Aaand Play Ball!

          To quote one of my favorite movies, The Producers, "It's opening night!". This opening night is on a much different front, though. Tonight was the home opener, and the first game of the season, for the Frederick Keys. The Salem Red Sox and the Keys would be facing off at 7:00 PM, and I would be right behind the plate, loving every pitch!

          I spent most of the previous night researching the two teams and learning as much as I could about the players that would be in attendance. The Keys, which are a part of the Orioles' organization, would have several of their youngest prospects there. The Salem Red Sox who are a part of the... Actually, I'm sure you can figure out who their parent club is. But anyway, they would have a small arsenal of young talent at the game, including 3 first round picks from the previous 2 draft classes. 

          During my study of the Keys official website I read that fans would be permitted to enter the ballpark one hour before the game starts. I was at the front gate exactly one hour before game time, my ticket in hand. Upon entering the ballpark I was given a 2013 Frederick Keys Yearbook, a magnetic calendar of the season, and a lot of smiles from the friendly staff. I quickly found my seat, which was precisely behind home plate and in the front row.

          Batting practice was over as I suspected it would be, and the only people on the field were the grounds crew. I spent a few minutes familiarizing myself with the players' numbers in my yearbook and before long, the first of many players poked his head out of the clubhouse.

           He bounded down the steps toward the field and I caught a glimpse of his number. #10 for the Salem Red Sox. Blake Swihart, a first round pick from 2011 and a big prospect in the Red Sox organization. He was scheduled as the starting catcher for tonight's game so I didn't feel like bothering him for an autograph while he was trying to get into the zone for a game. Most catchers and starting pitchers don't sign before games they are starting anyways.

          After that, there was a flood of players coming out of both locker rooms and I lost track of who was who. I watched them start to warm up and started picking out the players that I would be seeking autographs from at the end of the game. The big one that I wanted was Henry Owens, a huge left handed pitcher for the Red Sox who was drafted in the first round of the 2011 draft. Unfortunately, Mr. Owens wasn't the starting pitcher that night so he had his jacket on to ward off the cool wind that blew in from right field, so he camouflaged in with the rest of the players that wouldn't be starting that evening.

          Shortly before the game, I had bet a friend of mine that the Red Sox would win. They had a much more impressive team (on paper) and come on, it's the Red Sox! I'm glad my friend didn't take the bet because I would have lost miserably. The Keys took the Red Sox for 11 runs and held the opposition to a measly one run. What a great way to open the season!

          The game was pretty similar to the hundreds of other games I've seen in my life, but there was one thing that stood out to me and caught me off guard. Brenden Webb, one of the Keys' outfielders hit a monstrous home run in the late innings of the game. It was the first "moon shot" home run I had seen in some time, and I was very surprised to see it coming from an advanced A league game.

          Webb was drafted in the 30th round of the 2009 draft. This means that he's been around pro ball for a little while and the fact that he went in the 30th round tells me that most people saw him as little more than a filler spot on a low level pro ball team. Yet here he was, swinging like a big leaguer. I've seen this guy play in several games since, and let me tell you, he has what it takes to make it to the show someday. A beautiful, even and powerful swing. Clutch hitting abilities. And a solid base runner.  I mentally added him to the list of players that I would be targeting for an autograph.

          At the game's conclusion, I hoofed it over to the Red Sox locker room to snag some graphs as they exited the field. I quickly looked up a picture of Henry Owens on my BlackBerry, but the photo was grainy and small. The first group of players to leave the field was the entirety of the bullpen, which is where I assumed Owens had sat the whole game. I quickly picked out the tallest guy among them and convinced myself that it was Henry Owens. When he walked by I stuck out a baseball and a pen. He took them from me and I requested that he add the "2011 First Round Pick" inscription. He looked up from the baseball and quizzically asked me to repeat myself. I did, and he replied, "Well that's not me, brother," CRAP! I had asked the wrong guy for his autograph. I apologized, and he handed back my ball, unsigned. 

