The Burnsville Buccaneers

Over 30 years ago I participated in what I have long called the greatest game I've ever coached in. Many of you have read about that game which took place in Rapid City, South Dakota in 1994. In telling that tale I tried to take you, the reader, through the game with me as though you were a member of my coaching staff. Earlier this month I had an experience which reminded me of The Rapid Game more than any other since. So grab a clipboard and come along with me as I take you through the events of a recent game.

My coaching career came to an end in the summer of 2001. Not long after that my career with the Minnesota Twins came to an end and baseball was the last thing I wanted to think about. My 2001 team was basically the Burnsville (MN) high school girls varsity team. I wasn't retained because, as is often the case, I didn't have a player on the team and one of the fathers would take the helm of the team in '02. I'm sure the position had been promised to him before I was informed that I was free to go. But that's how it goes. 

Coaching didn't really appeal to me for a number of years. But this year was different. I knew that given my length of service at my airline, I would have five weeks of vacation with which to work. Sitting in my living room, with my dachshunds Shea and Honey upon my lap, I pondered what, if anything, should I do with this bounty of potential free time. I then heard a voice from above belonging to my late wife Bryn. She told me to do something that I really love and that's coaching and teaching baseball. So I got online and looked up the Burnsville Traveling Baseball program. I must've seemed like an unexpected gift at this point. I asked to work with a group between the ages of 12 and 15 and was assigned to an A-level 13-year old team. A team that almost didn't exist until they found a 12th player to fill the squad. There was a wide range of talent through the roster. One player, whom I could tell is a natural athlete, had never played organized baseball before. But that added to the challenge which I was up for. 

While we were officially known as "Burnsville White" I chose to give us the unofficial nickname of the Buccaneers, robbing from a defunct minor league team in Salem, North Carolina back in the '90s who had the same color scheme that we had. Also, the font of our last names on our jerseys matched those of the Pittsburgh Pirates. Get it? Pirates=Buccaneers. I never actually explained that to the players-because they're thirteen years old. I was actually old enough to be the grandfather of my players. 

We won our first game and then things went off the rails, sorta. We ended up with a league record of 2-10-1 and a record of 6-16-1 overall. We did qualify with a good enough record to host a playoff game in round one. July 7, 2025 vs the Jordan Hubmen. That's when the Game of The Year took place.

The visiting Hubmen (I know not why they are referred to as the Hubmen) got out to a 3-1 lead after the opening frame. We were tied at 5 apiece after two innings and we even led after the third inning by a 7-6 score. It was a nail-biter through six as the score read 8-8. Jordan put together a 4-run inning in the top of the 7th and we had but three outs left to score four of our own just to keep things going. 

When the game first started we were playing under brilliant sunshine with just a hint of clouds beyond the right field fence. But the winds started to pick up and before long the clouds had dimmed things considerably. So when we came to the plate we were not only chasing the Hubmen but daylight as well. We actually had to delay the game by about 10 minutes as a rainstorm came through. When we finally got back to playing and the game had a score of 12-8. 

I rounded the team before our first batter approached the plate. I told them that we were not going to quit and to have confidence in themselves, because I had confidence in all of them. These were words which I had told them all season long and it was necessary now as it had been all season. 

Our half of the 7th started as Alex Bazella reached on an error by the shortstop. With one out Ryder Buffington singled hard to the right of the third baseman who made a sweet backhand but had no play at first. With runners on the corners Clint Hagemann doubled to the left center field alley to score two runs. With the score now 12-10. Oliver Alvarez then crushed a pitch to two hop the right field fence scoring Clint and we had the tying run just 75 feet away from home plate. Asher Willrodt then singled to center and we were tied at 12. Trevon Kovarik and Cameron Brown each walked to load the bases and I could practically taste the win now. But baseball is a very humbling game. The only thing that could really halt this rally would be an inning-ending double play. Kenny Gonzalez stepped to the plate and on the first pitch he hit a comebacker to the pitcher who threw home for the force and the catcher then had the presence of mind to continue the play and throw the batter out at first. Just your basic 1-2-3 twin killing, executed to a level higher than this year's Colorado Rockies. I got back to the dugout , sat at my usual spot on the end of the bench, shook my head in disbelief and exclaimed, "You've gotta be kidding me!" So, off to extra innings we go.

Jordan managed to get a run in their half of the eighth, so we needed to score and score quickly because the weather was not on our side. It was now getting to the point where the balls, which were no longer the pristinely white Diamond brand orbs we started some 2 1/2 hours earlier, were getting tougher to be seen by all involved. Neill Park does not have lights and that fact was probably going to have some bearing on future events. 

Kenny Gonzalez started the inning as the extra-inning runner at second base. He stole third and then Wyatt Brinkman walked to put runners on the corners. Gianni Tovar popped out to the catcher who made a really nice play. But the top of the order was coming up and I was sure that we were going to complete this comeback. Axel came up and singled on a blooper over the infield as Kenny G scored to tie it. With Wyatt on second base Max Ahern cracked a ball between the left and center fielders which I knew would fall safely because not only I not see it, I was pretty sure that the center fielder couldn't see it either. I darn near threw out my arm waving Wyatt home with the winning run. The jubilation on the faces of the players and my coaches was all I needed to see. Unlike the Rapid City when I was in the middle of the celebration at game end I chose to let everyone else do the celebrating whilst I stood back and enjoyed their moment in the quasi-sun. 

It was the highlight of our season. I hung out after everyone had left and there was very little light left to look out upon the field which three months earlier I had never been on. I recalled how much I had enjoyed this experience and how much I had missed teaching this game that I love so much. Our season ended a week later down in Owatonna but the memory of that evening in Burnsville will keep positive feelings in my head and heart throughout the winter months. 

That was fun. That was fun. 

Hulk Hogan & Me

It has "been a minute" since I last wrote a new blog entry. I know I have fans who enjoy my writings and hope that some day I may write a book. I have not dismissed that as a possibility. But I bring to you my latest personal tale and hope that you enjoy it. 

