One Camper's Fantasy

Day 6

As the banner hanging across Jackie Robinson Avenue puts it, "Its Great To Be In Dodgertown."  It's the next to last day of camp today, we've got two games left but San Bernardino pretty much has this year's camp championship wrapped up.  As for us, we're still shooting for an end to our losing streak.  Maybe it will be today.

Nine o'clock finds us out on the field for morning stretching before the games begin.  As I lay on the outfield grass lifting first my right leg, knee to chest, and then my left, I hear the faint moans and groans from my fellow campers.  Last night was a real sight in the trainer's room, the ice was piled on groin pulls, quads, hamstrings, backs, shoulders and elbows, and yes, even a rib cage.  This morning though was the time for the heating pads to be brought out, the atomic balm to be applied (in your choice of heat level, mild and medium - they left the really hot stuff at home), and the calves, quads, hamstrings and groins to be wrapped. But even with the best the trainers had to offer, I could still hear those groans and moans.

The morning was warm and the stretching helped to break a sweat if not to relieve some of the aches and pains.  As we ended with a short jog, it was on to the batting cages to get in a few cuts before game time.  Yeager and Monday were reluctant to let us in the cages, trying desperately to come up with something to break the losing habit but most of us took some hacks anyway.  About 15 cuts and I had had enough.  I was off to field 1 to get ready for the game.  We were playing Albuquerque for the second time; they had shattered my pitching debut in the 2^nd game of the "season" and I was determined to avenge myself.  Fortunately, the rest of the guys felt the same and as the game got underway, we took control.  Being the visitors this time, we started off by scoring 10 in the 1^st inning, giving me a very comfortable lead to work with.  I measured up to the challenge by shutting down Albuquerque's offense.  I said shutting down, not shutting out.  By the end of the game they had scored 8 but we had added 6 more and came out on top in this one.  The drought was over; we were 1 and 4.

It was a long, hot game and we were the last to get back to the locker room for lunch. Nevertheless, we savored the victory over sandwiches and cokes.  Then it was back to Holman Stadium for the event of the day, the traditional match up between the Instructors and the Campers.  For some of us, myself included, this was kind of like my field of dreams. I was going to play, even pitch, on a pro field against players I grew up watching.  So even though I had already pitched a long morning game, I was anxious to get my turn on the mound. 

Just as the festivities were about to begin with player introductions, the place started to buzz.  Another of my dreams was about to unfold.  We had a surprise visitor.  There in the opposing dugout talking to the Instructors and some of the fans was Hall of Famer Sandy Koufax. We all wanted desperately to meet, shake hands with and get autographs from Sandy, but that was going to have to wait, the game must go on.  Fortunately, Sandy went up to the press box and stayed a while.

The Instructor-camper game, it turns out, is more than just another game for us. The game is publicized in the local Vero Beach papers and fans come to watch. And all the money collected from tickets and concessions goes to the designated charity. The game starts with all the pomp and circumstance of a major league all-star game. First the campers are individually introduced and we run onto the field and line up on the first base line. Then its time for introductions of the Instructors, who the crowd has really come to see. Introductions are followed by the playing of our national anthem by Carl Erskine on his harmonica and then a hearty "Play Ball" by Bruce. So that every camper gets an opportunity to play and we are not too embarrassed, the game rules are slightly modified. Each team plays the instructors for two innings. Campers stay at bat until 3 outs are made or half the team has batted, whichever takes longer. Instructors can only hit until 3 outs are recorded or they score two runs, whichever occurs first. After a camper team's the second inning, the next team takes over with the order of play determined by the team standings. Since we were in last place, we wouldn't be playing until the 7th and 8th innings. Oh, yeah, and the team that scores the most runs against the instructors gets a special T-shirt to commemorate the occasion.

Since our turn on the field would be late in the game, we relaxed in the stands and cheered on our fellow campers. I took the opportunity to search out the camp photographer and get him to follow me to the press box to where my boyhood idol had retreated in order to watch the game. Sandy is a quiet man who prefers to spend his retirement years out of the limelight. But on this occasion he was quite hospitable and provided spectator and camper alike with autographs and pictures. For me it was a treat to just sit next to him, joke about my uniform number and have my picture taken with the man I consider to be the greatest left-handed pitcher of all time. That picture will find a prominent place on my office wall when I get home.

It finally came time for us to take the field. After my morning outing, my arm needed a rest but I was not going to let this opportunity go by without giving it the old college try. Though I only got one out in the inning before the instructors scored their two runs, I enjoyed breaking off a curve to Lopes and trying to hit the corners on Yeager. Hitting, well let's just say, I did get wood on the ball. When I stepped up to the plate, Torborg was catching and Reuss was pitching. Jeff told me that Jerry was going to lay the ball right down the middle and sure enough that was right where it was, only at about 90 mph! The next pitch was a little less intimidating and I was able to make contact with a little grounder to Lopes at 2nd for an out but it made my day! What an experience to face a major league pitcher. I can only imagine what it would be like to face that 95 mph fastball or that big league curve before 30,000 screaming fans. The game ended with, you guessed it, the instructors winning. But we stayed after the last out for another tradition, to encourage Carl Erskine's son Jimmy, mentally challenged since birth, as he ran the stadium bases for an imaginary home run.

There were no heads hung in dejection after today's defeat. Instead we seemed to float back to the locker room for our showers and ice packs and an amazing demonstration of physical strength by Jerry Reuss as he lifted 3 campers at once from the locker room floor. Boy was the money flying as campers laid odds on whether he could or could not accomplish the fete.

Dinner was followed by awards followed by the Brooklyn players, Snider, Labine, Erskine, and Branca, giving us some perspective on the Brooklyn days and what it was like to play with players like Robinson, Reese, and Hodges.