Cubs Fantasy Camp, Part Four

Another amazing day, but I'm gonna have to keep this recap short, because a) I'm utterly exhausted, and b) I've aggravated what is apparently a "deep bone bruise" on my right hand with a few more hits off the handle, so hitting the space bar with my thumb is way more painful than it oughta be.

That's my teammate Jerry Cook, above, up to bat against the Giants' fantasy campers. Along with two other teams from our camp, we traveled to the Giants' complex in Scottsdale this morning as part of a day-long series of games; we lost ours 14-11 (I think), but despite the fact that we were facing live pitching for the first time all week, we hung tough with the Giants — and might have even won if it hadn't been for some unbelievably jive-ass calls on the part of the(ir) umpire. The biggest indignity of the game came on the final pitch, when our top slugger Mike Rothkopf — looking at a 3-2 count with two outs and bases loaded — was given a called third strike on a pitch in the dirt. On the plus side, Jerry gave us several strong innings on the mound, we came back strong from an 11-3 deficit, and we even nailed one of their baserunners in an attempted steal.

Oh, and the Giants' camp coaches were none other than Jack Clark and Gary "Sarge" Matthews, both of whom were infinitely cooler and friendlier than their charges. After the game, I asked Sarge (a favorite player of mine back in his late '70s days with the Braves and of course on the 1984 Cubs) if he'd pose for a photo with me. "Sure," he said. "I love the hair, man." Ed Lynch, who may be even more excited about my forthcoming '70s baseball book than I am — he even gave it a shout-out at the today's morning meeting — told Sarge about it. "I used to have a natural in those days," Sarge said, a touch wistfully.

 

We played our afternoon game back in Mesa against our campmates coached by Keith Moreland and Ron Coomer, who bantered hilariously with everyone throughout the entire game. As the day was unusually wet and cold for Arizona, and I hadn't been able to do much in the way of stretching before the Giants game, my lower back totally stiffened up on me; swinging the bat thus became sheer agony, and running — never my strong suit to begin with — was almost entirely out of the question. Thankfully, I was still able to contribute, knocking in a key run in our 12-11 victory with a slow roller that actually went (according to eyewitnesses) under the pitching machine and rolled back down the mound, giving me enough time to trudge to first. I also reached base a couple of times on errors; Bobby Dernier and I joked that my utter lack of speed completely throws opposing defenses off their game, because they have too much time to actually think while I'm "running" the basepaths. There is talk that "Wheels" should be my baseball nickname.

Once again, we battled back after being down by a considerable deficit; the late-in-the-game turning points were an amazing, "Dwight Evans '75 World Series"-style catch by Mike Beehner, our 64 year-old centerfielder, and an incredible third-to-home double-play turned by Chuck Hixson and our captain/catcher Larry Malcomson, both of whom are over 60 themselves. (To say these guys inspire me would be a severe understatement.) And then, in perfect poetic baseball fashion, Mr. Rothkopf once again came to the plate in the final inning with the game on the line, and drove in the winning run. I'd have taken a photo of the home plate celebration, but I was too busy participating in it. We now have a 3-3 record for the "season"; while we may not be the best team in camp, we don't give up, everyone contributes, and we have a total blast playing and hanging out together.

After the game, at Chuck's behest, I took a soak in the training room's "cold tub" — basically a jacuzzi filled with semi-frigid water — then followed it up with a soak in the hotel hot tub, a combination which helped my lower back exponentially. Finally feeling semi-human again, I joined several of my teammates for a trip to Don & Charlie's, a Scottsdale steakhouse that's loaded to the gills with amazing sports memorabilia — and where, in addition to enjoying a few good cocktails and some desperately-needed grub, my teammate Scott snapped the punning pic below.

Comments

[Kick1pop2]

Fantastic account once again Dan! Now just play through the pain and gut it out.... it's in your blood now! You'll belt out a game winning RBI tomorrow. ...Focus....

[Don]

Aha- NOW you know what Fantasy Camp is really like- if Jody Davis didn't say it on Monday like he usually does, he was remiss. Remember how you felt Monday morning, even with a hangover, because that was the best you were gonna feel the rest of the week. It only gets worse from here. How's that for encouragement?

The guys who catch are unreal. Last two years, the catcher on my team was a guy named Bruce Allendorfer. Nice guy, but he rarely smiled or said a word. He caught every inning of every game. Turns out he does a White Sox camp the week before and catches there, too. If you think you ache now, imagine catching, even for an inning. I did it just warming up guys the first day last year before I rolled myankle, and it was hell. Your quads, hammies, thumbs, forearms, all look dark blue. Maybe kinda like you're feeling now. All the more reason to admire Hundley.

[Dan E]

Don - All the more reason to admire ANY ballplayer who can play day in, day out for an entire season, to say nothing of an entire career. Because I'm sure the aches and pains I'm feeling right now are minor compared to what your average starting infielder deals with.

At one point yesterday, I asked Dernier, "Bobby, how the hell did you guys DO it?" He just laughed and said, "One day at a time."

[Anthony DP]

Great stuff, Dan,

[Bob MacKay]

"Wheels" -- love it! Now, get it engraved on the neck of your axe in glitter or, rhinestone down your strap. Guitar, that is...