Many of you know of my past history of being at certain places at certain times. More than one person has referred to me as "the sports Forrest Gump". I get that reference even though I have never actually seen that movie. (Totally true. I've also never seen "Titanic". Why? I'm a history buff. I know how it ends! But this is an event which took place over 35 years ago and has been told to virtually no one. But now I am going to share it with you, given recent events.

WWE, an organization headquartered in my hometown of Stamford, Connecticut awarded its Wrestlemania for 2025 to T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas. The Twin Cities had hoped to host at U.S. Bank Stadium in downtown Minneapolis. But instead they will host SummerSlam 2026. And now you know the impetus for what triggered me to write my latest blog entry.

When I first arrived in Minneapolis in 1988 I started a full-time job at Dayton's Southdale selling home electronics. Southdale Mall, for those of you who may not know, was the first indoor mall in the United States. (My time there could serve as the background for another new blog entry). But I also found part-time employment for Sims Security based out of St. Paul. Sims did ushering at many different venues such as the Metrodome, Mariucci Arena, Williams Arena, State Theatre, Orpheum Theatre and the St. Paul Civic Center. I had seen WHA hockey games on tv from the Civic Center when I lived in Stamford. I always remembered they had clear boards on the rink which I years later I discovered to be because the seats on the sides did not come up to the boards, thus fans seated in the seats set back 4-6 feet from the ice would totally lose track of the puck unless the boards were transparent. 

I signed up for the minimum number of events required each month in order to maintain my employ with Sims. On one of my first Civic Center assignments I chose to work WWF (now known as WWE) professional wrestling. The date was June 23, 1989. 

I showed up ready for the night's events in my grey pants, white shirt and obligatory red sportcoat with black tie which we all wore unless we were working a rock concert or something like that. I checked in at the usher's room and got my assignment from my supervisor, whom I think may have been one Angela Lillie, who is a great lady and my longest-tenured Minnesota friend.

I was going to be on the floor for most of the evening which was cool, considering I would be standing out like the proverbial sore thumb. The undercard matches involved names like Mr. Perfect (real name Curt Henning, a Minneapolis native), Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka and Koko B. Ware. The final match of the night pitted arch rivals Randy "Macho Man" Savage (who was born Randy Poffo and was a former catcher in the St. Louis Cardinals minor league system) versus Hulk Hogan (born Terry Bollea).

Somehow I was chosen to escort Mr. Hogan to the ring from the staging area some 100 feet or so from the ring to ringside before the match began and then walk him back out at the match's conclusion. 

When the time arrived I made my way to the area just in front of the curtain which shielded the fans from seeing the evenings participants before they made their way to the ring. Moments later Hulk emerged from behind the curtain and looked up and  around the arena to get a sense of the raucous crowd inside. At 6'7" he towered above me by six inches and even though I didn't follow wrestling I was amazed at the physical specimen this dude was. 

Just before the p.a. announcer started his introduction, I looked up at Hulk and said, meekly I'm sure, "You ready?" He looked down at me, grinned and said, "Let's do this, brother!" as only Hulk Hogan could. I walked him to the ring making sure that no one breached the stanchions which kept the fans away from making contact with the wrestlers. I got him all the way to the ring and then I took a route away from the ring as to stay out of the way of Randy Savage and Miss Elizabeth and their ushering escort. 

At the conclusion of the match I followed Hulk to the curtained area where after his loss he turned right and headed toward one of the locker rooms. I was still behind the curtain when Randy and Elizabeth came through the curtain. They turned left instead and shortly after they did Randy stopped and yelled back to Hulk, in that familiar voice which for years told us to "Snap into a Slim Jim". "Well, see ya on the bus!" And that was the moment my long-suspected theory about pro wrestling crystalized to become the truth as I'd imagined always to be. It was all a show. A show that would become incredibly lucrative to its participants for the next 3 1/2 decades to this day.

The St. Paul Civic Center was demolished a few years later and in its same location sits the Xcel Energy Center, home of the National Hockey League's Minnesota Wild. I frequent this building some 20-30 times a season because I still have season tickets to the primary tenants. There's a good chance that "The X" will be known as the Grand Casino Arena come September, but the echoes of the story which I just told you are just loud enough for me to recall it by a different name in a different time.  

RIP, big guy.

The Bronx and the Texas Two-Step (Part 2)

Dallas and Dixie 

On Monday morning the 17th of June I hopped a Southwest Airlines jet to Austin, Texas. I'd never been to Austin but I got a chance to peruse the lovely airport for a few hours before catching another plane to Love Field in Dallas. Upon my arrival in Big D I picked up my car and headed to my hotel. I got about 2 hours worth of nap before heading off to towards Fort Worth in the town of Arlington. Arlington which my good friend Greg Cockrell refers to as "the armpit of DFW".  I'd forgotten how crazy Texas drivers were. I'd been to Houston for the first time last year when I visited Enron Field/Minute Maid Park. Dallas drivers are whack, but Houston drivers would easily beat them in a NASCAR race. No doubt. 

I met up with the aforementioned Greg Cockrell at the seats inside the stadium known as Globe Life Field. It is not to be confused with Globe Life Park which is across the street and is now known as Choctaw Stadium, home of the UFL's Arlington Renegades and I believe the soccer team known by the pretentious name FC Dallas. Greg had amazing seats right behind home plate. He'd brought along a few signs on poster board each measuring 24"x36". They were first used some 7 years ago. One of them simply reads "Lets Go Mets" while another is a drawing of the home run apple from Shea Stadium and now Citi Field. Greg and I met a few years ago at Mets Fantasy Camp. We lockered next to each other purely on the basis of our last names being sequential of all the players who had not designated another camper to team with. It turns out to be one of the most fortuitous things leading to a friendship that I have ever had.

