stated that my abilities were sub-standard from the mound as well. My guess is that I will get to pitch in a "mop-up" role.

I did well at the infield station. I even did well when I hit. After we hit it was time for lunch. During lunch I got a chance to ask John Stearns as to whether the Chief Nokk-a-Homa story is true or not. Turns out, IT'S TRUE! He actually ran down the Braves' former mascot during pregame as the Chief was running from the pitcher's mound toward his teepee located behind the left field wall. We had a good laugh after that. Manager Terry Collins stopped by and held an informal q&a in front of about 30 of us. It was so cool to hear about this year's team from the manager himself.

Shortly after that the teams were announced. My team is coached by Al Jackson and Kevin Morgan. The team is named The Jackson 11. The draft must've been quite something to see. Al told me that I was the topic of much discussion during the draft. I ended up at third base and batting 4th in our lineup. The first batter grounded out to me and I only made one really bad error. I struck out in the 1st, grounded out to the catcher in the 4th and then popped out to short in the 7th. We lost 5-1, but it was a total blast.

I hope to "get out of my head" tomorrow and let the coaches who drafted me get some of their confidence in my ability justified. My glove work is doing well.

Tomorrow we play two games. Let's hope that I am not in the same group of guys who form a huge line into the trainer's room during the day. So far, so good.

If you've ever seen "Animal House", I feel like Flounder when, while at the parade at the end of the film, says "Boy, is this GREAT,"

Because, really, THIS........IS GREAT,

Dateline Atlanta

As another day comes to an end I find myself at the beginning of my vacation.  I am done with work for a week and look forward to leaving the cold temperatures in Minneapolis.  The temperature at this time last night was about 40. Tonight the temperature is in the high single digits. For those of you who have never experienced this weather phenomena in person, the difference between the high single digits and the low single digits is basically...............not a bloody thing.  I sometimes refer to Minnesota as the world's largest cryogenics experiment.  That's why so many people here look much younger than their actual age.  No one's blood circulates during the winter, thus the aging process slows to a crawl.  It's true. Take a look at my profile picture.  Not bad for an 84-year old guy, eh?

The weather for Port St. Lucie looks very good for the week.  Granted, weather forecasting is one of the greatest vocations to have in this country because how many other jobs allow you to predict something and be incorrect virtually 50-60% of the time, yet they still ask you to come back and do it again tomorrow?  I can still recall weathermen like Tex Antoine (WABC) and Dr. Frank Field (WNBC) in the New York market standing in front of maps that were covered with all sorts of scrawled numbers and letters and the word "doppler" hadn't even been invented yet.  But they still probably got the forecast spot on nearly as much as they do today.  But no matter what the weather brings, I will be so pleased to be on the field that it won't matter one iota.

My glove is quickly getting into game shape.  I certainly hope to not have a ball pop out on a routine play when I reach camp.  Now, I am from the school of "a good musician never blames his instrument", but there's no such statement concerning an instrument which is not quite ready for prime time.  Hopefully I will be able to play enough catch on Tuesday and early Wednesday that it feels like a.....glove. You know what I mean. 

Evaluations by the coaching staff will take place on Wednesday morning.  I don't have a lot of worry about my fielding prowess, but hitting the curveball is going to show my ultimate weakness.  But if I see a fastball, I'm gonna sit on that bad boy like nobody's business.  Being the quintessential "guess hitter", I am always looking for the pitch to be in a certain location rather than a certain speed.  The pitcher vs. batter confrontation is one of the beautiful things about the game of baseball.  The pitcher is thinking about what the batter is thinking and the batter is thinking about what the pitcher is thinking.  Somewhere in the middle of that mental war the ball itself comes into play.  It's kinda like chess, except one player has the chance to plunk his opponent in the rib cage either by chance or totally on purpose.  If Bobby Fischer had thrown a rook at Boris Spassky at Reykjavik it would've made national news.  If he had thrown a rook at him at a speed upwards of 90 mph it would've made INTERNATIONAL news. 

