August 6- Boston Red Sox

To get a full understanding of how important this cap and its marking are, I have to flashback 18 years to when I was a sixth grader in Mrs. Costello’s class at Discovery Elementary School in Bakersfield, California. Prior to my 12^th birthday in February of 1995 my collection of sports memorabilia was actually pretty pathetic. Outside of collecting baseball cards since 1987, I really didn’t have anything as far as professional team hats or shirts to gallivant around town in. I kept things pretty simple, sporting brands like Stussy and a lot of graphic t-shirts with likes of Bart Simpson or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles affixed to the front. Back then my interest were starting to evolve as well due to the fact that the Major League Baseball season was a bit of a question mark as the labor negotiations were still taking place. Since it was winter, I did what any other kid my age would have done; watch more basketball.

Around the time I started getting into baseball (October 1986) I had begun to develop a bit of a kinship for basketball. Who could blame me? The baseball season had just ended with the New York Mets defeating the Boston Red Sox in the World Series and my tiny little brain was starting to become interested in things other than Sesame Street and Marvel super heroes. But unlike most fans whose love for the game starts at the professional level, mine began in college. More specifically, it started with Reggie Miller and the UCLA Bruins. 

Reggie hadn’t become the trash-talking, heart-breaking, three-point assassin we all know him as today. Back then he was just a scoring machine with the most dominant college basketball program in the history of the NCAA. When it came time for him to move to the next level and enter the NBA Draft in 1987, my allegiance to Reggie continued as the Indiana Pacers drafted him with the 11^th overall pick. From then on my time was perfectly divided baseball and basketball started and ended at the opposite ends of one another, thus creating a perfect balance in my sports-loving life. Baseball was still #1 in my eyes, but like I mentioned above, it took a back seat for a bit after the players strike of 1994. With the rest of the season cancelled, including the postseason, my interest went back to the hardwood, and the timing couldn’t have been better. Reggie and the Pacers were having a great year, UCLA was having a great year and on March 18^th a press release was sent out by Michael Jordan with only two words attached to it, “I’m back.” Not only was Jordan back, but the competitive fire throughout the National Basketball Association was back, and it just so happened that his first game donning the 345 would take place against my Pacers at Market Square Arena. Jordan scored 19, Reggie scored 28. A little over two weeks later the UCLA Bruins captured their 11^th NCAA title, the first without John Wooden at the helm. Even though the MLB season was just about to get underway after a new collective bargaining agreement had been put in place, my mind was too far gone. Basketball had me right where they wanted me. It even teased me in May when Reggie went off for 8 points in 8.9 seconds during a playoff game against the New York Knicks. 

But alas, the Pacers were eventually knocked out of the playoffs and I sought comfort again in the national game. But before I did, I picked up the first of many relics in my sports memorabilia collection, a Grant Hill rookie jersey.

Now, I realize that last sentence makes absolutely no sense to the rest of the story, but I assure you it will. See, one day I was out shopping with my parents at Valley Plaza Mall in Bakersfield and I decided to go browsing on my own, starting with my favorite store in the mall called Jerry’s Dugout. I had about $50 on me at the time and I was definitely in the market for a jersey. Unfortunately for me, they didn’t have any Reggie jerseys so I went with the next best thing, the co-Rookie of the Year from that season. Due to the fact that Champion NBA jerseys back then cost $40 apiece, it took me another three months to finally get the money together to finally add Reggie to my collection… after I picked up Anfernee Hardaway and Jason Kidd first. Oops! But in all fairness to Hill, I had idolized him and Christian Laettner during their days at Duke, so I was more than happy to make him my “first round draft pick of sorts” when it came to my inevitable jersey-buying habit, but what I wasn’t expecting is how that jersey putting me on the right path for the rest of my life.

Three years would pass and my baseball love had been fully restored thanks to some kid from Whittier, California, but I’ll get to that in a moment. My jersey collection had gotten pretty respectable when I entered my sophomore year of high school, the same year in which I had started to realize that my love of writing about sports was overtaking my love of playing them. The varsity basketball coach at my high school wasn’t my biggest supporter despite thee fact that I was clearly one of the better players in the school, but my personal struggles at home between my father and me had spilled over onto the court. As much as I take responsibility for not seeking help to handle my grief, the coach was also responsible for never giving me a chance by labeling me a hot head, rather than actually figure out what the problem was. Without the school team to play on during the winter, I spent a lot of time just watching games, analyzing them and bettering my writing talent as I write for the school newspaper. Mr. Anderson, the teacher in charge on the production of the paper, had begun letting me write my own sports opinion columns which ended up being the first real incarnation of what I’m doing today. I was never hateful in my rants, but I definitely gave perspectives on athletes and their on-court/off-court habits that most 15-year-olds weren’t really expected to touch in a high school newspaper. One article in particular centered around fighting on the playing field/court and the influences the athletes in question have on the kids who watch and idolize them. For a 15-year-old to take on this subject it’s kind of humorous because “what does a kid really know about psychology, let alone what a professional athlete’s opinion on the matter would be?” Rather than staring at a wall to solve this question, I hit the road with my father to Indianapolis as he had gotten tickets for two Pacers games on back-to-back nights against the Detroit Pistons and Charlotte Hornets for my upcoming 16^th birthday. While most kids waltzed down to court level to try and get autographs from the players, I asked questions. Based on the time of the pre-game shoot around the Pistons took the court first and very few people were around to get autographs. As Hill wrapped up his session I asked if he would mind giving me three minutes to answer a few questions for thee article I was writing for my school paper. As I write this it all sounds so dumb, but in reality I admire the balls the younger version of me had. Not only did he give my five minutes to talk, he got Laettner to sit down as well and Hill ended up signing that first jersey I ever purchased as it I happened to have it in my backpack. My only regret from that moment was that I didn’t have my Laettner jersey on me, a thought that didn’t click in until my dad and I got back to Bakersfield. After my sit down with those two I headed over to the Pacers’ side and was given the same courtesy my point guard and former-Georgia Tech star Travis Best. I didn’t have any credentials, but that really didn’t seem to matter. All three of them get hounded by the press before and after every game and I highly doubt that very many kids had ever bothered to take on such an adult task. It may not seem like much, but that was the moment when I knew I had a gift. I’m still not sure if it is necessarily a gift for writing, but I most certainly have a talent for getting the interview, no matter how big or how small the story is. This takes me to the summer of 2000…

I was 17-years-old, working two jobs in between my junior and senior year of high school. My main job was that I was in my send year as the bat boy for the advanced-A Bakersfield Blaze, but my other job was as an umpire and scorekeeper for the youth baseball league run by the North of the River Recreation Department. This was the third year in which I held these positions, and they were definitely some of the most fun/rewarding jobs I’ve ever held. Three days a week I worked anywhere between two and three games, alternating my duties with whomever my partner was. On an especially hot day in June I had brought along a new all-baseball shopping magazine that my father had come across. Most of jersey ordering had come via catalog shopping, and since I had moved into collecting New Era caps two years prior, my dad thought I would enjoy it. He was right. In between games and whenever I had free time I coveted that magazine like as if I had boosted my mom’s Victoria’s Secret catalog. I wanted everything, but I was also a realist about what I would continue to wear as I got older. Of all the wares available with a phone call and a credit card the first, and only thing I bought was a home Red Sox jersey. The one thing I should point out with this purchase is that it was the first MLB-related jersey and/or shirt I ever purchased. This is an important detail because I was born and raised an Oakland Athletics fan. To be honest, I did have every Athletics jersey circled, but this jersey popped out. In fact, I still own it and wear it today.

I really don’t have much of a reason as to why I didn’t buy anything else from that magazine. I had the money to do it. I guess I just forgot. The one item I did have queued up and ready to go was the Red Sox cap that’s sitting on top of my head above. It would be 13 more years before I finally found and added this cap to my collection. I guess now is the time to explain why I took you on this journey.

The NBA, more specifically, Reggie Miller had taken the front seat in my love affair with sports, but baseball was certain on the wane. The Athletics were at a low point as then-manager Tony LaRussa had jumped ship along with pitching coach Dave Duncan to the St. Louis Cardinals, my most-hated team. I needed something good to help get me back into the game. That something came in the form of an up-and-coming rookie shortstop in 1996 by the name of Nomar Garciaparra. 

 Glamour shots!!!

Nomar grew up, as I mentioned above, in Whittier, California roughly 130 miles south of Bakersfield. His name first came to my attention in the early 1990s when he was originally drafted by the Milwaukee Brewers in the fifth round of the 1991 amateur draft, but he elected to go to college at Georgia Tech, the same place as future Red Sox teammate Jason Varitek and Travis Best, despite the fact that he had been offered a full-ride scholarship to UCLA as well. Nomar’s star took off immediately. In 1992 he was a member of the USA Olympic Baseball Team in Barcelona, Spain.

