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'.  

Major League: Back To The Minors

 In 1989 Paramount Pictures released to movie theaters across the land the film "Major League" as it opened on April 7th. It was a box office smash as it coincided with the opening of the major league baseball season. The movie told a fictional tale involving the Cleveland Indians over the course of a full season. The characters, to those of us old enough to remember, are as current today as they were back in summer of '89. Mention the names Jake Taylor, Roger Dorn, "Willie Mays" Hayes, Pedro Cerrano and Ricky "Wild Thing" Vaughn and you're bound to hear quotes from the film that have become part of the lexicon of baseball fans one the last three decades. The film cost  $11 million to make and grossed just shy of $50 million at the box office. It spawned a sequel, Major League II in 1994. The latter took in some $30 million at the box office. 

But we're not gonna talk about either of these movies.  

We're gonna discuss the third cinematic masterpiece in the series. It was called Major League: Back To The Minors. Okay, cinematic masterpiece might not be the term one would use after investing 100 minutes to view it in its entirety.  It was released on April 17, 1998, once again coinciding with the start of the real major league season.  This time the Cleveland Indians weren't really even involved in the plot line.  The major league foils for BTTM would be the Minnesota Twins. Interesting choice that they chose a franchise which had actually won their second world championship just 7 seasons earlier. When the first Major League film debuted the Indians hadn't been won a championship for 41 years. That was part of the charm of the film, in that it was a franchise that hadn't even made the postseason in 35 years. But things in the Twin Cities had taken a downward slide over the past few years. After they won the 1991 World Series  the 5 previous seasons before the release of the film the Twins had finished in either 4th or 5th place and had averaged ending the season 24 games out of first place. Attendance had dropped by nearly half between '93 and '94 for four straight years. So they were easy to make fun of, I suppose. 

How do I fit into this storyline? Well, In February of 1996 I became a member of the front office of the Minnesota Twins Baseball Club. It was a fantastic gig and I enjoyed it immensely during my time there. I was notified by a co-worker that the production company would be shooting scenes for the film at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome for a couple of weeks. I inquired as to if I may be able to participate in some way. I received an email at the ballpark from Sonny, who was casting coordinator the extras for the Minneapolis unit. 

Now, here's where I learned about how things work in the world of television and movie production. Sonny originally told me that I was actually going to appear as an extra on the Twins' bench. I thought that to be a fairly cool thing. But prior to the start of filming at the dome I learned that the only remaining uniforms they had were going to be too small for my 6'1" frame.  And so I would need to be given something else to do. I was then offered a chance to be on the "second team". The "second team" would be the people who set-up the shots, set the proper lighting and such,  before the actual actors step in and film the scene that makes the cut. So my acting career took an abrupt turn, but I still wanted to be involved. So the B-team would be my contribution. One of the actors whom I would "stand-in" for was an actor named Thom Barry who later would have a starring role in the CBS series "Cold Case"

The shooting schedule would begin at 8am each day, an hour before my normal shift at the ballpark normally would. But since the 1997 season had ended a few weeks earlier I was under not much pressure to be in my office throughout the day.  My boss was gracious enough to let me participate on the film. Plus, my office wasn't all that far away, because even though I was on the field during shooting, a short walk up the four flights of stairs and a short right turn would have me at the door of my office. 

Now, not all of the stars of the film were part of the Minneapolis shooting crew. Corbin Bernsen (Roger Dorn), Walton Goggins ("Downtown" Anderson) and Dennis Haysbert (Pedro Cerrano) were not with us, unfortunately. I was really hoping that Mr. Haysbert would have been with us as I wanted to see Jobu in person. But there were a couple of guys who were in the group whom I knew from their prior roles. 

Eric Bruskotter, who also appeared in Major League II was in the group. Ted McGinley, who had just finished his 8th season on Married.......with Children was cast as the Twins' manager and Scott Bakula, who I had enjoyed watching on Quantum Leap, was cast as the manger of the Charleston Buzz. 