I'm also taking my fielder's glove.  I hope to maybe get a little time in over at third base, the position I grew up playing.  I used to enjoy playing third base partly because no one else wanted to play it when I was young.  I think that I had the mentality of wanting the ball hit to me by every batter, and since kids so often pull the ball, and the vast majority of kids I played with were right -handed batters, I got a lot of work over a the hot corner.  I loved it.  I've never been accused of being fast.  I've have been accused of having quick reactions and third base fit my abilities.  The outfield is not my favorite place to be.  When I am playing in the outfield I am essentially a triple waiting to happen.  I break too late, my first step is in, not out, I take the wrong angle to the ball.  I know how to play the outfield, but my sheer lack of speed limits my skill set when on the grassy plains of the power alleys.  Those who can, do.  Those who can't, tell their coach that they can't.

Tomorrow afternoon I leave for Atlanta.  An overnight and a chance to dine at one of my favorite restaurants awaits.  I haven't been to Big Daddy's Dish on Old National Highway for about a year or so.  The food is fantastic and is fare which cannot be gotten in Minnesota.  But a chance to partake is something I am looking forward to.  On Tuesday morning I leave for West Palm Beach and the short drive up to Port St. Lucie.

My fandom for the Mets continued following the 1973 season. Their mediocrity continued throughout the rest of the decade.  I even had classmates who conspired with me to figure out a way to buy the club and turn it into a winner.  After the death of Joan Payson, the team's original president, the team fell (almost literally) into the hands of Lorinda De Roulet, her daughter.  She was president of the team for the last 5 years of the decade.  During this time the team was woeful at best with players like Bruce Boisclair and George "The Stork" Theodore.  Theodore looked much like his moniker, kinda gangly and uncoordinated to a point.  They made terrible trades throughout the decade.  For example they traded a young  pitcher named Lynn Nolan Ryan (yes, the Nolan Ryan) for Jim Fregosi in an attempt to take care of their constant third base problems.  There's even a song about the revolving door of players who played there in a short time span.  Fregosi was awful and Nolan Ryan went on to become...... Nolan Ryan! Lorinda had a daughter named BeBe who reportedly asked, in an attempt to save money, if the foul balls could be washed and used again.  That's what we had to put up with. 

The early 80's weren't much better, but the team was purchased by a group led by Nelson Doubleday. The team started to make deals which had much better results and many of those deals were made by Frank Cashen, who had done a fine job rebuilding the Baltimore Orioles.  it really started to come together with acquisitions of Keith Hernandez from St. Louis, Gary Carter from Montreal and Howard Johnson from the Detroit Tigers.  Dwight Gooden and Darryl Strawberry were home-grown players and the group began to gel in 1985.  It all came together in 1986 when they dominated the league, but just barely escaped the Astros in the playoffs and were one strike away from losing the World Series to the Boston Red Sox before the incredible occurred and they won the series in 7 games.  I was able to attend the victory parade on October 28th, my 25th birthday.  I have a picture taken after the parade of myself on top of the north tower of the World Trade Center.  I was lucky in the 80's to see a lot of Mets games on an independent Tampa station, WTOG Channel 44.  This predates the Devil Rays/Rays existence and they realized that they could get good ratings by showing Mets games on a feed from WOR in New York. Mostly because Tampa-native Dwight Gooden was on the staff.

But that's where the championships ended.  The Cardinals won the division in '87 and lost to, ironically for me, the Twins in the World Series.  In '88 they won the division again but managed to lose the NLCS to the Dodgers, whom they had beaten in 10 of their 11 regular-season meetings.  By this time the core group was starting to come apart at the seams, as we found out later.  They made deals to keep the momentum going with players like Kevin McReynolds who was a great acquisition.  But it was clear that after that pennant run changes would be made.

I moved to Minnesota one week after they lost to the Dodgers in the NLCS and moving away from the ability to see them on television on a regular basis. 

At this time tomorrow I should be attending the opening night banquet at the PGA conference center. The first day will be behind me. I'm due to arrive around 2 p.m.  There's a chance to workout on a practice field from 2:30-5:30. I will make it a point to be there. I can hardly wait to walk into the locker room and see my uniform for the first time. I won't actually try it on until Wednesday morning before the first official workout.

As I briefly mentioned yesterday the 1990's were the "lost years". I got out of touch with my team because of I lost confidence in them. Proximity to coverage was scarce as there weren't things like the baseball package on something called Primestar, a predecessor of DirecTv. (Google "Primestar").

