The End of the Road is Reached

The awards banquet was once again a great event. It gave most of the players a chance to look spiffy before the trip home on Saturday. I chose a satiny blue dress shirt which went went with the Mets tie which I matched it up with. I actually brought four different Mets ties and let the choice on which two to wear during the week become a "game-time" decision. Those four ties represent roughly 4.5% of my total tie collection. I will let those of you who really want to know how many ties I own do a little math problem as the answer embarrasses me just a bit. 

Doug Flynn brought the crowd to attention and then told us that dinner would be served first, followed by the award presentations. The catering this year was changed to a different company and I must say that the food was exceptional. If they can figure out a way to have a pizza maker from Queens come down for the week and supply him with an oven, that would be "the joint".  

When the time came for the awards to be handed out the order went as it has in prior years. The teams were introduced one at a time in ascending order, starting with the 10th place finishers. After a couple of teams, their coaches and their chosen team mvps had been announced, the individual awards were handed out. Trophies for most hits, best defensive player, best batting average, best catcher, best pitcher and best positive attitude were given out. At the halfway point the newest inductees into the MFC Hall of Fame were introduced to the crowd. The six new inductees are all deserved of their inductions. 

My team, Phil's Bombers, coached by Phil Regan and Lance Johnson, finished fifth with a 3-3 record. After dropping our three games on Tuesday we turned the tables and ran the table on Friday. One win in the two one-run losses on Tuesday and we probably get a chance to win it all. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. Our team mvp was Rob Thomson, who was the mvp on my team in my rookie year of 2013. 

It was great to hang with the people who made the week so special. But, as usual, it happened far too quickly. Eric Hillman said that Monday was like spring training. Tuesday was Opening Day. Wednesday and Thursday was the All-Star break and Friday was the playoffs and World Series. A lot of heads nodded in agreement when he said those words. One camper spoke about how great it was to be surrounded by so many "good people". He was absolutely correct. The people in that room were all high-quality and it was a pleasure to be around them. Someone else said that in your rookie year camp is about the fantasy. In your second year it's about the baseball. And in your third year it's about the friendships that you make going forward. 

As the evening came to a close the good-byes began between the players. It was obvious that no one wanted to leave and think about the normal day-to-day stuff which life throws at us 24/7/365. But ya can't outrun it. If you can, then contact me. Immediately. Seriously. 

Barry Lyons, a former catcher for the Mets, may have summed it up best. Mets Fantasy Camp is about brotherhood, friendship and a love of the New York Mets. He's exactly right. We all have a mutual love-the Mets. So many of us come from different backgrounds. Different parts of the country. Our belief systems differ. Our stances on politics differ. The triumphs and tragedies that we have each experienced differ. But all of those things go away when we talk about "the Orange and Blue".  

One very cool moment during the week took place when my teammate Wendy Shotsky came to bat. This in itself is cool. But this at bat saw the catcher as a former teammate of mine Lynn Spuler and the umpire behind the plate was Perry Barber. I'm gonna go out on a (very short) limb and say that this had not occurred at MFC in the past. I don't even know how many others noticed this moment in time, but I was standing at the end of the dugout closest to home plate and saw it first-hand. Luckily someone got a photo of it from almost my exact vantage point.

In what had to be my favorite at bat of the week, it was my first at bat of the game. Just before I made my way to the batter's box my teammate Izzy Kushner asked my wife if he could borrow her cell phone. He stepped over to the first base dugout as he would record my at bat from there. I was wearing a pair of sunglasses with a video camera inside of it. Luckily for me the at bat ended with me doubling to the right field alley. So I actually have video of this at bat from two different vantage points.

Sometime during the summer many of us will get together at Citi Field to display our skills, or lack thereof, upon the hallowed ground of our favorite team. The months in between then and now will disappear in the blink of an eye and it will feel like the morning after the awards dinner. When that date comes out we will immediately start finding out who's gonna be there and the fun will commence once again. 

I played in the Fantasy League Championship Series in Tampa last April. I was on one of two teams who represented the Mets. We played against teams representing the Phillies, Red Sox, Pirates, Twins and two teams representing the host Yankees. I spent some time visiting with some of the Twins players. It was nice to see people from my neck of the woods, so to speak. They told me that they would love to have me join them in Ft. Myers in January 2016 for Twins Fantasy Camp. I was gracious and took the business card of the guy whom I could contact should I decide to make that happen. But even with my 13-year career working for the Twin City Nine, my allegiance will always go back to the team that my now late aunt Beatrice taught me how to love this team unconditionally over four decades ago. 

