The Awards Banquet and The Game vs the Pros

The awards banquet was great. It was attended by virtually everyone in camp. Each team was acknowledged in ascending order from 8th to 1st. In-between, the individual awards were handed out.   All of the players from Broken Bones were seated together at two adjacent tables. It was fun to see the team dressed in some of their best duds. I wore a tie again as I usually do.  Coach  Bobby Wine came over to give me grief about overdressing. It's just my style.

I handed out a baseball which got passed around. I asked each player to sign it for me. I'm not a big collector, but in this sense, I certainly wanted this ball. As far as the individual awards were concerned the Bones earned more than a normal share of them. Frank Christiana, Livio Forte, Mike Aranzullo and Phil Forman earned top honors in six categories. Phil was nominated for Rookie of the Year just as I was last year, but he won the Keith Hernandez Award for best defensive performance.

When team awards were announced our entire group got up to move near the stage. Wives, girlfriends and significant others brought cameras to the area just in front of the elevated stage. We were introduced by name as we made our way to the stage and soon after our coaches made their short speeches. A waitress brought a tray of glasses with champagne passed in front of us and each player and coach took one and we toasted our championship right on the spot.

I saw this part of the banquet take place last year from the back of the room. I was moderately envious, yes. But now, having seen it from the stage, I realize that my envy was justified. It was so cool!

We passed around a sheet upon which we all wrote down our names and email addresses. This will allow those of us who have pictures to send them to us in the future. Isn't technology great?

The banquet ended with John Stearns telling us the format for Sunday's games vs the pros. First game at 9:00 featuring the pros vs the camp champions, Broken Bones. My thanks to all of the members of Broken Bones: Livio Forte, Fred Hetzel, Ken Barnes, Lee Weiner, Brian Bowers, Mike LoGuercio, Jimmy Derrico, Mike Aranzullo, Elliot Kaplan, Frank Christiana, Phil Forman and our coaches Anthony Young and Alan Friedman. 

My wife has asked me why at the conclusion of a World Series some players on the losing team remain in the dugout while the celebration goes on. I told her it's because they want to have something to aim for in the future. They want to know that same feeling themselves. It visualizes goal yet to be achieved. I once heard Joe Garagiola say, during the closing credits of the 1986 World Series, that "losing feels worse than winning feels good". 

One thing that makes winning something like this even more special is the knowledge that we'll never put this exact team together again. At his camp some of us will participate in future years, some will not. Some of my teammates I may never see in person again. But that's just how life works. Knowing that this assemblage of people may never happen again is what make it all the more special. 

The photos of the team after our victory are just moments, frozen in time, to be reflected upon in years to come. Most of my friends know how much I love Billy Joel. Billy recorded a song called "Souvenir" back in the mid-seventies. It's literally only 2 minutes long. But it speaks to how "Every year's a souvenir that slowly fades away." I hope that the memories made today and this week fade away as slowly as possible. 




The Pro Game

We got to play a 3-inning game versus the pros. The format runs like this. All eight teams play against the pros. The championship team plays first and then the other teams play the pros in the order in which they finished in descending order.

This meant that Broken Bones would be first to take on the pros. We got to the field around 8:40 a.m. We loosened up by throwing in the outfield. Now, I'm not sure if it was entirely adrenaline-related, but my arm felt as good during warmups as it had all week. That's crazy.

We got the opportunity to do something that the other seven teams did not. We were introduced individually on the p.a. system and we made our ways out to the first base line. The anthem was actually sung live by Jack, the clubhouse manager. I know that I had a huge grin on my face during the entire rendition just because I was that happy. I could consciously feel that I was doing it, but I was virtually powerless to stop doing it.

Following the anthem the pros took the field. The pros, according to John Stearns, have lost only one of these 3-inning contests. Their record is something like 243-1. If you think that winning a championship was a pipe dream before our first game, then this was even more of a pipe dream.

Our leadoff hitter, Lee Weiner, led off against Dwight Gooden himself. We were in awe on the bench because we all knew that unless something strange occurred in the game, we would each have the opportunity to step in against Dr. K himself. Weiner doubled into the right field alley to start the game. Number two hitter Mike Loguciero worked out a walk and then our MVP, year, Mike Aranzullo doubled down the third base line. We were up 2-0 on the pros! We scored first in every game we played during the week, and now we were ahead of the pros!

The pros mounted a rally to tie in the bottom of the first. Their leadoff hitter reached on a throwing error by Aranzullo, but I blame myself because it was a pickable throw.  John Stearns ripped a liner to center and then Dwight Gooden ripped another pitch to score the first run. When Doc was over at first I asked him what position would he have played had he not become a pitcher. He said probably a corner outfielder or shortstop because he lacked the range to patrol center field. We also chatted briefly about his playing time in the Belmont Heights little league program in Tampa. He asked how I knew about that, and I told him that I resided in Tampa from 1979-1985. It's amazing how much conversing first basemen like myself can do in a short period of time. Dwight had to leave our witty reparte quickly as he was doubled to third base on a hit by Todd Pratt. Doc scored on a single and the game was tied.

We got the last out and we were ready to bat in the top of the second. I made my way to the plate and heard my name called over the p.a. system. I could never have imagined that I would get to face Dwight Gooden one-on-one, but that moment had just arrived.