          

          A moment later, another guy standing next to me chased down another tall player who was wearing a Red Sox warm-up jacket that was different from the rest of the team's and strangely enough, jeans. The tall guy signed a card for the grapher and I ran over to see who it was. I asked, and the man held up a signed Henry Owens card. DOUBLE CRAP! Mr. Owens hadn't even been on the field during the game! He was in the stands charting pitches! AND I MISSED HIM!

          I waited around for a few more minutes as players passed me by. Blake Swihart walked by me for a second time that night, but I didn't ask for an autograph because he was weighed down by a large bag of catchers equipment and his hands were full of bats. I would be at the next day's game anyway, so getting skunked on autographs wasn't too bothersome to me.

Go O's!

          For those of you that read my last post, you know that I spent the night of April 4th researching the starting lineups of the Frederick Keys and the Salem Red Sox in preparation for the Keys' home opener the next night. At least that was part of the reason why I was scanning the two teams' official websites so late at night. The other reasons, you might ask? Nerves.
       
          Well, shortly after I got home from the park, one of my friends approached me and asked what I was doing the next day. I quickly told her that I would be going to the game. She smiled, obviously not surprised by my answer. She then told me that early the next morning she would be driving into Baltimore for a doctors appointment and that I was welcome to join her if I wanted.

          My mind whirred at a mile a minute. She was going to Baltimore?! Tomorrow?! Now, you might be wondering why this was such a big deal to me. It's simple. The next day was not only the home opener for the Frederick Keys, it was also the home opener for the Balimore Orioles! I immediately said I would be going, and that was that.

          Now, let's skip my sleepless night and fast forward to the next morning. We departed around 9 AM the next day and were in Baltimore in just over an hour. I quickly spotted the beautiful ball park as we drove into Baltimore. In fact, I was forced to watch the park for another agonizing half hour from the van as we handled the opening day traffic. At last, we came to a stop outside the stadium, and I quickly jumped out and jogged up to Oriole Park at Camden Yards.

          I went through my usual rituals of familiarizing myself with new ballparks and began my first lap around the perimeter. There wasn't an unreasonable amount of people out front of the stadium, but when I neared the bars around the back of Oriole Park, I smiled. Thousands of (thirsty) baseball fans. It was definitely opening day, and I was there!!! I ducked between people from every walk of life, and despite the many stark differences, everybody around me was here for the same thing. Some good old-fashioned American baseball!

          I kept moving, and I kept my eyes open for players that would be straggling in from the Hilton across the street, but no such sightings graced my line of vision so I settled down outside of the player's entrance with the rest of the graphers. I had brought a single official major league baseball and any autographs I hoped to snag would have to be on it.

          It wasn't long before a yellow taxi pulled up and an unknown player shoved a handful of bills into the drivers hand. A small army of fans rushed the player, holding out baseball cards, baseballs, and pens. The player respectfully declined and informed us that he was late on opening day. He had one featureless baseball bag, and one Pittsburg Pirates bag. He must have been a recent acquisition of the O's, perhaps a backup for the backup of Brian Roberts, who had just ruptured a tendon in his knee.

          I wasn't perturbed by his unwillingness to sign. He wasn't exactly on my autograph radar anyway, and I knew that bigger fish would be coming along. About 5 minutes after I had settled down outside of the players' entrance, a small group of graphers hustled around from the side of the stadium that I had just canvassed. They quickly told us that Justin Morneau and Joe Mauer had just walked over from the Hilton and had entered from an alternate entrance.

          They disappointedly informed us that neither had signed anything, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of these 40-50 year old men chasing down a player with a binder full of cards for them to sign. I'd seen it happen dozens of times before. Now, I admit that I collect autographs and I do wait around before and after the games to see if any players are in a signing mood. But I only request one autograph per player and I usually have them personalize it "To Joe" because I keep all of them. I do not sell them like a high percentage of graphers do.

(For future reference, if you're looking for a bold and clean autograph, ask the player to personalize it to you. It shows the player that you're not going to sell it and that you are a true MLB fan who is just looking for something to put on their shelf. Otherwise, if the player is in a rush they may sign quickly and sloppily, or they may just abbreviate their signature into an unrecognizable mess of lines and dots.)