And that kinda brings the circle of this year's fantasy camp trip to a close. I started by speaking at her memorial some eight days ago. I wrote her initials, BAE, on the underside of my cap near my left eye on my first day on the field. I wrote my mother's initials, RME, on the underside closest to my right eye. It only seemed right to honor them both. 

In my first MFC year of 2013 I noticed a large sign over the doors that lead from the clubhouse to the practice fields that read, THROUGH THESE DOORS PASS THE BEST PLAYERS IN BASEBALL". 

If you're a true Mets fan, like myself, you believe that every single day. 

Days 5 and 6 of MFC 2016

Once again the weather was totally uncooperative with the hearty soles at MFC 2016. The original plan this morning was to have each team play ONE game on field 2. Field 2 has an artificial turf infield and wouldn't get too trashed even with the rainy conditions. My team wasn't due to play until 2:30, so more batting practice would be the order of the morning. 

I took the time to sit in on an impromptu q&a with the Doctor, Dwight Gooden. It was great to hear him tell stories about his career. Some we knew, some we did not. I told him that not long after I'd moved to Tampa in 1979 I began to get requests for autographs while simply walking through shopping areas. He got a huge kick out of that. It was fun to see his reaction as I talked about parts of town that we each knew very well. 

I've had another "small world" event this week, having to do with Butch Huskey. In 1999 Huskey, while playing for Seattle, played in Minneapolis in late July. During that game the Mariner left fielder went back on a ball hit over his head by Jacque Jones.  He got to the warning track and then forgot what the track was warning him about.  He then proceeded to face plant himself and nearly knock himself out cold.  The next night someone (It turned out later to be Ken Griffey Jr. and Jay Buhner) made a chalk outline of Butch on the outfield wall with chalk.  It was fantastic! (Check it out on youtube). I got hold of a couple of the jerseys used in that game and after years of it taking up a hanger in my closet I was able to bestow it on Butch at MFC. 

The first game on field 2 never actually got started, as a new cluster of clouds doused the field and with that the day became a "total wash". The open bar get-together moved from 9:00 to 4:00 at a local Italian restaurant called Tutto Fresco. My team hung around to have dinner together and share stories about ourselves. My team is loaded with some great guys, really. I wish we had performed better in our first three games, giving us  a chance to win a championship.  But, alas, we are 0-3, without a chance to win a ring. 

The pre-dinner event was attended by many and I met Valerie Teufel as well. She is a great lady and it turns out that she and Tim are from Greenwich, Connecticut.  Greenwich is the town that borders my own hometown of Stamford. So we grew up in the same geographic area, which is kinda cool. 

Tomorrow looks like we will be able to get back on the fields once again. The rain appears to be pretty much over and the clouds are starting to dissipate. The weather tomorrow is forecast to have a high of about 71 degrees. The rain, which amounted to about 4 inches has sent our schedule into a tizzy which may cost us the chance to play against the pros. It will certainly be a fantasy camp that will be remembered for the weather, not only here in PSL but in New York City as well. 

When Phil's Bombers take the field tomorrow we hope to take the great instruction we've received from our fearless leader Lance Johnson and put it into practice by putting a beatdown on our opponents.  I think we can do it. I really do. 

It's kind of a sad day, in that it's the final full day of camp. We lost two days to the weather but it will add to the memory of this year's camp. Three games per team and the awards banquet tomorrow night before we pack up and head out on Saturday morning. 

It has gone too quickly. Far too quickly. 

I woke up this morning to mostly cloudy skies, but that mattered little because they weren't dropping any rain on the ground below. With a renewed sense of purpose all of the players filed into the meeting tent and found out what today's schedule would be. There would be three games for each team. The playoffs would be played in games two and three. The teams seeded 5-10 would play consolation games. We were all chomping at the proverbial bit to get onto a field for the first time in 65 hours. I made my way back to my locker and completed putting on my uniform.