I watched his last warm-up toss to catcher Duffy Dyer and stepped in. I knew just what his motion would look like, having watched video of him pitching over the last 30 years. The question was how fast would he be chuck in' it.

I went up looking for a pitch in a particular location. I followed the ball all the way in and made good contact but hit a hard grounder to shortstop who threw me out by two strides. But what a great moment. Getting a hit wasn't the point, although it would've been just as incredible.  But now I can tell people that Dwight Gooden has never struck me out.

The rest of the half inning is a bit of a blur because I was still coming down from the moment I'd just lived. We took the field for the second inning with Fred Hetzel on the mound. The pros managed to squeak out a run and suddenly we were in the top of the final inning. Even though we were at the bottom of the order, which had started all the magic in the semifinal game, we couldnt get a run across and we lost 3-2.

There were hugs and thank yous and exchanges of business cards in the dugout. Some of us made our ways back to the clubhouse where we showered and dressed for what we were going to do next. Many players went back to the ballpark to watch some of the other teams take on the pros. Their flight wasn't due to leave for at least 4 hours. I'm pretty sure none of the Broken Bones had even thought we would be playing this early in the day when they made reservations. And certainly not the leadoff game. I, myself went back to the home of my hosts for the past week to start the process of packing for my drive up to Orlando to see my aunt Bea, the woman who is responsible for my love of the orange and blue.

At that point it turned into a party where nobody wanted to leave.  Most of us will see each other in New York at the reunion on Father's Day weekend in June.  But the tough part of the end of the week was knowing that no matter what happens in the future, this group of guys will never be together on a team again.  We have a shared experience that no one can take away from us. This same thing happens to championship teams in every sport.  Players retire, get traded and the like in the off-season and thus the same exact group never exists.  For us, this realization had hit us right between the eyes.

Phil first wrote me on October 9th, but on the 27th of October he wrote:

"As I see in my web surfing, there are a lot of awards, trophies, plaques, ropes, etc. for everyone to bring home.  Any tips on getting this kind of stuff home? Do I leave room in my luggage, ship it separately, what did you or your friends do?  My optimistic self says that if we are teammates, and joined by Aranzullo, we will win a big championship trophy, right?  How could we lose?"

I replied by replying to Phil with:

 "You're kinda right about that, Phil. If we do end up with Aranzullo we should be in contention for some hardware. There are trophies for rookie of the year (I was a finalist for that last year- YOU must win it his year), best e.r.a, best batting average, best sportsmanship, and a couple of other awards. I believe that shipping the trophy home may be better as far as getting it home in one piece.  I love your confidence. You're gonna be a great teammate."

So, not only was Phil right, but so was I.  He IS a great teammate and a great guy on top of it.  I got my picture taken with him one last time and then I was gone.  I told him that I felt like I gained a new brother and he agreed with me.  I look forward to getting to know him as time goes on.  I kinda knew he was upstanding and my kinda guy when on our first day he was wearing a Foghorn Leghorn t-shirt under his uniform top.  Given how much of a Warner Brothers/Bugs Bunny fan that I am, this was a match made in Looney Tunes Central Casting.

We've already discussed a posting in this blog which will allow you to meet the Broken Bones team. Individual profiles with interesting stories will allow you to know them as Phil and I do.  Pictures should accompany the posting. Watch for it soon, shortly after my iPhoto program is running correctly.  

That's all I've got for now. I hope those of you who have been following along have enjoyed it at least half as much as I enjoyed living it and writing about it, because it was truly one of the best weeks of my entire life, and that's not an exaggeration.  

Thanks for allowing me to share it with you.

With this in mind, go out and have a positive effect on someone's life.  That's what I'm gonna do.


Won't you join me?

Days 2 and 3 of MFC 2014

The first full day is now history. It was a great one and tomorrow can't come soon enough.

I got to the complex at 7:30 and had some breakfast before getting my uniform on. My buddy Phil came in and we caught up on some things. He brought a bat down for me to purchase. It's a nice piece of wood that feels good in my hands and should take me into my season with the Prior Lake (MN) Pacers.

The day started off with our commissioner, John Stearns, discussing what happens at the morning meetings. We also learned about the remainder of the day's activities. We would have player evaluations (we used to call 'em "tryouts" when I was a kid) followed by lunch and the player draft by the coaches/pros. The draft is serious stuff. Now, I'm not privy at all the draft, but we players all imagine it to be a trash-talking exhibition of monumental proportions as bragging rights a huge thing at camp among the coaches/pros.

After lunch all the players were in high anticipation of finding out what team they would be on, who their teammates would be and who their coaches would be. At about 1:15 I found out that my team would be coached by current Mets major league bullpen coach Ricky Bones (pronounced "boh-ness). His team is known as Broken Bones (pronounced bohnz).  I'm not sure if his team won the championship last year, but I know they were near the top at the end.

We hit the field for game 1 of our camp schedule. We played a team called The Piglets, coached by Joe Pignatano and two others. We started the game by scoring 5 in the first inning and coasting from there. We won by over ten runs and we were ecstatic with our performance. Personally, I batted seventh in the order of 13 players. I singled to center in my first at bat. In my second I basically produced a carbon copy of my first at bat, although even after it cleared the infield dirt, the runner in front of me was forced out at second base. It will probably go in the books as a fielder's choice, but under any other circumstance, it would be a hit. In my third at bat I did not get a hit and thus my average will be either .667 or .333.