The plot of the story is this: Roger Dorn is now the owner of the Minnesota Twins. Aging minor league pitcher Gus Cantrell, who plays for the Fort Myers Miracle, is planning to retire. Then, Roger recruits Gus to be the manager of the Buzz, the Twins' AAA minor league affiliate. Gus's mission is to make a real team out of a bunch of players who include ballet dancer turned ballplayer Lance "The Dance" Pere, minor league lifer Frank "Pops" Morgan, Rube Baker, Taka Tanaka, Pedro Cerrano, pitcher Hog Ellis, home run hitter Billy "Downtown" Anderson, and pitcher Carlton "Doc" Windgate, a medical school graduate who throws the slowest fastball in the minors.

However, Gus clashes with Leonard Huff, the snobby manager of the Twins. One night in Minnesota, Gus and his fiancee Maggie Reynolds are having dinner with Roger and Huff at an upscale restaurant, where Huff challenges Gus to a game between the Buzz and the Twins. Gus accepts the challenge.

The game is scheduled to take place at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minnesota. The Twins take a 3-0 lead in the 6th inning, but Downtown hits a home run that ties the game at 3-3 in the 8th inning. But with two outs in the bottom of the 9th inning, and with Doc one strike away from striking out home run hitter Carlos Liston, Huff has the stadium's lights turned off so the game can end with a tie rather than give the Buzz a chance to win in extra innings. However, the media reports that the Twins were still outplayed by the Buzz.

Huff now wants to bring Downtown up to the Twins, even though Gus believes that he is not yet ready. However, Anderson jumps on the opportunity, turning his back on Gus. Without Downtown, the Buzz start losing again. With the Twins, Anderson starts hitting poorly, proving Huff wrong. Gus manages to get the Buzz back on track, and Downtown is sent back down to the Buzz, where Gus teaches him how to be a more well rounded hitter. Gus leads the Buzz to a division title in their league.

Gus issues a challenge for Huff to bring the Twins to Buzz Stadium for another game. If the Twins win, Gus will give his salary for the year to Huff. If Gus and the Buzz beat the Twins, Gus can take over as the manager of the Twins. Huff accepts the challenge and takes the Twins to play against the Buzz. This time, the Twins take a 4-0 lead in the 6th inning, but the Buzz still manage to come from behind with three runs, and then win the game, 5-4, thanks to a game-winning two-run home run by Downtown. Gus decides that he wants to stay with the Buzz so he can continue to work with minor league players on their skills and hopefully turn them into stars.

One of the cool things that occurred during the filming was the scene where the lights go off in the dome. Now, I had worked as an usher's supervisor from 1989-1995. When it rained heavily we would sometimes have leaks in the roof. (Not making this up.). We moved our fair share of fans from seats where puddles would begin to form during rainstorms. But we'd never had the lights go out, at least not on purpose. The only problem with filming that scene was that it took what seemed like an eternity for the lights to get back to full strength so we could continue shooting. 

Now, at the time the movie was being shot, the Twins' Triple-A affiliate was the Salt Lake Buzz. The uniforms were the same, but the team didn't actually play in Charleston, as the plot line said. Since they were a Twins affiliate I actually owned a number of Buzz-themed items. I had the cap, a jersey and a cool nylon hoodie. One afternoon when we were done filming for the day I was walking off the field while wearing the hoodie. One of the wardrobe ladies ran over to me and told me that I'd need to return the jacket to the wardrobe rack. I politely informed her that the Buzz indeed were an actual baseball team and that I was the owner of the jacket which I was wearing. Seems, some people involved in the film did not know that the Buzz was not a fictional team.

At the end of the filming I was given a choice. I could get paid for my time in a check from the production company or I could get on-screen credit which would make me a member of SAG (the Screen Actor's Guild). I took the money. In retrospect, I wish I'd made a different decision because I'd be able to see my name in the closing credits at the end of the film.  

