Results tagged ‘ Ricky Jordan ’

The Ring Goes *BLING*

Today I received an email from a wonderful guy who I met at Phantasy Camp last January. Him and his brother, who were also first-time campers, played on the championship-winning Red Barons team, coached by Legends Juan Samuel and Ricky Jordan. 

He was finally given his ring:
ring.jpg
That’s it. I am NOT going down next year for fun. I will be ALL business. 
I want this ring.
So to all my fellow, returning Drillers… we take no prisoners.

1/20/11 – Day Two of Phillies Phantasy Camp - afternoon


 

“You Are Here… on your way to lunch”

 As I started typing this, I realized I omitted a couple items from the morning workout and drills. Along with the infield, outfield, pitching and batting drills, there was a baserunning workout with the new third base coach for the Phillies, Juan Samuel. Ashburn Field was not quite up to par for the groundskeeper’s standards, and they wanted to save it until the afternoon games. So our baserunning clinic involved us rooks huddling around Sammy at home plate. He spoke about the basics of running starting from home plate and moving from station to station. Baserunning just seems natural: run straight. If the ball went further than you expected, turn at the next base and run straight again. Repeat and rinse if necessary. OK, obviously there is much more to that, but it’s incredible to hear it from an expert who ruled the base paths in the ’80′s. For the rest of the camp, when I did find myself hustling down the line, I found myself recalling Sammy’s tips, and most importantly, actually stayed on feet.

Right before Scott Palmer announced that lunch was served, we had a quick BP/fly ball-shagging session on Schmidt field.  I met a great fellow named John in rightfield. He had told me he had been really enjoying reading the blog. We stood and chatted for a while before I headed in for a couple swings. After a few hacks, one of the many player representatives stepped up next to the cage and simply said, “Shorten your stride”. Next pitch, I hit the ball square on the barrel and sent it screaming in to leftfield. It’s like these people know what they are talking about or something.

I made my way to Bright House Field for lunch. The buffet was situated under the same tent where Kangaroo Court was held a couple hours before. Since everyone ended the drills and workouts at the same time, there was quite a long line that extended past the bar of Frenchy’s. However, this provided me with front row seats to the small parking lot below. Why would this be exciting? Well, you’d be excited too if you got the nice surprise of seeing Ryan Howard strolling to the main batting cages located directly underneath where we were standing. I already knew this, and saying it will be redundant, but man… he is a big dude.

I promptly replaced all the calories I burned missing and overthrowing baseballs in the morning. Scott Palmer appeared to announce the teams. The Legends and GMs had conferred and made their selections. I felt like I was back on the playground being chosen for a pickup baseball game, except the kids are ex-Major Leaguers.

Amazing.

My name was finally read off. I selected for a team called the Drillers, coached by Kevin Stocker and Mike Lieberthal. That really jazzed me up. Those two were easily some of my favorite Phillies. These two West Coasters were famous for their laid back and friendly personalities. I was excited to get this started. I made my way to Ashburn Field to meet my team, my player rep, my two new coaches, and to finally get ready to play some games. We huddled around outside our dugout. Stocker came right out and introduced himself and within a minute, I knew this was going to be a blast. Stock seemed to get the idea of this camp experience down pat. We were here to play baseball, get advice from ex-Major Leaguers, but most importantly, we were here to have fun. Lieby was not quite as vocal; more chilled, but still had that same loose attitude. This was Mike’s first year participating as a Legend at Phantasy Camp, so my impression was that he was probably still trying to feel everything out.  Stock informed us that we were the only team out of ten that were completely full of rookies. Images of the Bad News Bears started creeping in to my mind.  Kevin read off the lineup, which he assured us, was filled out at random. Positions were set, but they let us know that if we want to switch with someone else, we could do it at any time. If we wanted to come out, no problem. If we wanted to go back in, not a problem. This had all the seriousness of a family reunion whiffle ball game.