 We lost our starting catcher, Livio Forte, who was one of the leading hitters in 2013 to a foul pop which hit him in the right eye socket. It hit with such force that he had to go to the hospital and may need surgery. It's a shame because he only got one full inning of play completed before the injury. Friends who know him well say that unless it's something very serious, he'll be back tomorrow.

It was great to be back on the field in game situation.  Granted, its been nearly four months, but I could be better than I fared today.

After the games everyone retreated to the clubhouse where we all caught our collective breaths and tried to soak in what had just happened. None of the rookies has any real idea and veterans like myself are shaking our heads nearly as much.

Today we put on uniforms that not only matched, but the uniforms had our own names on them and we played in games that meant something. How we are going to come back to earth by the time we play tomorrow is beyond me.

Tomorrow we play games 2 and 3.  Our first opponent will be known by the time we show up in the early morning. We will attempt to find out how good we may actually be, or if we just got a favorable opponent draw today.  This team's pretty good from what I can tell. If we get our catcher back, we could go places.

My buddy Phil was nice enough to give me a ride to the complex on the morning of day two which I appreciated greatly. I had a nutritious breakfast before I.........okay, it wasn't as nutritious as it could've been. It was quite tasty, however. I try to avoid nutrition as I sometimes tell people "nutrition- (pronounced nu-tree-shee-ohn) is a French word which loosely translated means "devoid of real taste". As a matter of fact, a comedian once said, "children who eat a balanced breakfast are  the only ones who throw-up in gym class".  

After breakfast I moved over to my locker where I put on my road grey uniform as my team would be the road team in game two of our schedule. Our opponents would be the Crash-Test Dummies, coached partly by Doug Flynn, Anthony Young and Rodney "Crash" McCray. If you've never seen it, go to youtube.com and look up Rodney McCray to see the play he made in 1994 in the minor leagues during the time when Major League Baseball was on strike. You will be amazed. 

The day actually started with the taking of team photos, which took place in the stands of Tradition Field. We had the group photo which is a photo of everyone in camp including pros and coaches. From there we had a picture of each camper with the pros/coaches. Then came the individual team photos. It was a "chilly" morning as the scoreboard in the stadium told us that it was 51 degrees.  With the steady wind, it was kinda uncomfortable for a bit. 

We jumped out to another early lead. I started the game at first and made a 
nifty stab of a ground ball which was smoked to my left over at first base. However, I messed up on the following batter when I dropped a catchable throw on a bang-bang play. The runner eventually scored an unearned run. I actually threw out a runner on a force play at second in inning number two while playing right field. Yes, right field.  Let me assure you of one fact. I am NOT an outfielder. Under normal circumstances my appearance in the outfield should be accompanied by two things: an inquiry as to why anyone would want me out there, and a laugh track. The run which scored was the only one which we gave up. I felt bad in that it was because of my dropped ball my pitcher, Frank Christiana, was robbed of the shutout which he richly deserved. I managed to eke out one hit in the game and then it was time to look forward to game 2. 

Once again we jumped out front early. Our opponents were not on the highly-
talented realm. Phil started on the hill and pitched quite well. The bats were working as we scored 23 runs in the game. I had a single, double and triple  for the closest thing to a cycle in my life. I fielded well and we cruised to another victory. Like I said, I had a triple in the game. Triples are a rarity for me. I'm 52 years old, and a triple requires the batter/runner to run some 270 feet in a fairly short period of time. Now, when I typically run 270-280 feet I have usually just hit a home run in softball or have outrun a would-be thief. 

We found out that Livio, our original catcher, had eye surgery today. No telling what his status is as we have received no news about his condition. We all hope that he may be able to at least be on the bench to join us on our run at a championship. 

The team is hittin' and stickin' like momma's fried chicken. Tomorrow we play 
game 4 of our schedule against a team to be announced. Some players believe that we will play the other 3-0 team. That would be a good matchup, that's for sure. 

After the game we had the bull session with the pros/coaches. This allows us to 
ask questions to any of them about the game we love. Some players talked of how today's players don't appreciate the efforts made by their predecessors. I agree with this wholeheartedly. But most of the stories dealt with funny incidents where the story has gotten more spectacular with each passing year. There was also a barbecue dinner and raffle in the tent tonight. The raffle had some pretty good items on it, but none were taken home by myself. That's all good because where 

am I going to put anyhow?

Even though I'm at my second camp, I still felt like a rookie today when the day began. That all went away when I approached the batter's box for my first at bats of a game and the catcher stood up and said, "Welcome back, Rod". I said thank you and that it was good to be back. I didn't think that anyone even remembered me from the previous year's camp. The catcher was Bill Waschenko. I knew from just watching him and the other veterans how much Bill is respected in this group and thus I felt like he'd taken my training wheels off and now I was one of the veterans. I will always remember that moment when I think of MFC. Thanks, Bill. 

