Day 6--The bottom of the ninth at Sox Fantasy Camp

Hello all,

Every ball game must end; and sadly so must Red Sox 2009 Fantasy Camp.

Got to sleep in this morning...until 8 AM.  After a week of 6 AM wake up calls, this was positively heavenly!

Today, the final day, the bottom of the ninth found us all with three major things on the docket:  1) a three inning game v. the coaches and former players at the big stadium; 2)the closing banquet and 3) saying goodbye and packing (ugh!).

First things first.  Went with team mate Donnie to the PDC (Player Development Complex) where we were all week to pick up my home uniform and work out a little in the gym to get the legs and the circulation going.  Every day the clubhouse guys washed all our uniforms and any personal things we wanted cleaned and hung them up for us nice and neatly in our lockers.  Had my "whites" washed on Friday so I could wear them to the big game today. Said goodbye to the staff and everyone tips the clubhouse team and the trainers and believe me, the tips we gave them were well worth all the effort these guys put in to make us all feel like pro athletes.

Came back and did some stretching,  made some phone calls and did some emails while laying on some ice packs as a last stage of prep for the game.  Hopped the van to the park and watched a couple of the three inning games along with my team mates all getting "psyched" for a crack at the big boys.

The games the last day with the pros are 3 innings and the pros are home, so if they are leading after the top  of the third they don't have to bat.  All the coaches played and most of the pitching was done by "Spaceman", "The Can" or Rick Wise.

It was cool as Sox radio man Joe Castiglione announced our team and each one of us ran out of the dugout and stood along the third base line.  I was the third one announced for Treuel's Trolls.  "Number 60, Hal Dash," Joe C intoned and I ran out onto the field.  Wow!  We then each went over and got a photo with all the coaches in front of the first base dugout.  Will send a photo album around when I get back and the pro photogs shot zillions.  I will buy a few plus I had my own camera with me.  And, each of us gets a free video in a few weeks of the the whole week at camp.

So I  come up to hit second in the first inning facing Bill Lee, the "Spaceman."  I take ball one and ball two, then foul on off.  Next pitch is a bit high but the umps call anything a strike that is in the local area code and a swing and miss.  Ball three is low and inside.  Then what separates the pros from us hackers is the next pitch which is a "12 to 6 hook" or curveball that blows me away.  Geez, these guys are taking this game seriously.  I hit once and play one inning in the field so that all the guys can get up to bat and into the field.  The pros string together a few hits and beat us 3-0, but our left fielder John Pirone (the deaf kid) makes a "Sports Center" highlight film diving catch, gets hurt but stays in. He is okay and our pitcher, Motor Mouth Walt Nadeau, is stellar fanning Oil Can  Boyd.

We get a few hits and get men on first and second but Bill Lee, telling us later he was never going to give up a run to us in that situation blows some serious heat (fastballs) by poor "Doc Dick" Todd Cohen  that was totally unfair.  "Spaceman" shrugs and laughs at the same time.

The banquet is great and during cocktails we get more autographs, enjoy recaps of the week, down plenty of good booze and take photos we've missed during the week.  No one wants this to end, but it must.

Naturally, we sit with "The Can" and Skipper Treuel (who played a pretty good right field for the pros today) and Can's girl friend or one of them has come into town.  She tries to keep him in line,  but that is an impossible task as when Dennis Boyd is on a roll, ain't nobody gonna stop him.  "Ya understand what I'm sayin?"

He tells us about the toughest hitter he ever faced, Bill Hall of the Yankees (go figure) and the easiest, Tony Gwynn and Rod Carew, two Hall of Famers (go figure again!). And, of course there were ruminations from The Can about pitching and how to throw various pitches, good and bad managers and his favorite catcher, Rich Gedman. All of this pontificating with a never empty glass of rum and coke in his right hand. We listened both confused and transfixed.

We got lineup cards from one of our games which we all signed and the Sox gave us each a group photo and team shot taken earlier in the week, a ball signed by all the coaches and a ball signed the by great Carl Yasztremski.  Way cool and it's my third Yaz ball.  Red 

Sox trivia: only four Sox have played left field from 1939 to 1996 and I have autographs of all of them (Ted Williams, Yaz, Jim Rice and Mike "Gator" Greenwell).

Awards were passed out and our own John Pirone got most improved for the week.  Go Big John!  Gedman's team won the championship and all will get Fantasy Camp rings. Talk about a Major League experience!  All the teams are invited back to Boston sometime this summer to play at Fenway Park when the Sox are not there and be introduced to a regular game crowd the day before the game the campers play. That is an extra $500 bucks and guys who have done it before say it is beyond awesome to play a game at Fenway.

A few more drinks, some goodbyes and autographs and it's over.  We all huddle around our Skipper  exchange cards and emails.  I tell my team mates, Treuel and Oil Can that dinner is on me if they come out to LA.  Can has a cousin in Burbank and if he comes out (he has a book coming out in 2010 by the way), I will let my local RSN (that's Red Sox Nation) cronies know so they can join me for non stop stories, cockeyed philosophy and torrents of four letter descriptors.

On the way out to the bar, I say goodbye to Bill Lee and ask him about that outside curve ball he threw to me on the 3-2 count.  He said he's never walked anyone and never will.  

That's baseball and a fitting ending to a magical week.

Final thoughts and ruminations in a day or so and now it's back to the real world. 

It's been a gas.

#60

Day 5 at Red Sox Camp--"The Good, The Bad and the Ugly

Whew!

Friday, Day 5 at Red Sox Fantasy Camp is over and it truly was a case of "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly" (with apologies to Sergio Leone and Clint Eastwood).

