Camp #10 gets in gear

 17 November 2024

My 10th Mets Fantasy Camp week began this morning across the state in Tampa. I had originally planned to fly there from America's Favorite Twin Cities (Minneapolis/St.Paul) yesterday morning. But on my layover in Chicago I received word that my eldest dog, Bella, was essentially telling the world that she was ready to "cross the bridge" so to speak. I hustled and got on the next plane back to Minny where she had waited long enough for me to spend some time with her and then take her to the local vet for us to say our final goodbyes to each other. She turned 20 years of age on September 23rd, mind you. So as much as I grieve her loss I also celebrate her longevity and the fact that she loved every single day that she spent at my home. After the vet visit I reassembled my thoughts and was able to catch a nonstop flight to Tampa which arrived at midnight. So Bella decided that she wasn't going to rain on her father's most-anticipated week of the year and I appreciate that so very much. 

The 2-1/2 hour drive was smooth and without incident. When I finally reached the ramp for I-95 south I realized that the land where fantasy becomes reality was only minutes away. I reached exit 121 and made my way over to the spring training complex. I parked my Nissan Altima in the lot, grabbed a bag in the trunk containing all of my uniforms and other assorted clubhouse equipment and headed for the entrance. I greeted a nice lady who was standing near the clubhouse entrance and then stood before the building with the sign reading "MINOR LEAGUE CLUBHOUSE. FLORIDA HOME OF THE METS" I got down on my right knee, threw my arms out to the side, palms facing forward and said aloud, "Hallelujah!" The woman behind me chuckled a bit at seeing this but I thought if she only knew what this place means to me- and so many others. Because as Susan Sarandon said in "Bull Durham", this is the 1st Church of Baseball.

I walked in and immediately the rest of the world as I know it disappeared behind me. I saw a few old faces and then found my great buddy Greg Cockrell in front of his locker, which is next to mine this year, just as it was during the camp we first met at a few years ago. 

Evaluations were getting ready to start in about 45 minutes on the back fields. The exchanges of greetings were only interrupted by the need to get ourselves dressed to hit the field for the evaluations by the coaches who will assist us this week. 

We hit the fields just before 1. The bright sunshine bathing the fields with just what we needed- a break from reality. The moment you walk through those doors and head towards the fields you forget what day of the week it is, what time it is, and most importantly what the date of birth on your driver's license shows. It's an amazingly therapeutic feeling of youthfulness. 

The players were all divided up into groups based on last name in alphabetical order. My meniscus injury in April prevented me from playing senior league ball this summer so this was the first I'd been on a baseball field in some 52 weeks. 

From there all of the players showed some of their prowess in infield and outfield drills, pitching accuracy (or inaccuracy, as the case may be) and then with a bat for about a half dozen swings. Following the evaluations we were free to do as we pleased until 7pm for the opening night dinner. Those are always fun to attend. We hear from the rookies about where they are from and their favorite Mets memory. They didn't ask that question in 2013, my first camp year. The answer would have been a fairly recent event- June 1, 2012. Johan Santana throws the first no-hitter in franchise history. I was watching on SNY that night and when Davie Freese struck out to end the game I shed a few tears. My late wife Bryn was standing next to me and she asked me if I was indeed crying. While looking at the tv screen I said, as I shook my head slowly from side to side, "This is something we thought would never happen." There has since been a second no-hitter, but it was a combined effort and thus holds no real meaning to me in that respect.

Tonight's opening dinner was hosted by this week's commissioner, Nelson Figueroa. "Figgy" is pinch-hitting for Doug Flynn who is on vacation. All of the coaches read the rosters chosen in today's draft and tomorrow we find out how well the coaches did in their assessments. He went over the schedule for tomorrow which includes games one and two for the week. Tomorrow night is Casino Night at Tutto Fresco Italian Restaurant. Everyone who knows of its existence wanted to know if I will once again be sporting the Mets suit, which has been at the last two or three Casino Night events plus the June 18th game earlier this season in Arlington, Texas versus the Rangers. It'll be there. It was the first thing I put into my luggage, actually.

I was drafted on to the team coached by Eric Hillman and Duffy Dyer. Our team is known as the Do-Or-Dyers. Eric is easily one of the funniest people I have ever known. Duffy is an absolute gem and I look forward to spending time with him as well. Duffy was a catcher on the 1969 World Champion Miracle Mets. Duffy was also the catcher on the final day of the 1972 season in Pittsburgh when Roberto Clemente doubled off of Jon Matlack for his 3000th career hit. 

Greg Cockrell referred to me tonight as the poet laureate of MFC. I can be with that. I hope that I keep everyone as entertained this year as I have in the past. It has been quite the roller coaster of emotions for me in the past 48 hours but I couldn't think of a better place for me to be just days before Thanksgiving. I am very thankful for what MFC represents and for my Bella, who gave me the chance to come back here knowing that she's now no longer in discomfort, hanging out with her mom, who was so instrumental in my staring this tradition in 2013. 

I've gotta go. Brekky is at 7 at the clubhouse and Great and Greg and I have stories to tell. This is gonna be great.