The Mets came to town on a 5-game winning streak which was a lot considering how poorly they had been playing as of late. The game didn't turn out like we thought it would. They Mets homered three times on then night as part of a 22-hit barrage and a 14-2 victory over the defending World Champion Rangers. We glad-handed and cheered along with dozens of Met fans who made the trip from all over the country. Greg lives locally so his travel was considerably shorter. We were joined by another great friend of ours, "Bobble Ed" Moore. Ed is also a long-time Mets Fantasy Camper and a member of the MFC Hall of Fame. Ed also owns over 500 bobble head dolls in his collection, thus the nickname. During the contest we showed up a few times on the broadcast on SNY which is based in New York City and carries most of the games on television. I'm fortunate in that I am able to receive SNY on my DirecTV subscription. So friends of each of us are blowing up our respective phones telling us they just saw us after a home run or something like that. We left the ballpark with a good feeling after seeing our guys eviscerate the local nine. We looked forward to running the winning streak to 7 the next evening back at GLF.

Game two of the series saw Greg and I joined by another MFC brother one Steve Gruber. Steve lives in Scottsdale and was coming to town to see games two and three of the series. His travels were far more complicated than anyone's should have been. He was delayed 4 hours out of Phoenix. Somehow his bag did not make it onto the plane along with him. When he finally arrived into Arlington he couldn't get to his room right away because the fire alarm had gone off. As a matter of fact , Bobble Ed and I saw a couple of fire trucks head past us as we were having a snack before entering the stadium. Those fire trucks were going to...well, you probably guessed that by now. So Steve is without any Mets-related attire for the game and is simply wearing what he has had on since he arrived at Sky Harbor Airport earlier in the morning. His bag had not yet left the state of Arizona at game time. But on we go. 

Two days earlier Steve had texted me and asked me to please tell him I would be wearing The Mets Suit for one of the games in Texas. I hadn't packed nor even considered The Mets Suit for a game appearance. The Mets Suit is a sport coat, pants and tie which I have worn to the annual Casino Night during the week of Mets Fantasy Camp for the past three years. It was a late night purchase made on Amazon during COVID. It is a classic example in what can happen during a pandemic at 2 am on the internet with a charge card. It is 147% polyester which means that if I stand too long in the Florida or Texas heat I could literally burst into flames without warning. It's made by a company called Suitmeister, I believe. But I figured I could opt out if I chose to do so. So I packed it in my bag just in case. I told Greg on Monday not to mention it to Steve as to surprise him the next night. And surprised he was. So we were joined Greg's lovely wife Shari at the game and were seated in the row immediately behind the Mets dugout for the game. 

As I entered the ballpark I was greeted by a great many people who were stunned, shocked, amused and stupefied by my choice of wardrobe for the evening. Many fist bumps and high fives as I made my way through the concourse down to the lower level where my seat was located. I had a couple ask to take my picture as they were part of a scavenger hunt with some others. I hadn't heard about scavenger hunts since the movie of the same name back in the 70s or 80s, I'm not sure. Either way, it was a huge hit. People stopped me just to ask if they could get a photo with me. One Rangers fan asked me where I got it and I said, "Amazon.com". His reply was, "Is it too late to return it?" And that's when I stabbed him in the neck with a plastic fork. No, no, no, that's not what happened, but I thought about it. While having a pregame snack in the posh Lexus Club a server stopped over and asked me, "Are you a Rangers fan?" To which I answered, "Yes, the NEW YORK Rangers!" 

So the game turns out to be a very good contest. About the fourth inning word started to get passed around of the passing of Willie Mays. Mays was probably the greatest player of all time. I got to see him only once in person and that was during the 1973 season which was his final year playing for the Mets. So it wasn't the Mays that so many people saw in his prime, but just to see him on the field was very cool. The Mets got down 6-2 but scratched back and won it 7-6 for their 7th straight victory. On the way out the photo requests were plentiful. One woman said to her husband, "Just go stand next to him, he won't mind." And she was correct. I haven't taken that many photos with anyone since my days as T.C. Bear over 20 years ago. Now, people who know me best know that I am not someone who likes being the center of attention, but the chance to step out of that persona for a few hours was a nice change. Not a comfortable one, but a nice one. 

The Rangers put on a great show. Their game production is very good. They are true to their locale while trying to make the game as enjoyable to everyone regardless of their demographic. The have a mascot named Rangers Captain. He's a horse. A two-legged horse, but a horse nonetheless. I would've liked to have gotten a photo with Captain but he wasn't in my area either game unfortunately. The have cheerleaders. Cheerleaders don't belong in baseball. They belong about 1/2 mile up the street on AT&T Way at AT&T Stadium aka Jerry World. It is a behemoth of a building and the home of the Dallas Cowboys. If you are interested in games going on elsewhere in baseball it is not a good place, because they only update them one game at a time on their scoreboards. But that should be the worst thing that happens. If you get a chance to visit GLF definitely go. You'll enjoy it.

After a few hours of sleep I was on my way to Love Field to catch a flight to the busiest airport in the world, Hartsfield-Jackson Airport in Atlanta. After I landed I got my rental car and headed north on I-285 to an area in Cobb County known as The Battery. They've done an amazing job of intermingling an entertainment area with restaurants and clubs with the baseball stadium. 

I parked about a mile away from the park for $40 but with the temperature of 95 degrees at game time it was money well spent. The Braves new home has a very clean feel to it and the game production is good. The skyline of office buildings is nice if you don't mind looking at corporate headquarters for xfinity/Comcast,  Racetrac and a large Omni Hotel. The organist is something I liked. The organist is very topical to visiting players' names like "The Can-Can" for Mark Canha, Theme from Scooby Doo for Alik Baddoo and things like that. They have a mascot named Blooper but I don't really know what Blooper is. I'm not sure anyone does. But it is definitely Dixie baseball. Nice people though, to be sure. There are a couple of in-game activities like HugCam, the ball-in-cap shuffle and their version of the Dot Race which is sponsored by The Home Depot and is run by a power drill, a hammer, a paint brush and a bucket. But the one event I was looking forward to seeing was "Beat The Freeze" where one fan gets to race a former college track star on foot from the left field corner to the right field corner. The Freeze has lost but one time I believe and that was last August. So even though you know the eventual outcome it is entertaining to this reporter, I will say. 