When the release date arrived my wife and I made our way to the local theatre which was showing it on one of their screens. Sure, it wasn't an epic by any stretch of the imagination. But it was a movie which I had actually worked on. There were a number of flaws in the production. A fairly glaring continuity issue on the scoreboard during the game played at the home field of the Buzz being on of them, which I noticed right away during our viewing. One odd thing was when showing Roger Dorn's private suite at the stadium there is a framed Twins jersey with the last name "Collins" and the number "4" on the back. This jersey only makes an impression on someone who saw an entirely different movie called "Little Big League" in which the Twins figure prominently on the plot line and was filmed in the Twin Cities. That movie was released in 1994. 

I don't even recall the amount of money which I was paid for my efforts. It could not have been all that substantial. It was badly panned by critics, and deservedly so. Rotten Tomatoes gave it a 21% rating. It cost $18 million to make and grossed a whopping $3.5 million at the box office. The nice theatre manager let me come back and pick up the poster for the film after it had ended its run. I had it framed and it still resides in my man cave as a reminder that sequels are almost never as good as the original. 

I'm just sayin'

Yes, it really IS hot in there

Now that I think about it, it probably was the gorilla suit. 

Oh, you're probably wondering what the context of that random statement is about. If you aren't, then you can stop reading now and go on back to whatever you were doing.

Those of you who know me know how much I love sports. I also love being a bit of a goofball at times. What entity could magically blend these two things in a serendipitous fashion? A mascot. That's right, a mascot. Sometimes furry, usually full of energy and devoted to the cause for the team which they represent.

I've thought about how in the world I ever even ended up in the various costumes that I've put on over the past 40 years or so. 

In 1980 the American Tourister luggage company produced a commercial which showed an airline employee placing two bags on a luggage belt behind the counter. The bags find their way back to the bag room where the luggage is separated into the proper carts to then be loaded onto the correct aircraft before departure. But in this ad the baggage employee is a gorilla. A gorilla who is not happy about something. I don't know if he was upset because a co-worker is late in returning from a break. I know not. But whatever the reason, this gorilla takes out his aggression on this one poor bag. When the bags reappear on the baggage carousel one of them is is trashed with a few items protruding from it while the American Tourister bag is virtually unscathed. 

During this time the folks at American Tourister entered into a dual advertising campaign with Polaroid. A purchase from one of the vendors in a specified value or more would get you a coupon (remember those?) that could be used to purchase something from the other vendor. I was working at the time selling cameras for JCPenney in south Tampa. Our management decided that it'd be cool to have a gorilla in-store for the promotion. The folks at Busch Gardens on the north side of town were unwilling to send a real gorilla to us for the event. So I volunteered to put on the gorilla costume and make appearances at two different stores on the same day. My first stop was my home store at Westshore Plaza in Tampa. I took photos with customers and made silly mannerisms for an hour or so. After that, I hopped in my car and drove over to St. Petersburg to a different mall. The same thing happened there, although I nearly scared the last three years of life out out of an elderly woman who turned around and saw me as I was just emerging from the dressing room. 

It was a bright and sunny summer day. Probably about 90-95 degrees. But I must admit that I had a blast. Never before had I been in such a costume. But the fact that I didn't have to speak, could make a fool of myself in total anonymity and still get paid for it appealed to me, I must say. What I didn't know is that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a part of my life which I never anticipated.

Fast forward to 1994. I was working in Minneapolis as a fan relations supervisor for the Minnesota Twins. On a Friday home game we had a giveaway with the folks at Kellogg's. I was assigned to escort the gentleman in the Tony The Tiger costume for the entire game. I took pictures for fans, handed him items and a Sharpie which would allow him to sign items. It was a bunch of fun. During the game we should stop to relax in one of the empty suites around the ballpark. The guy inside the tiger costume, who's name I wish I could remember, told me about other characters he'd been recently and how much he enjoyed doing that job.  