15 January 2014

Well, my week at the happiest place on earth is underway. I arrived at the airport this morning to catch the 8:55 flight to West Palm Beach. In the line next to mine were two guys wearing Mets caps. They figured out that I MUST be headed to camp. Why else is anyone 1) wearing Mets gear, 2) in the Atlanta airport, 3) in mid-January. Obviously they were correct in their assumption. I extended my hand and introduced myself to Kevin and David who live in the Atlanta area. They were to be on my flight and I explained that I was writing a blog this year as I did last year. We exchanged pleasantries and I said I would see them on the plane.

I saw them again on the plane and decided to offer them a ride up to St. Lucie in my rented car. They graciously accepted and we made our way to the Alamo center. The nice folks there looked at the bags to be transported and offered a free upgrade to an SUV. I graciously accepted that offer and we jammed the back of the Dodge Journey and hit the road north.

We arrived at the hotel and I dropped the guys off. I had arrangements with my friends the Skinners (Bob and Michele) during my time in town. The Skinners are a great couple whom I met during my early time at AirTran Airways. I hung out with them for a while then made my way over to the complex. Nearly everyone was on the fields at the time of my arrival. I walked into the clubhouse in anticipation of finding out who was going to be in attendance plus where my locker would be this year. I found my locker to be in the center aisle. I saw Phil's number 4 jersey and then saw the number 11 cream-white jersey with "COLLINS" on the back at the locker immediately to the left of Phil's. They HAD put us next to one another as we has requested. I walked around in a cloud of mild euphoria as I reacquainted myself with the room and it's surroundings.

I filled out the waiver forms which essentially releases the Mets from any liability may need to be addressed. It would be tough to sue my favorite sports team for any reason outside of gross mismanagement by the owners. So I hand in the completed form  and go back to my locker to suit-up.

A few minutes later my teammate, Phil, shows up. We exchanged hugs as though we hadn't seen each other since last year. In actuality, I had not met Phil EVER, but you would've been hard pressed to figure that out by viewing from afar.

He's a super-cool guy and he will be great on the field if positive attitude and excitement mean ANYTHING AT ALL.  I told him that I would be getting dressed to go out onto the field. He told me that he believed that the players were actually on the way IN and that I may have missed the workout. It was supposed to run until 5 and it was only 3:30. I jumped up and ran to the door. The fields indeed were empty. Why? I have no idea. But tomorrow would have to do. I missed the opportunity to hit the field with my 2013 Rockets jersey for the amusement of John Stearns, but that will come. I'll show it to him by Saturday.

I ran into a few more guys whom I knew from last year. They all genuinely seemed pleased to see me as much as I was to see them.

I tried to set my locker up in a way that would be most efficient. Easier said than done, to be sure. But tomorrow will be the test, when I show up at around 7:30 in a foggy state of awareness.

I left the clubhouse and went back to my guest house to change clothes. From there it was to the Island Club for the Welcome Banquet. It was great to see all involved in the same room. The rookies introduced themselves and we listened to how they made it to our little slice of heaven this year. Many guys received the camp as a gift from their wives. Some paid for it themselves. We found out that there are two brothers for whom this camp is their 14th.  One guy apparently is a Rangers fan. That's all good because I grew up as a Ranger fan. But he meant the TEXAS Rangers, not the NEW YORK Rangers. He kinda got booed by many in attendance. But I can't say I was surprised.

The opening banquet is behind us. Tomorrow we have tryouts, the draft and then game 1 of our little tourney. We get to go over the rules of camp and how things are gonna run.

It's very hard to believe that it has been a year since my last time on these fields. Probably because the memories are still so vivid. And more memories are ready to piggy-back on the old ones.

The people at Disney World believe that THEY are the home to the Happiest Place On Earth.

There're wrong.

At least for THIS week.

The first full day is now history. It was a great one and tomorrow can't come soon enough.

I got to the complex at 7:30 and had some breakfast before getting my uniform on. My buddy Phil came in and we caught up on some things. He brought a bat down for me to purchase. It's a nice piece of wood that feels good in my hands and should take me into my season with the Prior Lake (MN) Pacers.

The day started off with our commissioner, John Stearns, discussing what happens at the morning meetings. We also learned about the remainder of the day's activities. We would have player evaluations (we used to call 'em "tryouts" when I was a kid) followed by lunch and the player draft by the coaches/pros. The draft is serious stuff. Now, I'm not privy at all the draft, but we players all imagine it to be a trash-talking exhibition of monumental proportions as bragging rights a huge thing at camp among the coaches/pros.

After lunch all the players were in high anticipation of finding out what team they would be on, who their teammates would be and who their coaches would be. At about 1:15 I found out that my team would be coached by current Mets major league bullpen coach Ricky Bones (pronounced "boh-ness). His team is known as Broken Bones (pronounced bohnz).  I'm not sure if his team won the championship last year, but I know they were near the top at the end.

We hit the field for game 1 of our camp schedule. We played a team called The Piglets, coached by Joe Pignatano and two others. We started the game by scoring 5 in the first inning and coasting from there. We won by over ten runs and we were ecstatic with our performance. Personally, I batted seventh in the order of 13 players. I singled to center in my first at bat. In my second I basically produced a carbon copy of my first at bat, although even after it cleared the infield dirt, the runner in front of me was forced out at second base. It will probably go in the books as a fielder's choice, but under any other circumstance, it would be a hit. In my third at bat I did not get a hit and thus my average will be either .667 or .333.