——————-

One of my dad’s more classic moments happened on a beach in North Carolina during a marathon session of whiffle ball. At one point during a game, someone made a diving catch, which resulted in a dramatic end-over-end tumble. Later in the game, I was facing my dad and hit a line drive right back to him. He didn’t move or react. He stood there, cool as a cucumber, and snagged the ball nonchalantly. He waited a couple seconds, then dove to the ground and rolled on the sand, pretending he just made a highlight reel-worthy catch. We could not stop laughing for the rest of the day. I still smile when I think about that.

——————–

So out I ran to take my position in leftfield. I only had one fielding opportunity when a seeing-eye single came my way. I quickly realized that I probably wouldn’t be getting many more chances this game. Our man on the mound, Pete Wichterman, was a captain and starting pitcher for LaSalle University, and our opponents, the Red Barons, were getting mowed down one by one. Unfortunately, we were facing another buzz saw in Tony Carfagno. Tony, as I came to find out, had won the Camp’s Cy Young award the previous two years. Wonderful.

In typical Bryan Sargent-style, I struck out swinging at my first at bat. I was just sizing him up… yeah. The rest of the game was a fantastic pitcher’s duel. Because of this, and the fact that all 14 members of the team bats, no matter if they are in the field, my number of trips to the plate were limited. I eventually moved to third base. As I took my position, I had another one of those “where am I?” moments. Juan Samuel, one of the two Legends coaching for the Red Barons, along with Ricky Jordan, was standing there coaching third. I gave him a tip of the cap, said “hello Juan” and turned my attention back to the game, shaking my head in disbelief. Again, no fielding chances. That was probably best for the team’s success.

The Red Barons got us for t
wo runs at the top of the last inning. I took my second at bat against Carfagno, and I am proud to say, hit a solid line drive over the shortstop’s head for a single. If I don’t get another hit for the rest of the Camp, I’ll be happy knowing I got a knock off the best pitcher in Camp. We couldn’t manufacture a comeback and lost our first game. Did it really matter? Hell no. Stock and Lieby drove that message home in their post-game talk. They showered nothing but compliments, and maybe a few good-natured ribbings that we all quickly learned was Stock’s calling card.

Due to an impending rainstorm, another game was added to the schedule in case games had to be cancelled the next day. Our second game was supposed to be on Joe DiMaggio Field across from the complex, but because it’s condition was not optimal for playing on, we were “forced” to move our game to Bright House Field. Normally, this does not happen until the Legends game on the last day. So this was an incredible treat. It was only day two, and I was going to be stepping foot on to the same field where the Phillies play their Spring Training games. Sorry, I believe that’s my jaw on the ground. Let me get that out of your way.

With one game now under my belt, there was something else that really warmed my heart and brought me back to my childhood: playing baseball with a wooden bat. I learned how to play baseball with a wooden bat. We only used wooden bats in my first couple of years of Little League. This is a small aspect of the game I truly miss. Nothing feels or sounds sexier than a baseball hitting a wooden bat. Speaking of which…

On our way to Bright House, the sound of what my friend Sam referred to as a “howlitzer”, was blasting from the underbelly of the stadium. I deduced that this must be Ryan Howard taking batting practice (it was confirmed later that it was indeed Howard, as well as rookie prospect Domonic Brown). Now, the echoes of the tunnel did amplify his hits, but still… the “authority” of that sound, again from Sam, was overwhelming.  Like I said before, there is a regular person hitting a baseball… then there is a Major Leaguer. Just awe-inspiring.

Now, an issue arose right before our first game. It seemed that we had no catchers on our team. All the players who had “catcher” as their preferred position were snatched up in the draft. Thus, it was like pulling teeth to get folks to volunteer for the position.  We arrived to our dugout at Bright House. Stock came over to me and asked if I could be catcher for this game. As much as I wanted to run away screaming, I figured this was going to be problem for the duration of the Camp. I was sure I would eventually have to catch at some point anyway, so I might as well get it over with.

As far as I can remember, I have only caught twice in my life. Luckily, both instances were documented on film.