He even walked on as a kicker for the football team for a brief period of time in 1993, but 1994 proved to be the biggest year for the Yellow Jackets as they reached the College World Series title game, losing to the University of Oklahoma 13-5. Nomar and Varitek had done almost everything together; they played on the Olympic team together, in the Cape Cod League during the 1993 offseason together and they were both drafted in the first round one pick apart from one another (Nomar at 12^th and Varitek at 14^th). The only difference was that Varitek had graduated while Nomar left at the end of his junior year as the $895,000 signing bonus offered to him by the Red Sox was too hard to turn down. 

I did what I could to follow Nomar through the ranks of the minor league system, but it was next to impossible without the aid of the internet; funny how times have changed. Nomar took to the professional game like a duck to water, lighting it up on both sides of the ball in two-and-a-half seasons. With September call-ups just around the corner and Nomar hitting .343 with the AAA Pawtucket Red Sox, he was brought up a few days early and made his debut on August 31^st as the Red Sox were in the midst of a battle for the American league Wild Card spot. As fate would have it Nomar’s first game came against my Athletics in which he went 0-1 as a pinch hitter for then-second baseman Jeff Frye. But the next day Nomar was penciled in as the starting shortstop which turned out to be a controversial move for then-manager Kevin Kennedy as John Valentin had been serving as the team’s full-time shortstop since 1992 and especially after his top-10 finish in the AL MVP vote the previous season. Nonetheless, Kennedy gave Nomar the field and made Valentin the designated hitter. Valentin went 1-5 with a RBI triple in the three spot while Nomar went 3-5 with a solo home run, two runs and scored and two RBI. It wasn’t long before the Fenway Faithful took a shine to the kid with the funny name.

Due to the fact that my mother has been a life-long Red Sox fan I found my affinity for Nomar to be an easy transition. Everything about the way he moved on the field, adjusted his batting gloves in between pitches and the way he conducted himself in public and with the media personified everything that was good and just about the game. Anytime the Red Sox games were broadcasted, I watched. Anytime they played the Athletics I did my best to make it up north for a game or two in the series. Every so often a special player comes into the league who makes it next to impossible to not root for, even New York Yankees fans have to admit this. He is the sole reason why I made that Red Sox jersey my first purchase. He is the reason why I searched so hard for this cap.

Unless you were a fan of the Red Sox in 1999 or an avid cap collector like myself, you probably don’t remember seeing these on the field. This was one of two alternate caps worn that season, the other having all-white panels, a navy blue bill and a red “B” logo. 

Not only is it incredibly hard to find one for sale, it’s twice as hard to find any history about it. Based on what I’ve been able to uncover the few Web sites and dealers who are selling this cap have it labeled as either the “1999 alternate” or the “1999-2000 alt” as shown by the sticker still affixed to the cap.

What I’ve been able to find is that the Red Sox only used it for a handful of games, but not in 1999. This bit I found courtesy of Uni-Watch; however, according to the write-up by Paul Lukas in 2007, the Red Sox never wore it again after 1997. So why does everyone believe it was used in 1999 and 2000? Well, back in 1999 New Era introduced the mesh batting practice caps. The first edition was used in 1999 and 2000 and featured the same color combination as the 1997 alternate cap.

What I find truly astonishing and coincidental is that Nomar’s three best years came in 1997, 1999 and 2000.

In 1997, Nomar’s first full season, he played in 153 games and took the Rookie of the Year honors, made his first All-Star Game appearance, won his first Silver Slugger Award and finished eighth for the AL MVP by hitting .306 with league-highs in hits (209) and triples (11) as well as 30 home runs, 98 RBI and 22 stolen bases. In 1999 and 2000 he made the All-Star team, but more importantly he won back-to-back batting titles, going .357 and .372 respectively. He also finished in the top-10 for the AL MVP in those seasons as well. Nomar played nine amazing seasons in Boston. He hit .323 with 178 home runs and 690 RBI, but sadly never won a Gold Glove thanks to Omar Vizquel (1993-2001), Alex Rodriguez (2002-2003) and some clown named Derek Jeter (2004-2006). On July 31, 2004 Nomar was traded to the Chicago Cubs as part of a four-team deal which brought Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mientkiewicz to Boston. When the deal was made every joyous feeling I ever had for the Red Sox was turned to anger. Nomar was the face of the franchise, the guy whose name was shouted by Jimmy Fallon every weekend on Saturday Night Live (NO-MAH!!!). Even though he had taken the field for the Sox that season, Nomar was not on the field when it counted, hoisting the Commissioner’s Trophy at the end of the World Series. I was happy that Nomar got a ring the following season, but everything about the rest of his career felt out of place.

From 2005-2009 Nomar battled with injuries, but made his sixth, and final All-Star Game appearance in 2006 as well as a 13^th place finished for the National League MVP in his first of three years with the Los Angeles Dodgers. In 2009 he signed a contract for one season with my Athletics and I was fortunate enough to catch him in two games at the Coliseum, both of which happened to come in early April against the Red Sox. Nomar was granted free agency at the end of the season He signed a one-day contract in 2010 with the Red Sox, only to be able to officially retire as a member of the Red Sox.

While I identify completely with all the players who have ever donned the green and gold for the Athletics, I have, and will always have a spot in my heart for Nomar. Even though I played second base for all of my life, I played it with the same intensity and guile as the man who wore #5 for the Sox. I certainly wasn’t as fidgety at the plate, but I still swung the bat as if I was catching a glimpse of the Green Monster out of the corner of my left eye. Despite the fact that I never played ball beyond high school, one of my dreams was to one day shake hands and meet the man who restored my love in baseball. On May 8, 2012, my dream came true.

I was a little over a month into my time at the MLB Fan Cave when we got the word that a few of the members of the Baseball Tonight crew were going to be stopping by. It was already a jam packed day as David Price, Sean Rodriguez and James Shields from the Tampa Bay Rays were slated to stop by in the morning, but I’ll get to that story in another post. What I wasn’t expecting in between meeting both crews was that I was going to be taken down to the basement to be interrogated for an incident that had broken out between Cardinals’ representative Kyle Thompson and me from a few days before. It was by far one of the most humiliating experiences of my life as I was put into a corner by the executives despite the fact that our issue had already been resolved internally. For some reason “someone” had decided to rat me out for that and a bevy of other things that weren’t true. Nonetheless, when I went back upstairs to meet our guests I wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind. All I could think about was that I was going to be asked to pack up my things and go home. That moment wouldn’t come for a few more weeks. I did what I could to prepare myself. I had packed my Nomar player-T that I’ve had since I was 18-years-old and my home Athletics cap as Pedro Gomez, Mark Mulder and Nomar were the three that were stopping by. As they walked up to the front door I froze. My stomach started churning and I did whatever I could to keep from breaking down. This moment was way too important for me to let my emotions get the better of me.

The other eight Cave Dwellers and a few of the executives were the first to greet them. I hung back for a little bit, waiting to find the perfect time to step in and transition my emotion into something more positive. It took  a little bit, but Mulder and Nomar spotted me in front of the Cave Monster (the 15 TV display) and struck up a conversation based on the shirt and hat combination I was wearing. Nomar was pretty stoked that I was rocking his shirt, but Mulder was a little confused about why I was wearing an Athletics cap with it. I explained to him that I was first, and foremost an Athletics fan and that I wore because of the years that he spent with the team. I also made sure to mention that Nomar spent 2009 with the club without trying to sound like a jerk. He chuckled and then the two asked me about what it’s like being a Cave Dweller. I don’t remember the exact wording my Mulder, but somehow the topic of tattoos was brought up. It was intended to be a joke, like in the sense that he said, “Well at least you don’t have any tattoos” for my team. I turned my head to Nomar and then back and said, “I actually do have an A’s tattoo.” He responded, “Really?” I then looked back at Nomar and said, “I actually have a Red Sox tattoo as well.” “Yeah right,” joked Nomar. I then came back with, “No seriously, I honestly have every MLB team tattooed on my body.” Mulder and Nomar looked at one another, both with “yeah right” expressions on their face before Mulder said, “You have to prove this.” As I was propping my shirt up to show off the AL side one of the public relations executives, Jeff Heckelman, grabbed Gomez and said, “Pedro, you have to see this.” And then this happened…

There’s a reason why the expression ‘”a picture says a thousand words” exists, and this is one of those photos that brings me the most joy from my time in New York. All the troubles from before their arrival vanished, and I was finally myself again. One thing I did take away from this photo is that I had let myself go health-wise and cut out a lot of the junk food I had been chowing down on during my days of sitting around and watching baseball for 12-14 hours a day. I was stoked that all three were cool about the ink work, as that is something that also makes me a little bit nervous before I show it off to anyone who actually has a job in baseball.

The rest of the time they were there they spent answering a few questions for the Facebook page, shooting a few segments for that night’s show and Nomar even gave Yankees fan Eddie Mata a few pointers on how to accurately capture his approach to the plate. It was during this time that one of the members of the Fan Cave production crew, a Red Sox fan named Brad, came up to me and asked me how I was handling all of this. By “all of this” he meant the visit by Nomar. At the time I didn’t realize how loud I was talking, but one of the producers from Baseball Tonight overheard what I said, “This is unreal. Nomar is one of the top-three guys within baseball I have ever wanted to meet. It’s a crazy dream that has come true.” Unfortunately I don’t remember the name of the producer from Baseball Tonight, but he pulled me aside and asked if he could interview me for the show. Naturally, I was all about it. Here’s the interview.