We lost our starting catcher, Livio Forte, who was one of the leading hitters in 2013 to a foul pop which hit him in the right eye socket. It hit with such force that he had to go to the hospital and may need surgery. It's a shame because he only got one full inning of play completed before the injury. Friends who know him well say that unless it's something very serious, he'll be back tomorrow.

It was great to be back on the field in game situation.  Granted, its been nearly four months, but I could be better than I fared today.

After the games everyone retreated to the clubhouse where we all caught our collective breaths and tried to soak in what had just happened. None of the rookies has any real idea and veterans like myself are shaking our heads nearly as much.

Today we put on uniforms that not only matched, but the uniforms had our own names on them and we played in games that meant something. How we are going to come back to earth by the time we play tomorrow is beyond me.

Tomorrow we play games 2 and 3.  Our first opponent will be known by the time we show up in the early morning. We will attempt to find out how good we may actually be, or if we just got a favorable opponent draw today.  This team's pretty good from what I can tell. If we get our catcher back, we could go places.


My goal is to know my teammate's names. Who knows how long THAT will take?

The Arrival in PSL

One day closer.

I put in my last day of work before camp begins today at the airport.  I work for Southwest Airlines and I have been in the industry as a gate agent/ticket agent and trainer for just over seven years.  I enjoy the heck out of it (the vast majority of the time) and today was a fairly easy day.  Last week I managed to experience the worst four days of my career ALL IN A ROW! In order of pain level, the days would be Friday, Thursday, Sunday, Saturday.  4-day runs like that are what turn airline employees into FORMER airline employees. 

But I digeress.

I leave Monday for Fantasy Camp, as I have stated before. The reason I leave a day early is much like the same logic which should be used by travelers when they are going on a cruise. My logic is that you should NEVER, EVER travel to your cruise destination on the same day which our cruise leaves.  Things happen, planes are delayed because of weather or even de-icing processes.  With this in mind, I leave for Atlanta on Monday afternoon.  Atlanta is a good stopping point as it allows me to have dinner at a soul food restaurant called Big Daddy's Dish.  It is some of the tastiest fare that I've ever had.  I don't get there very often any more as I don't have trainings in Atlanta like I used to when my paycheck was given to me by AirTran Airways.  It also allows me to not be concerned about a missed transfer and get my brain squared and ready for the week ahead.  I will get up on Tuesday morning and catch the first flight to West Palm Beach and that should get me to Port St. Lucie around noon.

The fields are open on Tuesday afternoon from 2-5 pm. This allows players to go to the locker room, see their locker locations and new uniforms.  From there I will go out to the fields and try to blend in. Last year I was totally scared by this process. Many of the players had met in prior years and were hanging out after greetings had been exchanged.  Last year, when I hit the field I was wearing my softball jersey from home.  I am the player/coach of the Bugtussle Rockets.  I started playing for this team in 1989.  I took over as coach in 1994.  The jersey I wore was our newest incarnation at the time.  Gone were the days of simple t-shirts with logos screened on and standard numbers.  I had taken the jerseys to the next level.  We had fully sublimated jerseys that were pretty cool-looking, to be honest.  Some of the coaches saw this and took a liking to it.  One coach said. "You must be a good team to look that good on the field". Well, we had won our first championship in 19 years the previous summer.  I was pretty proud to tell them this. 

THIS year I plan to do the same thing, but this year's jersey is even cooler than LAST years. We won another championship in 2013. That aside, the fact that I will know some of the guys at the field already will make this opening meeting much more fun. 

Oh yeah, why Bugtussle?  Well, the team was once known as the Bad Axe Red Dawgs.  Bad Axe is a city in Michigan, believe it or not. Roughly 600 miles from where I live.  I first heard about it on the David Letterman show back when Dave was funny and on NBC. When the team went BACK to the Rockets nickname the team "moved to"Bugtussle, Kentucky. Bugtussle sits on the border of Kentucky and Tennessee. It is also the town where the Clampetts lived prior to their relocating to Beverly Hills.  Yes, it's from the Beverly Hillbillies.

One thing is new today. Apparently my body is in the process of trying to stave off a cold.  I get a cold about once every five years.  The fact that it's trying to manifest itself just before I leave for Fantasy Camp is more than a little aggravating. But no matter what happens with it, it's not going to make my enjoyment of the week ahead any less than it would normally be.

At the end of the week I drive up to Orlando and will visit my aunt Bea.  She's the Typhoid Mary of my Mets fever.  It will be great to talk to her in person.  During my last visit with her she talked about the early days of the Mets.  She recalled the 1969 season and the fact that she was at game 5 against the Orioles.  Her long-term memory is superb to this day and I once got a baseball signed by her which is proudly displayed in a case in my office next to balls signed to me by Hall-of-Famers and former players who are personal friends of mine.  SHE is the first inductee in MY hall-of-fame.

Tonight's post comes to you from Dixie. A smooth flight from Minneapolis has landed me in the home of the Braves.  I've had a tasty dinner at Big Daddy's Dish, which was just as good as I'd hoped. I need to get some sleep as the flight to West Palm Beach departs Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport at 8:55 a.m.  Or so says the schedule.

