Second Chance at Bat, page 6
* * *
Joe finally made it back to Shunk Hall as dawn broke into a crisp frosty fall morning. He tried to be quiet as he came into his dorm room, but got nailed in the chest wtith a textbook hurled by his roommate.
* * *
“Your fucking girlfriend was calling every 15 minutes, I want to kill her. I finally took the fucking phone off the hook. Where the fuck have you been? She was threatening to in the call Campus Security to go look for you.”
* * *
Joe put the phone back in is cradle and started to sputter about meeting Marsha when the phone rang.
* * *
xxxxx
* * *
“This is your 5:48AM wake up call Mr. DiNatale.”
* * *
“Thank you.”
* * *
“Have a nice day, the forecast is sunny and seventy degrees.”
* * *
“I don’t hear those words very often in January or from such a nice person.”
* * *
“That’s nice of you to say, sir.”
* * *
Joe’s roommate rolled over and tried to catch some extra shut eye before they had to take the rookie bus to the complex. Joe padded out the living room, slipped on his work out clothes and silently made his way out to morning stretch.
* * *
When the elevator opened, Joe was greeted by two very perky young aerobic instructors and Michael Jackson’s Thriller on their sound system. The room outside the dining area was now filling with sleepy players searching for coffee and their flexibility from decades ago. This stretch and warm up was easier than his routine at home, but was absolutely necessary for those worried about pulling hamstrings, quads or groin muscles. None of the Legends were at breakfast.
* * *
“Today, they tell us to take it easy at the same time they are picking their teams. That’s what the morning drills are about. Then after lunch, you get assigned to a team coached by two Legends. Then its baseball, baseball and more baseball until every team gets to play the Legends on Sunday for a couple of innings in the stadium.” a veteran explained over scrambled eggs and link sausages. “Some veterans have already put in which Legend they want to play for, so its not a pure draft”.
* * *
Okay, Joe thought, some guys want to be with their hero all during camp. They are paying for it right?
* * *
The vet continued “Its not a sprint out there, its a marathon. All the games have two real umpires. Sometimes they widen the strike zone to cut down on the walks, you better be up there swinging. The team that doesn’t make mistakes and stays healthy usually wins”.
* * *
“Wins what?” Joe asked.
* * *
“Today’s afternoon game and tomorrow’s doubleheader tells you the seeding for Saturday’s morning playoffs. Then those winners determine which two teams get to play for the Phantasy Camp championship. Its pretty intense. Players will do whatever it takes to win.The trainer’s room fills up with guys sporting all kinds of injuries.”
Everybody at the table was listening intently to the veteran as he went over the ground rules.
“Its pretty simple. There is no stealing or running on passed balls. They is no bunting or crashing into the catcher at home plate. There are mercy rules too. If your pitching goes into the toilet after two innings, one of your Legends can pitch. If a team scores 8 runs in one inning they have to stop batting. After a full inning, if a team is ahead by 15 runs, the game is called. Its all designed to promote an even playing field and enhance competition, so no one team flames out or another steamrolls everybody. One more thing, I almost forgot, you can pinch run for guys that have trouble running after they hit the ball. The runner can’t start until the crack of the bat and has to start from behind home plate on the first base side.”
* * *
Joe didn’t appreciate until now how competitive this camp was going to be. He began to wish that he had spent more time in the batting cages and outside shagging fly balls. He didn’t want to embarrass himself here in front his peers. He had the wrong idea that it would be a bunch of pick up games.
* * *
On the ride over to the sports complex, last year’s Phillies highlight reel played on the drop down screens. Goosebumps and cheers intertwined, as the campers relived the glories of last year’s regular season. Coming into the complex was like arriving at a ballplayer’s Garden of Eden. The dew was still rising from the immaculate outfield grass. Groundskeepers raked and primped the batter’s boxes. The tractors dragged their square metal grates over the infield dirt. Dark green grass, farmer’s field brown dirt, blue skies, freshly painted dugouts and outbuildings completed the foreground. In the background loomed Bright House field, the envy of every other single A stadium in America.
* * *
Not a bad place to come to work everyday, Joe mused as he disembarked. The rookies milled about for a minute before processing into the clubhouse. The walkway was lined by clapping veterans to the music from Queen playing We are the Champions. As Joe crossed the threshold, he was greeted by more clapping veterans and a photographer capturing that special moment. Grinning ear to ear, Joe made his way to his own locker. His name and number appeared on a magnetic nameplate above his safe box. He had worn plenty of baseball uniforms as a coach over the years, including those days on international television for the Little League World Series, but it had been over twenty years since he had a player’s uniform and there it was hanging up with his name and number stitched onto Phillies pinstripes. There was an Away red jersey, matching belt and socks. What an awesome present he just received. Joe felt the surge of long buried emotions tumbling out. Joe felt this mixture of joy and undeserved favor, He had to duck his head in the locker pretending to fiddle with the combination lock, until he could compose himself. Had he ever received a present that meant more to him since his father died? Here was a chance to be like a little kid, a happy little kid again.