The Good--The weather was splendid for baseball.  Low 70s, light breeze and blue sky.  Yours truly went 5 for 6 and stung the ball with my Louisville Slugger/ Manny Ramirez bat. Had a couple of good shots to the outfield. Where's my contract?  Get me Scott Boras.  Felt like a million bucks, but it took most of the week to get totally comfortable in this very intense and competitive environment.  Ended up hitting .333 going 8 for 24 with a couple of walks. Can I stay another week now that I am totally in a "groove?"  And dinner with my team and our skipper (more about that later). Coaches (Treuel and Boyd) who were supportive and encouraging during some ugly games (see below).

The Bad-- We sometimes beat ourselves, making plenty of errors but very few get to play in real BASEBALL games before we get here and the East Coasters this year have been constantly digging out from tons of snow.  I am convinced other coaches spend hours figuring out who they are going to draft; who is returning; and wheeling and dealing just a bit.  Our coaches were laid back and not as intense about the draft and that is fine. Some coaches are out for blood but these are all former pro ballpayers with a strong competitve fire in them.

The Ugly--We ended up going 1-7, and I think our two opponents scored about 35 runs against us yesterday.  We lost count. A lot of big thumpers really crushed the ball against us. We ended up 1-7, but never quit and hung in there.  Is this how the '62 Mets felt?

After the end of the last game, Skipper Treuel gave a great speech about how much he enjoyed working with us and how we never gave up and supported each other and got the most out of the week.  He mentioned how we would never forget this week and hoped we got a taste of what big league players go through.  Coach Oil Can Boyd split, probably for a smoke which he did oftern during the games.  The "Can" being the Can." 

Treuel did mildly chastise one of our pitchers, who had flipped the ball to him when he came out to make a pitching change.  In the tradition-laden world of baseball one of the zillions of rules (written and unwritten) is the "no no" of flipping the ball to the coach when he comes out with "the hook."  Once a Detroit Tiger pitcher flipped the ball to Manager "Sparky" Anderson when he came to get him(Ralph Treuel was a coach on that team in the 80s) and after the pitcher raced off the field, ran through the clubhouse and into another part of the stadium, Anderson chased after him and all Raph would say is that while no one knew what Anderson said or did to that player, he never flipped the ball again when he was removed from a game. 

And let me add "The Sad."  Getting that last trainer adjustment at the end of the day; taking off the uniform at the complex for the last time (we do have a 3 inning game against the coaches and former players this afternoon), and cleaning out my locker.  It really was a bit sad to see this part of the camp end with all the great memories, highs and lows of the past week. 

Still, unforgettable moments (thank you Gail, love you madly for doing this for me), great friends and the whole locker room thing you hear about in professional sports from pranks to talking baseball with the pros to bonding with team mates and the guys around your locker. I will do a more in depth recap of the week and the memories after this all sinks in.

So we all took our manager out to dinner (Boyd was either off drinking or picking up a girlfriend and did not show up). We hosted the Skipper at a local steak house.  For three hours we talked baseball, learned more about Ralph Treuel, took turns wearing his 2007 Red Sox World Series ring, and talked about what each of us do for a living and most importantly the upcoming Sox season.  The real players start reporting this week.

Ralph coordinates all the Sox minor league pitching operations and lives in the very pretty New Hampshire town of Wolfesboro which I have been to.  It's on picturesque Lake Winnepasaukee.

He has a ten year old, travels all over the Sox minor league system from the Dominican to Venezuela to Florida to the South and the East Coast. It's a twelve month a year job and he's gone about half the year.  He loves it and has been doing this kind of stuff for 23 years.  I wrote earlier that he has three championship rings to show for all of his efforts.  Not bad. 

He has seen almost all of the Sox current pitchers and worked with them over the years: Lester, Papelbon, Masterson, Bucholz, Del Carmen, etc.  He talked about how great the Sox organization is and how it operated both as a first class organization and a family from the top down.  A lot of off color stories and stuff, but he showed a real dedication to his job and the organization and showed no ego or arrogance and seemed to enjoy talking with us.

And who is us?  There is Bill Cuff, 54, an insurance and financial guy from Boston who was steady at second base; Randie Robinson in his 40s and an opthamologist in Connecticut in right; John Pirrone, 30s who is deaf and runs those services for Northeastern University in Boston and who handled left and center.; "Gibby" Gibbons in his 30s, a professional signer who came with Pirrone to help him out and the Sox paid for him to be there.  He has a reconstructed shoulder, but caught valiantly. Thank goodness there was no stealing or all teams would be in trouble! 

It was fantastic learning about the world of signing and the deaf and both "Gibby" and John were quite a team with Gibby signing every meeting, game, social event, etc. Both of Gibby's parents were deaf and he grew up signing and now makes a living doing this for schools, sports teams, rock concerts (yes, deaf people go to concerts and enjoy them on a certain level and Donnie G. signs the lyrics).  Both guys are in their late thirties I think and are very cool.  John is the nicest guy you'd want to meet and fit in perfectly with us "Bad News Bosox!"

Tony Gonatas from Boston manages properties and wins the award for Boston accent of the group.  I needed an interpreter!  He played first and gave us one of the guttiest pitching performances of the week. Although he got shelled (most of our pitchers did), he hung in there until Treuel came out with the "hook" (that's baseball talk for taking a pitcher out.  Chris Dulmayne, shortstop from Boston is one of our younger guys (early 30s).  He buys and sells wine cellars and wine collections all over the U.S. and in some parts of Europe.  I told him I want his job.  He started out as a clerk in a wine store and studied wine and marketing. Gene Cooper (30s) owns an ad agency in "Joisy" and brought his wife who we kept away from Oil Can Boyd.  One of our heroic pitchers who wasn't a pitcher!

Then there is Walt Nadeau from Merrimac, New Hampshire. I think he might be late 30s/early 40s who is an information technology guy for a big biotech firm who travels all over the world making sure the company's computer systems are functioning and interconnected.  He was the team's lovable loud moth, cheerleader, over the hill high school ballplayer, main pitcher who also hit our only home run during the week.  Name the person you most would like to go drinking with, swap stories, talk loudly and laugh your rocks off and that is Walt Nadeau. All around fun guy who  pitched with more real aches and pain than anyone I know.  A "game-ah" as we say in New England.  "Motormouth" was inspiring!

