THE END    

11/29/2003

Quite frankly, after the end of this past summer's Saints' season, I was left wanting for a serendipitous event to provide me with romantic closure to the 46 years I had spent on the diamond. Thus, I logically figured it would happen in Florida.

But Florida this year was anti-climactic: Indeed, the beer tasted better than the wins.......the waitresses looked better than the pitches.........the body no longer reacted to Advil.......lactic acid became a constant companion.........it was time to quit playing competitive baseball. 

Such was my Florida. Mostly.

However, during the week I was also proselytized ad nauseam in the dugout by Denny and Corny. They claimed they wanted to help me find the "true way." Their passion struck me as the kind I used to have for two-on and two-out. At first I thought it was just the theme for the week. (That the exterminator and the paperboy were cuckoo was a given.) But Corny and Denny had otherwise become my Florida dugout friends and as the days progressed their passions grew  - not only for the game - but with their apparent need to help me find a meaningful way out of baseball. 

Were they a channel through which the baseball gods had come to convey a message? This I wondered as I dug in for my very last at bat.

I looked down to Corny for a sign.

He genuflected. Hmm...........

Here's the pitch.......

There it is: base hit.

The last base hit of my active career.

Now I'm standing on first, turning to look at the first base coach. There stands Denny, already staring at me - intensely.

"How many out, Denny....?"

"Go to Durham - visit the site."

"What?!?"

"Go to Durham - ease your pain."

I looked at Corny. He nodded.

I knew this was the message. The baseball gods had spoken - through the most unlikely of messengers.

So I went. And on Saturday night, November 22, 2003, I sat in the actual booth at Mitch's Tavern in Raleigh, North Carolina where, in 1987, Crash Davis met Annie Savoy, Max Patkin and Nuke LaLoosh. Amidst a bunch of drunk college kids I stood out like a catcher's mitt on a third baseman. But I didn't care. This was exactly what I needed to wrap-up my career. Unsolicited, a kindly waitress advised me that I should check out the end of the bar before I left.

"It's not just me?" I asked.

"Nope. Happens all the time. At least you're not crying."

At the end of the bar hung the only evidence that the scene had actually been shot in this place - an 8'x10" glossy of Crash, Annie and Max, autographed by Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon with Costner's inscription reading: "To Mitch, hope you like the movie!"

I finished my beer, nodded to the waitress, took one final look around the joint, and got the hell out of there.

Was this heaven?

"No. It's Raleigh,” sighed the cab driver - rolling his eyes.

This had been good. But the best was yet to come.

The next morning, November 23, 2003, I drove to Durham, North Carolina - burning with anticipation.

There, right off the freeway, stood the brand new Durham Bulls Stadium - pristine, profitable, perfect.

And above the left field fence, an omen, was the original Bull from the movie with its famous inscription - "Hit Bull Win Steak."

By now I was perfectly giddy. I had no idea where the hell I was going but a force seemed to guide me around the nooks and crannies of the city until, all of a sudden, I saw light poles in the distance.

I floored the Impala.

And there - in the middle of a totally run-down neighborhood - was the former Durham Athletic Park - the site of "Bull Durham."

I was eerily all alone. It was Sunday and absolutely no one was anywhere to be found. I noticed the sun was as high in the sky as I had ever seen. It had become summer again. A warm breeze of meaning brushed my face as I stood outside the stadium and looked onto the field.

"I believe in the church of baseball."

The stadium had stood deserted since 1995. The complex surrounded by a locked chain link fence - as if it were a site polluted by some toxic waste.

"TRESPASSERS PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW."

Weeds had grown everywhere and all that remained of the past were the faded Durham Bull mascot logos painted here and there. But for me the presence of the space was intoxicating. The tobacco warehouses behind the right field fence still stood their ground. Chalk lined the foul lines even though the grass was brown and unkempt. The stadium had been repainted blue after the green of the movie - but the square cut-outs within the stadium were still yellow as I squinted to find Milly and Annie's seat above the dugout.

Committing a felony, I shimmied under the fence and walked down the right field alley onto the field.

"We've got a little lost girl here....Says her name is Lida Jean."

The place was a dump. The outfield bleachers had long since been removed, the Bull sent downtown to the new stadium, the concession stands broken into and vandalized, the signs on the outfield fences gone.

But it was still the real thing.

I walked over to the first base dugout and sat down.

"Anybody seen Ebby-Calvin? Game starts in three minutes...."

I sauntered up to home plate and stood in the batter's box - my mind super-imposing every scene from the movie upon the view - it was all right there in front of me.

"Now batting....our own Crash Davis!"

I turned around and called time-out.

"Gimme the rag."

Get a hit, Crash."

Shut-up!"

I walked to the mound - overgrown, muddy and badly in need of a rake.

"Curveball? Why is he calling for the deuce? I wanna bring heat......"

I wound up, delivered, and hit the mascot.

"One ball and no strikes to Willie Foster......."

Is this heaven?

No. It's Durham.

When it was all said and done, I ran around the bases, stood on home plate, and took one very, very long look around the baseball field - and left.

This had been my penance, my epiphany, my catharsis, my curtain call..........the graceful exit from the game I so desperately needed.