My team, at dinner last night, decided that all of our players would wear "eye black" today in a sign of unity. Now, my eye black is usually known as my cheekbones. But I was "down" with the team effort. For those of you who are unaware, "eye black" is coloring you see below the eyes of athletes who play outdoors an don't want to use sunglasses. The premise bring that the sunlight will be absorbed by the coloring. The color is often gotten by burning a piece of cork and swabbing it onto your face. Nowadays you can buy adhesive strips which resemble the cork-borne smudges. I was looking at mine in the restroom mirror when a player from another team says to me, "You ready?" My reply was from a movie called "The Rookie" starring Dennis Quaid as a pitcher named Jimmy Morris. Quaid looks into the mirror and says to his teammate, "You know what we get to do today?  We get to play baseball!"  Then I walked away. I love that quote. 

We won our first game today, our first victory of the week. I played left field during the game. My coach, Phil Regan asked me if I played left field. My reply was an enthusiastic, "I do now!" So off I went to the outfield to attempt not so much to make good plays but to not make a three-base error and cost us a game. Our second game was won in a bit of a rout. I hadn't hit well at all in our first four games. I walked in my first at bat and scored a run. For my second at bat I donned a pair of sunglasses which have a video camera in them. I got them for myself during the holiday season and had not used them until today. I start the recorder, put the glasses on and then put my helmet on my head. The only problem was that the helmet fit so tightly that the glasses wouldn't sit squarely on my nose. So I go to the plate and proceed to stroke a double to the gap between the center and right fielders. I was quite pleased by my at bat. In my next at bat I tried to get a more comfortable fit on my face but was unable to do so. So I then stepped to the plate an laced a double down the third base line for another double. "Maybe I don't need to see all that clearly after all," I wondered. I look forward to seeing the video upon my return home. 

Before game three came the lunch break. We had a very close game in our third contest of the day. Originally scheduled for six innings it went eight innings and we won it by a run. We all moved over to the championship game which was being played on an adjoining field. They were having a nail-biter there as well, with much higher stakes than our recently-completed game had. 

The game came to an end and the winners celebrated on the field. It's always interesting to watch the losing team watch the winners celebrate. People have asked me why this happens. I think this question has two possible answers. On one hand they can attempt to place themselves in that same situation, hopefully, in the future. On the other hand, some of them may have won a title and they can totally relate to what they are seeing. I was lucky enough to have been one of those winners back in 2014, thus I fall into the latter group. 

Things are a bit different now, however. The winners will have their team name on a large trophy which will be displayed in the Mets Hall of Fame at Citi Field. Also, members of the winning team will receive rings.  The rings resemble the 1986 rings won by the team after defeating Boston in that season's World Series. I got to see Phil Forman's ring on Monday. Was I jealous? No. Was I envious? You bet your sweet bippy. 

I made my way back to my locker to change clothes and clear my locker, as this would be my last time in the clubhouse this camp. My locker number was number 149, only two lockers away from 151, which was my locker in 2013.  But my locker neighbors this year were "Doc" Jacobsen in 148 and Jimmy D'errico in 150. Jimmy was a teammate of mine in 2014. They were both on the winning team this year and I was pleased for them. 

I congratulated a number of their teammates before I made my way out of the clubhouse for the final time.  I stopped just short of the doors which lead out to the parking lot and the practice fields. I turned and panned the room with my eyes. I considered taking out my phone and taking a picture, but something in my mind said that it would be more vivid in my memory than on my iMac. 

Back to the hotel I went, to take a shower and prepare for tonight's awards banquet. 

My report about that and the closing of this year's camp will be in tomorrow's blog. 

See you then. 

 

Days 3 and 4 of MFC 2016

The opening banquet last night was quite enjoyable. The rookies introduced themselves individually and told us how they found themselves here at fantasy camp. Most of them received this as a gift from a spouse or their families. A few were crossing off a "bucket list" item. One gentleman received it from his wife who, tragically, passed away before he came down for 2015 camp. He postponed it until this year and he finally made it. 

My great friend Phil Forman finally made it into town last evening, just prior to the banquet. The poor guy found out that his LaGuardia flight had cancelled, so he high-tailed it to Philadelphia where he got a direct flight for which he arrived at the gate with just 15 minutes to spare. The airline only got one of his bags to him, but at least it was his equipment bag. He actually received his other bag as it was delivered to the Hilton Garden Inn at about 3 am this morning. There were even players who arrived this afternoon. Amazing that some of these guys stuck it out for nearly three days to get here. I applaud their efforts and are glad they are here safely. 