Chris Dodd a New England transplant to Houston works as a financial advisor for Fidelity and is another guy in his 30s.  We traded portfolio stories and I will not share his predictions for the next two years. He was our gutty third baseman.  One of our quieter guys and real smart. Todd Cohen of Charlotte, NC by way of Boston got the nickname "Dr. Dick" as he is a urologist who specializes in kidney stones and circumcisions.  Business is booming for the Doc.  He is the one who cracked my Manny Ramirez bat that was so lucky for me on Friday.  Don't tell anyone but I had to switch to my Alex "A-Rod" Rodriguez bat but got a hit Friday.  In my next post I will reluctantly tell you what happened when I used it in the game against Bill "Spaceman" Lee and the pros on Saturday. "Doc Dick" or "Dick Doc" handled second and outfield. We all switched around.

Ronnie Thompson, 61 year old former pitcher for Seton Hall, lives in Florida and works in the tech business in marketing and sales. He is about 6'4 with no knees, but who still golfs and goes to every major sporting event there is.  He caught, played first and even pitched pretty well and played a little first base. A walking sports encyclopedia.

Your humble author played first and outfield.  Still, no major dings or injuries only two bad hammies, hit by a pitch in the ribs, cranky right arm (I'm a lefty so who cares?)  

WE ALL SURVIVED RED SOX FANTASY CAMP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But there is one more game to play--Saturday against the pros at the big ball park. And then of course the banquet, open bar, regular bar, "Oil Can" Boyd and Bill Lee stories, late to bed and the trip home so the place can prepare for the 2009 World Series Champs to arrive and start training.

Later,

#60

Sox Fantasy Camp Day 4--Field of Screams #2

YES THIS IS THURSDAY'S POST BUT I INADVERTENTLY SENT IT WITHOUT FINISHING IT UP SO SCROLL ALL THE WAY DOWN TO WHERE IT SAYS"THE FINISH OF THURSDAY'S POST"

It's been a long day here in the land of hurricanes and Spring training camps.  35 friggin' degrees when we went down to board our vans at 6:30 this morning; wicked winds all day long, two losses (but close games); big muscle pulls in places I did not know I had muscles and more ice on me at the end of the day than in the Bering Straits in winter.

Sound ugly?  Kinda off, but there was fun as big Sox stars were in camp; we finished early; I enjoyed a local cigar bar with my team and had lots of good smokes, free pizza and beer and great Sox talk.  Not all bad, except I have to air my clothes out for a week before I come home!

Had a couple of hits and ran the bases hard and that was my downfall as in Game 2 in 55 degree weather with 2030 mph winds that had us all layering up like Eskimos.  I hit a shot down the third baseline off "Oil Can Boyd" and beat the throw but when it went over the first baseman's head,  motored down to second base and aabout half way there, I felt a twinge and pulling sensation and all at once my hamstring on the right side and my groin tightened up like someone using giant vice grip pliers on my legs getting a great deal of satisfaction increasing the pain ala the villians in all those late night grip and rip movies.

I really hurt at the end of the day and the wonderful trainers wrapped me up good and I sat with ice for about 20 minutes after they stretched me out and I screamed non stop for the 15 minutes I was on one of the trainers tables.  They mentioned muscles I had never heard of and things I thought only real jocks could suffer; but no, we rank amatuers have this stuff to,  but the difference is we can't and don't ever use theses hidden wonders of our bodies and when we do, we screw them up good as we have not preparred for this kind of continuous useage.

Several players giggled as I hobbled down to my stall wrapped tighter than King Tut in his small mummy case.  F---k you I said to several of the coaches and players who tortured me with locker room jock crap.  I simply told them all to burn in hell or become Yankee fans!  Shut them up god!

In the morning after the Daily Fine Forum (and one of our guys was late to the start of a game so we all had to pay a buck into the kitty), we saw current Sox star Kevin Youkilis sitting at a locker and we descended upon his with bats, cards and baseballs to sign and cameras to shoot pix of us with "Youk," who is a Gold Glove winner, a feared slugger and who finished fourth in last year's MVP voting.  He accomodated us all and I tod him that "Us Jewish guys have to stick together." He laughed. He is half Jewish but what the heck!!!!!!!!!  We'll take him although he looks like a combination of a Hell's Angel and Popeye.

Outside where we warm up as an entire group, Sox superstar pitcher John Lester and reliever Manny del Carmen who tossing lightly at 90 mph and I stood by the bullpen where Lester, looking 8 feet tall was throwing even harder.  Got a good pic of him as he finished his delivery.

Awesome looking dude who beat cancer two years ago to become a Major League Baseball superstar.  Yes, I will attempt to publish the fotos and send you a link to them all.  

Froze our butts off in both games and some ugly defense did us in, but I did get another hit off "The Can" and that means more drinks at the bar on me!  By the way, the name "Oil Can" comeds from the fact that his family were Moonshiners from Alabama and "shine" is often called "oil" and stored in any kind of can these hillbilly distillers can find.

Skipper Troell told us all that he has spent 23 years as a minor league pitching coach and now is in charge of ALL Sox minor league pitchers.  Interesting life but he has a World Series ring with Detroit in '84 and two with the Sox in 2004 and 2007.  He talked about all the hot shot pitchers he has been around, some dumber than bags of hammers and others smart and personable.  For those of you who know Sox phenom pitcher Clay Buckholz, remind we to tell you about the party with Miss Penthouse at Donald Trump's joint in LA.  Whew!  What a life these kids lead.  You have no idea of the parties, women, temptations and trouble these folks get into.

We are taking The Can and Troell out for dinner Friday night to thank them for guiding us to a probable record of 2-6.  Couldn't have done it without you guys! We'll go to Burger King which is gourmet dining in Ft. Myers.