And, at this, the very end of a respectable career in the greatest show on dirt, I realized how honored and blessed I was to have spent the final season with a group of guys whose presence was distinctly felt at this park - and who would understand the meaning behind this story. 

It was time to go.

But as I left the stadium, I thought I heard Corny and Denny's voices whispering from behind the dugout.

"Hey Crash, there's an opening for a manager in Visalia next year."

Do you guys think I could make it to the show as a manager?

 P.S. .......................

9/15/2003

In Baseball, if you're 20 you're a prospect; if you're 30 you're a suspect; if you're 40 you're just plain shit; and if you're 50 - well - you'd better start thanking those who got you there because you didn't get there alone. So:

To Corny:  Told ya! At Manny's in March. It wasn't so bad now, was it? Congratulations. Well done. Thanks.

To "18":  No matter how hard I try, I cannot match wits with your rapid-fire commentary. It's a gift. Back to you. Thanks.

To Lucky:  Send me an invoice for the carpentry lessons. I won't pay it but I will always credit you for the help. Thanks.

To Pack:  I always tried to mimic your swing and I always grounded out to second while you hit the gap. Go figure. Thanks.

To Burnsy:  If I could have been as calm as you and as level-headed, I would have made it to the show. Thanks.

To Abby:  We all wish we had made it to Triple-A. It was a joy watching you play the game. Thanks.

To Hadler:  Hope this isn't too erudite for you. On the field you remind me of a much younger me. Thanks.

To Andy:  Thanks for the encouragement. I would otherwise have left years ago. Thanks.

To Larry:  And I thought I was obsessed with the game. Thanks.

To Noonan:  If my heart were as big as yours - I'd feel obligated to enter the seminary. Thanks. 

To Sody:  And I thought I was a sensitive guy! Thanks.

To Eicher:  "Throw the ball, Crash!" I'll never forget it. Thanks.

To Jake:  I feel GREAT. Thanks.

To Gaspipe:  Keep writing. You're an inspiration to us all. Thanks.

To Darcy:  Sometimes life allows us to figure it out. Thanks.

To Donk:  This game is played with fear and arrogance. You're the best. Thanks.

To Schmitty:  Watching you run around the infield, in full gear, yelling at everyone, was worth the full price of the summer's admission. Thanks.

To Smitty:  Couldn't hit you if I tried. Time to quit. Thanks.

To Ira:  Tweren't ugly this summer. Sorry ya missed it. Thanks.

To Kriegs:  A true gentleman still exists; he's at Department 56. Thanks.

To Crafty:  Wish Parker could have had you in class. He could have learned what I learned. Thanks.

To Staller:  We've got so many layouts to reminisce over. Thanks.

To Jerome:  Jerome, you are just too cool. I wish I could be as cool as you. Thanks.

To: Orlando:  You missed it man! But we kept you there in spirit. You were missed. Thanks.

To Crash:  How the hell did you ever get to be 50?

To Joe:  Thanks Joe. Thanks for everything. Thanks.

"Hell, don't forget Lucky got to second base before he even got home! I'd a kicked his ass for not hustlin!"  (Oh, thanks Johnny Schaller - almost forgot.)

And so Crash walked into the clubhouse never to be seen in uniform again.  And although the fan cheered and cheered and cheered and called for his return - it was not to be.  He had hit his 50 and hung 'em up.

But then again I hear there may be an opening for a manager in Visalia next year........................

 THE FINAL OUT

9/15/2003

And suddenly it was over............................

With a simple ground out to short, the Once and Future Saints found themselves ordinary citizens again - the spit and polish gone; the past a reality; the event a success; the summer a memory.

And suddenly it's over..........................

"Did we always have this much gear?"

"These shoes are really filthy."

"Why do we have these broken bats in here?"

"Does this tar rag belong to anyone?"

"Whose tennis shoe is this?"

And suddenly it was really over....................................

Gaspipe looked at Lucky and saw a carpenter...................Jake gazed at Staller and saw a banker...................Burnsy looked at the sky and saw Autumn.

And suddenly it donned on everyone that it was really, really over.................................................

So everyone looked back.....but for an instant. And there, in the receding glow of the greatest summer of their collective lives, grinned back a mischievous vision of youth, joy and friendship. A notch of light racing towards the cosmos where memories play baseball and old men rest their conscience.

And then......gone. Done.

Until next year when a whole new version of the Minnetonka Saints will don the uni, take to the yard and push the sun back up into the sky one more time.

God, I love this game.................................................................................................................. 

RADAM HITS HOMERUN  

9/10/2003

Minnehaha Creek (Reuters)

Todd Radam displayed unselfish pride today as he announced the birth of his second child - Grace Radam. We all congratulate Todd who, we were told, remained in uniform while within the birthing room - offering his Saints jacket to his beloved wife during labor.

Sophie Radam was unavailable for comment. Her babies, however, expressed support.

Rumor had it that if the child was of the female persuasion, the Radam Family was to name her "9". However, "9" became such a maligned name after a certain recent popup error, that the family opted for something more fitting.

Unfortunately, Todd's 47 brothers were not present for the event having all been lost over the course of the summer. Tad Piper, however, in a genuine display of sincerity, temporarily removed the Piper firewall allowing "18" to receive congratulatory emails from throughout the baseball community.

"18" is expected to play in Friday night's Classic League playoff game as the visitor's batting cage is presently being converted into a temporary nursery.