I started as an usher working Twins games and also at other venues in Minneapolis. Before I moved there I recall thinking, as they closed out the Cardinals at the end of game 7 in 1987, that those people had better party excessively because that's the only championship they are going to win for a long time.

I worked part time along with my full-time gig selling electronics at a department store. The Twins finished dead last in the AL West in 1990. We had no reason to expect anything different the next year. But something happened that was not as planned. The Twins put together a great season and ended up in the playoffs. Now, I had already experienced the playoffs in Minneapols earlier that year as the North Stars made a monumental playoff run in late spring and made it to the finals. The Pittsburgh Penguins put an end to that Cinderella story, but this was different.

The playoffs began against the Toronto Blue Jays and before I knew it that series was over in 5 games. The World Series was due to start the following Saturday and in a great series the Twins won games 6 and 7 at home. I was lucky enough to be on the field at the end of both of those games. It was as loud an experience as I have ever encountered. It was amazing. I got home after the final game at 6 a.m. smelling like champagne.  It was the morning of my 30th birthday. To say I never expected to experience such a thing would be a gross understatement.

I moved to full time with the team in February 1996. It was a dream come true. To be on the payroll of a major league baseball team, wow! I worked in the mailroom primarily, but I was also responsible for much of the office operations. I redesigned the team letterhead, business cards and helped out from time to time in the community relations department. I even spent two years as the backup mascot. Running around in a bear suit, acting the fool in total anonymity? Paradise!

Being a member of a major league baseball front office doesn't allow for following another team, especially when that team is in the other league. The crowds got small toward the end of the decade and deservedly so. About this time the Mets started to improve dramatically. They hired Bobby Valentine, the greatest athlete to ever come out of my hometown of Stamford a fellow alum of Rippowam High School. We had Bobby Valntine Night in 1978 and two buses of student took in a game at Shea to see him play for our team. By 2000 the team had picked up to where I'd left them in '89. They lost to the hated team from the Bronx in 5 games. They were doomed from game 1 because SOMEBODY stopped running when they thought Todd Zeile's deep fly was a homer and got thrown out at home.  I knew it was over right then.  It was only game 1, but I knew it was over.  But I knew then I was on my way back to the Mets.

I left the Twins just prior to the start of the 2002 season. Not by my choice, but after some very difficult times I realized that this freed me up to follow my heart back to the orange and blue.

When I put on that uniform on Wednesday I will be all the way back.

Until tomorrow.........

P.S.-Damn you Timo Perez.

The Excitement Level Grows (1/10-11/2013)

It measures just 9 inches in circumference.  Weighs only about 5 ounces and is made of cork, wound with wool and yarn covered with two layers of cowhide, and stitched by hand precisely 108 times. The stitching, if stretched out, would extend 88 feet in length.

That is the physical description of a baseball.

What a baseball means to me is entirely different.  Back on January 8th  I described how I became a Met fan and fell in love with the game itself.  But baseball, the game, in my estimation, is the greatest game ever created. 

You can have lengthy discussions about the origins of the game.  Is it derived from rounders? Was it invented by Abner Doubleday?  It is a question that has never been of much consternation to me. The fact of the matter is that it was invented in the first place and I have enjoyed it with a little boy's enthusiasm since I was about 8 years old. 

I collected baseball cards, many of which were sold before they reached their peak values.  I religiously watched NBC's Game of the Week with Tony Kubek and Curt Gowdy and later Joe Garagiola and Vin Scully.  And I was lucky to have grown up in southwestern Connecticut where I could see not only my Mets but also that team from the Bronx.  Many were the days when I would catch one game on WOR-9 and then catch the other team on WPIX-11, or vice versa.  Ironiclally, the Mets can sometimes be seen currently on WPIX-11.  I got to see players from each league before interleague play began and cringed with watching the advent of the designated hitter in 1973, which was originally a 3-year experiment, now entering its 41st season.  But that's a post for another time. But I watched as often as I could. 

Back when games started at 8 p.m. (it's true, kiddies) I would often catch the start of a game from the west coast which started at 11 p.m. eastern time.  That's being a fan.