          I didn't see any more players over the next half hour, but a team bus with about 4 unknown players on it did pass us and drive into the stadium's guarded underground lot. Shortly after that, Brian Roberts and his wife pulled up to the entrance of the lot in a Range Rover. Brian rolled down his window to shake hands with the attendant, but he ignored all autograph requests coming from the other side of the fence. I still wasn't bothered. Bigger fish are coming. After all, hall of famers tend to pay a visit to their former clubs on opening day.

         A short while later, a fancy silver car sped up to the entrance of the lot, and with a wave of his hand was permitted to enter. I knew this guy had to be special because every other vehicle that had sought to enter the lot had to show their credentials first and then were subjected to a metal detector search of the underside of their vehicle. Even the bus was checked.

          I walked over to the fence with a few other people, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the grapher next to me open his binder to a page filled with Cal Ripken Jr cards. I knew there was a chance a legend would show up, but I haden't really put any thought towards who it could be. Cal, perhaps? Maybe Brooks Robinson? Eddie Murray? The answer was none of those three. We waited for a good 5 minutes, and at long last the driver and sole occupant of the car started walking towards us. My heart skipped when I recognized his face from several of my Topps cards back home. It was the best pitcher in Orioles' history, Jim Palmer!

          The rest of the graphers whipped out dozens of Jim Palmer cards from their binders, I simply squeezed my single baseball, hoping that he would walk over to us. The crowd immediately started yelling autograph requests at him, and I quietly and patiently stood there, absorbing the presence of this hall of fame masterpiece. He jokingly stated that he wasn't in a signing mood, and one of the graphers quipped that he says he loves signing autographs for fans when he's color commentating games. Jim laughed and said "Well alright. How about I do it just this once and never again."

          I was near the end of a line of about 10 people, and he slowly walked the length of the short fence and signed one autograph per person. Perfectly fair if you ask me. After what seemed an eternity, he got to me. I handed him my baseball and he took it. I thanked him in advance and requested that he personalize the ball "To Joe". He smiled at me, signed the ball on the sweet spot, personalized it "To Joe!!" on the top panel, and started to hand the ball back to me but retracted the ball quickly and added the "HOF 90" inscription below his name. See, you never know what will happen when you ask them to personalize an autograph. You might just get an extra inscription you didn't request and a warm smile from one of the game's greats. I waited until he finished signing for the remaining fans and I re-approached him for a picture. He gladly posed with me, then turned and walked away. I was all smiles.

Jim was a 6x all-star, a 3x world series champ, a 3x AL Cy Young award winner, a 4x Gold Glove award winner, he pitched a no-hitter in the '69 season, his number 22 has been retired by the Baltimore Orioles, and he was a first ballot hall of famer in 1990. Not to mention that he won almost 300 games, struck out well over 2,000 batters, and finished his career well below the 3.00 earned run average. This guy is a legend.

          Now, when Jim Palmer first started walking towards us, former Oriole BJ Surhoff quickly darted out of the lot behind him, probably hoping that we were all preoccupied with Mr. Palmer and would leave him alone. Of course that wasn't the case. Several graphers tried calling him over to sign, but he just kept booking it to his car. One grapher decided to follow him, and did end up getting an autograph, but he missed out on Jim Palmer signing.

          Mr. Surhoff is definitely worth getting an autograph from, and I hope to run into him again when I'm in Baltimore next week. I've got an official major league baseball set aside just for him. Now I just have to decide whether I want him to add the "1985 #1 Overall Pick" inscription, or the lesser known "The Killer" inscription. We'll light that firecracker when we get to it.

The Start of the 2013 Pro Baseball Season Is Here!

The Start of the 2013 Pro Baseball Season Is Here!