In genuine, albeit misplaced, dedication, the Saints Team as a group has showered the newborn with a year's worth of Pine Tar Pampers and several cases of Similac Sunflower Seeds.

On a side note, we are told the proud father will stay overnight at the hospital with Mother and Daughter. Not because of any paternal bliss, though. "18" hurt his hip from a fall caused by his spikes catching on his wife's hospital gown.

 SAINTS CLEAN UP AT TUPPERWARE PARTY

 8/7/2003

 Coon Rapids (BBC)

                        The Minnetonka Saints defeated Tupper and his Coon Rapids Diamonds 6-3 Thursday evening behind Dan "Smitty" Smith's display of determination. "I couldn't get my rhythm at first;" admitted Smitty after the game, "the strike zone seemed elusive and Schmitty's new glove kinda disrupted my concentration - though he's a great catcher."

                 Smith was referring to Jeff "Schmitty" Schmitt's new catcher's mitt from which Smitty's pitches frequently popped out during the early innings. "It is a Jerome Ivy Autographed Model and I think that had something to do with it,"  noted Schmitty in the parking lot during post game chatter.

                 In addition to popcorn antics behind-the-plate, the Saints' defense suffered what appeared to be lapses in focus on several occasions.  For instance, as second baseman Crash Cook hustled into shallow right field to catch a gorp, Donkey Eeyore had the steam engine on full throttle chugging in from right with the same objective. The ball in his sights, Crash at the last minute disengaged allowing the ball to drop for a Coon Rapids hit. "Survival instinct took over; I'm sorry.  I apologized to Smitty.  I always thought that during game play, baseball preempted even the most basic of human functions - including the need to protect oneself from physical harm.  But when I felt the dull thud of Donkey's stride shaking the earth just to my north, I had to bail.  The thought of ending up as a little grease spot in Coon Rapids didn't appeal to me."

                 "Yeah, I blew it - noted Donk. "I had the ball all the way but failed to call Crash off. We have such a mutual respect for one another that it was almost as though we were afraid to take charge, wanting the other to get credit for the putout."

                 "I blew it." noted Crash.  "In any event, we should have been communicating from the get-go.  Since Donkey likes to sing when he plays the outfield,  we have now made a pact that next time any ball is hit in his direction, he will sing instructions.  He's got such a great singing voice; it will add yet another dimension to this one-of-a-kind 2003 Saints' team."

                 First baseman "Clank" Eicher disavows any responsibility for the failure of what should have been a routine double-play in the early innings.  "Gaspipe made a clean field of the grounder and tossed it nicely to second, but instead of the rope I am used to on the turn, I got a last minute slider which broke outside and away.  I couldn't pick up the spin through my new heavily-tinted polarized Oakley's. But c'mon, who throws breakin stuff to first?"

                 "Snake" Jacobson looked positively at peace late in the game when a deep fly ball was launched in his direction in center field. Despite the entire infield yelling "Back, back, back!",  Snake calmly retained that hands-on-the-knees ready position facing home plate as the ball zoomed over his head.  "I just didn't see it." announced Snaker. "The sky by that time had dulled to a muted buff finish absorbing the hue and tone of the baseball."

                 "Actually, he looked rather poetic."  noted  Johnny Noonan.  "Picture an entire squad racing and yelling towards center field and the center-fielder simply reacts by staying put, in relaxed repose, seemingly enjoying the splendor of the moment. I respect that!"

                 Field shenanigans notwithstanding, the Smitty/Schmitty combination is deserving of the game ball.  After the third inning, Schmitty's mitt had calmed down and Smitty could focus. The result was a panoply of fast balls, deuces and change-ups which thwarted Tupper's team's attempt to win.  Even the casual observer could see Smitty grow stronger as the evening progressed. "We had a gun on him tonight," noted Lowell Spinners' scout, Ikancy Clearly,  "his last pitches were faster than his first."

                 "He's a real addition to our squad,"  commented Coach Corny.  "He's young, strong and obsessed with winning.  We like that in a prospect."

                 But we all know you can't win a ballgame without runs.  And the Saints bats ultimately carried the day.  Darcy "Big Dog" Ruff spanked the ball nicely - his acceptance of the wood bat league now a certainty. "I must admit I was never very much for this wood bat stuff. Aluminum is my first choice. But with the aid of my new Saints teammates, I've discovered there is more to this aspect of the game than meets the eye. And since my eye is finally again directing the sweet spot of the bat to the ball, I embrace wood as a legitimate tool-of-the-trade."

                 Likewise superhero John Noonan.  "Give me wood any day.  It truly requires baseball talent to rip a baseball with ash or maple. Aluminum is nice, but it is like killing a mosquito with a thermo-nuclear device - too much power."

                 Nooner was true to his word, too.  He laced several pitches as though he was swinging alloy.  Incidentally, let this reporter note that the return of Noonan to the clubhouse has precipitated the re-coagulation of that certain Saints "something".  The boys seem relaxed, focused on baseball, and true teammates again. I cite Nooner's presence the reason.

                 Kiddo Gessler displayed his usual quiet, seemingly crabby-style as he made nice plays at third base and drove in a run or two.  It's tougher nowadays to get a grin out of Kiddo. But his steadfast devotion to the game and the fact that he secretly wears garters is nevertheless part of the important stuff that makes this team truly a team.