Former Sox hotshot All Star left fielder Mike "Gator" Greenwell was at lunch signing stuff and he was very friendly, personable and nice. Took fotos with all of us and when someone asked how he got the nickname "Gator" he told us of a story that created the legendary name ( at least among those of us in Red Sox Nation).

In the 80s, Greenwell was a veteran player and the Sox brought up a ho shot rookie outfielder named Ellis Burks who spent many great years in Beantown.  Seems like Burks had a bit of a swagger and Greenwell actually put a 3 foot alligator in Burk's locker and cover it up with a towel.  When Ellis came out of the shower buck naked and reached for a towel Gator lunged and Burks jumped about 14 feet in the air and sped off as the players roared.  Hence the name "Gator" stuck with Mike who is also from Florida.

He also came out onto the warm  up field and told some funny stories about his career and us guys loved it.  Very humble and down to earth stuff.

THE FINISH OF THURSDAY'S POST

Losing ain't fun but we have a great group of guys I will tell you about in Friday's post. Most of them were like me at the end of the day-- ready for cigars, free drinks and pizza and the Celtics-Lakes game at the Reserve Cigar Bar just down the road from the hotel  As I stated earlier, the choice for Thursday night's activities was wiffle ball at the park with beer and BBQ or cigars. For me it was no choice.  Thank you Sox for providing this wonderful night of sitting around with some of the great things in life.

The joint was nothing special but it was nice and had a good ventilation system so that the smoke was not too bade.  We had some non-smokers with us who didn't think the smell was so bad and a couple of doctors did not want to be photographed holding cigars lest their wives or girlfriends give them a ton of grief.

I conducted a clinic for 10 or so of the guys on cigar etiquette such as how to light, smoke and handle the ash properly.  They were most impressed as I was the cigar pro and they were the rookies just like the deal at Fantasy Camp.  The Sox provided free cigars but I had brought about a half dozen from my humidor and gave some out to some of the guys plus Luis Tiant and Rick Wise, former Sox pitchers who enjoy a good smoke.

What was nice was the atmosphere where we learned more about each other, our families, wives, girlfriends, jobs and of course favorite Sox stories. Then there were the waitresses who were very diligent in serving adult beverages, taking pictures with us and flashing some outrageously large female acoutremonts hanging out of little barmaid dresses that left nothing to the imagination.  You will see some photos soon but rest assured, several of the guys fell in love with "Ample Amy" and her cohorts.  These girls made the Hooters girls seemed undernourished.

The booze, pizza, lovely ladies and cigars briefly took our  minds off our record (1-5) and our injuries  but whenever we got back to the hotel ( I have no idea about the Celtics-Lakers game as other distractions interceded), the alcohol that hid the pain or sore legs, quads, hammies and groins returned with a vengence and what to do? I guess go down to the bar and see if a few swigs of spirits would hide the agony until the morning work over by the training staff. The answer was yes and no!  Temporary relief but bedtime return of suffering.  

So I wrote most the the Thursday blog and before I knew it, it was midnight and the alarm would be going off at 6 am.  So I filled two baggies with ice (thank you Art for those as his camper has everything you could want or need to be self sufficient, laid down on the bed with two ice packs under my legs and promptly fell asleep.  When I woke up at 1:30 am I felt like a frozen dessert but what a relief so that I could get a few hours of sleep without pain.

Thinking of Amy also helped me fall quickly into Dreamland.  May have to visit the Reserve again before I go!

Friday will come later but have to get ready to take Manager Troell and The Can to what will be a hilarious, obscenity-laced event with free flowing grain spirits that may cause me to blog early Saturday as we play the pros and a quaking in our boots at the prospects of facing 80 mph pitching from former big leaguers.  More on that later.

Hal

"Black and Blue So Why Did We Play 2?" Hi from Florida

Dear blog readers,

It's 11:30 here in "Fantasyland" and I will give you all a break and be a little briefer since the alarm goes off at 5:30 and my eyes are drooping and my hamstrings are still a bit sore but much better. 

I was so excited about today's games, but when I awoke I wanted to go back to sleep and should have taken the day off!  Back was cranky; thighs were cramped and sore; and my shoulder was stiff from Tuesday.  My room mate also had that "I may go on the DL look."  But Art and I both said "the heck with this.  A little pain  everyone has here and we have to be tough jocks and not show any weakness to our teams."

So we moaned and groaned as we got dressed and took the 6:30 van over to the complex.  I went right to the batting cages and hit for about 20 minutes and next to me, Butch Hobson's boys were whacking away at his pitching as he was not a happy camper about going 0 for 2 in games Tuesday.  Butch is a real serious guy about this stuff and he let his team know it.  I have "Oil Can Boyd" as my coach and the only thing he is ever not happy about is paying for his own drinks at the bar. Our manager Ralph Troell and "Can" are actually great people who have fun at this and want us to as well.  Sure, they want to win, but as I have told all these Red Sox wannabes, "Ain't no one gettin' a Bosox contract this week so relax."  

I went over to the Magic Castle (the trainer's room) and they iced me up and put some mysterious goop on my shoulder and stretched me out. At several points I screamed out loud and shouted out things like, "Is this the Spanish Inquisition and is Torquemada working on me to get me to admit that I am some kind of heretic?   But after 15 minutes or so, I felt great.  I would have converted if he asked me to!  Boy, these guys are good.

Team meeting is brief with fines handed out, dirty jokes, the weather report, and reports from each coach about their Tuesday games.  kudos were given out to those who pitched or hit or fielded well and a few who just showed up after a long night at the bar, with Bill Lee being singled out as usual.  

Well, we then went out and got clobbered 2X.  For those of you who know the Little League "ten run rule", well here we have a "six run rule."  For those of you who don't know this little embarrassment rule, ask someone else, cause I ain't gonna tell you!  Let's just say very poor defense, lousy pitching and not enought timely hitting made this our "Longest Day."