As millions of fans are currently aware of… THE MLB SEASON IS HERE! And where does this MLB season find me at? A city by the name of Frederick, Maryland, just over an hour away from Baltimore and Washington D.C. Today, April 4th, is the start of my 2 month stint in this new city, as requested by my on-the-move job. I must say, after the previous 5 months in New York City, it is nice to be back in a town where the ushers at the local ballpark know me by name. But, enough about my new residence and my job. It's not important. What is important is that I will be spending the first 2 months of the professional baseball season living on the East Coast, just spitting distance from some amazing ball clubs! Also, for those of you that don't know, Frederick is the home of the Class A+ Keys, which is part of the Baltimore Orioles organization. Needless to say, I will be frequenting their weekend home games over the next couple of months.

As I mentioned, it is April 4th, and today is my first day in this new city. I arrived in the late afternoon and began acquainting myself with the neighborhoods surrounding my new residence. Upon arrival here, I was not aware that there was a professional ball club in town, and one can only imagine my joy when I came across the gem that is Harry Grove Stadium. My first spotting of the stadium found me in search of a place to eat with my travel companions/ co-workers. At first I just saw a bunch of high school ballplayers milling around a series of practice fields right next to the interstate and I assumed they were warming up for a game. I excitedly pointed them out to my friends and stated that I would try to make it to the game after dinner. As we got closer, I realized that there was a much larger field behind the practice fields; a stadium in fact. I couldn't wait to arrive at the restaurant so I could Google it on my BlackBerry.

My group quickly found a Wendy's down the street and began ordering. When it was my turn to approach the register and order, a small bundle of papers on the counter caught my eye. I looked closer and saw that it was a stack of the 2013 Frederick Keys pocket schedules! I WAS RIGHT! Baseball did exist in this glorious new town! I quickly ordered my meal and then ripped open the schedule, anxious to see when their next home game would be. I was pleased to see that their home opener would actually be the next night, a Friday, at 7 PM. Bingo. I will definitely be there!

Our meal concluded and my group headed back to our new home to decompress for the night. I, on the other hand, had work to do. I excitedly jogged down the street to the ballpark to check out the new situation. Whenever I go to a game at an unfamiliar stadium I like to walk around it a couple of times. That way I can find where the teams' locker room entrances are (for autographs) and to otherwise familiarize myself with the new park. As I lightly paced across the parking lot outside the stadium, I heard a beautiful *CRACK*. The crack of a wooden baseball bat to be more precise. There is nothing more beautiful and satisfying than that sound! I stopped and listened carefully. I heard a couple of more cracks and what sounded like playful outfield banter. The team was having on-field batting practice! 

I sprinted towards the mini stadium, elated to have the opportunity to catch my first glimpse of pro ball in months! As I got closer I heard another beautiful *CRACK* followed by a muted but very audible *DUNT*. What was that? Then I heard another, and another. After I heard four in a row, I realized that it was the sound of a baseball repeatedly hitting the towering outfield wall. And then I had another realization. Players typically crush the ball in BP, which means it is highly likely that there is a small fortune of baseballs sitting right behind the outfield fence. There were no other fans or staff around, so I ran around the back of the outfield wall and immediately spotted a pearl white baseball with "Official Ball- Carolina League" stamped on the sweet spot. YES! My first pass down the outfield fence turned up 7 or 8 balls, all of which were nearly perfect and relatively un-marred. Over the next 15 minutes I stood on the berm behind the field and snagged homers as they came my way. By the time BP ended, I had an even dozen baseballs. 11 of which were official Carolina League game balls, and strangely enough, the last ball I snagged was an Official Major League Baseball. Minor League teams NEVER use those in BP, or even in games for that matter. Perhaps a player that was in the Orioles Major League spring training camp had it left over in their bag and just tossed it into the mix. 

The cracks finally stopped and I walked around to the right field foul pole to confirm that BP was done. It was. My hooded sweatshirt was bulging with baseballs so I quickly found a small box in the parking lot and packed up my new finds. I then excitedly ran back to my new place and went about planning my attendance to the Keys home opener the following night. My roommates were confused by my new wealth of baseballs, but they definitely weren't surprised. Let's just say I'm very up front about my baseball fandom. They smiled and shrugged it off, and I went about looking up the rosters for the next evening's game, glad to be chasing yet another summer filled with baseball.