                 A brief note about the much-liked Mikey Staller.  He came to the ballfield on edge having had a disagreement with a professional colleague. The guys were sympathetic, supportive and concerned. I believe he was genuinely comforted knowing that if necessary, the entire squad would have followed him to the bank, bats in hand, and struck a blow for justice in support of his person.  Such is this team.

                 Lastly, Coach Corny caused the play of the game to happen when in the 7th inning - the sky uncomfortably dark -  he dove in left field catching a quickly failing fly ball and sliding twenty yards on his belly with ball and glove raised triumphantly in the air.  "It was a major league play,"  noted the umpire to all involved. "I had the great pleasure of raising my right arm with pride and authority on that one."

                 "Shucks." smiled Corny after the game,  "But I learned something.  I've now noticed that I see better when there is no light." 

                And so it goes..............

 SAINTS FIND ZONE IN DOME

7/13/2003

Metrodome (Reuters)

The Minnetonka Saints defeated their archrivals the Minnetonka Lakers Monday night by a score of 2-1 at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome. Kevin Burns got the win displaying an awesome assortment of pitches the likes of which recently caused pitchers half his age to seek his counsel when the team was at Litchfield.

"He was definitely on........" explained Burnsy's former Cincinnati Reds' catcher John Abercrombie. "His fast ball was down, his curve ball wasn't hangin' - in the show they never would have ripped him."

"He's got the best arm I've seen in twenty years," commented Manager Todd Cornelius after the game.

Accolades flowed from the first base side of the diamond as well. "We couldn't hit him," shrugged the usually headstrong Wheeler. "Simply put, he baffled our hitters. Burnsy is a first rate pitcher in this or any other league. When he's good, he's hittable - sometimes. When he's great, forget it. Tonight he was great."

"Being in the Metrodome against the Lakers with our biggest crowd ever; sure I was pumped!" grinned Burnsy after the game. "Abercrombie and me were right on. But ya gotta give credit to the whole team, it was a combined effort."

It's true. And "combined" is putting it mildly. Coach Corny and Coach Perzel were beside themselves before the game with the unexpected Saints' turnout.

"Yikes...." quoted Corny. "We've got 22 guys here - some I haven't seen since March. Making decisions is the toughest job a manager has, and some players will have to learn to live with disappointment tonight."

"I thought I saw Ira suiting up in the can." is all that Joe Perzel would say.

Regardless of the numbers, the Saints won the game against the Lakers. A feat which had not been accomplished since 1998 - according to the Baseball Reference website.

Offensively, the Saints announced their presence with authority early on when lead-off hitter, Jeff Schmitt, rocketed a triple off the right field baggy, scoring moments later on a wild pitch. "I was on an adrenaline rush." spewed Schmitty, "To lead off in the Metrodome against the Lakers - I was NOT going to Sears-Roebuck the opportunity."

(Sears sucks, incidentally. This reporter once sold Lady Kenmore’s. Nasty work....... nasty.)

Others were impressed with Schmitty's attitude, too. "I respect the guy,” noted Mike Eicher. "He focused and delivered even without any single babes in the stands to impress!"

The overall caliber of play in its own right was impressive: "I thought I was here to watch a bunch of old guys try and play the game." commented Eric Dahlquist, a fan with serious baseball knowledge. "When # 5 hit the baggy in the first inning, I knew this was for real. In fact, I found myself looking around for Wally the Beer Man - thinking I might really be at the show."

After Schmitty's first inning heroics, both teams were held scoreless until the 6th. In the top half, Crash Cook led off with a line shot to left advancing to second on Lucky Lawrence's ground ball to second. T. Hadler then singled, advancing Crash to third. The Saints next drew a walk - loading the bases. A wild pitch allowed Crash to scamper home with what would ultimately be the winning run.

"It was a big deal to me........" sighed Crash. "My high school baseball coach was there and the good Lord willing, I was able to help the ball club. I just want to play them one game at a time. This is a simple game really. You catch the ball, you throw the ball, you hit the ball. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, sometimes it rains. Think about that."

The highlight of the game from a sheer power perspective was the 400+ foot homerun into the left field seats launched by the Lakers' Wheeler off of relief pitcher Joe Perzel in the 7th. "Whoops," commented Joe-Joe as Wheeler trotted around the bases. "I got a fast ball smack-dab into his wheelhouse. Lucky for us we have two runs." Joe-Joe settled down nicely though to polish off the remaining Lakers as Dave Packard caught the final fly in center field to cement the Saints win.

Defensively, Scott Gatzke deserved the honors as he was pummeled with shots to his person at third base. Gaspipe came up with several nice plays at the hot corner, as the Lakers had no trouble pulling the ball down the third base line. "I felt like a target....." quipped Gaspipe after the game. "The Lakers typically sting the ball in any event, but the added spring of the Dome's Astroturf made plays that much more difficult."

Slugger Todd Radam pulled himself out of the game in the bottom of the 1st after re-injuring a hamstring. "My doctor told me earlier in the day to stay away from baseball for three months, keep the leg quiet, avoid sudden moves to the left or the right and otherwise lead a sedentary life until it was fully healed. I therefore of course had to start at second base and bat third."