First game I walked twice, grounded out and was hit in the rib cage by Bill Lee's team's pitcher. I think his name was Pedro Martinez and boy could he throw. In the 80s with good movement.

In my first at bat he drilled me and he and the catcher and ump asked if I was fine.  I said I was okay and had some padding there.  Later when I took off my uniform, I saw a black and blue mark the size of Rhode Island and was it ever sore.  I guess I hadn't noticed or felt it during the day.

During game one "Spaceman" spent more time yaking with us, discussing his "three drinks on the bar at once theory of life" and, of course, more on his marital foibles than with his own guys.Great sense of humor and he also gave us guys some tips along the way.  

Food and Dwight Evans were the highlights of the day in looking back at "Woeful Wednesday."

"Dewey" Evans, probably the Sox All Time great right fielder and super hitter, was there to autograph stuff and he was a complete contrast to Jim "I gotta be outta here in 1/2 hour" Rice.

Cordial and accomodating he took pix with everyone and signed lots of stuff.  In the 80s he had more home runs and extra base hits than anyone else in the AL.  Cool dude and the guys loved him.

 

Fajitas, brownies were good chow, but yesterday I passed on the roasted pork and no they don't do kosher meals.  You only get :45 minutes for lunch so get autographs, get iced, eat and hit the field for stretching at 1 before the afternoon game. 

So I faced down "Oil Can Boy" in game two and promptly whacked a single off Can into left and later on  scored our first run.  Felt good and got down the line pretty good for an old guy and later on beat a throw to first in a subsequent at bat.  Ricky Henderson, eat your heart out! I guess I owe Can a round or four of drinks at the bar and will gladly pay that debt off.

Still we got hammered with weak "D". I must admit yours truly fielded like a "Gold Glover" at first and in the outfield on the chances I had.  We are competitive in every game but then our fielders mess up routine stuff.  I will say that both Lee's team and Bob Montgomery's boys had some big dudes who could rip the ball and who did!  We don't have any big dudes at all.  Maybe that's a draft thing.

Got back to the locker room and hustled to change and go to the big stadium to watch the home run derby (one thumper from each team), have barbeque and beer.  I did not even need ice on my "hammies" and skipped the trainer's room for the first time this week. Yes! 

It was cold and breezy today and not the best weather for us rank amatuers to excel in (as if we don't have enough issues playing this game). Warm and sunny the rest of the week according to one of the local tv weather people, but she seemed to have the IQ of a baseball and I am sorry if I insulted all you  baseballs out there.

Believe it or not the guy who won the home run derby was named Joe Yastremski.  No, he is not related to the Great Number 8 Hall of Famer as he spells his name with a "z" not an "s" after the "a." He does have an Uncle Carl who gets razzed all the time and Joe is a great guy with a great swing.  I am so jealous of these 30 year old dudes who can do it all. 

Oh well, at least there was lots of beer at the barbeque, and so I did not feel so bad knocking down a few Bud Lights, getting a foto holding the 2007 Sox trophy and being part of Oil Can's Hot Stove Corner near the beer cooler as he told stories about run ins with umps, loaded baseballs and famous four letter verbal battles he had with players, coaches and umpires. Hilarious stuff.  But I gotta tell you, no one is nicer, more friendlier and helpful with tips if you ask than Dennis (his real name) Boyd.

Crap, it's almost 1 am and that alarm will ring real soon.  Today (Thursday) will bring two more games, BUT probably the thing I will most look forward to most ( a few more hits notwithstanding) is the cigar bar party I signed up for tomorrow.  You had your choice of another BBQ and wiffle ball game or cigars. After having played 6 games in three days, do I give a S--T about wiffle ball v. some aromatic "sticks", more beer/after dinner drinks and good baseball talk?  And I am told the "staff" at the Reserve Cigar (or Cigah if you are from Beantown) is very pleasant on the eyes.  Thank you Lord for bringing about this day!

Have a great Thursday and keep saying to out loud, "Give Hal some good hits and big D at camp."

Best to all,

#60.

"Let's Play Two"--today's Red Sox Fantasy Camp Blog

This game sure ain't easy folks!

Just back from playing two games at Red Sox Fantasy Camp and the great Ernie Banks of the Cubs famous quote "Let's play two" is not for folks like me with an AARP card.

Sitting in my room with legs I can barely feel waiting for dinner with my Worldcom COO (who happens to be nearby on holiday) and her husband.  My room mate Art, whose knees betrayed him some years ago stretches out and similarly bangs on his laptop.  He is a pretty fair hurler for a 60 year old who still has a pretty decent "hook" (that's baseball lingo for curveball).  We both are wondering what the morrow will bring and whether we'll be able to get out of bed for another twin bill.

But let me rewind the tape and tell you how we got to this point from last night.

All the campers were put through various drills that I recounted yesterday and all the coaches met in secret Monday night at 6 to pick their teams, pack their lineups with 30 year old studs and repeat campers (there are 2-25 or so), have a few cold ones and make lots of jock jokes.

At 8pm, 120 of us packed a room for 70 max to hear the names picked for the ten teams.  I ended up on Troell's Trolls with nutty "Oil Can Boyd" as the assistant coach. Ralph Troell is a long time minor league coach for the Sox.

After the draft, I sat next to "The Can" at the bar and brought him a few drinks.  He is non stop booze hound and a funny SOB. The rule at Fantasy Camp is that whenever you see a coach or celeb at the bar and he does not have a full glass, you pop for a pop.  Oil Can was appreciative and in the deep Southern drawl of his said he looked forward to me being on his team and that he was going to take us all to get laid before game one to make us relaxed and confident.  And no, that did not happen.  Drat!!!!!!!!!!