Today's tripleheader started at about 9 am. My team, Phil's Bombers, coached by Phil Regan and Lance Johnson, took the field looking to win the opener. Mike Aranzullo, the guy who basically willed our team to a championship in 2014 was our starting pitcher today. It was the first time I'd seen him since our championship trophies were given out. It was great to see him and it's great to have him as a teammate once again. 

Lance Johnson as one of my coaches is a "small world" event. When I was employed by the Twins I often got to know many of the visiting players, especially those who played against our division rivals. Lance would often say hello  I would sometimes greet him with a greeting of "One-Dawg! What's up?" as that was his nickname. So as we were walking to the field this afternoon I reminded him of this and he actually recalled who I was. Granted, it'd been nearly 20 years since we'd seen each other, but he did remember those days on the field at the Metrodome. 

As the game started I was on the bench.  But as I looked through the fencing at my teammates in their first at bat I thought to myself one thing. I could not imagine one place on this earth that I would have wanted to be other than right there. Full road Mets uniform on my frame, in good health, mostly sunny skies overhead, playing the game I love. It was a great moment in time. 

We dropped the first game by a 3-2 score. It was a good game and we hung in there all the way to the end. We just couldn't seem to get on top again after we had a 2-0 lead. Game two was against the team that I believe will win it all. We were never really in it and we dropped an 11-3 decision. Game three was played after lunch but once again we came up a run short, losing 4-3 in the bottom of the 7th after tying the contest in the top of said inning. I actually came to the plate with the bases loaded after we tied it in the top of inning seven. There were two down and I wanted to get a base hit in the worst way. After hitting a couple of foul balls I went down swinging on a pitch that was up near my corneas. I just couldn't hold the swing back. In the bottom of the inning we gave up the winning run with two down. Rob Thomson threw a great game. He was down on himself but he shouldn't be because he kept us in the game from start to finish. "Zulo" also threw a great game and deserved a better fate than his offense afforded him. 

I went 1-for-6 with a walk on the day. I'm disappointed with my output but tomorrow, weather permitting, I will make a valiant attempt to raise my batting average. Tomorrow's weather may hold off long enough for us to get in the scheduled games. I certainly hope so.  

Tonight we had the "bull session" where campers get to ask the pros about their playing careers and things such as that. It was fun to hear some of the stories they told. They raffled off a number of signed items during the event which included a bbq dinner. I took no new signed items but that's okay as the proceeds are going to the families of two NYC police officers who lost their lives in the line of duty last year. 

I took a look at Jim Breuer's daily video on Facebook earlier this evening and I saw myself in the background. I was thankful that I had a pair of shorts on as I had just gotten back to my locker after some time in the whirlpool. 45 seconds earlier and I could have become a social media outcast or something like that. 

I dare not give you the link to the video as no one needs to see that. 

No one. 

The meteorologists were pretty much "spot-on" today. That's not so good. Not if one has any intention of doing anything outdoors. It rained virtually the entire day here on Florida's Treasure Coast. Now, I'm sure that there's a good reason as to why it's called that, but it is unbeknownst to yours truly. 

Like I said, the weather was a total Buzz Killington today. Having lived in Florida for nine years I recognized this weather. Sheets of water followed by wind and then a sliver of sunshine through the clouds, just to mess with one's sense of optimism. It became quickly obvious that the day would be a washout as far as games being played today. 

I had a fun conversation with my buddy Phil Forman, Sarah Phillips, who is in her third camp, and Jim Breuer. Jim enlightened us with his tales of his time on Saturday Night Live and what he's up to these days.  It was very interesting and a lot of fun. 

We had the first day of awards in the tent this morning as the rain continued to fall. Commissioner John Stearns, who is suffering from a laryngitis condition, led the meeting. The brown ropes were handed out this morning. The nominees are announced and the first two nominees arose, moved to the front of the room and took their plaques back to their respective seats. Keep in mind that they were only NOMINEES. Stearnsie had made a faux pas and he was now a target himself. Doug Flynn took the mic and said something to the effect that Steve Harvey was hosting this morning. That got a pretty good laugh. The ropes were won by two of my teammates. That's not good. 

The golden ropes were handed out as well. There were some pretty good performances turned in yesterday to be sure. 