Such was the attitude of most Saints' players Monday night. Fierce competitors all of them, the Lakers never really stood a chance. "I felt I was managing a powerful thing," commented Coach Corny. "When this team is together, focused and determined - it is unstoppable. Still, dammit, we have to work on those secondary leads!"

Oh Corny.

  LOSING ISN'T EVERYTHING

6/2/2003

(Crash)

 Baseball is life's great teacher because it forces its players to confront losing. If we all were winners all of the time, the word "aspiration" would not exist and we could all take a flat together in the country. Fortunately, though, we lose. And in baseball, most winners lose more than they win - especially at the plate. So it stands to reason that a team such as the Saints - typically winners - will at some point lose and be forced to deal with the reality of life's great teacher.

  Now is that time. And it remains to be seen how this class of Saints will respond.

  From the cheap seats, the Saints remain a winning group: playing over .500 ball, enjoying depth at each position, working together on and off the field, devoted to the game and each other, having fun.

  From the dugout, however, the Saints now appear a perplexed group: diluted, confused, crabby, unsure - second-guessing each other, and themselves.

  The truth is: It's all part of baseball.

  Let's get to it: Sunday night at Big Willow (Big Fella as it now appears in the book) the Saints took a 5-5 game to the top of the 7th inning before a determined Woodbury delivered 6 hits in what would become a marathon seven run inning for the bad guys. Fielding was clearly not up to par as Abercrombie and "18" both threw towards Hopkins rather than in the direction of first base, allowing several unearned runs to score. These mistakes (along with a classic "oops-it-went-under-my glove" play by Gaspipe at third) notwithstanding, the Saints did not have such a bad outing overall. Let's see: 12 hits for 32 at bats. A .375 game average, not bad. Three players had 2 or more hits and "Yackety-yack" Schmitty went 4-5. Pretty good. Woodbury was held scoreless 4 out of the 7 innings. Hmm..... Saints pitchers fanned 6 hitters and enjoyed 3 one-two-three innings.

Winning considerations in a losing battle? Or losers without a win. I wonder.

  Likewise, the night before Gopher Bar ruined another gorgeous night for baseball, again in the 7th, by nailing Jerome Ivy for two runs – erasing a come-from-behind lead posted by the good guys. "Yackety-yack" Schmitty decided to become Den mother as he chewed-out his pitcher and literally ran after the opponents on the field wearing the catcher's gear. It is this sort of intensity, dedicated but misplaced, which gives this squad such a good overall prognosis. Frankly, the Saints honored the true game of baseball this night by way of three well-executed offensive plays: In the 4th inning Jay Wright lifted a fly ball intentionally to right field to complete the sacrifice for Lucky who scored from third. Ditto Gaspipe in the 5th, again with Lucky on third. And Crash laid down a perfect sacrifice bunt earlier in the inning to set up the opportunity. Thus, as a team, the Saints manufactured 6 runs on only 5 hits. This is the kind of baseball played by winners - where runs are manufactured, not simply scored.

"Lose a contest but win some confidence." Joe Torre.

  In the game prior, the Cavaliers pulled-off a 3-2 win - this time in the 8th inning - when Joe-Joe Perzel foreshadowed Abercrombie & "18" by throwing towards St. Paul Park instead of first base, with runners in scoring position. A tough loss to be sure. But Saints pitching had held the Cavs hitless for five innings before they managed to tie the game at 2, going on to win it in the 8th. Another tough loss.

"Well, that's baseball. Rags to riches one day and riches to rags the next." Casey Stengel.

  In happier times, the Saints defeated Loretto on another glorious evening 9-7 at Loretto slugging out 11 hits in 32 at-bats. Pac-Man, Donkey & Crash each had two hits as Burnsy struck-out six. In this game, the Saints recovered from a 5-0 deficit tying the game in the 3rd with an RBI by Donkey.  "18" and the Donk combined for 5 RBI's total as the team succeeded in vanquishing the loss handed to them by Loretto earlier in the year.

"I like winnin'; like, it beats losin'. Ya know what I mean?" Nuke Laloosh.

  So such is the state-of-affairs with the Saints as they look forward to another game-filled weekend. The team is such a study in contrasts. They left the field Sunday their heads hanging. Yet this is the same club which, over the course of the four games, collectively came up with some of the best material ever offered by a team. Witness: Staller: "Yeah, we were 6-1 in the Federal League but we lost tonight. Now we're 5-2." (He's a banker.) Brutus Noonan literally fell up the stairs of the dugout - flat on his face - cheering the guys on during Sunday's game. Coach Corny supplied a between-game snack of meats, cheeses, crackers & etc. only to take himself out of the next game due to dizziness and an upset stomach. A bug the size of Montana mysteriously showed up Saturday night near the Saints dugout, was watered by Brutus, and marched towards the pitcher's mound in the seventh inning. It then mysteriously disappeared as it crossed the foul line ala' Field of Dreams only to reappear Sunday night in the right field grass behind second base. At one point, three jerseys were seen on the field all with #8 and all reading "Perzel." Donkey wore his uniform in such a fashion that he looked remarkably like Pie Traynor during the latter's hey-day. The temperature Saturday evening was very cool, yet Corny was obsessed with concern over whether or not the string cheese he brought along would go bad if left out of the cooler more than 30 seconds. Donkey, filled with the spirit, began speaking in tongues referring to the squad as the Lazarus raised from the dead during one particular comeback effort. "18", his adrenaline flowing, provided his very own personal play-by-play and color commentary from the mound as he pitched the game against Loretto.