Touchdown in Florida is approximately 10:45. An hour's drive north on I-95 should put me in PSL by 12:30. A quick change and some greeting time with my hosts, Bob and Michele Skinner and off to the field I go. I spoke with Bob about an hour ago and there's rain in the forecast for the early part of the day tomorrow. Hopefully things will clear up in time to get some swings in and maybe throw on the side.

My man Phil leaves from New York in the morning. I would call him now, because I'm guessing that he's not going to get more than 30 minutes of sleep tonight. It's not that I'm not excited myself, because my sleep will be minimal as we'll, I'm sure. It's Christmas Eve for all of us!

I'm excited to see guys and ladies whom I met last year and to welcome this year's rookies.

Tomorrow, Santa pays off to a bunch of Walter Mittys wearing baseball gloves.

 I'm just glad to be one of 'em.

Well, my week at the happiest place on earth is underway. I arrived at the airport this morning to catch the 8:55 flight to West Palm Beach. In the line next to mine were two guys wearing Mets caps. They figured out that I MUST be headed to camp. Why else is anyone 1) wearing Mets gear, 2) in the Atlanta airport, 3) in mid-January. Obviously they were correct in their assumption. I extended my hand and introduced myself to Kevin and David who live in the Atlanta area. They were to be on my flight and I explained that I was writing a blog this year as I did last year. We exchanged pleasantries and I said I would see them on the plane.

I saw them again on the plane and decided to offer them a ride up to St. Lucie in my rented car. They graciously accepted and we made our way to the Alamo center. The nice folks there looked at the bags to be transported and offered a free upgrade to an SUV. I graciously accepted that offer and we jammed the back of the Dodge Journey and hit the road north.

We arrived at the hotel and I dropped the guys off. I had arrangements with my friends the Skinners (Bob and Michele) during my time in town. The Skinners are a great couple whom I met during my early time at AirTran. I hung out with them for a while then made my way over to the complex. Nearly everyone was on the fields at the time of my arrival. I walked into the clubhouse in anticipation of finding out who was going to be in attendance plus where my locker would be this year. I found my locker to be in the center aisle. I saw Phil's number 4 jersey and then saw the number 11 cream-white jersey with "COLLINS" on the back at the locker immediately to the left of Phil's. They HAD put us next to one another as we has requested. I walked around in a cloud of mild euphoria as I reacquainted myself with the room and it's surroundings.

I filled out the waiver forms which essentially releases the Mets from any liability may need to be addressed. It would be tough to sue my favorite sports team for any reason outside of gross mismanagement by the owners. So I hand in the completed form  and go back to my locker to suit-up.

A few minutes later my teammate, Phil, shows up. We exchanged hugs as though we hadn't seen each other since last year. In actuality, I had not met Phil EVER, but you would've been hard pressed to figure that out by viewing from afar.

He's a super-cool guy and he will be great on the field if positive attitude and excitement mean ANYTHING AT ALL.  I told him that I would be getting dressed to go out onto the field. He told me that he believed that the players were actually on the way IN and that I may have missed the workout. It was supposed to run until 5 and it was only 3:30. I jumped up and ran to the door. The fields indeed were empty. Why? I have no idea. But tomorrow would have to do. I missed the opportunity to hit the field with my 2013 Rockets jersey for the amusement of John Stearns, but that will come. I'll show it to him by Saturday.

I ran into a few more guys whom I knew from last year. They all genuinely seemed pleased to see me as much as I was to see them.

I tried to set my locker up in a way that would be most efficient. Easier said than done, to be sure. But tomorrow will be the test, when I show up at around 7:30 in a foggy state of awareness.

I left the clubhouse and went back to my guest house to change clothes. From there it was to the Island Club for the Welcome Banquet. It was great to see all involved in the same room. The rookies introduced themselves and we listened to how they made it to our little slice of heaven this year. Many guys received the camp as a gift from their wives. Some paid for it themselves. We found out that there are two brothers for whom this camp is their 14th.  One guy apparently is a Rangers fan. That's all good because I grew up as a Ranger fan. But he meant the TEXAS Rangers, not the NEW YORK Rangers. He kinda got booed by many in attendance. But I can't say I was surprised.

The opening banquet is behind us. Tomorrow we have tryouts, the draft and then game 1 of our little tourney. We get to go over the rules of camp and how things are gonna run.

It's very hard to believe that it has been a year since my last time on these fields. Probably because the memories are still so vivid. And more memories are ready to piggy-back on the old ones.

The people at Disney World believe that THEY are the home to the Happiest Place On Earth.

There're wrong.

At least for THIS week.

Next Stop- The A.T.L.

One day closer.

I put in my last day of work before camp begins today at the airport.  I work for Southwest Airlines and I have been in the industry as a gate agent/ticket agent and trainer for just over seven years.  I enjoy the heck out of it (the vast majority of the time) and today was a fairly easy day.  Last week I managed to experience the worst four days of my career ALL IN A ROW! In order of pain level, the days would be Friday, Thursday, Sunday, Saturday.  4-day runs like that are what turn airline employees into FORMER airline employees. 

But I digeress.