Next to me at the bar as a 61 year old former Seton Hall hurler, about 6'5" who was pounding 'em down pretty good and he said he also was on Troell's Trolls.  This guy has no knees, might lose his high tech job this week and may also have prostate cancer.  I have no problems compared to Ron.  

The rest of the guys are mostly from new England but one is from Texas, another two from DC, and others are from other parts of the Country.  Most came from New England but a few just fell in love with the Sox at an early age because some player was from there or they loved Yaz or Teddy Ballgame or the Rocket(pre-"juice") or Fenway Park, which is truly "America's Most Beloved Ballpark".    We have young guys and older guys and many were high school jocks or played ball and almost everyone has a bum knee or shoulder or finger or something that drives them to Vicadin, Alleve, Advil, Jack Daniels, Bud Light or Grey Goose for relief!

Did not get much sleep in anticipation of the big opening games (I have a bit of adrenalin left in the arteries) and Art and I were downstairs at 6:30 AM in the dark waiting for the bus to take us to the complex.  Art said my snoring was not so bad but sounded like a full symphony.  I will let that one go without explanation.  He slept okay last night so I did not feel so guilty.

Got to the complex and was getting dressed and in walked big John Lester one of baseball's young superstars who won game 4 of the 2007 World Series and was 16-6 17  for the Sox last year and tossed a no hitter against the KC Royals.  A huge dude who was off to the weight and training rooms at the complex.

Team meeting came at 8:30 and the content is not printable for this blog except to say that many campers were again fined for all kinds of chicken shit stuff like not buying drinks, dogging it Monday, mouthing off,  or swearing too loudly (one must swear discreetly and genteely) at camp.

We took group and team photos and then we went off on the bus a few miles back down the road to the City of Palms Park to play game one.  As if  I'm not thinking about enough stuff, we are starting off play at the place the Sox actually play their spring games at.  Nine thousand seats, a big electronic scoreboard, emerald green grass and Georgia red clay-like infield.  To me the field is so big only Manny(Ramirez) or Big Papi(David Ortiz) could jack one out.

We were visitors so were up first.  I hit clean up (don't get excited, we  hit alphabetically in this game).  What a feeling when the PA announcer said, "Now batting, number 60, Hal Dash."  My knees became like jello and I faced a mountain man of a hurler half my age.  I worked the count okay but grounded out.  Still a cool feeling.  Hit the ball okay and walked and scored and also struck out and we lost 4-2.  Good game but we gave them 3 unearned runs (I fielded flawlessly at first base) and we should have won.  Still a cool morning.

Too late to eat a full and liesurely lunch when we got back to the complex, so I stood in line to have the newest Sox Hall of Famer Jim Rice autograph a bat and baseball card.  By the way, big thanks to Steve Aronson who owns a baseball card store in the Valley for getting me all the cards of all the former players and coaches who are here.  Hey, Steve, want any autographs or any other stuff?  And don't say, you want a Hooters chick!  Me first.

Rice was his usual borderline I am bored with dealing with people shit,  but he's a big stah (as they say in Beantown) and what the heck?  I congratulated him on the HOF and a great career (382 homers and a .298 average and other stats earlier in the blog) and he managed a demure "thanks."  I also had him add "HOF 2009" to my two items and he did so grudgingly.  Too much to write I think.

Then it was off to the trainer's room.  These guy are fantastic young hotshots who know more about body mechanics than Houdini.  Like ballplayers, they start out with minor league clubs and work their way up the ladder to the big leagues.  These guys were with the AA Portland minor league team and after fifteen minutes of working on my hamstrings, quads and calf muscles (didn't know I had any) I felt like I could at least survive Game 2.

The afternoon games are pitched by coaches so the campers don't wear out their arms any faster than they already do.  So former All Star John Valentin pitched for us against his own team and Oil Can pitched for them against us.  We won in extra innings, 7-5 and although I hit the ball well my legs were sore and a grounded out twice and struck out on a Boyd curveball.  Ted Williams once said that hitting a baseball is the toughest thing to do in all of sports and boy is he right.

More ice and the trainer's room after Game 2 and I got big ice packs on both legs and my right arm.  I chatted with Valentin about how Dan Duquette and the Sox screwed him out of a contract deal as they were bringing up Nomar Garciaparra and the business of baseball can be as ugly as big time corporate America.  In fact, baseball IS big time corporate America.

Came back hobbling but caught up with the office and my emails and did most of this blog before dinner with my p.r. trade group (W0rldcom COO and her husband) down here for two months escaping the misery of Rochester, NY in winter.  

When the Guthins got here I took them down to the bar before dinner hoping to introduce them to some Sox stars as Tibor Guthin has been a fan for 60 years and Daisy ("hello to Gail") is a new member of Red Sox Nation.

Bil Lee entertained them and talked about pitching for Rochester (minor league) team there and the Spaceman had to talk about his 3 wifes and how Canadian women.........(this is a family blog!). Tibor loves Butch Hobson and lo and behold Butch was having dinner, so I did a brief intro that made Tibor's night.

But the coolest part of the bar scene was me introducing Daisy to Oil Can Boyd another product of Meridian, Mississippi.  It was like a high school reunion only filtered through the segregated South of the 50s and 60s.  Amazing to hear them share stories about how streets divided black from white but also the folks and places they knew and loved in this bastion of the Old South.  A mini history lesson for sure, but lots of hugs and smiles all around.  Oil Can has 8 brothers and 8 sisters!  They also talked of local juke joints, Friday night football games (segregated seating) , etc.  An American history lesson.  Wow!

So that is the day and more games tomorrow and a big BBQ and beer bash at night at the Sox park.  I would rather the beer and BBQ comes first but up at 5:45 to hit the trainer's table and gear up for another day with the other loonies that comprise Red Sox Nation.

Good night from Ft. Myers.

#60

My first day as a Red Sox camper

Hello fellow members of Red Sox Nation and those who wish they could be!