 These are not signs of losers.

These are signs of grown men having to deal with not winning in the one aspect of their lives which, by definition, must be a winner: Baseball.

 "Ya gotta take it all in with a grin of salt." Yogi Berra.

Or perhaps Crash: "We're nearly all over forty, smellin' the pine tar, the leather and the grass, drinking beer with each other when other guys are drinking Geritol alone, and gawking at twenty year old babes as if is just a matter of time before we score. And, ya know, some of us do."

I think that during this summer it will be impossible for the Saints to truly lose.

So let's play two.

Impervious

 "GASPIPE" & "PAC-MAN" STOP THE SAINTS/SAVE THE SAINTS

5/19/2003

St. Michel (Pravda)

St. Michel is the patron saint of early innings. His older brother, St. Michael, is the patron saint of the mentally ill. Both are baseball fans and are best known for influencing the creation of the Catholic Rosary, which "coincidentally" has the same number of beads as a baseball has stitches. However, not much has been written about their fierce sibling rivalry, which on occasion effects baseball games here on Earth. Especially if the baseball games are between the town of St. Michel and the Minnetonka Saints.

Certainly something ethereal plagued the Saints in the early innings yesterday as St. Michel took a quick 1-0 lead notwithstanding superb pitching by Todd "18" Radam. "Too much drama for me," cited "18", "they scored a run without hitting the ball out of the infield. I started barking expletives as though I was John Rocker. Something wasn't right - like Noonan without a Red Bull."

"Everyone was on edge the first couple of innings." commented second sacker Mike "Train Wreck" Staller. "We had recently routed Chaska so easily that falling behind - even by one run - became a mental straight-jacket."

"I agree with 'Train Wreck,'" chimed Mike "Tiny Clank" Eicher. "We're a weird team. But the karma on the diamond was weirder. It got "18" on edge, which then affected the whole squad."

"I could feel it early on..." nodded catcher Scott "Gaspipe" Gatzke, a highly respected exorcist off-the-field. "I knew from experience that interdimensional conflict was at play - influencing the spatial/time continuum. But there was nothing I could do about it until I got some sort of sign telling me what action to take."

Fortunately for the Saints, Dave "Pac-Man" Packard came through, giving Gaspipe a sign, which ultimately led to the uncoupling of the paranormal experience.

"Yeah," continued Gaspipe, "'Pac-Man' came into the dugout from centerfield and said to me: 'It feels like the twilight zone out there.' Coming from Pac-Man, I knew this was a sign that something not-of-this-earth was taking place. "Crash" Cook then looked at me and said: 'Pumpsie would never put up with this.' It seemed like a disjointed comment at the time, but I figured it was supposed to have meaning. I then glanced at the St. Michel scoreboard and it dawned on me: St. Michel and St. Michael were feuding. St. Michel trying to protect his namesake in the early innings, St. Michael trying to protect the Saints."

(Fans should note: Gaspipe and Pac-Man are two of the more levelheaded and "cerebral" members of the Saints this year.  Normally quiet and subdued, they typically affect the team's overall industry in subtle albeit effective ways. While Crash Cook is often considered as creating a troika in this regard, he cannot be at every contest. Thus, Pac-Man and Gaspipe typically take responsibility for influencing the games from behind the scene, unbeknownst to most fans – and to most Saints, for that matter.)

"I left the dugout knowing we were plagued by brothers; thus, the solution would have to somehow come from brothers. This is axiomatic in the world of exorcists." explained Gaspipe.

"During warm-ups I noticed "18" was sticking his tongue out each time he threw the deuce. It reminded me of the old minor league pitcher "Tonguesy" Green. All of a sudden Crash's comment made sense. "Pumpsie" and "Tonguesy" Green were brothers, loved baseball, and were great rivals. I knew in a flash what to do. I went to the mound and told "18" to keep his tongue in his mouth. This, of course, broke the spell."

True enough. "18" retired St. Michel one, two, three; Crash laced the first pitch for a hit; "Snake" walked, and Pac-Man launched a rocket to score them both with what would ultimately be the winning runs.

Gaspipe: "With "18's" tongue in his mouth, a 2 to 1 lead, and the game heading into the late innings, the real St. Michel's influence began to wane. Knowing this, I used it to our advantage during my next at-bat." grinned Gaspipe.

With "Burnsy" and "Snake" on base, Gaspipe ripped a vicious two-bagger putting the game out-of reach for St. Michel and St. Michel. "Tiny Clank" knocked in one last RBI as a salute to St. Michael. "By the end of the game, I had it figured out, too." noted "Tiny."

"Pac-Man" shied away from much post game comment - which is his way. "We won, that's all that is important." he commented looking down. "But all of our behind-the-scenes moves unfortunately didn't protect Noonan."

He was of course referring to John "Brutus" Noonan, the secular patron saint of the Saints. "Brutus" twisted an ankle leaving the batter's box, which, if it were serious, would be a blow to the saints and Saints.

