Second Chance at Bat, page 20
what's yours?"
* * *
"Janice." She said with only a slight hesitation and again gave him a warm smile.
* * *
"Don't see many businessman on a Friday night, usually its just the theatre crowd."
* * *
White lie time. "Oh we are here for training in new products from one the companies we
write for, and we had a chance to go the game tonight."
* * *
"You know, the visiting ballplayers stay here." she said.
* * *
"You don't say. Do you follow baseball?" Joe asked.
* * *
"My husband used to follow the Yankees." She replied and averted his gaze.
Just then Joe's server appeared. "I am glad that Janice was able to help you, Is there
anything else I can get you?"
* * *
Janice began to move away.
* * *
"Janice, hold on a sec." Then looking at his server Joe said, "Just the check please."
* * *
Janice returned and gave him a puzzled look.
* * *
Joe said, "You said he used to be a Yankees fan."
* * *
"Yes, he, um, died a year- 15 months ago."
* * *
"You said he was a fireman."
* * *
Janice sat down across from him. "He died on the job."
* * *
"I am so sorry to hear that." Joe said. "You have kids?"
* * *
"Just Mandy, she's twelve."
* * *
"About the same age as me when my dad died on the job".
* * *
Joe's server came to the table and sensed the gravitas of the situation. He slipped the
check on the table. "Janice, do you want me to finish off your tables?"
* * *
She began to get up, then looked at Joe and sat back down nodding her head.
* * *
"You didn't get a chance to tell your dad that you loved him before he died, did you?"
* * *
Joe sadly shook his head, "You didn't either, I take it."
* * *
"We had a silly fight that night about chores he didn't do while I was at school. About 4
AM, I got the knock on the door."
* * *
"And you're still beating yourself up about it aren't you?" Joe asked.
* * *
She shrugged and the dam broke. Time stood still for Joe as he found empathy for this woman who took a chance on talking to him, this stranger from out of town. He didn't feel the need to bring up the fact that earlier that night he beat the Mets, pitched a complete game, gave up one unearned run, got a clean single and actually stole a base on his own. He liked being average Joe from Reading. He talked about growing up without his father and gave her a perspective on dealing with her daughter's
grief. He talked about being a teenage father, Joey's addiction and his estrangement
from Linda. Somehow the hallway sex joke found its way into the conversation and it
added some much needed levity.
* * *
About then, her cell phone rang. "Hello?"
* * *
"Yes, he is."
* * *
"No Mom, I am coming home."
* * *
"Oh my God, I didn't realize the time."
* * *
Joe looked around the coffee shop was deserted. He checked the time and saw that it
was 2:45AM. They had been talking for nearly four hours.
* * *
"That was my mom. The first words out of her mouth was 'Is he good looking?' I forgot
to call her, Mandy and I live with her since Dan died."
* * *
"She's been nudging me to go out and meet guys. She says enough time has passed
and that I am too young to be alone."
* * *
"And beautiful." Joe added.
* * *
She blushed and said, "Well at least you're having hallway sex. I have the urges, God
knows I miss it, but I am not ready yet. I wish it was easier for me to jump back into the
sack, but with school and work and Mandy and helping my mom out...."
* * *
"You're over-committed. I don't blame you for wanting to take your time. My mom never
remarried, she tried dating, but with four kids, the guys got scared off."
* * *
"Thanks Joe for talking with me, I really needed to talk and you have a straight way of
talking about it and that helped me a lot."
* * *
"It was great talking with you Janice, It was good for me too."
* * *
Silence. Joe struggled with the silence. There was a vague memory of this situation
many years before.
* * *
"So, Janice my work will bring me to New York a lot this summer, and we stay here."
* * *
"And I work here." She said.
* * *
"So it's okay if we close the place again next time that I am in town?" Joe asked.
* * *
"Yes it is Joe from Reading Pennsylvania."
* * *
Joe was not ready to divulge his true "business" and asked, "Where are you from
Janice?
* * *
"Queens, not far from the game you saw."
* * *
The hug he got almost caused him to wake Clay and tell him to take one for the team
and vacate the room.