Day one is done except for the draft of the 10 teams at 8 pm tonite...in the bar!  Where else? You have to do this  stuff with adult libations in your hand a sense of humor as well.

I survived the day and it was a hoot. I did end it all with two large ice packs wrapped around my left quad and right shoulder.  Did not feel so bad as half the guys lined up in the training room seeking relief from assorted pulls, aches and pains suffered during the day.  My MVP already--the training team.  Magicians with balms, lotions and ice.  Hell with the Sox coaches and legends; these guys are gonna help me survive the week.  

After a long Sunday of Super Bowl, beer, junk food and great photos with the 2007 Sox Championship Trophy (the one and only) and the 2004 and 2007 rings, it was off to bed by 11 as the wake up call is a 6.  No sleeping in here.  No comment on my snoring; my room mate, like my wife is most tolerant.  He said I was louder than a chain saw but that happens after I have 6 or 7 beers and then hit the rack.

Boarded the van at 6:45 and it was still dark when we got to the complex and while we saw all of our stuff yesterday, putting on the official Sox uniform was very cool.  And it all fit perfectly from hat to sox.  Looked pretty good even!  It's nice to be in Fantasyland.

So after some breakfast, we have our first team meeting run by camp boss Ken Sanders who pitched for 6 teams including the Sox, Angels, Brewers, Twins and Indians.  He spent most of the briefing talking about the "Kangaroo Court" where you can and are fined for everything from having your uniform pants pocket hanging out, to having an empty beer cup at the end of the day to not buying coaches drinks in the bar at night.  He had some serious things to say but the fines were the most interesting.  Oh yes, and the fact that the Hooters Girls would drop by at lunch.  We all snapped to attention on that one.

So we broke into groups and headed out for a round of evaluation drills with Sox legends who are also coaches.  My first stop was infield with John Valentin and Lou Merloni the pride of Providence, Rhode Island.  Valentin played 11 years with the Sox and Mets and hit 124 home runs and hit .280 and made the All Star team once or twice.  Merloni played 9 years with the Sox, Padres, Indians and A's.  Good tips on infield and yours truly fielded flawlessly during the drills.

Weather was cool and rainy but who cared?  We were playing on our own "Field of Dreams."  Headed over to outfield drills with Clell Laverne "Butch" Hobson.  Folks in Alabama name their kids these kind of names.  He played 8 seasons for the Sox and was a solid hitting third baseman but a terrible manager of the Sox during some ugly years.  Everyone got deep fly balls and yours truly caught 'em all.  You keep telling yourself, "Don't screw up in front of all these guys and coaches. " Big relief when you don't!

BP was next.  That's batting practice for those of you non-baseball fans.  I have been hitting at the batting cages for several months at 60-70 mph so I had to adjust to the slower speeds but former Sox catcher Bob Montgomery gave me some good tips and follow through and it worked. "Monty" is a hoot with a great sense of humor and a lot of patience with us hackers. He was a ten year Sox vet. The typical image for a catcher--loud, big and burly.  Rich Gedman another catcher/coach at camp is the same kind of guy.

We then moved inside (started to pour) for a session on base running and signs.  All the stuff you see base coaches is largely crap and only one sign is real during a whole sequence. Still, we listened to how to gauge running each base and looking out for signs.  My philosophy is simple: try to get 90 feet at a time without stumbling or falling down!

Final morning stop was pitching and I ain't no pitcher but courageously suffered thru "Spaceman" Bill Lee's lecture on marital fidelity (or lack of it; he's had three wives); athletic supporters (the kind you wear) and the two seam fast ball.  Probably the most well read and goofiest pitcher in the history of the game who pitched for 14 years, ten bizarre and loopy years which did have some big winning seasons including two games in the 75 World Series against the Reds.  A Burbank native and USC grad where he no doubt knew more than the professors and probably told them so.  He lives out in the deep woods of Maine or Vermont I think still opining on all topics from baseball to space travel.

LUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!  Forgettable fish and broccoli or PBJ on white bread for those still attached to high school lunches.  Can't we get some good deli in here?  Former Twins All Star and World Series pitcher Frank Viola stopped by for autographs and what a nice guy who said the Sox really sucked for the two years he was there in the nineties.  Hobson was the manager. Viola is a giant dude with hands the size of a catcher's mitt and a mench.

Was in the food line with Joe Castiglione the radio voice of the Sox.  "Way back, Way back.  Wall ball double."  Friendly guy.  My wife hates his voice but the again she's an Angel fans with radio guys from the "Close cover before striking" school of broadcasting.

Then the Hooters girls came in.  Four leggy ladies who caused on run on silicone in Southwest Florida recently.  They had great bodies and vacant stares and handed out discount tickets and took pictures with a lot of us including yours truly. Sox All Star and fourth place MVP finisher Kevin Youkilis came to work out early before the regular reporting date in two weeks but I missed him as I was preoccupied by the Hooters Hotties.  Hopefully, I can meet "Youk" manana.

So then it was off to one of the fields for 15 minutes of stretching before our afternoon games.  Gedman was my coach.  He caught most of Roger Clemens great games in the 80s including the 20 strikeout Roger Clemens game against Seattle and the '86 World Series.

I played first base and went one for two (opposite field drive to right),  but was stranded on third base during a rally that fell a bit short. Felt good to play on a real major league field even in the  rain. I did okay in the field but in my second at bat the ump had a strike zone a big as the Grand Canyon and I K'ed.

Finished up the game, got iced, had a beer and chatted with my temp team mates about our game and also got a few more autographs on my custom Fantasy Camp bat.  No, I did not have the Hooter ladies sign it.  Bat signings are for the players not diversionary divas of deshabille. That, I think is a French word for various stages of undress!

So, we now anxiously await this evening's draft (in the bar) and it will be interesting to see who my team mates and coaches are.  Everyone takes this week seriously and the two best teams will play on Saturday in the big stadium where the Sox actually have their games. 