Following the game I headed south down I-85 to a soul food restaurant called Big Daddy's Dish. I frequented Big Daddy's when I worked for AirTran Airways as we were based out of the ATL. Bryn and I used to go there every time we would go see the Mets play at Turner Field, which was Olympic Stadium for the 1996 Summer games and then converted for baseball. But apparently it aged too quickly and less than 25 years after they moved into it the Braves left to head north about 20 miles and their new digs. 

One flight to Chicago and another to America's Favorite Twin Cities and I was soon with my three attack-trained watch dachshunds, Bella, Shea and Honey. They greatly excited but cared little about where dad had been and only wondered when the next meal would be forthcoming. But that's how they roll, and I'm okay with that. 

Three ballparks out of the way this year. Two remain on the schedule. Anaheim with the Mets on August 3rd and Philadelphia with the Mets on September 13th. On the flight home from Chicago I pondered what to do after I "complete the cycle". I will have seen games in the 30 current plus 10 ballparks which no longer exist. The Oakland A's are supposedly moving to Sacramento next season for three years so that's a possibility. Otherwise I could start the loop all over again. Boston for the first time in 47 years? Could be.

I'm just sayin'

The Bronx and the Texas Two-Step (Part 1)

 The first three weeks of June in 2024 have gotten me back to one of my bucket list items and that is to visit all 30 current major league baseball stadiums. Someone asked me two nights ago how this quest got started. Well, like a lot of things in life it didn't start out as a "bucket list" item per se. It evolved from my love of this game. My "first' ballpark would be Shea Stadium. It was geographically the closest to my hometown of Stamford, Connecticut. My estimate would be that my first game was there in 1965 at the age of 3. I have a ticket stub from a game from that season and I'm linking it to my first game ever. Shea is important to me for a couple of reasons. Not only was it the second home of my favorite baseball team but I found out an interesting fact when I was about 12 years old. My aunt Bea had collected every Met yearbook to that point and while flipping through the pages I saw a black & white photo of the groundbreaking ceremony for what was going to be called Flushing Meadow Park. The date of the photo was October 28, 1961. I was born just across the border in Stamford probably 10 hours later. So that was "a sign" to myself about what team I should follow. That and my aunt would have not tolerated any other team, period.

So it's a case of realizing that I had seen games in a good number of ballparks before I'd thought about "completing the set" so to speak. The second and now earliest park is Fenway in Boston. My brother Rudy took me to a game in 1978. I still have the yearbook and program from that day. My number was at 4 when I met my future wife Bryn in 1984. I told her early on that the best she could do with my heart was be in third place behind my mother and baseball. Somehow she decided that just being on the medal stand would be great with her. And so the ballparks began to add up. We married in 1991 and the ballpark number went up fairly quickly. We saw games together at 17 current parks and 8 that are no longer. Her breathing issues later in life forced her to leave the games to myself. Before her passing in April 2022 she told me that she wanted me to "complete the set" for us and that she would be with me in any case. 

When 2024 began I had just five more parks to visit. After perusing the schedule for months I laid out a plan to "run the table" this year. The schedule for the following year is now released before the end of the current season, which was not the way it was done until the past few years. I set my start point to be a one day out-and-back to the Bronx, NY to see the home team play, ironically, my former employers the Minnesota Twins. Here's my assessment of Yankee Stadium.

The Yankees are all business. They barely acknowledge that there may be fans under the age of 18 in the crowd. There's no mascot (although there was one named Dandy back in the 70's- google it), there are no dancers on top of the dugout, no dot races, no racing snacks, hardware store items, no masked sprinters, no random meat sprints, no giant dead presidents and no gargantuan former players. The closest thing they have to that is the grounds crew who during the second field drag and base change drop their rakes and dance to "YMCA" while it plays on the sound system. People dig that and I kinda enjoyed it myself. The soon-to-be-intoxicated revelers in the right field stand shout out the starting lineup for the local nine in the top of the first inning. I rather enjoyed that choreographed fan behavior. They had one trivia game where they asked fans to name the last 16 players to wear a particular uniform number. I thought that to be clever as well. There was the obligatory "find the ball under the hat" game which probably started as the shell game on the streets of New York. But the bottom line is they are "all bidness" at the place on 161st Street. They don't do the ridiculous City Connect jerseys because they don't have to. Their jerseys are pinstriped. "Crisp and clean with no caffeine" even though the logo on their caps does not match the logo on their uniforms. But I left the park having enjoyed the game and the stadium. I didn't wish to wear anything offensive like one of my Mets jerseys so I opted for my Roy Hobbs New York Knights jersey from "The Natural". Better safe than sorry, right? On the Sun Country flight back home I began thinking out the next trip. Just 12 days away before heading off to Dallas AND Atlanta. For the scoop on THAT trip tune in tomorrow. (Or later today if you're so inclined. I'm just glad you read it this far.)

I'm just sayin'

The Mets' 2015 Pennant Run

On Tuesday October 27, 2015 the New York Mets opened the 2015 World Series against the Kansas City Royals at Kaufmann Stadium in Kansas City. It was the franchise's fifth appearance in the Fall Classic and the first since 2000. All of those have occurred in my lifetime, but it was the first since 1986 in which I had the chance to be "all in". Back in 2000 I was a full-time employee of the Minnesota Twins and was unable to track my boys' every day of the season.  

The beauty of satellite television, SNY Network and mlb.tv have gave me the opportunity to view the Orange and Blue over 150 games that season alone. I had watched this team from spring training through the entire season and seen them do amazing things. The 2015 version of the Metropolitans started off by reeling-off a perfect 10-game homestead in April. Now, of course no one could expect this trend to continue and of course it didn't. They were 2-3 after five games and were last at .500 on July 2nd at 40-40. On July 30th they lost to San Diego when with one out to go before winning it a torrential rainstorm caused a two-hour rain delay. The rain stopped just long enough for the Padres to go ahead 8-7 on a home run which was followed by another hour-long rain delay. Following THAT delay they could not muster a run and lost 8-7. They were 52-50 and they were pretty much languishing in their own despair. 