The game itself has changed very little.  The ballparks in which they are played have, but the game remains the same.  3 strikes you're out.  4 balls is a walk.  90 feet between bases, all at right angles.  Outfield dimensions vary from stadium to stadium, and are far too close for my taste on most fields. 

Players come and players go. Some players follow in the footsteps of their fathers or brothers or uncles at the major league level. There are ruts in the smooth road from time to time. Labor disputes. Collusion. Steroid use. Corked bats. Drug use. But the game soldiers on.

"The one constant through all the years has been baseball.  America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers.  Its been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again.  But baseball has marked the time.  This game, it's a part of our past.  It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again." This quote was spoken by James Earl Jones' character, Horace Mann,  in the motion picture, "Field of Dreams".  But it has a lot of truth to it.

Through all the trials and tribulations of my life there has been baseball.  It has been the one constant that has been there for as long as I can remember.  When I put on my uniform next Wednesday morning it will be an emotional event.  I'm sure that my mom will be along with me and smiling broadly as I hit the field with the enthusiasm of a youngster.

My new cleats have arrived and my new glove is in day 3 of its break-in period and it should be in game condition by next week. 

I received an e-mail from the organizer of the camp , updating me on which former players will be attending and which ones will not.  Bud Harrelson won't be there after all due to a prior commitment.  But Ed Kranepool WILL be there.  I have always wanted to meet him. Ed skipped school in order to go to the Mets' very first home game at the Polo Grounds in 1962 and before the season was over, he was ON THE TEAM! A true original Met and a class act I am sure.

Some other former Mets I am looking forward to meeting would be:

Wally Backman, second baseman for the '86 World Champs.  Batted behind Lenny Dykstra, who unfortunately has gone awry of the law in recent years and will be a guest of the state in whatever state finally gets a conviction.

Ed Charles, third baseman for the '69 World Champions. He retired after that season.  Why not leave on top, right?

Rodney McCray, who was an outfielder in the '90's.  He is best known for running through a fence in a minor league game. A video clip that ranks with one of the more unbelievable I have ever seen. You should check it out on YouTube if you have the chance.

Lenny Harris, who holds the major league record for the most career pinch hits in history.  That fact is amazing in the sense that he virtually made a career out of being on the bench and then being summoned to hit at a moment's notice. That's pretty awesome in my book.

John Stearns, who was the starting catcher for a number of seasons. I really want to ask him if the story of him running down the Atlanta Braves' mascot Chief Nok-a-homa (sound it out, it'll make more sense) after he completed his pre-game dance around the pitcher's mound and was on a dead sprint towards his teepee out in the left field corner near the bullpen is true or not.. My money is on "yes".

Ron Swoboda, right fielder on the '69 Miracle Mets team.  Made an amazing catch in game 4 of that series against the Orioles.  He also scored the winning run in game 5, which was the last game of the series.

Tim Teufel, infielder on the '86 World Series Champs.  Currently the third base coach.  I want to pick his brain to become a better third base coach on my own over-35 team.  I've never had that opportunity and I am looking forward to it.  No one else may want to talk to him about that particular aspect of the game, so he may be surprised, but I hope he can give me something I can use this season.

Mookie Wilson, center fielder on the '86 World Champs.  He was the batter who hit the ball which eluded Bill Buckner in game 6 of the World Series.  Formerly first base coach a couple of years ago and he seems like a great deal of fun to be around.

Dwight Gooden, pitcher on the '86 World Champions team.  I get very upset when I think of the potential which Dwight and Darryl Strawberry had for the Mets and never realized due to their lifestyles.  If they had stayed clean the number of world championships  for this team would probably be 3 or 4.  I'm sure that all will be forgiven when I get to meet him.  I've never been very good at holding a grudge.

That's a short list, but I will be thrilled to meet all of those players whom I watched on tv and in person and will now have the chance to see them up close and in person.

The countdown continues.

Preparation and Perspiration (1/8-9/2013)

It was great to hear from so many people after leaving them the link to find this blog. Everyone is enthusiastic that I am participating in Fantasy Camp. Some people asked which team was hosting this camp and I quickly realized that I had neglected to inform you, the reader, of which team it is.

That team is the New York Mets.

Let me start from.... the start.