I leave Monday for Fantasy Camp, as I have stated before. The reason I leave a day early is much like the same logic which should be used by travelers when they are going on a cruise. My logic is that you should NEVER, EVER travel to your cruise destination on the same day which our cruise leaves.  Things happen, planes are delayed because of weather or even de-icing processes.  With this in mind, I leave for Atlanta on Monday afternoon.  Atlanta is a good stopping point as it allows me to have dinner at a soul food restaurant called Big Daddy's Dish.  It is some of the tastiest fare that I've ever had.  I don't get there very often any more as I don't have trainings in Atlanta like I used to when my paycheck was given to me by AirTran Airways.  It also allows me to not be concerned about a missed transfer and get my brain squared and ready for the week ahead.  I will get up on Tuesday morning and catch the first flight to West Palm Beach and that should get me to Port St. Lucie around noon.

The fields are open on Tuesday afternoon from 2-5 pm. This allows players to go to the locker room, see their locker locations and new uniforms.  From there I will go out to the fields and try to blend in. Last year I was totally scared by this process. Many of the players had met in prior years and were hanging out after greetings had been exchanged.  Last year, when I hit the field I was wearing my softball jersey from home.  I am the player/coach of the Bugtussle Rockets.  I started playing for this team in 1989.  I took over as coach in 1994.  The jersey I wore was our newest incarnation at the time.  Gone were the days of simple t-shirts with logos screened on and standard numbers.  I had taken the jerseys to the next level.  We had fully sublimated jerseys that were pretty cool-looking, to be honest.  Some of the coaches saw this and took a liking to it.  One coach said. "You must be a good team to look that good on the field". Well, we had won our first championship in 19 years the previous summer.  I was pretty proud to tell them this. 

THIS year I plan to do the same thing, but this year's jersey is even cooler than LAST years. We won another championship in 2013. That aside, the fact that I will know some of the guys at the field already will make this opening meeting much more fun. 

Oh yeah, why Bugtussle?  Well, the team was once known as the Bad Axe Red Dawgs.  Bad Axe is a city in Michigan, believe it or not. Roughly 600 miles from where I live.  I first heard about it on the David Letterman show back when Dave was funny and on NBC. When the team went BACK to the Rockets nickname the team "moved to"Bugtussle, Kentucky. Bugtussle sits on the border of Kentucky and Tennessee. It is also the town where the Clampetts lived prior to their relocating to Beverly Hills.  Yes, it's from the Beverly Hillbillies.

One thing is new today. Apparently my body is in the process of trying to stave off a cold.  I get a cold about once every five years.  The fact that it's trying to manifest itself just before I leave for Fantasy Camp is more than a little aggravating. But no matter what happens with it, it's not going to make my enjoyment of the week ahead any less than it would normally be.

At the end of the week I drive up to Orlando and will visit my aunt Bea.  She's the Typhoid Mary of my Mets fever.  It will be great to talk to her in person.  During my last visit with her she talked about the early days of the Mets.  She recalled the 1969 season and the fact that she was at game 5 against the Orioles.  Her long-term memory is superb to this day and I once got a baseball signed by her which is proudly displayed in a case in my office next to balls signed to me by Hall-of-Famers and former players who are personal friends of mine.  SHE is the first inductee in MY hall-of-fame.

Tonight's post comes to you from Dixie. A smooth flight from Minneapolis has landed me in the home of the Braves.  I've had a tasty dinner at Big Daddy's Dish, which was just as good as I'd hoped. I need to get some sleep as the flight to West Palm Beach departs Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport at 8:55 a.m.  Or so says the schedule.

Touchdown in Florida is approximately 10:45. An hour's drive north on I-95 should put me in PSL by 12:30. A quick change and some greeting time with my hosts, Bob and Michele Skinner and off to the field I go. I spoke with Bob about an hour ago and there's rain in the forecast for the early part of the day tomorrow. Hopefully things will clear up in time to get some swings in and maybe throw on the side.

My man Phil leaves from New York in the morning. I would call him now, because I'm guessing that he's not going to get more than 30 minutes of sleep tonight. It's not that I'm not excited myself, because my sleep will be minimal as we'll, I'm sure. It's Christmas Eve for all of us!

I'm excited to see guys and ladies whom I met last year and to welcome this year's rookies.

Tomorrow, Santa pays off to a bunch of Walter Mittys wearing baseball gloves.

 I'm just glad to be one of 'em.

The Return Trip Approaches

Fantasy Camp.

Part deux.

I'm goin' back.

Because once was NOT enough.

For those of you who were not part of my fun LAST year when I wrote a blog, let me give you some background information as to how this has all come to be.

In December of 2012 I received notice from my former employer, the Minnesota Twins Baseball Club, notifying me that they were offering me the opportunity to cash-in my Major League Baseball pension from my six seasons in the front office.  Instead of opting for monthly payments which would not even begin until 2025 I chose the lump-sum payout.  I was going to use the money for household expenses.  My wife, Bryn, "suggested" that I take money that I'd made in baseball and spend it on something in .......baseball.   THIS year I took the remainder of my 401k to pay for part of camp.  I figure that I'm in better shape and I want to do do a better job than last year.  More later on my preparation for MFC 2014.