The Washington Nationals, who were the preseason favorites to win it all, were underachieving and the Mets' front office decided that if the Nats wanted to spend the month of October on the golf course then they would assist them in their tee-time scheduling.  After a couple of brilliant acquisitions the team took off. They won 37 of their next 54 games. 

In early September I made a "magic number countdown" sheet which I quickly drew up one day while on a break at work. It showed the schedules of the Nationals and Mets through remainder of the month. I guessed which games each teams would lose and this would show a running magic number down the side. I didn't anticipate a rainout which the Nationals had in Baltimore, but it came out with the Mets clinching the division during either the third or fourth game of their series in Cincinnati.  Now, I have a high school friend who lives in Cincinnati and had made arrangements to have tickets to the Saturday game in The Queen City. These tickets had been purchased BACK IN JUNE. It was just going to be a fun out of town trip to see some late-season baseball, because there was no expectation that a division title may be at stake when the purchase took place.  

My late wife Bryn had become a big Mets fan over the years of our marriage, at that time closing in on 24 years in length. I wanted her to experience firsthand what it was like to be at a game with playoff implications. So on September 14th we traveled to New York to see the Mets take on the Miami Marlins in seats located just 5 rows directly behind home plate. We see them win 4-3 and head back home the next day. I told her that the Saturday game, which we already had tickets for, was the game which I predicted would either clinch a tie for the division title or a flat-out winning of the NL East. 

The magic number 1 going into the Saturday game against the Reds. We left Minneapolis early in the morning and had to fly to Columbus and then drove the 100+ miles to "The 'Nati". We arrived at Great American Ballpark in the bottom of the fifth due to a 90-minute flight delay out of Chicago Midway and some traffic on the interstate.

We'd listened to the game while en route on the Reds' flagship station, WLW-AM.  The Mets were in great shape and lead by a 7-2 score with Matt Harvey on the mound. The game was 10-2 going to the bottom of the 9th frame and Jeurys Familia on the mound to close it out. Familia had been a savior of the season out of the bullpen. He was penciled-in to be the set-up man for the closer Henry Mejia.  Mejia got hurt warming up on opening day in Washington and went on the injured  list. But before he could get off of the IL he was suspended for 81 games for violating MLB's substance abuse policy. Familia didn't miss a beat and just after the All-Star Game Mejia was eligible to return.  But before that could happen, Mejia was suspended again for the same offense, this time for a full year. And thus the legend of Jeurys Familia was off and running.

Familia closed out the division clincher by striking out future Met Jay Bruce and the team celebrated on the field and then in the clubhouse. Bryn and I had been seated directly behind the Reds' dugout and made our way down the  concourse to the sections behind the visitors dugout. At one point the team came out and greeted those of us Met fans who were behind their dugout after they had partied in the clubhouse. It was such a blast to be a part of the on-field celebration. I actually ended up with champagne getting on my jacket in the post-game, sprayed on us by none other than manager Terry Collins himself. So it was from one Collins to another, I guess. Who wouldn't love being a part of that? 

The playoffs brought the Los Angeles Dodgers in the League Division Series. The Mets won game 1 and lost game 2 after the now-infamous sliding play involving Chase Utley. I will save my opinion about the umpires' decision for another time, but it mattered little as the Mets then took on the Chicago Cubs in the National League Championship Series.  They won the best-of-seven series 4-0, surprising the masses and making the Mets' fan base ecstatic.  Not many people could've imagined this scenario back in June or July. 

The World Series began in Kansas City due to the fact that the American League had won the All-Star Game in July. The Royals jumped on top in the bottom of the first inning as they scored on an inside the park homer on the first pitch thrown by Matt Harvey. They came back to tie the score and even go ahead, just to lose the lead in the bottom of the ninth inning. The Royals won in the bottom of the 14th inning. 

From there the team just wasn't quite the same. They only won the third game of the series, the first World Series ever played at Citi Field. The "feel good" game, as I call it. The Royals closed out the series on a strikeout of late-season hero Wilmer Flores. 

The trip to Cincinnati was an absolute blast. It's hard to believe that 8 years since that day we traveled to Ohio to see the clincher. Bryn lost her 3-year battle with COPD and Parkinson's in April 2022, but I know she enjoyed the trip and the eventual outcome. And for that September 26th will always be a special date. 

The 2022 Hall of Fame Class

This Sunday, the baseball Hall of Fame will welcome its induction class of 2022. Seven former players will be inshrined in Cooperstown, New York. Of those seven I can say that I've had interaction with four of them. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have had these interactions and thought I'd take a few moments to share some with you. 

On my first visit to Kansas City my late wife Bryn and I visited the Negro Leagues Hall of Fame Museum located in the city's 18th & Vine section of town. It was a thrill for myself to see photographs and actual footage of these pioneers in the league who were barred from participating in the major leagues simply because of their race. The displays were great and I learned a great deal during our visit. As we were getting near the end of the self-guided tour we heard a very familiar voice coming from the area of the gift shop just down the hallway. We each looked at each other and in unison said, "He's here!" 