* * *
Somehow, Joe fumbled through getting his uniform on and made his way to Kangaroo court.
What was said or done in Kangaroo court stayed in Kangaroo court, but the visage of three of your heroes wearing sunglasses inside a tent with their baseball caps on top of 18th century Barrister wigs was surreal.
* * *
Real or imagined infractions were defended and argued with the offender usually having to pay a a hefty two dollar fine. It was a great way to start the day, a show you didn’t want to miss. The bonus was seeing the Legends thinking quick on their feet in improvisational roles, saying stuff you would never hear on the Star of the Game interview or muttered to a reporter after an Oh- fer. The audience was made up of nearly 120 players in their Home whites with their Phans in SRO at the back of the tent. No one dared upset the judges lest they risked getting thrown onto the docket.
* * *
Court was adjourned and each player went to their stations in alphabetical groupings. Legends were assessing Outfield, Infield, Running the bases, Batting, and Pitching. Every half hour, the players rotated. Joe hit well in the cages to the appreciation of Benny Bogues and ran like a deer for Juan Aguayo. Fly balls were short and easy to pick up in the high sky and lob back. As a lefty, he took turns with other first baseman during infield, but it was apparent that his wheels would earn him an outfield position.
* * *
“That a knuckle ball?” Joe turned around from one of the 5 practice pitching mounds and looked into the unshaven face of Julio Vasquez. Hat pulled down tight and almost wrap around sunglasses completed the picture. He looked like he had just arrived.
* * *
“Yeah, I played around with it when I threw batting practice to my Little Leaguers over the years. ”
* * *
“Let me see it again.”
* * *
Joe obliged this fierce competitor from the 90’s team that came so close, floating a strike that the catcher couldn’t handle and had to retrieve from the back stop.
* * *
“How do you grip it?”
* * *
When the ball came back Joe showed him.” I don’t touch a seam and throw it overhand, think like your gripping the full side of a wiffle ball with just your fingertips. I learned it by throwing wiffle balls to my son before he could handle a wooden bat."
* * *
“A no-seam knuckle ball?” Julio pondered this for a moment. “I have never seen that before, but it works for you. You pitch?”
* * *
“Just batting practice for the last twelve years from Pee Wee to American Legion.”
* * *
“Show me your other stuff.”
* * *
Joe didn’t know what to think, but he sort of liked the attention of a former big leaguer who knew how to get big-time outs. Joe threw from the stretch like always and put a little extra on his fastballs and curves. Wait til he told Linda that he had auditioned for one of the toughest relievers ever to don a Phillies uniform.
* * *
“What’s your name?”
* * *
Joe turned his back so Julio could see his name on his jersey. “DiNatale, Joe DiNatale, number 4 in your program and number 1 your draft sheet.”
* * *
Joe could see a small smile but not the eyes through the sunglasses.. The horn sounded and the PA announce that it was lunch time.
* * *
After lunch, the first game was announced. "Bay Sox listen up. Your coaches are Benny Bogues and Julio Vasquez. You are away, change into your Away jersey and line up at the bus, you are going to DiMaggio field across the street. Bay Sox, you are: Tim Bates, Terry Briggs, Rick Champion, Joe DiNatale, Larry Doyle, John Harmon, Greg Johnson, Deron Money, Tim Ryan, Barry Selma and Mike Wise.
* * *
Things moved quickly now, Joe and his new teammates hustled back to the clubhouse and changed out of the pinstripes and into the Away red jerseys. They boarded the bus. There were only 4 practice fields at the complex so a municipal field across the street was groomed just for the Phantasy Campers. Both teams took batting practice and fielding practice. Joe hit the ball well off of the BP pitcher but had trouble with long fly balls. It took some getting used to judging the ball’s flight, fighting off the blinding high sun and running on one’s toes after years of heel-toe heel-toe long-distance running.