Not too long after we wrapped up it was time for them to go. I made sure to stop and thank each person for their time, not really expecting to run into any of them ever again, unless I somehow got a job with ESPN. As it turned out, I ran into Gomez two more times before the end of the season during my cross-country baseball road trip. As for Mulder and Nomar, I wished them both best, but for Nomar I put a little bit more emphasis on how much of an honor it was to meet him. Like my moment in the seats of Market Square Arena with Hill and Laettner, the few moments I was able to spend talking baseball with Nomar was a crowning achievement in my journey to break in as a professional sports writer. No matter what meets me on my path of success, I can always check that one off of my list.

.357/.372- When it came to marking this cap up I couldn’t think anything more fitting than the two averages that Nomar posted in 1999 and 2000 when he won his batting crowns. Had I not spent so much time on the build up to the conclusion I probably would have given love to Pedro Martinez for his back-to-back AL Cy Young Award wins in the same years, but those are the breaks. Perhaps if I’m able to track down the actual mesh batting practice cap I’ll be able to out it together. Until then, it’s on to the next post.

June 9- Boston Red Sox

I have to admit, and I’ll give you the same answer no matter how many times I’m asked this question: What is the best Major League Baseball stadium you’ve ever been to? As much as my heart belongs to the Coliseum and the Oakland Athletics, I have never been in such a state of child-like wonder more than the three days I got to spend at Fenway Park in Boston. While I realize that New York Yankees fans will more than likely disagree with me on this answer, the fact of the matter is that if you name any other stadium, you’re just wrong. Granted, as a Yankee fan, or a fan of a rival team I can totally understand you having a bad experience at Fenway, but I’m merely talking about the park itself. As far as atmosphere is concerned, Fenway is definitely Top-five.

Prior to campaign for the MLB Fan Cave at the start of 2012 I was set to be completely finished with my education at the University of Oregon right around St. Patrick’s Day. As a personal reward for my accomplishment I had been saving money in order to finance a continent-wide tour of all the stadiums in MLB, including Olympic Stadium in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Of all 31 stadiums (including Olympic) available, I was going to make sure that I hit the five that I had always wanted to visit since my childhood: Wrigley Field, Tiger Stadium (Comerica Park), PNC Park, Olympic and Fenway. Needless to say, when I got accepted for the Fan Cave gig everything got put on hold. Well, everything except baseball that is.

When I was let go from my services as a Cave Dweller I found myself in a peculiar situation, one that I had never been in since I was two-years-old; I didn’t have a job and I wasn’t in school. Due to the fact that I was let go the day after Memorial Day in 2012 I wouldn’t be able to enroll back into classes until fall term. The main reason for that is because the one Spanish class that I needed was over capacity during summer term and I couldn’t take it again until winter of 2013. In short, the Fan Cave really screwed me and didn’t bother feeling the slightest bit sorry for my situation. No matter, I stood strong and got it done this last winter. With about $14,000 left of the initial $18,000 I got for my three months of work in New York City, I plotted out, made calls and set up reservations for my North American Baseball tour.

Obviously I’ve been talking a lot about my trip throughout these posts so I’ll spare the details of everything leading up to getting to Fenway. I stayed in Boston off-and-on for a little over a week. During my time I caught two Red Sox games and a concert. I’m also not going to go into too much detail on either of the games or the concert as they will be talked about at length when I get to the particular hats I was wearing those nights. The main things I want to focus on here are all the little nuances about Fenway Park that make it a baseball paradise. Things like…

The old bullpen car

Bullpen cars something that has been long forgotten, used between 1951 and 1996, but according to lore it was just as much of an in between inning thrill as zambonies are at hockey games. They used to take the pitchers from the bullpen to the mound and were occasionally used to bring special guests to the field before the games. It sounds crazy, but it was part of the game.

The Ted Williams statue (featuring a drunkard)

An 8-foot, 6-inch-tall statue of Williams mounted on a four-foot granite base was unveiled Friday afternoon outside Gate B of Fenway, located behind the right-field line. The structure, which weighs 3,380 pounds, depicts Williams holding a bat over his left shoulder while he places his cap on the bald head of a cancer-stricken child. Williams made a tradition of visiting children at the Jimmy Fund Clinic of the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.

Pesky Pole (featuring The Shark)

Pesky's Pole is the name for the pole on the right field foul line, which stands 302 feet from home plate, the shortest outfield distance (left or right field) in Major League Baseball. Despite the short wall, home runs in this area are relatively rare, as the fence curves away from the foul pole sharply. The pole was named after Johnny Pesky, a light-hitting shortstop and long-time coach for the Red Sox, who hit some of his six home runs at Fenway Park around the pole but never off the pole. Pesky and the Red Sox give credit to pitcher Mel Parnell for coining the name. The most notable for Pesky is a two-run homer in the eighth inning of the 1946 Opening Day game to win the game (in his career, Pesky hit 17 home runs). On September 27, 2006, on Pesky's 87th birthday, the Red Sox organization officially dedicated the right field foul pole as Pesky's Pole with a commemorative plaque placed at its base.

And of course, the Green Monster

The Green Monster is the nickname of the 37.167 feet left field wall in the park. It is located 310 to 315 feet from home plate; this short distance often benefits right-handed hitters.

Part of the original ballpark construction of 1912, the wall is made of wood, but was covered in tin and concrete in 1934 when the scoreboard was added. The wall was covered in hard plastic in 1976. The scoreboard is manually updated throughout the game. Despite the name, the Green Monster was not painted green until 1947; before that it was covered with advertisements. The Monster designation is relatively new; for most of its history it was simply called the wall. In recent years, terrace-style seating has been added on top of the wall.

For those of you who are Red Sox enthusiasts you’re probably thinking, “Dude, you’re missing something.” And yes, you would be correct. I am missing the one thing that I had three opportunities to have a photo taken with or of and somehow managed to blow it. But, I’ll get to that in a minute. First, that hat.

This cap was introduced at the start of the 1946 season as a replacement for basically the exact same hat; however, the key difference between this cap and the one used in 1945 is that this one features a white outline around the “B.” The ones prior to this did not, and will be featured in a post down the road. Even though I have touched upon this detail in several of my prior posts, the addition of the outline proved to be one of the more successful uniform alterations made in MLB history. That season the Red Sox finished with the second-best record in their team’s history (104-50), only one less win than what the 1912 team posted. Besides the one win difference, the other unfortunate difference between the 1912 team and the 1946 team is that the 1912 team won the World Series that year 4-3 over the New York Giants. In 1946 the Red Sox lost the World Series 4-3 to the St. Louis Cardinals. The other notable moment of the 1946 season is that it was the first season since 1942 that the full team was back together and on the field as the previous three years saw several players including Bobby Doerr, Pesky and Williams all shipping off for war as I wrote about on May 26^th. The last appearance this cap made was the final game of the 1951 season as in 1952 the “B” was changed to the more traditional looking style of today.

Now, as I mentioned a little bit ago there is another important feature of Fenway that I didn’t list, which I did on purpose. For some strange reason I didn’t take a trip to see “the lone red seat” which sits out in centerfield beyond the Red Sox bullpen (Williamsburg). Actually, I take that back. I did end up out there for the second game I attended; however, whomever’s seat it was all ready had their keester in it. What does this mean in the long run? Basically, I have to get back to Fenway to make a photo happen; which I’m totally cool with. Which brings me to the marks.

42/37/21- No, it’s not a date or jersey numbers or stats. It’s the section (42), row (37) and seat (21) of the longest home run “hit on record.”  The Ted Williams hit on June 9, 1946, was officially measured at 502 feet, well beyond "Williamsburg". According to Hit Tracker Online, the ball, if unobstructed, would have flown 520 to 535 feet.

The ball landed on Joseph A. Boucher, penetrating his large straw hat and hitting him in the head. A confounded Boucher was later quoted as saying, “How far away must one sit to be safe in this park? I didn't even get the ball. They say it bounced a dozen rows higher, but after it hit my head, I was no longer interested. I couldn't see the ball. Nobody could. The sun was right in our eyes. All we could do was duck. I'm glad I did not stand up.”

Manny Ramirez is the only other player at Fenway Park who has ever hit the ball over the seat, on June 23, 2001; Ramirez hit two home runs; one estimated at 463 feet and another one with an official estimate of 501 feet. The latter blast struck a light tower above the Green Monster, denying it a true landing point, to which the official estimate deferred to Williams' record placing Ramirez's home run exactly one foot short.