I will admit that I never really gave much thought about it again for quite some time. But in 1996 I landed a position in the front office with the Twins. Never did I ever dream that I would find myself working for a major league baseball team. The Twins had not had a mascot at their games since 1981, which was the last season that a character named Twinkie the Loon roamed Metropolitan Stadium. 

Oddly enough Twinkie only lasted for two seasons. I can't figure out why? Can you?

In 1998 the Seattle Mariners marketing department started a promotion called "Turn Ahead The Clock" which would see the Mariners wear futuristic uniforms. The following year MLB sold the promotion concept to Century 21 Real Estate. All but eight teams participated by sending their teams onto the field wearing special sleeveless jerseys with oversized front logos and surnames printed alongside the backside numbers as opposed to the traditional location above them. Some jerseys were relatively normal. Others were just garish. Some teams modified the advertisements on their outfield walls. For example in Minneapolis the Northwest Airlines ad was changed to Northwest Spacelines. 

To stay with the futuristic theme (games were "set" in the year 2021), the Twins decided to have their pre-game announcer, my great friend Jim Cunningham, dress as Captain James T. Kirk from Star Trek. They also located a local gentleman who owned one of the original Chewbacca costumes from the first three Star Wars films. The fourth movie in the series had been released only two months prior. As fate would have it the owner of the costume was unable to be in Minneapolis to wear the costume at the game for us. About a week prior to the game an email was sent to all front office personnel asking if any one knew of someone who would want to wear the costume. I replied immediately and we got things set up. On July 24th I took to the field wearing said Chewbacca costume. Standing next to the batting cage during pregame warmups I met Tiger Woods, who was in town for a tournament. After that I roamed around on the field, signing autographs along the foul lines and taking pictures for the crowd, what little there was of it. That game was also the same night when Seattle outfielder Butch Huskey ran face-first into the left field wall while chasing a Jacque Jones home run. The event even got my picture in The Sporting News. A publication which I read religiously while growing up. Page 3, half-page picture next to catcher Terry Steinbach and pitcher Joe Mays. Of course, no one knows it's me between them. More details about that whole thing are in a different blog entry known as "Wookie of the Year". Look for it here in the future. 

The fan reaction to having a "mascot" in the house was very positive, so plans to bring back a Twins mascot went forward for the 2000 season. When the mascot character had been chosen it became time to find someone to actually wear the costume. Tryouts were scheduled and I chose to throw my hat in the ring. Keeping mind, I already had a full-time job with the team as it was. So I was only trying out for the chance to be the 2nd-string mascot, so to speak. 

Tryouts took place one weekday afternoon around 5 pm. There were eight candidates for the gig, including myself. The team had rented a polar bear costume from a local costume shop. All eight of us would take turns in this same costume and would have five full minutes to entertain a group of about 30 kids aged 6-10 as best we could. We literally drew straws to decide the order in which we would all don the polar bear costume. The later in the order you were, the more sweat you had to deal with from those who had gone ahead of you. I drew spot number four. We each had five minutes worth of music that we would perform to. So we each entered the Twins' clubhouse to keep these kids as entertained as possible.  Let me tell you this- five minutes is much longer than you think, especially when you're wearing a sweat-laden polar bear costume in front of a crowd of kids while dancing to who knows what songs I chose. It was probably "Get Down Tonight" by K.C. & The Sunshine Band. 

I got the backup gig. I was the 2nd-string T.C. Bear. During home games I would add to my full-time gig by taking being one of the Mountain Dew Funatics. These are the guys who load the t-shirt gun in order to disperse said clothing items. 

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On the rare occasion that I was inside the second costume I would do things like hospital visits, softball tournaments, school outings and parades of various types. 

The costume isn't all that complicated. You step into the legs and get the straps settled on the top of your shoulders. Once you get that done, you get your shoes on. There are regular athletic shoes covered by the character's shoes which everyone sees. Given the fact that I'm the backup, I had to wear size 10 1/2 shoes even though I wear size 12s in real shoes. 