"He" would be one John Jordan "Buck" O'Neil. A former player in the Negro Leagues. Having seen "Ken Burns Baseball" on PBS not too long before this day we were ecstatic with the possibility of meeting the man in person. We made our way toward the gift shop and there he was. It was mid afternoon on a weekday so there weren't very many people in the gift shop, but we slowly moved towards mr. O'Neil and listened like little kids as he waxed rhapsodic about some of his experiences back in the day. We went over to look at some of the items for sale in the shop and each picked up a commemorative baseball with the intent of having Buck sign them for us. This meeting took place, sadly, before the advent of the cell phone, so we have no photos to document the moment. But we approached him and kindly asked for him to sign each our baseballs for us. He graciously did so with that incredible smile and we left with the thought that we'd "caught lightning in a bottle" in the fact that we'd seen him in person. He went on to work tirelessly to have Negro League players inducted to the hall. When there was a special ballot in 2006 for Negro league players, managers and executives 17 of those figures were selected but somehow he himself was not. Later that year O'Neil passed away at the age of 94 due to heart failure. But meeting man himself was surely one of my greatest meetings ever.

David Ortiz came to the Minnesota Twins on September 13, 1996 from the Seattle Mariners. He was essentially traded for a third baseman named Dave Hollins as part of an earlier transaction. I'd become a full-time front office employee of the Twins in February of 1996. Before that i'd been on the fan relations staff which allowed me to have some occasional contact with the players. Hollins is without a doubt the most despicable player I ever dealt with. He might just as well have worn a blaze orange t-shirt with "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE" in large letters on it. So when I heard that he'd been dispatched to the great Northwest I was certainly pleased. He wasn't known as David Ortiz then. He was actually known as David Arias, Arias being his maternal family name. Ortiz is his paternal family name. 

Ortiz had great power and showed it early in his time with the Twins. He was slated to be their first baseball for 1998 but fractured his wrist in May of that year. My very first interaction with him came in July of 1998. It was a game night and he stopped by my office which was just down the hall from the Twins locker room. His English was nowhere near what you hear from him today own Fox Sports. But he came in the door and told me that he was being sent to Triple-A Salt Lake and he needed to know where they were currently playing on the road. For some reason I had a pocket schedule for the Buzz in my desk drawer. Rather than try to explain to him where he would need to be traveling to I just handed it to him after showing him where on the calendar were currently were. He was incredibly grateful and he told me that a couple of years later when he came back to the big club. the Twins ran our of patience with his productivity and he was released at the end of the 2002 season. 

The Boston Red Sox signed him as a free agent before the 2003 season. And the rest, as they say, is history. "Big Papi" was born in Beantown. One of the funniest things I've ever read in Sports Illustrated was penned by comedian Seth Meyers, who on January 23, 2003 wrote: "We just signed some guy named David Ortiz. I was excited until I saw he was RELEASED BT THE TWINS!!!!!! WTF are the Sox doing signing a guy who was RELEASED BY THE TWINS?! It's time to admit we're going to die without ever seeing the Red Sox win a World Series. I'm done with baseball. I'm going to use the free time to learn French. Au revoir." 

The Red Sox went on to win three World Series with Ortiz becoming one to the greatest designated hitters in the history of the game. I was working at the airport one evening and the Sox were leaving town that night on a charter. I was working the checkpoint that night and recognized some of the players. He saw me and came over and gave me a huge hug which nearly took most of my available breath away. My co-workers were stunned and I just told them that we'd known each other before he was Big Papi. So to see him honored in this way is very cool because I really DID know him when not many had. Bravo, my friend. Bravo.

My best times with Jim Kaat would have to have been in the Twins dining room at the Metrodome. My office was on the other side of the wall of the dining room. So on game nights I would often head around the corner and grab a seat in the back corner with some of the announcers and other media folk. It would look the same every night except for some of the media personnel from the visiting team would change depending on the opponent. Bob Casey would bring his grumpy self into the room and write the starting lineups on the chalkboard on the wall. No dry erase board for Bob, he was old school. Chalk. Eraser. Mission accomplished. But on the nights when "Kitty" was at my table I was all ears. He told so many great stories about his career, not only with the Twins, but with the other teams he hurled for. He was like listening to an audio track of a documentary. Those of you who know me know how much of a documentary junkie I really am. To see him go to the hall is a thrill as well because he's so humble and a genuinely kind human being. He was a great of the game. He always treated me well and I appreciate that so very much.

Finally, a bit about Tony Oliva. Tony Oliva turned 84 years of age this week.........or DID he?

When I think of Tony I flash back to two different experiences in my baseball past.  

In addition to my normal 9-5 shift I would often work as an usher's supervisor during games. I would often wear a suit during the games to at least look like I had some authority. But anyone who knows me knows that I'm more comfortable in a suit than anything other than a baseball uniform. 

As a front office employee I had access to "house seats" for myself and/or guests to use at each home game. One weekend evening my wife had use of my tickets and she was seated near the top of section 125 at the Metrodome which was directly behind home plate. The seat next to her was open at a time when I was near this section and so I took a seat for a short spell. I was seated in an aisle seat and a gentleman approached me as he ascended the steps to my left. He extended a new baseball toward me along with a pen. I said to him, "Who do you think I am?" He smiled and said, "You're Tony Oliva, right?" Now I don't really look much like Tony other than skin tone, although I DO slightly resemble his son, Pedro. I leaned forward and told him that I wasn't Tony but that Tony WAS seated directly behind me, which he really was. I stood up so that he could use the space to chat with the man himself and went back to work in the concourses. 

But my favorite memory took place without a game going on at the time. 

It was 22 years ago this week. About four or five of us front office employees were sitting in an office in the marketing/promotions area of the offices at the Dome. When I walked in the group was watching some of Tony's "greatest hits" on VHS videotape. (You youngsters may need to Google that term). We all were amazed at how great a hitter he really was. We wondered what he could have done if he'd played during the astroturf era. 

Minutes later the man himself walked through the door. We knew he was in the building and would be joining us shortly. So after we all greeted the should-be Hall of Famer someone in the room asked him a couple of questions. I wish I could remember exactly who it was, but I'd only be guessing. "Tony, if you had played during the astroturf era would you have been able to hit .400?" After a short pause he said, "Oh yeah. I could have." We all chuckled at his confidence level on this topic. But the funniest moment of his visit was yet to come. 