As noted in the 2007 book The Year Babe Ruth Hit 104 Home Runs, researcher Bill Jenkinson found evidence that on May 25, 1926, Babe Ruth hit one in the pre-1934 bleacher configuration which landed five rows from the top in right field, an estimated 545 feet from home plate. Ruth also hit several other "Ruthian" blasts at Fenway that landed across the street behind straightaway center field, estimated at 500 feet.

By the way, in case you didn’t know, the name “Williamsburg” is the proper name for the Red Sox bullpen as it was aptly named for all the home runs Williams knocked into it.

4/20/46- I pretty much shot my wad early with this one, so to speak, as this was the date of opening day at Fenway in 1946. The significance I all ready stated above with Pesky’s home run in the eighth inning against the Philadelphia Athletics.

May 26- Boston Red Sox

I’m not sure how many of you have seen the film Inglorious Basterds, but there is a particular scene that comes to mind I write this. If you have seen this film, you might all ready know where I’m going. Anyway, there’s a character in the film named Donny Donowitz, played by cult horror film director Eli Roth. Throughout the film he acquires a new nickname during the war, the “Bear Jew.” What you later come to find out is that he acquired that nickname by beating Nazis to death with a baseball bat with little-to-no restraint. In the particular scene I’m thinking of, which is essentially the only scene in which Donowitz beats anyone with a baseball bat, he yells, “Teddy f---ing Williams knocks it out of the paaaahhk! Fenway Paaahhhk is on its feet for Teddy… f---ing… ballgame! He went yaaaaaahhd on that one! On to f---ing Lansdowne Street!” after he does his work. You know, writing that out really didn’t do it justice. Here’s the clip.

Now, I’ve already taken you in a weird direction from the start. It’s ok. There is a reason for all of this. I’ve seen a lot of war films, and by that I mean Hollywood produced ones. As I go back in my head I replay some of the more famous scenes in them al lot of them have a very common scene which has become such a cliché over the years that you’ll all know what I’m talking about. The scene is a bunch of soldiers sitting around, talking about going home. There’s always one soldier who talks about “Going back to Yankee Stadium or Ebbets Field to grab a hot dog and watch the home team win.” At some point in time while this is going on the soldier is usual shot and killed by the enemy. But, if you really go back and find a lot of these films with that scene, they’re almost always talking about going back to New York before they’re killed. Now, go back to the scene I talked about above and tell me what you see; the exact opposite over every war film ever made. Everything about Inglorious Basterds was a creative, but opposite retelling of World War II. Yes, all of it could have actually happened, but it didn’t, and it still made for an entertaining film. As a die-hard baseball fan, but an even bigger movie fan, I couldn’t go long without bringing it up in one of my posts. With that, I’d like to give my apologies to New Era and the Boston Red Sox for making such a weird, but accurate connection.

Time to steer this one back around… for anyone who is an ardent hater of the Red Sox, kind of like I used to be, you really need to look past the game and realize that the Sox are one of the biggest charitable contributors in professional sports. One of the programs they helped start, Home Base Program…

Provides clinical care and support services to Iraq and Afghanistan service members, veterans and their families throughout New England, who are affected by deployment– or combat–related stress or traumatic brain injury (TBI).

Offers clinical and community education about the “invisible wounds of war,” and the challenges of military families.

Conducts research to improve treatment and understanding of Post Traumatic Stress (PTSD) and TBI.

We strive to be a model partnership of academic medicine and Major League Baseball in service to our military veterans—and their families.

In 2004 and 2007, following their historic World Series wins, Red Sox owners, management and players, along with representatives of Massachusetts General Hospital visited Walter Reed Medical Center and met hospitalized veterans of the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. The Red Sox organization was deeply moved by the visit, and sought to make a deeper, sustained commitment to serve our returning veterans and their families. With guidance from their colleagues at Massachusetts General Hospital, the Department of Defense, the US Department of Veterans Affairs, Senator Edward M. Kennedy and others, the Red Sox Foundation and Massachusetts General Hospital Home Base Program was created.

The Red Sox vigorously promotes Home Base services during New England Sports Network (NESN) broadcasts, and owners, team management, players and their spouses are active in promoting the program throughout Red Sox Nation.

Home Base is generously funded through contributions from donors, and the philanthropic partnership of the Red Sox Foundation and Massachusetts General Hospital. The Red Sox Foundation hosts the program’s principal fund raiser, the annual Run-Walk to Home Base Presented by New Balance at Fenway Park. The Red Sox Foundation and Massachusetts General Hospital Home Base Program is generously supported in part by Welcome Back Veterans (WBV), an initiative of the McCormick Foundation and Major League Baseball. - HomeBaseProgram.org

Since 1971 the Red Sox have gone and impressive 23-16 while only missing four games on Memorial Day. There are a few patterns that I found which are kind of interesting, and only one which makes me want to cry. I’ll start with the tearjerker. The best thing to keep in mind right now is that if you’re a fan of the Minnesota Twins, Cleveland Indians or the Oakland Athletics like myself, you can pretty much count on losing to the Red Sox on Memorial Day. The Red Sox are 3-0 against the Twins, 4-0 against the Indians and 4-0 against the Athletics. As for something ore comical, since ’71 the Yankees are 4-1 against the Red Sox with their one win coming in 2003, which only went to bite them in the ass in the American League Championship Series at the hands of Aaron Boone. Too bad. I was kind of hoping that there would be some kind of consistency in 2004 and 2007 in regard to their World Series wins, but alas, there wasn’t; the Sox lost to the Baltimore Orioles in ’04 and beat the Indians in ’07.

When it came to picking out numbers to mark this cap with, I couldn’t help but go with the two biggest names to serve during the wars.

#1- I had moved to Eugene, Oregon to attend school at the University of Oregon in April of 2007 through the middle of March of this year. In the six years that I lived there it wouldn’t be until the final week that I would find out that Bobby Doerr lived like 10-15 miles away from me in Junction City. He was born and raised in Los Angeles, California to Harold Doerr, a telephone company supervisor, and his wife, the former Frances Herrnberger. Bobby’s middle name, Pershing, was a tribute to General John J. Pershing, then the commander of U.S. military forces in World War I.

He graduated from Los Angeles' Fremont High School in 1936, after having already begun his professional career with the Hollywood Stars of the Pacific Coast League in 1934. Doerr broke into the majors in 1937 at the age of 19 and went 3 for 5 in his first game as a second baseman. In 1938 he became a regular in a powerful Red Sox lineup that included Jimmie Foxx, Joe Cronin, and Dom DiMaggio. That season he led the league in sacrifice bunts with 22, and still managed to hit .289 on the season with 80 RBI. From 1937-1940 Doerr would put up solid numbers, but very few took notice.

In 1941 Doerr had a breakout year along Ted Williams who was in the midst of his third and most historic season of his career. From then until his last season in 1951 Doerr made the All-Star team every year except two (1945 and 1949). Because of the war, Doerr missed the entire 1945 season. He had made his home in Oregon and so reported for induction in the United States Army in Portland. He was first assigned to Fort Lewis and a week later reported for infantry duty at Camp Roberts. After completing the months of training, word began to circulate within his outfit that they were being prepared to ship out to Ford Ord, and then overseas for the invasion of Japan. President Truman brought the whole thing to a halt by dropping two atomic bombs on Japan. After the war, Staff Sergeant Doerr changed back into his Red Sox uniform and returned to the 1946 edition of the Red Sox.

From 1942-1950 Doerr finished in the Top-25 for the AL MVP every season, with the exception of 1945. His best finish was in third place in 1946, two spots behind his teammate Williams. Doerr hit .271 that season with 18 home runs and 116 RBI; however, Doerr still had a few more great years after that which became a confusing accomplishment based on where he finished in the AL MVP vote. In 1950 Doerr boasted a .297 average with a career-high in home runs (27), a career-high in RBI (120) and a career-league-high 11 triples and he was one hit shy of tying his career-high in that category with 172… and yet he finished 16^th for the award that season. The element that makes this whole matter a bit more peculiar is that his teammate, Billy Goodman, finished in second place despite having significantly less of a total in every category with the exception of his batting average (.354). While that seems legit the reality is that Doerr played in 149 games that season compared to Goodman’s 110 games.

Doerr finished his career with a .288 average, 223 home runs, 1247 RBI and 2042 hits in 14 years. He was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1986 thanks to the Veteran’s Committee after getting only 25% of the 75% of the vote required to get in. Doerr’s #1 was retired by the Red Sox in 1988, but interestingly enough, it wasn’t the first number he wore during his career. In 1937 he wore the #9, but gave it up after once season. Funny how history may have shook out had he kept it.

#6- Johnny Pesky played with the Boston Red Sox from 1942 through the middle of the 1952 season when he was traded to the Detroit Tigers as part of a nine-player deal which featured no one of particular note. Pesky was born in Portland, Oregon and attended Lincoln High School, and spent several years playing for local amateur teams, such as the Portland Babes, Bend Elks and Silverton Red Sox. The latter team was associated with the Silver Falls Timber Company, which was owned by Tom Yawkey, who also owned the major league Red Sox. A skilled ice hockey player, he once worked out with the Boston Bruins. Early in his playing career, Portland sportswriters would abbreviate his name to "Pesky" because it fit better in a box score. He would legally change his name to Pesky in 1947. His original last name was Paveskovich, which is Croatian.