When I was three years old, my dad decided I should try and catch in our house. To make the experience authentic, he equipped me with his black glove and a beach toy to sift sand, attached to a baseball cap with a piece of twine for my mask. He lobbed a large plastic baseball to me in our living room. Baseball-reference.com doesn’t seem to have any statistics from that performance.

The other time was during my first year in Little League in Claymont, DE in 1982. According to my dad, it was the longest game he ever sat through. Apparently I didn’t do a very good job actually catching the baseball. I would just let the ball go to the backstop, get up, retrieve it, then throw it back to the pitcher. Repeat and rinse. I believe I was sent down to the minors after that game. Bless your soul dad.

I suited up and got a few tips from Lieberthal. Then I realized: I’m getting advice from a two-time All-Star and Gold Glove-winning catcher! Wow. I waddled out to home plate, got my bearings (holy sh!t, I’m catching at Bright House), and introduced myself to the umpire. He also gave me a few pointers, most likely more for his protection. Can’t say I didn’t blame him. He must get his fair share of bruises and knocks calling these games at Camp. Lucky for him, I was going contribute a few more war wounds to his collection!

The game ended before it even started. Our opponents, the Bay Sox, led by Marty Bystrom and Von Hayes, were a force to be reckoned with. They exploded for six runs in the first and eight runs in the second inning.  If I wasn’t feeling any pain earlier, I was feeling it now. After the first inning, I came back to the dugout. Stock greeted me very encouraging words. Mike stopped me, and with a big smile said, “you did a great job back there!” I smiled back, glowing in the fact this famed catcher just complimented me on my play behind the plate, thanked him very much, then asked, “how the hell did you do this sh!t?!

Even though I was playing baseball in these glorious surroundings, enveloped in a warm, late afternoon sun in the middle of January, the whole game was a complete blur. I was bumped up to cleanup in the batting lineup. I went 0 for 1 with a walk and strikeout. But to be honest, I don’t even really remember those at bats. My goal was to finish out the game the best I could behind the plate. I wasn’t that adept with a catcher’s mitt, so there were many instances of me completely missing the pitch and immediately hearing a loud “whack” followed by a painful “ungh!” I felt so bad after awhile. He kept reassuring me it was OK, but still. In between watching balls flying out past our outfielders and having baserunners pass me at home, I experienced my first foul ball-tip-straight-in-to-my-helmet. Luckily, there isn’t much up there to get injured
, so all was good. I also came very close to making a decent play catching a foul ball. Again, I do not know how catchers are able to pull off that move. The disorientation factor is through the roof.  During the second inning, there was a dispute about the number of outs. Some coaches had one. The umpire had two. I joked with him that I had three and the inning was over.

After the dust settled, the Drillers were once again shut out, this time by the score of 18-0. It wasn’t even close. Eh, what are you going to do? It was still a lot of fun. The twenty or so people in the crowd made me feel like I was playing for the Florida Marlins. This Camp thought of everything to make this a true Major League experience!

I headed back to the clubhouse, very sore and very tired. I groaned as I peeled off layer upon layer of my uniform. Playing baseball never hurt so good.

1/17/11 – Final thoughts before Camp

The final email messages from Phillies Phantasy Camp are coming in. More Legend bios… Ricky Bottalico, Ricky Jordan, Juan Samuel, and Dave Hollins. According to his bio, Hollins was inducted to the Greater Buffalo Sports Hall of Fame in 2004. This piqued my interest, so I had to see who else from the world of baseball is in this particular Hall of Fame. The first name that popped out to  me was the one and only, Warren Spahn, arguably the greatest left-handed pitcher in history. Also included is the man with easily one of the best nicknames in baseball history, pitcher Sal “The Barber” Maglie. Not bad company Dave! There are some noted inductees with huge ties to the Phillies also on this list… Paul “The Pope” Owens, Danny Ozark, and Jim Konstanty.

In addition to the daily weather update (70′s!), the email started out with this gem:

“The official equipment truck has been unloaded at the Carpenter Complex and setup has begun. The fields are in pristine condition and waiting for you.”