The day then moved to the batting cages which allowed many of us the chance to get close instruction.  My team gathered around the cage which had one of our coaches, Lance Johnson. Lance played 14 years in the majors, stole over 300 bases and batted .291 lifetime. He took the time to help us with each of our hitting quirks. It was instruction that I had never received before. It was great. I learned more today about hitting than I have since I started playing this great game. So the rain was not as bad as it could have been, in all actuality. 

Today we were honored by a visit from the manager of the N.L. Champions one Terry Collins. It was great to see him and thank him for his efforts last season. I got him to sign a World Series ball and the back of my new blue road jersey. It was a real treat for all of us in attendance. He is so gracious and warm and he truly understands what he means to us Met fans. 

Lunch was served shortly after that and the organizers set up a bowling excursion for anyone who wished to participate in a little afternoon keggling. I passed on the outing in order to take it easy on myself after the three games of yesterday. I knew that the Kangaroo Court would be the highlight of the evening in about 5 hours or so. 

Kangaroo Court was great. Terry Collins spoke at the beginning and had the room hanging on every word. He answered questions and gave props to his coaching staff for their efforts last fall. Terry is a class act in every sense and we were lucky to have him there both at the cages and at the court proceedings. 

Kangaroo Court is a meeting where players are handed out fines for errors, both mental and physical, which occur during camp both during games and during other times of the day. Doug Flynn and Bobby Wine don colonial wigs and robes to preside over the players and coaches. It's a laugh riot as fines are handed out for offenses ranging from wearing putting your equipment in an unconventional manner to showing up late to your game.  I got knicked for $10 just for bring a member of Phil Regan's team which is currently 0-3. The first team that Regan has been with that went 0-3 in his 60 years in baseball.  We're not really that bad, considering that two of our losses are by one run each. 

The meeting is fast-paced and full of laughs. The Court ended with fellow camper Jim Breuer doing a bit of storytelling about his time at camp along with a bit of his stand up routine. It was a scream. Everyone was laughing their heads off. 

Tomorrow we will make another attempt to beat the rains, but right now it looks like it could be "deja vu all over again", to quote the late, great Yogi Berra. But we will do the best we can with the cards we are dealt. 

Tune in tomorrow. 

Days 1 and 2 of MFC 2016

A cloudless sky greeted me this morning as I arose in Port St. Lucie, Florida. I first heard about PSL back in the late 80s. I was still living in the Tampa Bay Area at that time and the Mets were going to be leaving their spring home in St. Petersburg for what was essentially some undeveloped swamp land clear across state. The Mets had shared spring facilities with the St. Louis Cardinals and I attended as many spring games as I could during my Florida years. When I heard of this town my first reaction was, "Where the £¥€% is that?" I feared that I would need to drive nearly three hours due east to see my team during my months of March. But, as things turned out, I moved to Minneapolis after their first spring in their new home. 

I made my way to the complex and entered the clubhouse. Most of those players who have reached here despite incredible weather conditions in the NYC area or who came in from other locales were on the field. Batting practice was underway on field 5. I found my locker location for this week. Stall number 149, which is only two lockers from my first one in 2013 which was number 151. I discovered that Jimmy D'errico was to my right. Jimmy was a teammate of mine in 2014 when we won the championship. A great guy and teammate he is. 

I greeted other familiar faces as I made my way to my locker. Anthony Young, Alan Friedman, Lance Johnson and Eric Hillman were some of the coaches whom I ran into in my first few minutes inside the locker room. 

I sat in front of my locker, just soaking in the experience. I looked at my new stark white uniform and my new blue road jersey. The uniforms have patches on the right sleeves which were worn by the major league team during the World Series last fall. Our new caps have the same logo on them as well.

On my way out to the field I encountered Jim Bruer. I have enjoyed Jim's comedy work on the comedy channel of Sirius/XM satellite radio. Jim also posted nightly during the Mets pennant run last fall. He was often the last thing I viewed before turning in each night. This is probably not the best thing to do if  one wants to "wind down" as Jim tends to be on the "moderately excited" to "crazed" end of the fandom spectrum. But given my reserved demeanor on my team most of the time, Jim would appear to be the yin to my yang. I told him that I was glad that he was here and that he was in for a treat. I told him also that I was writing a blog for the third year and that I would give him the link to check it out. 