Being in the costume is a huge thrill. It matters not how well the team itself is performing. Kids are always so happy to see you. But being a mascot is not what my friends would believe I could do. I'm usually quite low-key and being a mascot is far from low key. But the anonymity is what I got comfortable with and that allowed me to make the character lively and likable.  

There are little tricks that one must learn when one becomes a large, smiling and dancing bear. Hydration is important. I lost about 10 pounds every time I did a performance. Outdoor gigs were higher weight loss numbers. My first parade was tough in that I didn't drink anything while on back of the convertible. The following day I was so dehydrated that I was nearly delirious. The next year I figured out a way to situate a water bottle inside the costume so that when I lowered my head I could easily reach the extra-long straw which ran into the bottle of ice water. This saved my bacon a number of times after my first failure. 

Being a mascot can also be advantageous when a minor mistake is made on the highway. On one stop in Duluth, MN my assistant was driving us to a T.C. hospital visit. He made a minor mistake and ended up going in the wrong direction on a one-way street. When the officer pulled us over my assistant apologized profusely and informed the officer that we were on our way to the local hospital with the Twins' mascot. The officer looked at me in the passenger seat of our Dodge Durango and I realized that I needed to quickly produce some proof of this fact. So I reached into the back seat and exposed the face of the smiling bear which was in the carrying bag. He understood and offered to escort us to the entrance of the hospital. So we went from receiving a citation to receiving a police escort in a matter of minutes.

In my final appearance in the costume, I actually took the role of C.T. Bear, T.C.'s brother who lived in the forest and had never seen a baseball game before. So we located a large flannel shirt (size 4x) to accommodate the costume and a bright  orange toque, which is a knit hat worn by many hunters in this part of the country during the cold weather. T.C. had hosted a celebrity home run hitting contest before every Saturday night home game.  C.T. was going to be the celebrity this time. Now, I've been playing Sunday night softball since 1989, but never had I hit a ball while looking through the mouth of a character. I enlisted my good friend Nate to come down to the batting cages after the Twins game so that I could practice just a bit before the next night's contest. I didn't hit all that well, but that's how a bear who's never seen a baseball game should hit.  

The following night was a great. I was introduced to the crowd as T.C.'s brother and performed in the home run contest as I should have.  We made our way through the crowd all evening and it was probably the coolest thing I'd done in a mascot costume. 

So, there you have it. It's a different world, to say the least. I don't know that ALL mascots have as much fun as I did, but if they don't they need to look for another gig. 

Gorilla costume. Gorilla costume indeed. 

And yes, it IS hot in there.

I'm just sayin'

Cal Ripken's 3000th Hit

Last week Cal Ripken Jr. announced that he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer in February. Ripken Jr. also said he is now cancer-free after undergoing immediate treatment and having surgery in March. He wants to use his diagnosis to encourage others to receive regular checkups, which is how doctors found his cancer. 

After reading this I was reminded of the times I had met Cal in the past. Most prominently was the evening when Cal reached the 3,000-hit mark at a game which I worked back during the 2000 baseball season. 

During my time here on this big, blue marble I have had the great luck and great fortune to witness a number of great and rare sports moments in person. I've witnessed Dave Winfield's 3,000th hit, two no-hitters, two Super Bowl games, the 1991 World Series games 1,2,6 and 7, and was in the field immediately following each of those games, and the Stanley Cup presentation to the Pittsburgh Penguins in 1991.  

April 15th, 2022 will mark the 22nd anniversary of the night that Cal Ripken notched the 3,000th hit of his Hall of Fame career.  It happened in Minneapolis at the Metrodome versus the Minnesota Twins. I was a member of the Twins' front office staff at the time and was at that game. 

The game against the Orioles wasn't attended by many people, to be truthful. The game drew only 18,745 fans, most of whom were there for the chance to witness history. Cal had started the season at 2,991 hits and the O's began the season with a 6-game homestand. But he had only gotten (only) six hits over the seven previous games.  The team was to head back home for a game on Monday night where he might reach 3,000 in front of his adoring home fans at Camden Yards.  