I am excited about tonite but spare me Bill Lee!  He is too weird for words.

More,  domani.

#60

Hal at Red Sox Fantasy Camp Day 1

Hey everyone,

So I stayed up until 2 AM Florida time playing with my laptop and doing my first blog (http://haldash.blogspot.com).  I got up at 7 AM local time and called my roomie Art from NJ to see if he wanted to go out to the Sox complex, check it out and workout.

Art has been sleeping in  his RV all week awaiting today and he said, "Let's do it."  So I put on my uniform pants, red sox (what did you expect?), cleats and Sox hat and off we went at 8 AM.

15 minutes and about 6 miles later we arrived at the 6 field complex at the end of a road in the middle of nowhere.  Ft Myers is strip malls, flat land, outlet stores and the usual collection of t high cholesterol eateries.  In other words, I won't retire here and this shtetel won't make the top ten cities in America any time soon.

We park the RV and walk into the complex.  Oil Can Boyd (Sox looney hurler in the 80s) was throwing in the batting cages.  We go into the main locker room and WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There were rows and rows of lockers filled with all the stuff we'll use for the week.  I walk down the rows and the helpful staffer asks for my name and points to row 4.  

I walk down row four and see names above the lockers and halfway down I see the name 'Dash" above the cubicle.  An official hat sits above the name and a goodie bag is next to it.  Two regulation uniforms (home and road) with "Dash" and 60 on the back.  Way cool!  Official Sox pants and a windbreaker are also hanging on the hooks.

I just look at it all and imagine those over the years who may have had this cubicle.  The great and near great. Maybe Dewey Evans or Yaz or Jim Willoughby or heaven forbid, Bill Buckner!

Former catcher and Fantasy coach Rich Gedman comes in and says "hi."  We met at the baggage carousel last nite and he's here to loosen up.  I turn around to see who may be nearby and right behind my locker the name "Jim Rice" hits me between the eyes.  Red Sox Nation knows about Jim Ed Rice from South Carolina, but for the rest of you he just got into the Baseball Hall of Fame.  16 years with the Sox. A .298 batting average; 382 home runs, 1451 rbis, 2452 hits, MVP in '78.  An All Star several times over.  I will be giving him hitting lessons starting tomorrow!

After the buzz wears off,  Art and I hit field #5 and workout throwing and hitting a bit.  The grass is so green; the sky so blue and a nice cool breeze brushes our faces.  "Is this heaven?  No, it's Ft. Myers (with apologies to "Field of Dreams"). We do a few wind sprints. Get out the oxygen!  Feels good actually.  Art is a former high school pitcher and I catch him for a bit.  Nice slider and decent velocity for a 61 year old dude.

We wander over to Field #1 and guys in uniforms are playing a game.  Seems as if last year's campers get to come in early and play a game (for an extra fee) and some of these guys are good.  Some are okay and I feel better.  Some of the pitchers are throwing pretty fast with some good movement.  Thank god, I have been going to the batting cages for the past two months. One of the players is 72; another is 73.  Not bad really, but I feel MUCH better!

Two hours is enough and we head back to get ready for our first team meeting and then a Super Bowl party with the whole crew.

Can't wait to see the rest of the campers and size up the talent.  Lot of thirty somethings!  Crap! Hope they take pity on us old folks!

I need to call Scott Boras to negotiate my contract.  $5 million sounds good, eh?

Stay tuned for more from Ft. Myers.

Hal

#60

 

I have arrived at Sox Fantasy Camp in The Sunshine State

Hello friends and members of Red Sox Nation....

My first laptop and first attempt at blogging.  Have patience with the old guy.....please!

Arrived at chilly Ft. Meyers, Florida from LA late Saturday night for Red Sox Fantasy Camp, a surprise 60th birthday gift from my wife last November. I begin this odyssey with visions of getting a contract for the 2009 season...NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Waited endlessly for my bags but struck up a conversation with a guy standing next to me, a bit gray and with a few extra pounds (don't we all!).  "So, I said, 'hi I'm Hal Dash from LA."  He extended a strong right arm and said, "Rich Gedman."  Crap, did not recognize the 13 year veteran Sox catcher who caught most of Roger Clemens big games in the 80s.  

He was growing impatient (as we all were) for our bags but he unzipped his carry on bag, showed me a couple of beat up catcher's mitts and said,  "As long as I have these,  who cares about the bags?"

The usual small talk and we're next to a young woman who is a documentary filmmaker from LA by way of Vermont and Cow Hampshire here in FL to film her 68 year old dad who is at camp that "Geddy" is one of the real cool coaches.

So I unpacked, took a few swings with my Manny bat (what can I say! Hope it has a few hits in it this week) and plan to meet up with my roomie manana.  He's a 61 retired year old retired Defense Department computer dude who has been down here all week from NJ sleeping in the Crowne Plaza parking lot in his RV. He's been working out and scoping out Spring Training Heaven.  Guy has had four knee surgeries so I may be faster than one guy here!  Maybe.

Some guys are going to work out and maybe have a pick up game Sunday morning so we'll go over and check out the complex and maybe run some sprints and throw before we try to get into the game.  Some of these guys (have to be over 30) have been here 5-6 years in a row! Crap!

Sunday afternoon we have a group intro meeting where I'll meet all these Dustin Pedroia (Sox stellar second baseman, 2008 MVP, 2007 Rookie of the Year, Silver Slugger winner, etc. etc.) wanabees.  Then it's a Super Bowl Party at the 40 screen sports bar here and 115 tipsy members of Sox Nation will party late, get up at 6, be at the field at 7 and try out for their one week of glory.

The whirlpools, Ben Gay and miles of tape and bandages are all set for this crew; yours included.  

WWTD?  What would Ted (Williams) do?  No cheap cryonic jokes please.  

As Donna Summers would say, "I will survive."

More each day from this sleepy little burgh in the middle of nowhere.

Hammerin' Hal