I finally got around to putting my workout pants and jacket on and made my way out to field 5. By the time I got there it was obvious that the group was just about to call it a day. So my first workout won't take place until tomorrow. I took hitting practice back in Minnesota about six times during the last four weeks but I have not thrown a ball "in anger" since my championship game with my over-50 team back home. That's my first goal tomorrow. 

There are about 50 players who are due to arrive tomorrow evening after a three-flight day originating in the NYC area. They will have to quickly gather themselves and attend the opening night banquet and then be ready to play three games on Tuesday, starting at 8:30 a.m.  I'm sure they are all chomping at the bit to get here. 

The happy reunions will continue as campers arrive, along with it will be that moment when your brain cannot come up with the name of the guy in front of you. That's the moment when you fall back on generic terms like "bud", "pal", "bro", "kid", big-guy", "fella", "big pimpin'", "my man" and the ever-popular "dude". 

Day Two is tomorrow of my week of fun. I look forward to reconnecting with guys I've played with and against over the last three years. But if I call you "home slice" then your name is not only lost in my memory bank, my memory bank account is overdrwawn. 

Our first day of organized drills started with the ride to the complex. I entered the quiet clubhouse and took a seat on the stool in front of my locker. I unpacked the remainder of my equipment. I took the small urn which I received at my aunt's memorial on Saturday and placed it on the top shelf near my batting helmet. I thought she'd like to spend a few days in the clubhouse of her favorite team. 

I moved to the kitchen area and got a little breakfast for myself. I sat with some players whom I'd played with and against in my first two camps. We looked at the rosters and looked forward to how good our respective teams may be. Following that I put my new iPod in my pocket and went out for a walk through the fields and took some photos of the sunrise on them. I qued-up "Beautiful Day" by U2 as I started the stroll as I thought it was just appropriate for the situation. 

After my walk I went back to the clubhouse, only to find that out meeting had been pushed back by about 90 minutes. That was quite alright as during that time former Mets coach Joe Pignatano sauntered over to my locker area.  "Piggy" is a joy to be around and he tells the greatest stories about his career as a player and coach. The three or four guys who were near us all were listening with great interest. I just kept asking the questions because if you ask him, he'll tell ya all you could want to know.  

We hit the field around 10am for drills and batting practice. I got into the cage and hit the ball pretty well. Granted, bating practice is not indicative of much, other than the fact that my eyes are still functioning well. I threw for a while but still need to get some "long toss" in in order to stretch out properly. The drills took us up to the lunch break. During that time Dwight Gooden finally arrived from New York and he gave me a warm greeting when I saw him. No, I did not call him "bro", "dude" or "pal". 

We had scrimmage games with the players who are in camp at 1:30 in order to get a feel for things. The coaches pitched today, behind protective screens, given the fact that we are due to play three games tomorrow. The weather for tomorrow looks very nice, kinda like today. The high today was in the low 70s and tomorrow should be warmer. Wednesday looks rainy as does Thursday, but optimism is high that it will just graze us. 

The minor injury list grew quickly during the scrimmage games. I saw players lining up for the training room to get the aches and pains addressed by the incredible training staff. I have yet to enter the trainers' room except to make my way into the whirlpool.  I do the best I can to keep away from those folks. During the lunch hour there were sightings of Mets pitcher Zach Wheeler who is rehabbing from Tommy John surgery. There was also a sighting of shortstop Wilmer Flores who was in the training room as well. You just never know who may drop in. 

There is a group of players who are due into PSL tonight after three flights earlier today. One group had their flight cancelled last night, but I hear that they are on their way. HOW they are getting here I know not. I just hope they do. The guys who arrive tonight will attend the opening banquet which has been pushed back to 9:30 this evening. Boy, they're gonna tired when they get here. 

Tomorrow we hit the field for three games. Who knows what the results will be. The teams are divided up, but no one has played as a team yet. Given those facts, even Vegas wouldn't take bets on any team. Heck, some teams will need to introduce themselves to each other. 

One side note. Around lunch time a few of us noticed that an unused locker, about 15 feet from my own locker, had a nameplate over top with the name PIAZZA on it. In the locker was a pair of baseball pants and a towel. Along with it was a note, stating "Mike, when you get in stop by the equipment office". I don't know who signed it, but it got a bunch of us wondering "Would he really show here?" Stay tuned on that one. 

