Working in the media definitely has its perks.
Sunday afternoon I had the pleasure of watching the Dodgers rout the Florida Marlins 9-1, directly followed by playing in the media game.
To start the day off, I viewed the game from the press box. My first experience there was very interesting. I have seen numerous games Chavez Ravine, and the atmospheres could not be more on different ends of the spectrum. In the stands, people are either having family fun time or let’s get hammered time with your friends. In the box, it is all business. You are not allowed to root for either team and the writers/broadcasters discuss the issues on each team in a calm manner. However, the food is free and I took major advantage. Dodger Dog here, nachos there. I’ll end up blaming the food for my play later, just wait.
After the game ended, we all went down to the field where we were divided into two teams. I was on the home team with the host of the show I produce, Ben Maller.
I had been on the field at Dodger Stadium one time before for a fireworks show on the Fourth of July. This was a completely different experience. The weather was a cool 102 degrees, and my sunglasses seemed to fog up every five minutes. It was great.
I played catch in the same outfield as Dodger greats Duke Snider and Dusty Baker. Caught practice pop flies in the same right field that Rick Monday famously stopped protesters from burning our beloved American Flag. I was in awe the entire time.
The game started and I had a gigantic smile on my face. I sat out the first inning, joking around with the other members of the media that were there. I looked around, feeling like a big leaguer for the first time in my life.
Batting sixth in the lineup, I came up with a man on first. Surprisingly, the nerves that I expected to encounter were replaced with sheer excitement. I took a couple of practice swings, and stepped into the batter’s box. Knocked the dirt off my cleats with my bat and waved it over the plate a few times. Feeling like I was posing for my very own baseball card, I brought the bat up and was in full stance.
I took a look to stare down the pitcher and who was standing in front of me? 1983 American League ERA leader and Dodger pitching coach, Rick Honeycutt. All of sudden, all of that excitement was filled with terror. Not wanting to show the fear, I curled my lip, just a little, to show him I wasn’t afraid.
The first pitch was a screaming fastball that I swear had to be no less than 80 miles an hour. I let it go by for ball one. There was no way I was going to allow Honeycutt to show me up. I had a lot to prove, after all. This was my first media game and I was the youngest there. Expectations were placed upon me.
The next pitch was another fastball and I gave it rip. I watched as Mr. Rawlings flew high into the air. Oh, what a blast! I sped down the first baseline. As I stepped on first base, I saw that the runner on first is still there. What was he doing!! I looked to my right into foul territory and there is the first baseman, glove in the air with the ball landing perfectly in the netting. 0 for 1.
The next few innings went by and the only female on our team hits a two run double to put us up 2-0. I was being outplayed by a girl! As happy as I was for our team and for her, I couldn’t help but feel that redemption was necessary.
In the bottom of the sixth inning of our seven inning game, we were still leading 2-0. I was batting leadoff. No way was I letting Rick get the best of me this time! I took some hard cuts in the on deck circle. Rick must have seen this. I fouled off the first two pitches of pure heat he threw. The next pitch was at my feet and I had to jump out of the way. My feet flew backwards and I barely held my ground. Intimidation, maybe?
OK, I see how it is. I stepped back in with even more determination on my face. The next pitch is again at my feet, but I wasn’t so lucky this time. My reflexes were not fast enough and he drilled me in my right leg. The pain was overshadowed by my adrenaline. I just gave him a smile and politely asked if I was crowding his plate. He laughed and apologized.
Who walks in a media game? So, I step back in and swing and miss at a heater at my eyes. Strike three. 0 for 2.
Embarrassment filled me, but I walked back to the dugout smiling. I knew that I would have a story for the rest of my life. I was hit by a pitch by a former major leaguer. Trust me; I have a bruise that looks like a baseball to prove it.
Playing shortstop in the top of the seventh with two outs, a screaming ground ball was hit my way. Summoning the spirit of Maury Wills, I ran full speed to field the ball. The ball reached my glove and with a perfect transfer to my hand, I gunned the runner out at first base with a sidearm throw. Finally I received my redemption!
Game over. Good guys win 2-0.
Overall, the day was one I will never forget. Even though I didn’t have a great day at the plate, my defensive efforts made my day a success. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten all that free food.
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