Coach Corny, oblivious to the tacit manipulation of events, was generally pleased. "I always enjoy a come-from-behind win," he noted. "'Joe-Joe" Perzel was stellar in relief, "Lucky" almost got his first assist from right-field to first base, and we were able to give a new kid some time behind the plate. But I continue to be concerned about the lack of understanding of signs."

If he only knew.

Dick Groat

Pravda

 DIAMOND DOOBIES

 5/15/2003

by Sid Cookman

Typically I write a compendium of the previous night's highlights and lowlights. Today I leave that to Gaspipe. Instead, I write a brief example of how a bunch of old guys can generate a collective energy, morph it into a productive chemistry and become family - on and off the field. 

"You can see a lot just by observing......"Yogi Berra used to say. 

I've been observing this group of misfits known as the Minnetonka Saints since March. And I've seen a lot. 

Common sense knows that if you're 20 you're a prospect; and if you're 30 you're a suspect. These Saints, though, average over 40 but act under 20. I guess it's as Yogi also says: "In baseball, you don't know nothin'." 

Last night the Saints routed Chaska (again) with the help of a first rate pitching performance by Brutus Noonan. Everyone hit the ball, everyone scored, everyone made a good play, and everyone loved the game of baseball. More importantly, though, everyone suddenly experienced a telepathic something, which generated a collective understanding that this year was somehow different. Indeed, that wonderfully cool spring night air seemed to confirm that a rare baseball community had formed, alive only this year, at this moment in time, with this group of guys. 

In my fifty years with the game I've seen it happen less than ten times. 

The guys left the win as if they'd been bathed in magic waters. Without thinking they drove to Pauly's bar, sat down as a unit, ordered beers as a unit and raised their glasses as a unit - as if that big bad unit was waiting for a sign from some invisible third base coach right there in the bar. 

It happened.

With Corny on deck. 

Lucky spotted a girl at the bar and went to his ear, 18 nodded and tipped his hat, Tiny acknowledged and accosted Staller who dragged a ten-spot between the bartender and the blonde named Lisa. Gatzke ordered 'Bud Light' and with it Lisa drew the intentional walk. Packard then attempted a hit and run but was thrown out at first thus moving Lisa to second. Crash called time to talk with the runner. Corny took the batter's box. Tiny shook his head. Andy, worried Corny would swing early, gave him the 'take' sign..... 

But Corny connects, rounds first and is safe at second. Noonan holds Lisa at third. Corny and Lisa are in scoring position. 

After all, while baseball is 90 percent mental; the other half is physical. So says Yogi. 

It's a thing of beauty these Minnesota Saints.

SLUGGIN' SAINTS WIN AGAIN - ADJUST NICKNAME

 5/12/2003

Minnetonka (Reuters)

In what seemed like a National Slow Motion Club meeting, the Minnetonka Saints used every minute of the 2 hours and 45 minutes allotted to complete a 6-½ inning routing of Richfield Friday night at Big Willow. Three Saints pitchers spread only four Richfield hits over the course of the contest with Darcy "Big Dog" Ruff getting his first win. ""Dog" was firing stealth pitches. I have to call them stealth, because I never knew where the pitch was going to go......" commented Mike “Tiny” Eicher from his hospital bed. "We never got our signs right. Fortunately, it not only fooled me - but fooled the batters as well!"

"Shucks....." smiled Dog, "I was just trying to get it over the plate. Early in the game, I realized I couldn't see the signs so I thought 'What the hell? Why waste time with a mound meeting, I'll just throw.'" The strategy worked - with Tiny's body absorbing the shock of most pitches. "He's a true "catcher's catcher" commented Scott "Gaspipe" Gatzke after the game. "In honor of his performance tonight, the team has decided to change his nickname from "Tiny" to "Clank" as a tribute to the number of pitches he took in the cup."

With its 12-1 win, the Saints are 2-0 in Federal League play. Next game Monday night at Big Willow. The night may be full of surprises as Joe-Joe Perzel "hacked" into Crash Cook's laptop to discover the following exchange of emails. This should be good. (Names protected (at this stage) to protect the innocent.)

Bill Monbouquette

Reuters News Agency.

SAINTS WIN FEDERAL "WATERWORLD" OPENER

5/7/2003

Chaska (UPI)

Kevin Costner created a screen reputation as the personification of baseball in Bull Durham, Field of Dreams and For the Love of the Game. But it was his humectant role in Waterworld, which inspired the Minnetonka Saints Sunday as they defeated hydrophilic Chaska in a rain-shortened game 12-2.

In addition to exposure, the Saints suffered from an acute case of "dropsy" during the first part of the contest "booting" over six balls in the air. "I just plain missed it...." shrugged Gold Glover Dave "Pack-Man" Packard after a sure out popped free of his glove in centerfield. 

"I don't know what the hell Crash was doing," sighed third baseman Mike "Vacuum" Eicher referring to Crash Cook's "twinkle toe" boot of a routine throw to first. "No excuses” Crash lamented "...although I must admit I was pre-occupied with finding my Pumpsie Green card." 