Really, how can you not get a lump in your throat when you read that?

——————–

I truly cannot believe it’s here. Ten months have flown by and Phantasy Camp has suddenly arrived. I really thought I would have demonstrated the patience and mental fortitude of a little kid, which of course, is practically non-existent.  But no, for once, I have acted like an adult. After Orientation, reality finally set in. I was in the home stretch. Now? Well, it still feels like a dream. I still can’t believe I’m packing my bags and preparing for this experience. Again, I don’t think this will truly hit me until I arrive at the hotel on Wednesday.

Before I leave, I want to thank all the people whom I have spoken to about Phantasy Camp… all the folks who either reached out to me after discovering my blog, or the ones whom I contacted. The amount of positivity and well-wishes for a great trip were, and still are, beyond anything I could have imagined. Everyone has fanned the flame. I don’t think my excitement level would be as high as it is without you sharing your experiences with me. I cannot wait to finally get on the diamond with you all.

My friends and family have been outstanding. Their anticipation may be as high as mine. I actually feel bad about rambling on and on about Camp as much as I do, but everyone keeps bringing it up! I sure hope you all aren’t bored talking about this, because you have months and months of me babbling like an idiot ahead of you. You have been warned.

I want to thank my perfect and loving wife. If it wasn’t for her total, undying support of this trip, I would not have this extraordinary sense of elation. She has always been my rock from the first day we met. What transpired in the past year was absolutely devastating, and her astounding mettle and constant pushing of me to move forward and live my life to the fullest has been incredibly awe-inspiring. If anyone is as trilled to be going to Florida as me, it is her. And for that, I will be in debt to her for the rest of my life.

And of course, I want to thank my father. He and I always had thoughts of participating in Phantasy Camp together, but that never came to fruition.

He was, and continues to be, my guardian angel.

He was, and continues to be, my hero.

This experience is for him.

*Note: I will not update the diary while I am down in Florida. As soon as I return on 1/23, I will get out my blog posts as quickly as possible.  Until then, you can snack on some peanuts and Cracker Jack and hum a little tune.


10/27/10 – The Lineup

A very timely email arrived in my inbox today, only a couple hours before the rather disheartening first pitch of the 2010 World Series. From the desk of the Phillies Phantasy Camp folks came a message officially counting down the days until camp in January. A great pick-me-up for my fellow campgoers and Phillies fans.  On the left side of the message was an alphabetical listing of the last names of all the former Phillies players who will be in attendance. I cannot believe I will be spending five days fraternizing with all of these gentlemen.

Larry Andersen
Bob Boone
Ricky Bottalico
Warren Brusstar
Marty Bystrom
Mariano Duncan
Jim Eisenreich
Tyler Green
Tommy Greene
Terry Harmon
Dave Hollins
Ricky Jordan
John Kruk
Mike Lieberthal
Greg Luzinski
Mickey Morandini
Keith Moreland
Dickie Noles
Juan Samuel
Kevin Stocker
Von Hayes
Mitch Williams

Eleven players from the 1993 NL East Championship team. Six players from the 1980 World Championship team. Two of the greatest catchers ever to don a Phillies uniform. One no-hitter. Over 35 years of Phillies history. Wow.

I have such distinct memories of every single one of these players….

My Juan Samuel and Von Hayes Starting Lineup action figures.

My “Fan Photo Day” pictures of Ricky Jordan and John Kruk… his very first day in a Phillies uniform.

Coming home from school and catching the last couple innings of Tommy Greene’s no-hitter against the Montreal Expos.

For the players I was quite too young to remember, I had my baseball cards and stories from my dad to fuel my imagination.

But the one player I am very excited to meet is Mr. Jim Eisenreich. One of my all-time favorite anecdotes about my father involves good ol’ Eisey from back during the 1993 season.

That one I will save for camp.

As I finish typing this, the San Francisco Giants defeated the Texas Rangers in Game One of the World Series. All of a sudden, that particular bitter taste has gone away. 

Phillies, you know how to make a guy feel so much better.

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