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 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'.