Pesky was signed as an amateur free agent by the Red Sox before the 1940 season and spent the next two seasons in the minor leagues. In 1940, he played for the Rocky Mount Red Sox of the Piedmont League, where he was a teammate of future Hall of Famer Heinie Manush, who was the team's player-manager. After hitting .325 with Rocky Mount, he moved up to the double-A Louisville Colonels, where he also batted .325. The next year, he was in the major leagues.

Pesky finished in third place for the AL MVP that season, which would have for sure been a Rookie of the Year award had it been around prior to 1947. Pesky led the league with 205 hits, a rookie record at the time, as well as 22 sacrifice hits and a .331 average. This would be Pesky’s one, and only season until the end of World War II.

Pesky, whose father had been an officer in the Austro-Hungarian Navy before World War I, served at Amherst, Massachusetts in 1942. He was later at Chapel Hill, North Carolina, where he played shortstop for the Cloudbusters, and Atlanta Naval Air Station, where he met his wife, Ruth Hickey, who was also serving with the Navy. On June 13, 1943, Pesky graduated as an ensign from the assistant operations officers’ school at Atlanta. In 1945, Pesky was in Hawaii, where he played shortstop and managed the Honolulu Naval Air Station baseball team. When the season closed in October 1945 he was runner-up Most Valuable Player in the 14^th Naval District league. Pesky later said, "I think that if I didn't have baseball to come back to, I'd have stayed in the Navy because it was clean and I kind of liked the atmosphere."-Baseball in Wartime

In 1946 Pesky picked up right where he left off. He again led the league in hits with 208 and hit a career-high .335. He made is one, and only All-Star Game appearance and once again finished as a runner-up for the AL MVP award, this time in fourth place. Pesky would again have the most hits in the league the following season with 207, and he once again came up short in the AL MVP vote, this time finishing in 18^th place. 1951 would be the only other time where Pesky would finish on the MVP ballot. In Pesky’s final full season with the Red Sox he continued to put up solid numbers by today’s standards, which I can only assume were bottom of the barrel back then. Pesky finished his career in 1954 with the Washington Senators, two years after getting dealt to the Tigers. He finished with a .307 lifetime average, 1455 career hits and nothing else of real note sadly.

Pesky attended the 2004 World Series and, after the Game 4 triumph, was embraced by Boston players such as Tim Wakefield and Curt Schilling as a living representative of star Red Sox players of the past whose teams fell short of winning the Fall Classic. He played a poignant and prominent role in the ceremony in which the World Series Championship Rings were handed out (April 11, 2005). With the help of Carl Yastrzemski, he raised the 2004 World Series Championship banner up the Fenway Park center field flagpole. Pesky also had the honor of raising the Red Sox' 2007 World Series Championship banner on April 8, 2008. On his 87th birthday, September 27, 2006, the Red Sox honored Pesky by officially naming the right-field foul pole "Pesky's Pole," although it had already been unofficially known as such. On September 23, 2008, the Red Sox announced that they would retire the #6 Pesky wore as a player to mark his 89th birthday and his long years of service to the club. Pesky's was the sixth number retired by the Red Sox; his number retired was the first to break the club's code to have a number retired: being in the Hall of Fame and having spent at least ten years with the Red Sox.

Pesky was a longtime resident of Boston's North Shore, living in Lynn and then Swampscott, Massachusetts. He was a visible member of the community, making personal appearances for the Red Sox. For years, he was a commercial spokesman on television and radio for a local supplier of doors and windows, JB Sash and Door Company. The commercials were deliberately and humorously corny, with Pesky and the company's owner calling themselves "the Window Boys."

On May 16, 2009 Pesky was given an honorary degree during Salem State College’s 199th commencement ceremony. On April 20, 2012, Boston Red Sox fans celebrated the 100th birthday of Fenway Park, and Johnny Pesky was a participant. He was wheeled out to second base in a wheelchair, aside Doerr, to join over 200 past Red Sox players and coaches through the decades.

#9- Aside from the fact that Ted Williams was one of the few ballplayers to see combat during the war, it’s important to remember that he did it twice. Williams was born and raised in San Diego. At the age of eight, he was taught how to throw a baseball by his uncle, Saul Venzor. Saul was one of his mother's four brothers, as well as a former semi-professional baseball player who had pitched against Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, and Joe Gordon in an exhibition game. As a child, Williams' heroes were Pepper Martin of the St. Louis Cardinals and Bill Terry of the New York Giants. Williams graduated from Herbert Hoover High School in San Diego, where he played baseball as a pitcher and was the star of the team. Though he had offers from the Cardinals and the Yankees while he was still in high school, his mother thought he was too young to leave home, so he signed up with the local minor league club, the San Diego Padres.

Williams played back-up behind DiMaggio's brother Vince DiMaggio and Ivey Shiver on the Padres. While in the Pacific Coast League in 1936, Williams met future teammates and friends Dom DiMaggio and Doerr, who were on the Pacific Coast League's San Francisco Seals. When Shiver announced he was quitting to become a football coach at the University of Georgia, the job, by default, was open for Williams. Williams posted a .271 batting average on 107 at bats in 42 games for the Padres in 1936. Unknown to Williams, he had caught the eye of the Red Sox's general manager, Eddie Collins, while Collins was scouting Doerr and the shortstop George Myatt in August 1936. Collins later explained, "It wasn't hard to find Ted Williams. He stood out like a brown cow in a field of white cows." In the 1937 season, after graduating Hoover High in the winter, Williams finally broke into the line-up on June 22, when he hit an inside-the-park home run to help the Padres win 3-2. The Padres ended up winning the PCL title, while Williams ended up hitting .291 with 23 home runs. Meanwhile, Collins kept in touch with Padres general manager Bill Lane, calling him two times throughout the season. In December 1937, during the winter meetings, the deal was made between Lane and Collins, sending Williams to the Red Sox and giving Lane $35,000 and two major leaguers, Dom D'Allessandro and Al Niemiec, and two other minor leaguers.

Williams made his Major League debut on April 20, 1939. During his first season he hit .327 and led the league in RBI (145) and total bases (344). He finished in fourth place for the AL MVP which, once again, probably would have been a Rookie of the Year award had it existed. Williams would go on to make the All-Star team over the next three season as well as finish in second place for the AL MVP award in back-to-back season (1941-1942) despite leading the league in home runs each year, leading the league in runs three straight years since 1940, generating the most walks both years and, how could anyone forget, winning two batting titles at which he hit .406 in 1941. As much as I can yammer in about that one, I’ll save it for a later post. Also, he kind of won the AL Triple Crown without much issue in 1942, yet he was still relegated to being the #2 best player in the American League behind Yankees stars Joe DiMaggio and Joe Gordon respectively. Needless to say, Williams was quickly making a name for himself as one of the greatest players in the game’s history.

In January 1942, Williams was drafted into the military. Williams had been classified 3-A due to the fact that his mother was totally dependent on him. When his classification was changed to 1-A following the U.S. entry into the war, Williams appealed to his draft board. The board agreed that his status should not have been changed. He made a public statement that once he had built up his mother's trust fund, he intended to enlist. Nevertheless, the press and the fans got on his case to the point that he enlisted in the Navy on May 22, 1942. Williams could have received an easy assignment and played baseball for the Navy. Instead, he joined the V-5 program and set his sights on being a Naval Aviator. Navy doctors were amazed when his eyes tested to 20/10 - a key to his hitting prowess. Since he had not attended college, Williams was first sent to the Navy's Preliminary Ground School at Amherst College, following the baseball season, for six months of instruction in various subjects including math and navigation. He achieved a 3.85 grade average out of a possible 4.0. The next four months were spent in the Preflight School at Athens, Georgia. From September to December 1943, Williams took primary training at NAS Bunker Hill, Indiana. He then went to Pensacola for intermediate training where he set records in aerial gunnery. Williams received his wings and commission in the Marine Corps on May 2, 1944.

Williams then attended gunnery training at Jacksonville where he once again set gunnery records. He then returned to Pensacola where he served as an instructor at Bronson Field. He played baseball for the base team, the Bronson Bombers, which won the Training Command championship that year. Due to an excess of cadets, instructors were mandated to washout one third of their students. Williams refused to washout good students for the sake of statistics and was called on the carpet for it. He stood his ground and replied: "If I think a kid is going to make a competent flyer, I won't wash him." From June to August 1945, Williams went through the Corsair Operational Training Unit at Jacksonville. He was in Hawaii awaiting orders as a replacement pilot when the war ended. Williams returned to the States in December and was discharged from the Marines on January 28, 1946. – M.L. Shettle, Jr. California State Military Museum

When Williams came back to baseball for the 1946 season, he was just as sharp as ever. He finally won the AL MVP award that had been just barely out of reach his previous two season. That year he hit .342/38/123 and continued his active streak of making the All-Star team, which he did every season for the rest of his career with the exception of 1952. In 1947 Williams won his second Triple Crown (.343/32/114), becoming the second player in MLB history and the first in the American League to accomplish the feat. He almost did it a third time in 1949. That year he hit .343 with 43 home runs and 159 RBI, the latter two he handily lead the league in; however, it was his batting average that came up short. Had Williams gotten two more hits throughout that season he would have tied Joe DiMaggio’s mark of .346. Williams still won the AL MVP that season, the second and final of his career.