* * *
The game started and before Joe could find the sport’s drink cooler, the first injury occurred. Rounding third, Vasquez gave the stop sign to the lead off hitter who wanted to score on a double by the number three hole hitter. As the lead off man put on his brakes, his feet came out from underneath him and he fell hard on his right shoulder. Crack. Off the field and into an ambulance he went, not to be seen for the rest of the game. His phantasy camp was finite. Joe hadn’t even caught his name. The Bay Sox were down a man before going out to field the first inning. It went downhill from there. After two innings, their starter was chased and the shortstop tried throwing but a strong arm didn’t translate into consistently throwing strikes and Benny Bogues had to come in and pitch the rest of the game. Fielding was shoddy and outfielders were not hitting their cut-off men. Even Joe tried throwing out a guy taking an extra base. When it was over, the Bay Sox had lost embarrassingly to the other team Joe had forgotten the name of. Three Bay Sox were limping with seriously pulled leg muscles.
* * *
Dinner that night was at the hotel and the main entertainment was a Bull session where players could ask any Legend any question. Joe saw his teammate with a black sling cradling his arm, Joe was sad to learn that he fractured his collarbone and was on painkillers. Joe glanced at his name tag and noted that Mike Wise wouldn’t be living the dream that weekend. Joe nodded to some of this other teammates that evening but the focus was on the Bull Session. After it was over, Joe bought Julio a drink with one of his free drink tickets and asked him what he thought of the Phillies off season acquisition of seasoned veterans on an already older ball club. Julio didn’t deflect the question and wasn’t going to joke his way out of it. A serious well thought out answer gave a vote of confidence to Phillies skipper, Tom “Doc” Barnes and the Phillies Brass for trying to fill holes with veterans so as not to upset the team chemistry.
* * *
As Julio was getting pulled away by other players that wanted to treat him in the hotel bar, he stopped and said to Joe, “You better get some rest, you are pitching tomorrow.”
* * *
Joe’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped before stammering, “Yes sir.”
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xxxxx
Scene 15
* * *
“Hey Lin, its me.”
* * *
“What time is it D?”
* * *
“10:45. Did I wake you?”
* * *
“Yeah, I have an early morning personal training session with Mrs. Falcone.” Linda yawned. "Mr Falcone bought her a ‘Trainers Six-Pack’ for New Years and I get to play miracle worker.”
* * *
“Sorry to wake you, but I have good news”
* * *
“Oh, what’s that?”
* * *
“Today, Julio Vasquez saw me pitch in practice and drafted me onto his team. We had a game this afternoon and our pitchers didn’t do so hot and we lost. I was talking to him after dinner tonight and he said that I was gonna pitch tomorrow, isn’t that great?”
* * *
Dead silence.
* * *
“Lin?”
* * *
“You woke me up to tell me about some make believe game you are playing tomorrow?”
* * *
“It’s not make believe, its real Lin , they have real umpires and they keep score.” Joe felt his anger rising.
* * *
“Well that’s nice D, I hope you have fun down there in the warm sunshine. Linda said “Anyway, when I didn’t hear from you yesterday, I called Joey and he came over and fixed the garage door. He said that a mouse or a squirrel must have gotten tangled in one of the wires. Its all better now and he shovelled the driveway for me so I could get out and go to work.”
* * *
Joe felt his anger spilling over. “He’s not welcome in my house and you know that.” Joe’s roommate had paused his phone call in the other room. “Wait a minute." Joe fumbled with the latch for the balcony and closed the heavy sliders behind him so as not to be heard. He was staring out at the moonlit Gulf of Mexico trying to gulp in some calmness from the palm trees, soft breezes and sailboats gently rocking at their moorings. He had felt some deep emotions for the first time in a long time today and now he felt like a deer being gutted on the backyard swing set after hunting season.
* * *
Before he could saying anything, Linda shot back, “What did you want to me to do D, you left me in a blizzard to go play lets pretend in Florida? My car was trapped in the garage.”
* * *
Joe couldn’t think straight. She was right, she was wrong. She ambushed him, but he initiated the conversation and woke her up out of a dead sleep.
* * *
Ten minutes ago, Joe couldn’t contain his happiness, now he just wanted to scream. What had been simmering for a long time, just came to a boil. It was a no win situation no matter how he played it. He wasn’t get any love. No attaboys thrown in his direction. Was he really expecting her to say,’Go get ‘em tiger’.
He exhaled and with tight lips monotoned, “Sorry to wake you dear, you did the right thing and I won’t bother you anymore with my petty bullshit down here. Good night.“
* * *
Joe re-entered the hotel bedroom and saw the look on his roommate’s face.
* * *
Joe shook his head and said, “Don’t ask.” as he made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth before lights out. He had a big day tomorrow.
* * *
xxxxx
* * *
The magic continued the following morning, all the players wore their Home pinstripes for photos after Kangaroo Court. Each team had a photograph taken with their coaches and player reps. Kind of neat Joe thought, but certainly not as cool as the photos taken the day before when each player individually sat for a shot with all of the Legends or the photo taken with just Joe who stood a half a head shorter between Benny and Julio.