But after having already gotten two base hits earlier in the game, Ripken was set to face Hector Carrasco in the 7th inning.  At 8:06 p.m. Ripken singled directly over second base and became the 24th player in major league history to reach the coveted 3,000 hit mark.  The crowd stood and applauded for three full minutes as Cal came over to the stands to hand the ball to his wife Kelly and get congratulations from kids Rachel and Ryan.  He went back to the first base bag where he was congratulated by Oriole first base coach Eddie Murray, himself already a member of the 3,000 hit club, and by Twins first baseman Ron Coomer.  

The Orioles won that game by a score of 6-4 and Cal kept a lot of us on the security staff around a bit longer by signing the seemingly endless line of autograph requests from fans as they funneled down the aisle over the Baltimore dugout, for some 30 minutes, until everyone had gotten what they wanted.  He even signed the date on each autograph. 

Once he was done with the impromptu autograph session we on the staff proceeded to do what we do to empty the ballpark and call it a night.  I had the office closest to the clubhouses, both Twins' and visitors'.  I had to take care of some paperwork before I left, but finally closed my office door about 90 minutes after the last out of the game had been recorded.  

To get from my office to the employee parking lot I would have to walk through the concourse which ran in a circle around the lowest level of the ballpark.  I breezed past the Twins clubhouse and while moving counter-clockwise around the curve of the hallway I saw Cal just leaving the clubhouse.  It was a misty evening and he had on a long raincoat as he exited.  

"Hey Cal!", I said as I walked toward him and we made eye contact.  "Hey, Rod", he replied, in a tone that would make the casual observer believe that we regularly encountered one another at least once a day. I was stunned in that we had only met twice before, both at the annual 8-ball tournament hosted by the late Twins great and HOFer Kirby Puckett.

I congratulated him and we then proceeded to talk about the game, the hit itself and the fact that he was relieved that this milestone had been finally reached. I walked out of the stadium with a sense of surrealism in that I'd even had this conversation with him on the evening of such a momentous occasion.  

Cal has since retired with a total of 3,184 base hits following the completion of the 2001 season.  He has done an incredible amount of charity work over the decades and is still very active in helping the game grow in a time when kids aren't playing it very much in the states. I saw him a few years ago on "The James Brown Show", hosted by the popular sports anchor who can be seen on Fox's NFL studio show on Sundays.  He spoke of how catching the final out of the World Series was his greatest baseball experience and how the run around the warning track on the night he set the record for most games played was the greatest HUMAN experience he'd ever had.  I thought it was an amazing insight to the man himself.

With that being said, I just wanted to share my "brush with greatness" with those of you who enjoy reading my ramblings.  

It's not showing' off.......if it's true. And this IS.


I'm just sayin'.

Second Family Values

This past Tuesday, February 13th, was my father's birthday. He would've been 96 this year, had he not had such an aversion to doctors and their craft. He had a number of verbal terms which he would use that may not have been as accurate as he may have wanted, but we always knew what he meant when he spoke them. For example, a bush or flowery growth what you and I might call shrubbery, he might refer to as "scrubbery". Or in cases where he had enjoyed something a great deal, such as a particular meal or a song or movie which he'd just seen, he would say, "I likeded that". It was his own phrasing and we all just went with the flow when he dropped one on us.

Five years ago this week I had the great fortunate spend a few hours with some people who are near and dear to me, most of whom I had not seen in 30 years or more.  They are brothers and sisters from the Alpha Sigma chapter of my college fraternity. Now before you go off thinking about what kind of fraternity you may have been a member of, consider what fraternity yours truly may have been a member of. Got it in your head? Good. Now erase THAT fraternity's name and replace it with Kappa Kappa Psi. Kappa Kappa Psi is the National Honorary Band Fraternity. That's right. Some of you probably didn't know that I was a musician at one time. I played trumpet for over two decades and also played the french horn and mellophone as well. I don't play the horn any longer following a partially-severed nerve which occurred during a rather extensive wisdom tooth extraction on Valentine’s Day a number of years ago. 