On May 2, 1952, Williams was recalled to active duty due to the Korean War. He was now 33 years old, married with a child, and had not flown in eight years. He resented being recalled and said so years later. Williams was not alone in his unhappiness - many other WW II veterans recalled for the Korean War had similar feelings. These veterans felt they had done their share in World War II and it was someone else's job to fight this war. Especially after they were well established in their careers and had families. Additional resentment was felt because the Navy and the Marines recalled members of the inactive reserves instead of active reserves. He flew 37 combat missions and had a narrow escape when he crash-landed a flak damaged aircraft. Several missions were flown with John Glenn. Among the decorations he received was the Air Medal with two Gold Stars for meritorious achievement. Williams returned to the States and relieved from active duty on July 28, 1953. – M.L. Shettle, Jr. California State Military Museum

Williams missed four seasons as a result of both World War II and the Korean War. Given the fact that Williams was clearly in his prime for the first three years he missed, not to mention he was still kicking ass in ’52, Williams missed out on meeting or beating a lot of historical marks within the game. His .482 on-base percentage is still the highest in MLB history; however, he missed out on 3,000 career hits, tallying 2,654 for his career along with 521 home runs, 2,021 RBI and a legendary .344 career average. Williams easily made the vote for the Hall of Fame in his first year of eligibility.

Williams had a strong respect for General Douglas MacArthur, referring to him as his "idol". For Williams' fortieth birthday, MacArthur sent him an oil painting of himself with the inscription "To Ted Williams — not only America's greatest baseball player, but a great American who served his country. Your friend, Douglas MacArthur. General U.S. Army."

Going back to my opening statements about Inglorious Basterds, I think the one thing I really wanted to stress is that everything in the movie world was essentially backwards, or told with a great deal of fabrication. Just imagine if in Quentin Tarantino’s world the Red Sox were the ones dominating history, winning multiple World Series titles without the “Curse of the Bambino” hanging above their heads. Kind of mind-blowing.

And last, I really need to point this out. I started this post around 11:37 AM and finished at 3:02 PM  on the nose. I bring this up because my stepfather Robert went and got the mail at 3:05 PM and set this on my bed just after I had finished taking the photos for this post (which I always do last).

I can’t help but laugh and keep a smile on my face. Until next time!

April 22- Boston Red Sox

For as long as I can remember I’ve always had a real love/hate relationship with the Boston Red Sox. Almost everyone in my family have been ardent supporters of Bay Area Major League Baseball team: My father and brother Adam with the San Francisco Giants and my brother Matt and I have always sided with the Oakland Athletics. My mother, on the other hand, is an avid Red Sox fan. As a kid I always just accepted it, never really had much reason to question it due to the fact that they were always haunted with the ghosts of their past and the “Curse of the Bambino.” As I later came to find out it was because of our Irish heritage and that she had always wanted visit Boston were the reasons she followed the team closely. It also didn’t hurt that she loved watching Carl Yastrzemski growing up.

My first conscious memory of a baseball game came with Game 6 of the 1986 World Series where I can still vividly recall my mother shouting, “God damn it!” as the Mookie Wilson slow roller trickled through the legs of Red Sox first baseman Bill Buckner’s five-hole. This has become an especially funny memory due to the fact that we grew up Mormon and blasphemy is definitely frowned upon by our religion. My mother being a Red Sox fan was always something that bonded us together season over season. Even though we’ve always had a lot in common, our rivalry against one another’s team exploded in the fall of 2003 when the A’s played the Red Sox in the American league Division Series. To this day I still have a bitter loathing toward Bill Mueller (only on the field) for obstructing Miguel Tejada as he rounded third base in Game 3. Rather than continuing to run hard to score Tejada decided to cry like a little girl with a skinned knee, thus allowing himself to be tagged out by Jason Varitek. That call cost us the series, and my mother made sure to let me know that in the days that followed. I got my revenge; however, thanks to Aaron Boone in Game 7 of the American League Championship Series. But alas, all the cheap shots and smack talk my mother and I swatted back-and-forth to one another came to a close at the end of the 2004 season as the Red Sox won their first World Series title since 1918… and then started back up again the morning after the Red Sox beat the Colorado Rockies in the 2007 World Series.

Over time my relationship with the Red Sox became strained, but not for any reason other than because of the general management. One of my favorite players in the 1980s and 1990s was Wade Boggs. When his career in Boston came to a close at the end of the 1992 season I blamed the Red Sox for his departure to their long-time rival the New York Yankees for not doing anything to persuade him to stay. Seeing the heart and soul of the organization at the time in the lineup of their bitterest of rivals was something that surely made my mother, Red Sox nation and myself rather empty inside. Of course the icing on the cake came in 1996 when Boggs won his first of two World Series rings in pinstripes. The next dagger came on July 31, 2004 when the Red Sox decided to trade Nomar Garciaparra to the Chicago Cubs as a the key piece in a four team blockbuster trade. In the 21 years I had been alive, Garciaparra was hands down the only member of the Red Sox I ever bothered to tune into games for. The man was 100% class and talent through and through, and by far the biggest ambassador of Red Sox baseball since Carlton Fisk. Not seeing him on the field when Doug Mientkiewicz recorded the final out in the World Series that year honestly made me die a little bit inside. It took me another six years to finally come to terms with that and accept the fact that the Red Sox winning the World Series in the first place was probably one of the best feel-good stories in the last 25 years of Major League Baseball. Most of all, I was happy for my mother for finally being able to see her team win.

When I got the call from MLB Chief Marketing Officer Jacqueline Parkes that I was going to be one of the nine Cave Dwellers to inhabit the MLB Fan Cave last year I did everything I could to keep it together until we said our goodbyes over the phone. Looking back on everything I had accomplished over my life to finally achieve a piece of my dream to follow and report on baseball brought out every conceivable emotion. I laughed, I cried, I got hungry and I raged before Balfour Rage became one of the newest crazes to sweep the baseball community. The first person I called, of course, was my mother. She has always been my biggest fan and supporter, and there was no one else who mattered as much to share my good fortune with. She told me how proud she was of me and that this was the first of many good things to come; a feeling I didn’t doubt for a second. For the next couple of weeks she helped me pack up my things and move them into storage. Based on everything I brought to the table with the MLB and for this gig we, and everyone else who was following my journey, had assumed that I would be in it for the long haul. We packed up all of my hats, jersey and t-shirts, as well as a few other important baseball-related items to help me live the experience I was about to embark upon. On the final night before I left for New York City my mother, stepfather and I talked about when they would have time to come see me. Due to their busy schedules the earliest they would be able to pull it off would have been some time in late July, after the All-Star break. As I mentioned before, we all thought I was going to be there for the long-haul so this time frame seemed more than adequate.

The first few days passed by quickly, mostly because the excitement was still running through all of our veins for getting such an amazing opportunity to share our love of baseball with others. On a day in early April I popped outside for a final cigarette before the day’s games were about to start. As I got about three drags in I saw a man walking across the street at the corner of 4^th and Broadway with his son and their eyes both locked on me. I didn’t know if they were going to talk to me so I kept at my business. I got a brief drag in when the father introduced himself. “Hey, you’re one of the Cave Dwellers aren’t you? My name is Anthony Curtis (@AnthonyCurtis68) and this is my son Robert.” One of my biggest pet peeves is when people smoke around kids, so before I responded back I made sure to throw my cigarette down to the ground and stomp it out before I said a word. Robert was a little dude, who looked like his father and was wearing a Los Angeles Angels shirt at the time. I greeted the two of them, making sure to bend down to look Robert in the eye as I shook his hand. Because of the shirt Robert was wearing I told them to wait a second and opened the door to the Fan Cave to get Ricardo Marquez’s attention to come outside and meet, who I though was a fellow Angels fan. The four of gabbed for a good ten minutes, swapping stories back-and-forth, learning that the two of them were both highly invested members of Red Sox Nation and that Robert’s shirt was merely a shirt from Little League. Since Ricardo and I had to get back inside we all said our good-byes, but we all looked forward to the next time we would get to see one another. That time was only a week-and-a-half later.