I was born in Stamford, Connecticut on October 28, 1961 at 10:03 p.m. Roughly 10 hours earlier that day, approximately 30 miles to the southwest ground was broken for a new sports arena in Flushing, New York. The arena, originally known as Flushing Meadow Park was later named Shea Stadium. So, right away I had a connection to this team. 

I didn't discover the ground breaking coincidence until the day when I was flipping through one copy of my aunt Bea's 1967 Mets yearbook which showed a photo of that day with the date below it. It was at this very moment that I realized that this was no accident.

My aunt Bea, my mother's older sister, wasn't always a baseball fan. She BECAME a baseball fan while working as a housekeeper for the Gross family of Cos Cob, CT.  The Grosses loved baseball and they loved the Mets. On her off days she would stay in the apartment which was on the first floor of the home in which I grew up in Stamford. I would sit and watch games with her on WOR-TV, channel 9 and was quickly indoctrinated into the frustrations of watching her favorite team flounder hopelessly on the television. 

Then, 1969............happened.

I was 7 years old and I didn't really catch up to the team's great fortunes until they made their run in late summer. Bea rode the wave as they won the first ever Eastern Division title. Then came the first NLCS against the Atlanta Braves. My FATHER's Atlanta Braves. Well, the trash talking barely got started before the Mets had swept the Braves 3-0 and were on their way to play the talent-laden Orioles from Baltimore. The O's won game 1 and then.......you know. Koosman, Weiss, Swoboda, Clendenon, Ryan, Agee, Jones, Seaver, Hodges and company snapped off four straight wins and Bea was ecstatic. She was at games 3, 4 and 5 in seats that belonged to the Clam Box Restaurant, which the Grosses owned and operated.  They were the seats we used when I went to games for years to come. Like I said, I wasn't "fully vested" in the Mets yet, but I knew that this team was going to be important to me.

I didn't know that my blood had turned from red to orange and blue until October 1973. I had followed the team from day one of the season all the way to the end.  That team was mediocre at best, but good enough to win a division championship.  Then they beat the Reds in the NLCS and SHOULD have won the World Series against the A's. I blame pitching rotation selection by Yogi Berra for that defeat. Wayne Garrett popped out to short for the final out of the series and in an image I can still see as if it happened yesterday, I felt a big tear trickle down my cheek as I watched the A's celebrate their second series championship in a row. That is the moment when I realized I would never feel this connected to another sports team.....ever.  "Losing feels worse than winning feels good" was never truer than it was to that 11-year old. Or the 51-year old kid writing this post.

Well, that's how it started, doctor.  Same time next week? Great. Here's a check for the co-pay. See you next week.

I must admit that right now the folks at Southwest Airlines are probably not getting 100% of me right now.  As Monday approaches the percentage will slowly decrease.  Luckily, I have Sunday off as a lead-in to the vacation.  Fear not Southwest and AirTran passengers.  You will notice no discernible drop in efficiency or customer service whatsoever.

Earlier today I had an appointment with my physician for some blood work to make sure that my medications are up to date. I take very few prescription drugs. I am very lucky in this respect. I know that many of my peers take so many pills on a daily basis that their medication holders resemble a brand new container of tic tacs which are at every grocery store checkout.

So all I'm doing right now is making sure that I don't walk into anything, step on anything, drop anything on a foot or hand, or catch a cold or the flu. I'm about two steps shy of going down to the post office and purchasing enough bubble wrap to wrap around my 6'1" frame. I was grilling on Monday night (Yes, I know it's January. It's also Minnesota) and slipped slightly on the glare ice which had formed in front of the gas grill. I immediately took a LONGER, SAFER route back into the house and repeated this route back and forth until all of the burgers and hot dogs had reached their proper doneness. Talk about never forgiving myself for missing next week's festivities.

Last night I spent too much time viewing youtube videos of past Fantasy Camp events, posted by attendees from recent years. I was supposed to go bed much earlier than I did and ended up turning off the computer at 1:45 a.m.  

I am readying the 35mm SLR and HD video camera for who knows HOW much video. I figure it can all be deleted or edited to make it appear that I doubled off the center field wall in every at bat and that I made every single fielding play at either first or third base. There must be an app for that, right?

Well, that's all for today.  Tomorrow is.............Thursday. Thursday, that's right.  It's all kind of a blur right now.  

And I am totally down with that.