I remember that my first knowledge of Kappa Kappa Psi came during Rush Week at the University of Tampa in the fall of 1979. I was so unknowing of so many things when I hit that campus. I had no idea about how fraternities worked, outside of seeing the movie "Animal House". That should tell you what I thought about fraternities. I remember walking through the rows of tables under the trees which lined the sidewalks that led to the student union building on campus. One of the gents at the table asked if I was enrolled in any music courses and I answered in the affirmative. He told me about KKPsi and how much they would like to have me as a member. I was intrigued and told him that I was interested. They told me that they would speak to me at band rehearsal in a few days and we'd go from there.  

It was my first real contact with anyone at the school other than administrators and the folks at the campus bookstore. What I didn't know at the time was how important these people would become to me over the next year or so.
I was such a "fish out of water" at the time. I had yet to reach my 18th birthday. I was not only new to the school, but I was new to the state of Florida, the city of Tampa and a bedroom other than the only one I'd known since I was born. Mind you, that bedroom was located in Stamford, Connecticut. I knew absolutely no one and even though my parents were only 50 miles away, they might as well have been 500 miles away. I ran into the guys from KKPsi at rehearsals and they told me about how the pledge process went.  I believed I was ready to make that happen.  The pledge process taught me a great many things about people in general. I'd never spent time around not only from other states but from other countries. The fraternity had all of those things. A fraternity of musicians differs from most frats in that the common link is already established--music. Whether it be instrumental or vocal, it was a common bond. When you are in a band fraternity partying isn't a top priority, as you are often the band which is playing at the event. If we get out on the dance floor who's gonna be left to play the tunes?

It was a group that taught me about trust. How to trust people who would always be there for you if you needed them. Not just at that moment, but into the future as well. I'd never encountered such a group before. I didn't know it at the time, but this was right were I needed to be at this time in my life. There were many events which took place during the pledge period, but none stands out like one in particular for me. 

It was the night of February 22, 1980 when the USA met the USSR in a semifinal game of the Lake Placid Olympic Games. We'd had a performance that night and as soon as we were done with it we rushed to find a television to watch whatever time remained in the game. I grew up as a New York Rangers fan and hockey was a big thing to me. But in Florida the game was an unknown thing for the most part. The Tampa Bay Lightning were still 12 years from playing their first games at the Florida State Fairgrounds.  But this game transcended the fact that most Sunshine State residents didn't know the difference between a hockey puck and a urinal puck.  This was about the country being represented by a group of college kids, like myself, playing against Russian professionals.

The game aired on WTSP-TV Channel 10, which was the local ABC affiliate at the time. I don't remember at what point we picked up the game but I do remember the cheer that we al let out when team captain Mike Eruzione took a wrist shot, on his off-leg, and the puck traveled past Vladimir Myshkin to put the USA in front at exactly the halfway point of period 3. The last 10 minutes seem to drag on for an hour. With a few seconds left we all started screaming and could barely hear play-by-play announcer Al Michaels exclaim, "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!!!!"  It still brings chills to me when I think about it. But that moment is something that we will all carry with us.  

After I survived the pledge process I was elected to the position of Parliamentarian for the chapter. It was merely a position in title only as most meetings were so filled with jokes and laughter that very few fines ever got handed out and even fewer were ever paid by the offenders. The following year I became the treasurer of the chapter. I'm not sure what I did given the fact that we had about $17.48 in our bank account most of the time anyway. One overdraft charge would've bankrupted the organization into oblivion at any moment. We were lucky in that while we didn't have a fraternity "house", our meeting room in H.B. Plant Hall sat directly below one of the iconic minarets which can be seen on campus and in many pictures of the Tampa skyline. We all took our lives into our hands in taking the dilapidated spiral staircases which led up to the top of the minaret which gave a spectacular view of "River City".