For three days leading up to April 20^th the Fan Cave became a bit of a second home for the Red Sox as the festivities for 100-year anniversary of Fenway Park were about to take place, but these are stories that will have to wait for a later date. On April 20^th; however, the Fan Cave was opening its doors for a lucky few group of fans to celebrate the occasion. A large portion of the party consisted of friends and family of employees of Major League Baseball, as well as random fans of both the Yankees and Red Sox, Anthony and Robert were two of those people. Before the doors opened fellow Cave Dweller, and Yankees fan, Eddie Mata and I walked outside to greet and chat with the folks waiting to get in. Eddie and the Red Sox fans got into a bit of smack talk match while I found Anthony and Robert in the crowd and chatted it up with them. When everyone was finally let inside they were greeted by a large array of ballpark food and all of the championship banners the Red Sox had won as they hung from the entryway and rafters, as well as the two World Series trophies from 2004 and 2007. It was quite the site. Grammy Award-winning guitarist kicked things off by playing the Star Spangled Banner on a limited edition Fenway Park guitar. The other Cave Dwellers who hadn’t had a chance to meet Anthony and Robert when Ricardo and I did finally got their chance, which made Robert light up. Robert was a huge fan of Mike O’Hara and Ryan Wagner from the first season of the Fan Cave, and Robert himself really wanted to be a Cave Dweller himself; however, due to the fact that he was eight-years-old (now nine) he didn’t meet the minimum age requirement. Either way, all of us loved having him and his father around.

Robert, for his age, is quite the baseball encyclopedia himself. We were all incredibly impressed with his knowledge and dedication to the Red Sox. The best example I can give of this is when fellow Cave Dweller, and Minnesota Twins fan, asked Robert who his favorite Twins player of all-time is. Without batting an eyelash Robert said, “David Ortiz,” who played for the Twins from 1997-2002. Like I said, smart little dude. As the pre-game ceremonies kicked off I made my way around the Cave, greeting and talking to everyone I could about the event and how the game would pan out. The broadcast we were watching was a continuous feed which didn’t have play-by-play commentary, to give us the feeling as if we were all at Fenway Park watching it with everyone else. When we all took our seats the other eight Cave Dwellers opted for the couch, I hung back and sat with Anthony and Robert. The Yankees got off to an early 3-0 lead, but Robert wasn’t even phased in the slightest. He leaned over to me and said that Ortiz was going to hit a home run in his next at-bat. I was especially happy with this prediction on account that Big Papi was on my fantasy team. In the bottom of the second inning Ortiz came to the plate as the leadoff batter. I was in the midst of taking a sip of my Pepsi when Yankees pitcher Ivan Nova threw a hanging curveball right down the pike at which Ortiz recoiled and blast it over the Green Monster in left-center. Everyone in the building started cheering, except for Eddie who toughed talked his way through it. As a tradition we all went down the big orange slide in the center of the Fan Cave that we dubbed the “Home Run Slide” in honor of the slide that Bernie Brewer goes down at Miller Park. We found it only fitting that Robert got to take it. He and sprinted up the stairs side-by-side, he kicked off his shoes and made the short trip down. The smile on his face when he reached the ground was priceless. Everyone in attendance cheered and clapped for Robert as he emerged. The three of us continued to swap stories and in between innings we were told that the live feed was going to be cutting into shots from the party taking place in the Fan Cave. There was a large TV camera set up in the middle and we were all told to cheer anytime the camera did a live look-in, kind of like a game show. Since Robert wasn’t tall enough to be seen standing on the ground I asked his father if it would be cool if I picked him up. He happily said yes so Robert and I shuffled to the back of the couch where the shots were being taken and I hoisted him up.

After the game Anthony received calls and messages from friends and family saying that they saw someone who looked like Robert during the broadcast, and they followed up with questions about the bearded guy holding him up. The rest of the game rolled by, with the Yankees coming out victorious by the score of 6-2. At the end of the festivities Anthony and I swapped numbers before we parted ways. Robert had asked me if the others and I would attend a few of his baseball games in the future to which I was more than happy to say yes, just so long as we had time.

As the weeks pressed on I found myself becoming more and more lonely. What had turned into a great experience was now becoming a growing feeling of being somewhat homesick. A few of the other Cave Dwellers had all ready had friends and family stop by for a visit, whereas I kept hoping the days would pass by for when my mother and stepdad would fly out to see me. Every few days or so I would see Robert walking by as he was walking home from school with his sisters Maggie and Grace as well as their mother Kathy, whom I had met a few days after the 100-year party. Even in those few moments when I was able to invite them inside for a little bit to talk about baseball the homesick feeling washed away.

On one evening in early May Anthony and Robert stopped by bearing a box of cupcakes for everyone, just one of the many kind gestures they and the family provided us with. Robert made his rounds around the room, keeping an eye on the Red Sox game in progress, waiting to see if Big Papi was going to have an at-bat while they were there. Once again, Robert said he would hit a home run, and once again Robert looked like a psychic from the Kenny Kingston Psychic Hotline. He and I both ran up to the stop of the stairs, kicked off our shoes and took the slide down one after the other. As it turned out, the biggest reason for their visit was for an open invitation to Robert’s first communion celebration on May 14^th. As I mentioned before, I was raised Mormon, but having Catholic friends growing up I knew this was a big deal, kind of like when I got baptized when I wad eight-years-old, just like Robert. I more than happily accepted the invitation.

On the morning of Robert’s party I made sure to wake up early, which basically translated to me not going to sleep as I made a habit of not going to bed until 4 AM as my body never seemed to adjust to the three-hour difference. That morning we also had to be at the Fan Cave around 9:30 AM for a game starting at 10, so I made sure to arrive at the Curtis-Hardy home at no later than 8:30. When I arrived I was greeted by the entire family including Robert’s grandparents, aunts, uncles and a few family friends. Eddie was all ready there, which was really awesome on his part to make it out. A giant spread was strewn about the table which we were more than welcome to. This was especially nice considering that we rarely ever had tome to have a home-cooked meal as our days consisted of 12-16 hours spent in the Fan Cave. Robert was especially excited to see me and made sure to give me a grand tour of their place. He showed off all of his Red Sox memorabilia including the framed Daniel Nava autographed photo he had hanging about his bed, his favorite player. Lindsay arrived about 15 minutes after I did, which would be the last Cave Dweller to stop by unfortunately. During the party one of Robert’s uncles made mention that I looked like one of the old House of David baseball players from back in the 1930s, a post that I will get to down the road. For the duration of our time I made sure to chat with everyone I could, but spent most of my time chatting with Robert.

When the time came for us to go I made sure to congratulate him on his big accomplishment and gave him a hug, as opposed to usual high five we gave each other before we parted ways… this would be the last time I got to see him as a Cave Dweller.

A few days after Eddie and I got the boot I received an email from Anthony inviting us out to dinner; a kind gesture that Eddie and I both accepted. I met up with them at their place and we all walked to Little Italy together to one of their favorite restaurants. Two days prior to this evening Eddie and I were invited out to MLB Network studios in Secaucus, New Jersey for a tour by the producer of Player Poll Victor D’Ville. One of the things we had to opportunity to do was pitch show ideas to one of the executives. I had told the Curtis-Hardy family about this and during our walk to the restaurant Robert suggested a show called “Bats and Tats” in reference to the hashtag I routinely use on Twitter. Robert’s idea was that I would go with MLP stars to the tattoo parlor to interview them while they got work done; quite the novel idea coming from someone so young. When we got to the restaurant Eddie was waiting for us. The Italian festival was taking place so things were a bit busy. We sat, we ate and we chatted about everything that had happened and the reasons why we were let go. I did my best to not say anything offensive in front of the kids, but I was still quite hurt by everything that had taken place. After dinner everyone stopped and enjoyed some cannoli, while I went ahead to smoke a cigarette away from the kids and be by myself for a moment. We both finished at the same time and rejoined to make our way back to their place. As we arrived at the front door Robert’s mother Kathy and I were talking about if I ever needed any legal help to be sure to give her a call on account of the fact that she’s a public defender in New York. Robert then asked me if I would come to his baseball game on Sunday, something I had been meaning to do since his season started. I talked it over with his father and he made sure to text me all the information and how to get there. I then told Robert yes, gave him and his sisters hugs before I walked back to the hotel MLB had put me in for the duration of my stay.