On a good note, the Saints bats ignited when needed with John “Brutus” Noonan delivering a clutch line shot with ducks-on to drive in what would ultimately be the winning run. No one looked back. "Vacuum" launched what, but for the weather, would otherwise have been a "tater" whilst Mike "Train Wreck" Staller contributed hit after hit. The runs kept crossing home plate as Chaska's play reduced to a level previously attributed only to the ' 71 Mets. Todd “#18” Radam summed-up the chaos of Chaska's play performing in the dugout his patented version of the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey theme song.

The rain began about the 2nd inning and steadily increased in intensity until the Ump called it in the 5th. Chaska's pitcher, I.P. Daly ("Yellow River"), manifested the dynamics of a nursery-school recess as he kicked and moaned on the mound flinging mud from his spikes trying to convince "Blue" to end the game in the 4th. But the umpire (and the Saints) would have nothing of it - the good guys continuing to clobber the ball notwithstanding the deluge. 

Commenting on the game, Coach Corny mentioned he would make the next game for sure. 

On a related note, the Saints praised the efforts of Dave "Soddy" Sodergren vis-à-vis his attention to detail regarding the Saints uniforms. "He's great!" cited Joe "Joe-Joe" Perzel. "While Chaska's uniforms were clinging to their skin, ours were shedding water, keeping us dry, and maintaining their look of professionalism." 

"It's true....." commented Scott “Gaspipe” Gatzke, "look good, play good. The Saints have it all......talent, age, Quadrephenia, and great uni's. We have Soddy to thank!" 

At 1-0, the Saints are looking forward to Federal contest #2 on Friday at Big Willow.

Lenny Green

UPI.

RADAM LEADS SAINTS TO FIRST TULIP LEAGUE WIN

4/28/2003

Minnetonka (AP)

Todd “#18” Radam led the newly outfitted Minnetonka Saints to a 10-9 win over Jay Thomas, belting three home runs in four at bats in front of a record pre-season crowd of six at Big Willow. A family man, “#18” shunned post game festivities in favor of racing home and telling his wife the good news: "She's expecting soon and this will certainly make these final days before delivery easier to bear," commented the shy "#18."

“#18” not only broke the club's record of most home runs in one game (previously held by various people at one,) but triggered a come-from-behind win in the bottom of the 7th scoring Tim “T” Hadler and Jeff “Crash” Cook in front of him. JT's pitcher, upon watching his team's 9-7 lead vanish, was heard cursing himself for not prosecuting the intentional walk to young "#18."

The crowd (by then two fans) responded to the homer with a standing ovation.

The Saints this year are expected to fair well in both the Federal and Classic Leagues having picked up sluggers Darcy "Big Dog" Ruff, Mike “Tiny” Eicher and Jay "Gotta Beer?" Wright in off-season betting.

New coach/manager Todd "Corny” Cornelius was cautious in his assessment of overall play: "We showed some good baseball today but need work on fundamentals. "T" threw well in relief but our defense gave JT six outs the inning he pitched. On the other hand, I was most pleased with "Gotta Beer's" bat speed and of course “#18” had a career day. We missed some signs though and "Crash" falling down on the base paths wasn't pretty; but all-in-all it was a fair outing."

In a related note, sources close to the team have speculated that an exorcist was hired after the game in an attempt to take the hex off of Jerome "Mr. Cool" Ivy’s mitt. During the game, Mr. Cool seemed confronted by demons, as the ball appeared to jump out of his mitt on two separate occasions - causing the loss of two outs. One fan commented that the ball seemed to have a mind of its own. "It was scary...," shivered Darcy Block (a.k.a.  "Block's wife"), "...at first I thought it was just an error, but we all felt a rush of cold air each time it happened."

The Saints already have the reputation of being the most superstitious team in both leagues and this will only add to the sentiment. Indeed, hard-hitting first baseman David "Soddy" Sodergren had already left the contest because of inconsistencies in uniform style on the field. "It's bad luck, dude." he commented from his Hummer. "Mark my words, someone will make two errors this game." It appears he may have been right.

Regarding the hex and what is necessary to remove it, one patron at the Lone Spur thought he overheard the team discussing the proposed remedy during the post-game festivities. "I think they said they need to cut off the head of a live rooster to erase the hex." commented Gus Triandos of nearby Hopkins.

Fans may remember last year's team antics when most players refused to shave during a particularly long winning streak. The "scruffy" look ended quickly though when it was discovered the beards reduced the player's chances to score in a somewhat different arena.

The Saints are off this week in preparation for the start of the Federal Season next week.

Article by sportswriter: Frank Malzone

ERRATA: Thank for all of those cards and letters. Yes, it's true we made boo-boos in spelling and we did not give credit to Darcy for having knocked in the two runs which tied the game in the 7th - setting the stage for "#18's" game winning solo homer. Malzone has since been demoted as the writer covering the Saints in favor of Jose Valdevioso.

Del Crandall

Editor-in-Chief

Typical shoddy journalism!  Malzone should be sacked entirely.  Then, the person responsible for sacking Malzone should be sacked.  Hopefully this Jose Valdevioso will bring with him a proclivity for getting the facts straight while still keeping Malzone's panache and ability to describe, in detail, the setting which have been the hallmarks of Malzone's career.  After all, there are many (some say as many as seven) Saints fans that cannot make it out to the ballpark regularly and rely on the reporters on the scene to bring to them the incredible drama and splendor that is Saints baseball. 

 Gaspipe