I went on to play in the UT concert band as well as the jazz band where I got to meet John Pizzarelli while he was at UT. I also got to play with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers Band for six seasons. Many of my brothers played in that band along with me. It was a thrill to be a part of that band despite having some of the gaudiest uniforms ever devised.  We had bright orange long-sleeved polyester shirts which had Errol Flynn-style ruffled sleeves (think Jerry Seinfeld's pirate shirt only in the color of a fresh pumpkin), collars that came out to the shoulder, white pants, white shoes, a red sash on our hip with the Bucco Bruce logo on it and, for special occasions, a red hat a la Huggy Bear from Starsky & Hutch. (Millennials please see the google for obscure references of things you SHOULD already know about).

I left the Tampa Bay area in the fall of 1988, keeping in touch primarily with only one of my fraternity brothers, my great friend Rick Mayer. But the social media world opened doors which allowed me to make contact with the group which I had lost touch with over the previous two decades. I became Facebook friends with a few of the members, most prominently Kris Neldner, the wife of my "big brother" Tim Neldner. My blogs over the past few years have made many fans but Kris may be my one of my biggest fans. I'd heard about a gathering of the brothers and sisters of Tau Beta Sigma which took place in 2016 but I missed it by about a week.  My brother Eric Dobbie had a birthday in January and I commented to him that I would probably see him in a few weeks when in Tampa. Kris picked up on this immediately (3 minutes later) and asked about my planned visit.  And that's where it started.  About a month later we were all set to meet at Lee Roy Selmon's Steakhouse near the former site of Tampa Stadium. I had a great time seeing some people who were, for lack of a better term, my second family.  At a time when I knew absolutely no one in a city I barely knew anything about these people helped me get connections to jobs, friends and the one thing we all had in common- music.  For that I am, and always will be, eternally grateful.  

I believe that if 2020 and the time that has passed since then has taught us anything it’s that we need to be more appreciative of those long-term friendships and those new friendships just as well. There are people whom we’ve not seen in person in many, many months. Some of us have friends whom we will never see again. And that is tragic on so many levels. So when the time comes to be able to see each other again, make sure those people know how important they are to you. You never know when, or if, you’ll ever see them again. 

I had a great time with everyone that evening and I look forward to being at the next gathering, whenever that may be. In 2019 it was on February 13th. My late father's birthday. And as I walked to my rented Kia Optima in the parking lot after the event had ended I thought of my dad and the previous three hours, and said aloud, "I likeded that!"

I'm just sayin'  

My "Brush With Sweetness"

The Chicago Bears paid a visit to Minnesota today to face the 3-1 Vikings. I had a feeling that the Purple would prevail in this contest, although the game became closer at the end than it should have. But while at work early today I recalled my own experience with said "Monsters of the Midway". Here it is.

I didn't much follow the career of Walter Payton. He was known as "Sweetness", and I knew of his importance to the history of the game and watched with my mouth agape when watching his amazing feats each week on NFL highlight films.  

I had an opportunity for a "brush with greatness" while a member of the Tampa Bay Buccaneer Band. That's right. A lifelong Minnesota Vikings fan firmly entrenched in the trumpets and french horns sections of the band representing the creamsicle orange and white-clad Buccaneers. I have a separate blog entry planned for another time, but for now......

After debuting in the AFC West division in their inaugural season of 1976 (yes, the Western division. Tampa isn't west of much of anything, right?) they moved to the NFC central joining the Lions, Packers, Bears and my Vikings.  So this meant that each those teams made a trip to Tampa each season to play at "The Big Sombrero", as termed by ESPN's Chris Berman.  

During my time in the trumpet section we 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 showed a 4-5' 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.  

While this may not be as glamorous of a celebrity meeting as maybe my meeting Stevie Wonder or any number of other professional athletes, it often comes to mind when I hear Walter Payton's name or mention of the Chicago Bears. Just thought I'd share it with you.

I'm just sayin'


Thanks, Walter.