I grew up in Stamford, Connecticut.  I was born on the same day that ground was broken on what was originally known as Flushing Meadow Park, and was later named Shea Stadium.  I found out this fact when I was about 10 years old and I was rather proud of it, and I still am.  So, I believe I was born to be a Mets fan.

I grew up as a New York Mets fan. Mostly because my dear aunt Bea was a fan.  The Mets were a new team in 1962 and she took to the new team in town.  Not wanting to have anything with that other team in New York, she put up with the long struggling of a team that was untalented and were basically a laughingstock in the league for their first 7 seasons.  But then in 1969 all of the planets aligned and they won 100 games during the regular season.  They blew past the Braves in the playoffs and won 4 of 5 games versus the Baltimore Orioles to win their first World Championship. I was only 7 at the time of the Series, but Bea was "in da house" when Cleon Jones caught Davey Johnson's fly ball. 

Baseball is my second love. My mother was my first love. I think that it is the greatest game ever invented. When I landed a job working for a Major League team I was over the rainbow. I was on the field when the 1991 World Series ended and I have met dozens of major leaguers, some whom are now hall-of-famers, some who are my personal friends and I was even a major league mascot. I could NEVER have dreamt of those experiences when I was a kid.  

During my time with the Twins I kinda lost touch with my "real" team. The internet had not yet been invented and it was tough to keep up with the orange & blue on a daily basis. Interleague play had not yet begun and my schedule didn't allow for much viewing of games from other markets.  But after I left the team I took a year off from watching baseball altogether.  But in 2003 I started to get back into the game "full bore".  

What helps the most today is something called SNY.  SNY is a channel which allows me to keep up with the orange and blue and watch nearly all of their games.  The voices of Gary Cohen, Keith Hernandez and Ron Darling are heard at my house a whole lot between April and September.  

My love of this team runs deep and one of the thrills I will experience next week is the fact that nearly all of my fellow fantasy campers are life-long Mets fans.  We have a common bond.  We tell stories about players, games and moments that we can each recall as though they happened last Saturday.  We also get to rub shoulders with some of those players we recall so fondly. So the stories will be flying at great speed all week, to be sure.  

This year will be better than last for many reasons.  A gentleman who read last year's blog contacted me a few months ago and we've been exchanging e-mails ever since.  He will be joining me as a "teammate" for this camp, but you will learn about him soon as well. 

I have but one more work day before I focus the last 25% of my attention on my departure on Monday afternoon.  I will explain the logic of leaving on Monday versus Tuesday in a near-future posting.

I eluded to the fact that  I have a "teammate" this year. His name is Phil Forman.  He will be a rookie this year and he read my blog and enjoyed it.  He has been in high anticipation of the start of camp, much like all of us.  There are about 100 campers or so and a happier bunch of middle-aged guys you will probably never see.  

Phil knows a lot about the game and he's helping me out with my new gloves and their break-in process.  He has theories that are very different from what I grew up with, but I already trust him and have the utmost confidence in his teachings.  He's also selling me a new bat to use.  I purchased a couple of "off-the-rack" bats last season for my senior league team, but ended up breaking them both before the season ended.  I ended the year using a bat that once belonged to a guy named Alex Rodriguez when he played for a team called the Seattle Mariners.  It's not new at all, as Alex apparently last played for the M's in 2000.  I came upon it when a clubhouse guy from the Twins left it in my office inside of a Mariners equipment bag.  I never used it until last year.  I got a single in my first at bat with it and it has performed quite well.  But it can't last forever, so a new stick is in the works. I look forward to meeting Phil on Tuesday.

I have looked at the mailing list which is attached to the information updates sent to us by coordinator Doug Dickey.  Doug is in his second year as coordinator and he did a superb job last year. I know he was pretty nervous last year but I'm sure that experience will come in handy in a few days.  There appear to be a whole lot of returnees for 2014.  It will be so cool to see those guys. That's something that I didn't get to experience last year.  I DID get some of it in May at the reunion in New York.  I'm so bad with names sometimes that having the last names of the players on the uniforms is a HUGE benefit to me.  

The coach/pro list has lost two names in the last couple of days.  1969 champions Ed Charles and Bud Harrelson will not be with us next week.  I had the great opportunity to meet Ed last year.  We had a great conversation during dinner at the awards banquet.  We talked about his meeting Jackie Robinson during his childhood and the then-upcoming movie release of "42" in April.  If you've seen the film, you know that there's a character who later grows up to BE Ed Charles.  I will always remember my time with Ed because he always referred to me as "Bobby". Now, I'm guessing that he misheard me when I introduced myself to him.  I didn't want to correct him, so I went with it. Bud Harrelson, former shortstop and one-time Met manager was scheduled to be with us LAST year also, but he couldn't make it then either.  I was kinda hoping to meet him, for sure. 

The weather looks like it will be dry and in the high-60's and low 70's.  70 degrees would be 90 degrees warmer than it was outside my front door last week.  Now, I wear long sleeves when it's 90 degrees, so I will probably be in a parka for the morning workouts during the week.  Long sleeves is merely a comfort zone for me and that's pretty much it.  My teammates ask me how I can do it in the temps that are above 80. I tell them that I have no blood, then turn and walk away.  

Time keeps on ticking into the future. That future includes a week playing baseball in Florida. 

That's good stuff, right there.


P.S.- I actually have some blood.