ROCK STAR
Knuckleball mania swept the world. Anywhere baseball was played, the fascination with Joe's knuckleball was hyped. Kids from Taiwan to Venezuela were trying to throw it. 'Look ma, no seams!' Round the clock coverage saturated the airwaves. Reporters covered this phenomenon like it was the Summer Olympics. The Phillies, when Joe was pitching, were the hottest ticket at every ballpark they visited. Joe pitched in front of sell outs almost every night. Every inning held some importance. Every game seemed like another shattered record. When did he surrender his first earned run. How many at-bats went by with out giving up a dinger? Most starts in a month, most wins in a May and June and how many consecutive wins without a loss were heaped on top of all the Rookie records. National networks bumped first place teams off the air to cover the Phils when Joe took the mound. Scientists became overnight celebrities trying to explain how the knuckleball danced. Baseball, at all levels, got a shot of adrenaline. The man riding this tiger for all it was worth, became a media darling. Late night hosts were vying for the right to interview Julio Vasquez. Snippets of locker room video with Julio hamming it up and Clay acting as a perfect straight man went viral on YouTube. One car manufacturer found a way to weave Julio and the no-seamer into their inventory close out sales. Clay was making the blue collar rounds at the Home Improvement stores in the Delaware Valley. Oscar Stemple was hailed as a visionary. Doc Barnes had more televised between-inning in-game interviews with the headset in one month than he did in his whole career of coaching and managing.
What made it more magical is that nobody else could throw the no-seamer. Pitchers tried to add it to their repertoire with zippo results. Whiffle balls became the latest Tickle me Elmo. It was like buying a Gazillion dollar lottery scratch off. Anybody who could throw a ball wanted to see if they could throw the no-seamer. As they travelled around the league, pitching against the some of the same teams a second or third time, proved just as difficult for the opposition. One team used all their back-ups the game immediately following a three hit shutout with Duren closing. Another team in their third at-bats in a losing effort turned around and tried hitting from the other side and actually had better results. Last year's batting champ, after a miserable swing, had the bat boy bring out an oversized tennis racket. Even Joe was laughing in front of a national audience. The story continued to build with each passing series.
The human interest side of this story was building too. "Average Joe", a businessman and little league coach, came out of nowhere and overnight became Baseball's elusive rock star. Hordes of reporters descended on Reading to get "the rest of the story". Howie Hunter and the Mayor, handled the media extremely well, having been inoculated by the Little League World Series exposure. Hot Shot and the Little League team members replayed their glory days for the out of town press one more time. Linda did not fare so well. The hot aerobics instructor wife of the undeniably handsome phenom pitcher screamed "NO COMMENT" and ran from the paparazzi like an indicted politician from the courthouse steps. Reporters went undercover into her gym classes with cameras tucked into their gym bags. She caught investigative reporters from the tabloids "dumpster diving" in her garbage. Luckily, Reading closed ranks around one of their favorite sons of the LL World Series days and Joey's problems did not surface. Joey and Joe continued to text after the games.
Joe happily stayed out of the big tent of the Media circus. Clay would tell him what was happening in the world and that was fine with him. During games, Joe was a permanent fixture between Vic Sievers and Clay. He continued to soak up the game. Gradually his teammates began to accept him, but he was still an oddity. They did not tire of answering questions about their new pitcher; nobody wanted to jinx the success by pissing off the baseball gods. Joe stayed uber-focused on his sleep, diet, exercise and baseball development. Clay fell into a regular routine of stretching and every team away game hotel concierge had a ten speed bike for Clay to ride along next to Joe on his runs. They became inseparable on the road. At home, it was a different story. Joe lived too far away from the stadium to commute every day, so he took a hotel room in the city the night before day games and when they arrived back to the City of Brotherly Love after especially grueling road trips at some God-awful time in the morning. May became June and June was now July.
* * *
AVERAGE JOE PROVIDES BASEBALL'S FIREWORKS.
By Stew Menke
* * *
You can't make this stuff up. A month into the season, a last place team loses its two best starting pitchers in the span of a week. There is no money in the budget. The kids on the Farm are too green. What are you going to do? Who are you going to call? Oh well, might as well kiss the season good-bye . Now fast forward to today when Philadelphia is set to celebrate Independence Day. That same team is in first place by a game and a half. Two players are on their way to the All-Star game and one is a write-in. Get this, most of his write-in votes are not even from the states where this newspaper cartwheels into the bushes next to the driveway.
There's a simple explanation for all this. A 39 year old insurance agent with no prior professional baseball experience throws an unhittable knuckleball that he taught himself while pitching batting practice to little leaguers.