On the morning of the game I walked to the old apartment I had been staying in and woke Ricardo up before I headed to the subway. He had overslept a little bit, but offered to pay for the taxi once we got downtown. The entire way we bantered back and forth, completely confusing the guy driver as Ricardo went on about a custody battle he was having with his “ex-wife.” It was pretty much a set-up for the line from the film “Ransom,” “Give me back my son!” which had become a favorite quote around the Cave. We arrived at the field just as warm-ups were taking place. Robert and his father were playing catch, as were the other kids on the team. Anthony then asked I would like to play catch with Robert. I didn’t have a glove, but he was more than happy to lend me his. I remember looking back at Ricardo and seeing him smile as I did. The last time I had played catch with my father was 16 years year before that moment. To me, this was a huge honor. We threw the ball around for about 110-15 minutes, but it felt much longer. I toss him grounders and pop flys, just like the coaches did for me when I was playing Little League. And like Robert, my father was the coach as well. As the game started Ricardo and I sat down one the bench behind the fence. Since all the kids were eight, the league they were playing in was coach-pitch. A few of the kids struggled, but Robert was on top of his game, as was a girl from the team they were playing who went 2-3 with a double and a triple. The one moment that all of us will never forget took place in the second inning. Robert’s team was on defense with two runners on and no outs. A few days prior a video had gone viral on You Tube of a nine-year-old making an unassisted triple play. It’s not often that a kid that young is so fundamentally sound to accomplish such a feat; however, some kids just have it. Robert was playing shortstop when the kid batting popped it up right to him. Despite the fact that the parents of the opposing team were yelling for their kids to stop running, they kept going. This gave Robert more than enough time to run to second base and then onto first. Ricardo and I just turned to one another and let out a big, “Whaaaaaaaaaat!?!?” If only we had been recording the game, we could have easily made Robert a You Tube star as he completed his first-ever unassisted triple play. Lindsay arrived not too long after that and Robert was eagerly excited to tell her about it. Kathy, Grace and Maggie arrived not too long after that and Robert got to share his story again. I can’t recall who won (I think Robert’s team), but none of that really seemed to matter. We were all just incredibly thrilled to be there to support our friends. Afterward we got together and snapped a few photos before driving back to their place.

The drive took about 20-25 minutes and I was virtually quiet as I sat in the front seat. Reality was finally starting settling in, I would be going back to Oregon in a matter of days. I did my best to keep from crying in the car so I looked out the window onto the harbor as we drove by. Somehow I had drifted off to sleep and I awoke just as we were pulling into their parking lot. Ricardo and I walked everyone to the door and I gave everyone a big hug. Anthony told me if I ever needed anything to give him a shout and be sure to let them know when I was going to be back in town. I did and Ricardo and I walked back to the apartment. I told him good bye and walked alone down the road back to the hotel. During my time in New York I only had one friend stop by, someone who I’ll get to in a piece later this week. As I mentioned earlier, everyone else had immediate members of their family stop by and pay them a visit; the Curtis-Hardy family was the closest thing I ever had to having that family atmosphere during my time. When I made it back to the hotel I crawled into bed and let my emotions go. I took me an hour to stop crying. I wouldn’t see them again before I flew back to Oregon.

During my trip around the country after my exile I had an opportunity to get back to New York and stay for a few days with one of the members of the production crew at his place in Long Island. Once everything was confirmed I made sure to let the Curtis-Hardy family know that I would be around. On my last night in the city they invited me over for dinner. Kathy greeted me at the door and Robert’s face lit up when I came through. While I was away Robert had quite the catalog of stories to share with me. For starters, he had been a participant in a wiffle ball match which took place between Yankees fans and Red Sox fans and it was coached and umpired by the remaining Cave Dwellers. Robert, of course, was on the Red Sox team. His biggest accomplishment that game was drying a walk, something that he and I were both proud of. He also got quite the razzing from Michael LaPayower (@BigYankeesFan), one of the members of the Yankees team who became good friends with a few of the Cave Dwellers and myself. But Robert’s biggest bit of news came when Red Sox catcher Jarrod Saltalamacchia stopped by the Fan Cave. The little sketch they had setup was basically just Saltalamacchia playing catcher for kids who stopped by to see him. When it was Robert’s turn he fired a strike right down the middle, as he showed me in the video that was shot. He was beyond stoked to share that with me and I was more than delighted to hear about it.

Kathy had ordered pizza and a few family friends and their kids had stopped by as well. I said my hellos and chatted with Maggie and Grace about their trip to China they had taken not too long after I went home to Oregon. Anthony showed up about a half hour after I did and we were able to catch up on things and talk about how the rest of Robert’s baseball season was going. After dinner we all headed down and across the street for ice cream. There was a bit of activity going on at the Fan Cave which all the kids were curious about. As we got closer we could see that a concert was taking place and I did my best to hang back and remain out of sight since I was no longer allowed to be there. It only took a matter of seconds for one of the executives and a few of the interns to spot me, which turned into one of the most awkward “good to see you, (but secretly) what are you doing here?” moments. I made sure to keep it short and let them know that I was only there because of the friends I was with. I could see Ricardo and the rest in the background, but let that pass since none of us had spoken to one another in well over a month, and still haven’t to this day. I bid my farewell and headed back up with my group. Robert showed me a few more Red Sox items he had acquired over the last few months until it was time for me to head back down and catch my train back to Long Island. At least this time we were able to leave things on a much happier note. I gave my hugs out all-around and said good bye to everyone before I stepped back into the busy streets of New York.

Months have passed since that night, and I’ve done my best, but could do better, to keep in contact with the Curtis-Hardy family. As the baseball season came to a close I had a letter come to me in the mail from Robert with had this inside…

And a note which reads, “Dear Benjamin, Thank you for everything. This card might be worth millions… someday. From, Robert.” It is hands down of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever given me. I keep both items on my desk to remind me that I need to get back as often as I can to visit them and motivate me to move past anything negative that every happened in the Fan Cave.

When the time came for the 2013 edition of the Fan Cave to start accepting applications Robert and Anthony didn’t let the age restriction get in their way of submitting their video. Fellow Cave Dweller, and Atlanta Braves fan, Shaun Kippins and I did what we could to spread the word about the video. It received such a good buzz that the Fan Cave is making Robert an honorary Cave Dweller for a day. Such amazing news! Here is his submission video for you to check out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=scrNH6TSMjo

 I can honestly say that I was overcome with emotion when I got the part about him with all of the baseball logos and mascot tattoos all over his back.

In January Robert celebrated his ninth birthday and I made sure to send him a long email to let him know how things were going, but most important, to give him a big happy birthday shoutout. I got this in return…

Over the last couple of months Robert has also started himself a blog. His first entry was a recap of a Q&A with New York Met Mookie Wilson and Bill Buckner which Robert and Anthony were both fortunate enough to attend. So jealous! His latest is an interview he conducted with all of the current Cave Dwellers. Check them out here: http://robertmlb.wordpress.com/2013/04/04/meet-the-mlb-cave-dweller-9/

Never in my life could I have imagined than someone as young as Robert would have such a profound impact on my life. As much as I seem to knock the Fan Cave for what happened as we parted ways, I am truly more than thankful for the time I had as I was able to get the opportunity to meet and befriend such a lovely family. That day in the Cave during the 100-year anniversary party will always go down as the fondest memory of my time there. Until a few years ago my father and I had a bit of a rocky relationship, the only thing that really seemed to get us to open up and find a mutual love for one another is baseball. If there’s one thing I learned during my time in New York it’s that Anthony would do anything for his son. I could see it in the way he teaches him and talks to him about the game, but mostly about what it takes to be a good human being. The looks he gave him, and the smiles that showed on his face will last in my memory for the rest of my life. For the last eight months or so I had been meaning to write a tribute to the two of them and the rest of the family for always making me feel welcome and appreciated. Every time I started I stopped about two sentences in. In my head I knew what I wanted to say, but the words never seeped out through my fingertips. Here I am a year later, with my girlfriend in Florida because Anthony was kind enough to help get me a flight to make it happen. For that, this was the least I could do for his son who helped me grow up and appreciate the game just as I did when I was his age.

Thank you Anthony and Kathy for being a potential legal bailout, but mostly for inviting me into your home and trusting me to be a positive role model for your son. Thank you Maggie and Grace for looking out for your brother and being the wonderful, intelligent young ladies that you are. And thank you Robert, for being as close to a little brother as I will ever have in my life.

This hat was worn by the Red Sox for the Fenway Park 100-year anniversary game as a throwback to when the team wore it originally as their road cap from 1903-1904 which then became their game cap from 1905-1920. I don’t wear it often because it’s plain white and the last thing I want to do is ruin it. The first time I came across it was in the New Era Flagship Store across the street from the Fan Cave, but I decided not to pick it up; a decision I later regretted but was lucky enough to remedy when I came across it for super cheap on the MLB.com/shop Web site. For my marks, I decided to go with something more personal than historic.

#8- If I didn't emphasize it enough, Robert has quite the brain on him. Much like myself when I chose the marks for my hats, Robert got incredibly clever when choosing the number for his Angels Little League jersey. Anthony's favorite player was Red Sox legend Fred Lynn, who is the first player to ever win the MVP and Rookie of the Year award in the same season. During his seven-year career in Boston Lynn wore #19; however, when the Sox decided to trade him to the Angels after the 1980 season Lynn wore #8 for his first year as Bert Campaneris wore #19 from 1979-1981.

4/20/12- It’s important to me to never forget the important people and stories that help shape me as a human being, and if it wasn’t for baseball our meeting may have never taken place. I am beyond proud that I have helped inspire Robert to write his blogs, just as I am happy that he helped inspire confidence in me to keep going, letting me know that what I’m trying to accomplish with spreading my love and knowledge of baseball has true value. Thank you again Robert, from the bottom of my heart. I expect to see and hear great things from you now, and in the future. I will always be your biggest supporter, just as you have been for me.