Someone said, "Tony, we know your birthday is this week. The Star Tribune said you were going to turn 62 but the media guide says you're going to be 63. So, what year were you born?" So the room got totally silent. Now, due to a paperwork switch at Tony's arrival in the U.S. to reflect the name and birthdate of his younger brother Pedro Jr. in order to appear younger to major league scouts, many newspapers reported the 21-year-old Tony as his 18-year-old sibling. 

So after a few seconds of contemplating the question he replies to us by asking in his unmistakable latin accent, "What year is good for you?"  The room totally broke out in hysterical laughter, because I don't believe any of us had anticipated such a response.

Tony remained my choice for the most-deserving major league player who has yet to be voted into the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. He had a career average of .304, won the rookie of the year award, won three batting titles and was an 8-time all star. I only hoped that this changed and especially while he is able to enjoy the induction. And on Sunday it WILL change as he gets his due.

So there's my take on some of the inductees who are getting there just rewards in Cooperstown on Sunday afternoon. As I often tell some people, "Most of life is timing". And my fortunate timing has had me cross paths these four baseball greats.

Some have said I'm kinda like a sports version of Forrest Gump. I believe there may be a book in there somewhere. If that happens, I'll make sure you all know about it. 

I'm just sayin'

Hey Hey Hey, We're the Buccaneers

Many of my friends and acquaintances know how much I love baseball, auto racing and hockey. But not very many know that I was a musician at one time. No, not a full-time musician, but a pretty decent one nonetheless. 

In the fall of 1979 I began what would become an incomplete bachelor's degree quest at the University of Tampa. I was a trumpet player in the concert band and eventually added jazz band to my schedule as well. A number of my band mates at UT, I found out, were members of the marching band for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers football team. I know what you're saying. A marching band for an NFL team? Well, yes. They were one of only three teams who had marching bands. The others being the Washington Commandos and the Baltimore Colts. Other teams, the Kansas City Chiefs for one, had bands who played one the sidelines but did not march on the field. 

My Bucs Band career unofficially began in the fall of 1980. It was shortly after I attended a Rams-Buccaneers game on the Monday night of week 2 of that season. The ticket which I purchased from a scalper got me a seat right near the band. I knew some of the members and I watched them as they performed and seemed to have a great deal of fun. I wanted in. So I inquired as to how I might be able to make this happen. My bandmates told me when the next auditions would be and I made plans to participate at that time.  

I was warmly greeted into the Bucs Band in the spring of 1981. My first gig with the band would be during the band's annual weekend at Disney World. I was kinda nervous going into it, but my bandmates made me feel at home. I made the drive north on I-75 towards the Magic Kingdom. For those of you "youngsters", Disney World at that time had but one exit in each direction to take you to the park. Even then, after taking the exit you drove past countless orange groves and undeveloped land which made one wonder whatever would they do with this seemingly vast wasteland of nothingness. Currently, I believe that there are 4-6 exits in each direction off of the interstate which will take you to the Magic Kingdom, Epcot (which was still 18 months from opening), Hollywood Studios, Animal Kingdom and all of the hotels and vast array of Disney properties which now exist. We played in an area at what is now known as Disney Springs. But the biggest thrill of the weekend was playing in the Main Street Parade on Saturday afternoon. After that show they shuffled us off to a "backstage" area, like all acts normally would. This put us into an area where the general public never gets to go. All around we were surrounded by cast members who are moving themselves from one area to another. Some in full costume others in partial costume. Let me tell you, it's more than a little disconcerting to see Chip AND Dale strolling around holding their little chipmunk heads under their little chipmunk arms. Come to think of it THIS may have been the beginning of my interest in being a mascot which topped out when I was T.C. Bear with the Minnesota Twins some 19 years into the future. 

Being in the band was fun. We wore these bright, nearly fluorescent orange uniforms made from approximately 124% polyester. The shirts had ruffed sleeves much like Jerry Seinfeld's pirate shirt. The collars were pointed and extended out to our shoulders. We supplied our own white pants and white shoes. The uniform also included a red sash which went around our waists and then the sash had the picture of the team logo, which was a character named "Bucco Bruce". Bruce was inspired by actor Errol Flynn as he starred in two films, "The Last Of The Buccaneers" and "Captain Blood". His likeness was joked about by other teams and even our own fans, especially when the team was not playing well, which was more often than not.  The knife in Bruce's teeth would sometimes be drawn as though it had been transplanted from his mouth to being inserted through his ear. But his likeness stuck around and was used for over 20 seasons. There was even a stylish red hat which reminded me of the character Huggy Bear from the tv show "Starsky & Hutch", but I don't remember ever wearing it for any performances. 

The band was popular. Very popular. We would perform at the weekly pep rally at Tyrone Square Mall in St. Petersburg on Thursday nights. We would play a few tunes and the cheerleaders, the Swash-buc-lers, would perform as well. There was even a mascot known as the Baaad Buc, who was sponsored by WDAE radio. The cheerleaders would sign autographs and so did some band members. I will never forget the first time I had a young man ask me to sign his Gameday program. I was stunned, first of all, then flipped to the band photo near the back of the issue. It was my first autograph in a "fan" setting. 

I had a number of other memorable moments while donning the most outrageous outfits in music since the fall of the last days of disco. My very first regular season home game was on September 5, 1981. We opened the season, because if the high temperatures in Tampa, on a Saturday night. The opponent? The Minnesota Vikings. MY Minnesota Vikings. As was the regular schedule we were due to perform three songs on the field after the game was over and the fans were exiting the stadium. So we had ourselves positioned just behind the out-of-bounds line behind the end zone. The end zone which the Vikings were driving toward with under two minutes to go in the 4th, trailing 14-13. I was going to see my team win a game, literally, a stone’s throw away from me. But attempting to get into better field position for the potential game-winning field goal Viking QB Steve Dils attempted a screen pass on third down.  His pass was picked off by Neal Colzie along the sideline, only 30 yards directly in front of me and proceeded to hightail it 82 yards in the other direction to make the score 21-13. The temptation to drop my horn and chase Colzie down myself was immense, but I resisted it and my bandmates, who knew of my allegiance, let me know about it. 