If your buddy down at the corner blarney stone was telling you this story, you'd tell the barkeep to cut him off. But that is exactly the story that the self-proclaimed greatest eye for pitching talent, Julio Vasquez told Oscar Stemple. So this guy, let's call him Joe, hails from a town where a railroad was built to send out Coal, Iron and Steel to build this great country. This bustling burg has seen better days, but in early May, it saw their favorite Little League coach take the hill and mow down one professional hitter after the next. The next day he did the same to the Big Leaguers in the big city. More so, he has done it consistently through these last two months, to be put in the the record books several times now. Only three pitchers by the name of Whitey Ford, Don Drysdale and another left-handed knuckleballer (Hmmm?) named Wilbur Wood won more games before the All-Star break and they all had pitched in the month of April. This Joe was combining Home and Auto policies in April or cutting his grass. He has turned the baseball world upside down. There is palpable buzz about this guy that transcends the sports pages, talk shows and cable/dish networks. Hey, its not only the lights-out pitching but the running and hustle too. Between the chalk lines, he plays the game with the exuberance of his little leaguers that he coached to the Little League World Series 8 years ago. Guess what? This average Joe has infected his teammates with his enthusiasm for the game too. Ellis Long has found new life and new legs as he makes curtain calls in what now may not be his final season I have never seen a happier more fun group of professional ballplayers in all my years of covering this great game.
And what does this average Joe have to say about this; one of the greatest half -season turnarounds and pitching performances in the last century of baseball? Well, actually nothing. He chooses not to talk with the media and hides from his adoring fans. He has made no public appearances, doesn't do commercials (not that I mind a celebrity not hawking beer or trucks) and is protected by the Phillies brass. Yes, we have been entertained by the great Julio Vasquez and Clay the Catcher Guy, but other than that side-show, Average Joe ain't talking. Especially, I am told to yours truly. Moy? Sweet lovable Stew? This isn't a tantrum from a surly big-headed superstar. No, right from the start, he turned his back to us miserable scriveners of sports. The Phillies don't seem to mind and why should they. Doc Barnes will look you in the eye and tell you its about the team and not one guy. Oscar and the Phillies Management will tell you, Average Joe's deafening silence is not hurting ticket sales, TV ratings (advertising dollars) or merchandizing. The players don't mind as it gains more attention to themselves as part of a winning team. There's something almost patriotic happening again in this historic city where many years ago, a group of men got together and put aside their own differences and personal agendas in Carpenter Hall and approved the Declaration of Independence, telling clueless King George to kiss off.
So today, it is important that we shoot off fireworks above our stadium and honor Ben Franklin, his bros and all those average Joes that fought and died for our independence from tyranny and cricket all those years ago.
* * *
xxxxx
* * *
"Jonas, I really don't want to talk about it or even think about it anymore tonight, okay?"
* * *
"Joe, you've got to strike while the iron is hot."
* * *
"Jonas, what part of NO don't you understand?" Joe and his agent were trying to enjoy the stadium fireworks after the game. The full moon on this clear night illuminated the mist from the expired displays as they lazily drifted towards Jersey. When a mortar fired off a boomer, the vibrations were felt right in their chests.
Jonas was not an agent to the superstars and Joe had no professional baseball experience as of three full moons ago. Both men were talking from their hearts here. Neither had a GPS to navigate "Average Joe's" instant celebrity.
* * *
"Joe, its like I have no other clients, everybody wants you. My email in-box is jammed, my cell phone rings day and night and I am on a first name basis with my mailman, Fedex lady and the UPS driver. Majors, locals, charities, nut jobs-did I tell you about the crackpots? Everybody wants Average Joe to sell their stuff, lend your name to a charity, or have your baby. Do you know how many hot women want to have your child?"
* * *
"Listen to what you're saying? You want me to be part of that insanity? I am doing all I can to learn how to play major league baseball. I play for a team that flies all around the country at night when most normal people are in bed. I am sleeping when most people are working. I'm filling two guys spots in the rotation. My morning runs are catch as catch can. When exactly do you want me to make time for these commitments? Jonas, that idea of Julio listening to my cardboard cut out and then translating to the audience was absolutely brilliant. I enjoyed the way not talking worked in that commercial."
* * *
"Alright Joe, Alright, I get it." But before I completely surrender, understand that if you took every offer that I have received, neither of us would have to work ever again, ever."
* * *
Boom went the half pound of explosives high above their heads, then came the sparkle of hundreds of little firecrackers. Not working again ever. Ever! Wealth beyond imagination. Pay off the mortgage. Get a place at the shore. Hell, get a place on the Amalfi coast. Travel the world. Joe was not immune to these siren songs.
He saw the "bling guy" in clubhouse. Busy ballplayers with no time to shop had created this personal shopper to the team. Swag in all forms floated around the locker room like the scent of Icy Hot. He was a part of the team, but apart of the team in this respect. By his own choosing, he remained an "average joe" when with the team. He tended to gravitate to laughing sessions with Clay and Julio or long talks with the coaches about the game. He hadn't learned how compartmentalize his world during this whirlwind. How could he? Add to this, his instant rise to celebrity status, he was doing everything not to succumb to the temptations that could take away his focus.