In 1981 the Bucs were in the hunt for a playoff spot. On the final Sunday of the season they were playing on the road against the Detroit Lions. The band had a prior commitment for that afternoon as we were giving a holiday concert at the Bayfront Center Theatre in St. Petersburg. We knew that if the team won they would make the playoffs. This meant that we would hustle ourselves to be at team headquarters, known as One Buccaneer Place, after the team landed at nearby Tampa International Airport. When we did stage concerts we did not wear our usual marching uniforms. We wore simple white polo shirts with the band's logo on the breast pocket. Viewing the game would not be as easy as it is today.  Keep in mind this is 1981. Cell phones had not yet been invented. But a number of band members had portable black & white battery-powered televisions with a 5" screen on them. That's right, a tv with a screen smaller than the one on many new cars' dashboards and it was black & white. Some of you younger readers may never have seen a black and white tv picture anywhere other than a museum or the History Channel. The audience couldn't see the tvs on the floor on stage but we were keeping track as the clock wound down with the team leading the Motor City Kitties 20-17. When the game ended we all knew that would need to get back across the bay and head over to Buc Place before the team arrived. After they did there were a bunch of us who got there and made our way through the crowd that was forming to meet the team. It would be the second postseason appearance in the team’s sixth season and the crowd was hyped. My boldest memory is being on the back of the flatbed trailer with a bunch of other band members, and some of the players, holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and my horn in the other and playing all or part of Kool & the Gang's "Celebration" over and over and over again as the temperature after the sunset dipped to the mid 30s. Sometimes nights in central Florida in December aren’t all that balmy. We partied late into the night and the following week in the first round of the playoffs the Bucs were eviscerated by the Dallas Cowboys 38-0.

Other memorable moments include the afternoon when we were in marching formation and we were playing the Theme From New York, New York. This would normally have been okay, except we were attempting to do this while playing from memory without sheet music and remembering all of the correct steps to take in formation on the field. Only one week earlier we'd performed the same routine flawlessly but it was to the tune of the Sam & Dave hit "Soul Man". At one point I found myself seconds away from colliding with two drummers who were approaching me from the opposite direction. One of those drummers was my great friend Rick Mayer, who was he person who designed the marching formations we were using at that exact moment.  This was not how it was drawn up, trust me. The video from the press box view was like watching a Keystone Cops film. 

When Washington played the Los Angeles Raiders in Super Bowl XVIII, Tampa's first time hosting the event, the Buc Band agreed to be the band for the Raiders as Washington was bringing their own band to the game. In the pregame band members and their guests participated in the national anthem by holding the huge flag on the field while the song was performed by Barry Manilow. We played  touchdown songs quite a few times as the Raiders scored often on the way to a 38-9 victory. 

I also got greetings from ESPN's Chris Berman on December 13, 1981 while we were waiting along the sidelines to hit the field for our postgame show. I had met Chris at a spring training in Clearwater some 10 months earlier. He's got a great memory. The band was impressed that we knew one another. But the coolest may have been an event which occurred on October 6, 1985. 

The band had a tradition where during the game four of the trumpeters would leave the stands and head down to the field.  Once they got there they would stand shoulder to shoulder in one corner of the area directly in front of the crowd and play six notes which signal fans to yell "Charge!" at their completion.  They would play this three times in succession and then move down the sideline until they'd made a complete circuit of outer edge of the field. I was lucky enough to be chosen to do this once during my 4 seasons as a trumpet player. (My final two seasons I was in the french horn section).  On the day I was chosen to be one of the "fantastic four" we were playing the Bears.  

The four of us hit the field and we played our way around the field, only playing while the Bucs were on offense.  The Bucs' sideline was first as we moved counter-clockwise around the floor of Tampa Stadium.  We made the turn and headed behind the area behind the Bears' bench.  I was the furthest to the right as the four of us watched the action on the field during a short period just prior to our next mini performance. 

While watching the game, a glance to my right left a short gap between myself and one of the Bears players. With helmet under his arm and intensity in his eyes the player glanced to his left and we each acknowledged one another with a "Hey, man. How ya doin'?" We each nodded and then went back to what we were doing.  The player? #34, Walter Payton.  

We finished our rounds and headed back up into the stands to join the rest of the band.  The rest of the game was a bit of a blur as I tried to process what had just happened to me.  I had spoken to Walter Payton DURING a game on the sideline.  While the number of people who have done this is quite extensive, I never thought that I would be on it.  

The Buccaneer Band is no longer a thing. The only current bands in the NFL are the one in Washington (although they are going to have to write a new fight song at some point),  a new "official" band has now begun in Buffalo and the Ravens have one in Baltimore. Many teams now have drum lines. Drum lines? Really? Don't even get a horn player started on that. The Ravens Band is actually the continuation of the Colts Band which was left behind when they skittered away to Indianapolis in the middle of the night in March of 1984. ESPN did a great documentary about the Colts Band called "The Band That Wouldn't Die". It's very well done and if you've ever been in a group like this you'll find it quite touching. 

This Sunday's Big Game? i have a passing interest, but nothing that's gonna make me crazy come kickoff time. The Big Game at my house will most likely be Puppy Bowl XIX. Team Ruff vs Team Fluff (and that "vs" in the middle is pronounced "VER-SUS", not "VERCE". I cannot believe the number of announcers today who are too lazy to correctly pronounce a two-syllable word for cryin' out loud. Team Fluff is favored by 2. 2 what's? I know not. But it should be a "barn burner", which always makes me ask "Why is the barn on fire in the first place". But I digress......again.

The creamsicle orange uniforms are gone and Tampa Stadium is no more, but I was lucky enough to be a part of some of the fun. Plus, there's no telling how I may need to wait for the Vikings to win a championship. I waited until 1994 for the New York Rangers, so I have hope. 

But not much.

I'm just sayin'.