I do look forward to putting my new uniforms on, to be sure. The new stark whites and the blue road jerseys will be new to me and most all of us. 

Banquet tonight, games tomorrow. The fun continues. 

The Pregame Before MFC 2016

Greetings to you, blog reader. Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Rod Collins. I reside in a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota. I have been a baseball fan for as long as I can remember.  I grew up in Stamford, Connecticut as a fan of the New York Metropolitans, known by most everyone as the Mets.  I was born in 1961 on the same day on which ground was broken for Flushing Meadow Park.  Flushing Meadow Park was later renamed Shea Stadium, which closed following the 2008 Mets season.  This being said, you now know why I am referred to as "Sheakid".

This year's blog will be my third, as I posted them in both 2013 and 2014 while I attended Mets Fantasy Camp in Port St. Lucie, Florida.  For those of you who may not be knowledgeable in what fantasy camps are and what they are all about let me tell you a bit about them.  Former major-league catcher Randy Hundley is credited with having originated the idea of a "fantasy camp" in the early 1980's. They were called Dream Weeks back then. These camps allow fans, usually aged 40 and older, to play the game they love in a camp setting where they wear authentic uniforms and play against each other while being coached by former players of their favorite team. Sometimes these camps can command a fairly large price tag, nearing as much as $5,000 for a week of fun.  While baseball is probably the most popular sport for camps, there are camps in the other major U.S. sports as well.

I first heard about MFC in my 30s and thought about how cool it would be to attend such a thing.  I quickly found that the cost of such a venture would prove to be somewhat prohibitive to such an event taking place.  I always kept it in the "bucket list" category, however.  

Now, I love baseball and I love the New York Mets. I lived and died with them for so many years while growing up. I followed them when I moved to Tampa to attend college and was lucky in that a local station, WTOG, channel 44 carried Mets games on Friday nights on over-the-air television.  Remember, this was pre-satellite tv and the sports packages which they afford to subscribers.  

I also followed them when I moved to Minneapolis in 1988 to start the next chapter of my life.  It was tougher because of regional coverage and the fact that the local nine were in the American League, while the Mets reside in the National League.  I arrived just after the Twins had won their first World Championship in 1987, firm in the belief that it would probably be the ONLY world championship in their history.  But, before I knew it, I had gotten a part-time job with the team and was standing on the field while the Twins celebrated right behind me after defeating Atlanta in the fantastic Fall Classic of 1991. I could never have foreseen such an event. I eventually got a full-time job in the front office of the Twins which got me closer to the game than I could ever have imagined.  Heck, I got to be the mascot for a couple of years. I got to hang out with players who were marginal at best and others who were hall of famers like Harmon Killebrew, Tony Oliva and Kirby Puckett. My dreams of playing professionally were replaced by my later occupation. Nirvana reached.

Following my departure from the Twins I took 2002 off from baseball. When I say I took the year off I mean I didn't watch SportsCenter or anything baseball-related for the entire season.  To do such a thing would have been unconscionable to me before it happened.  But it was what I needed to do in order to keep some semblance of sanity.  

Fade to black. 

Fast forward to December 2012. I'd picked up with my adoration of the Mets once again, partly with the help of satellite television which allows one to follow their team no matter where they may live in the U.S.  I received a letter from the Twins stating that I was being given the option of taking a lump-sum payout of my major league baseball pension.  I decided to take that option. It was actually the suggestion of my wife to take part of the payout, "from a job in baseball", to do something "in baseball". I contacted the Mets and got a verbal okay to send the payment to them only 3 weeks prior to the opening of camp.  It was all I could do to keep from jumping out to my skin before I arrived at the spring training home of my New York Mets.

The 2013 MFC was an incredible week.  It exceeded my expectations and the experiences were incredible.  Just putting on the uniform of my favorite club, customized with my name and number on the back, made for memories which which I will take to my grave.  I attended once again in 2014 and after finding myself on a team which went 0-7 for the week in 2013 I luckily ended up on a team which went 7-0 and won the championship.  What a turnaround.  

Good fate has given me another opportunity to attend this year and in five days I will travel south to Florida once again for one more chance to push the sun back up in the sky and add to the memory bank which I will withdraw from when I get old and am unable to play this game that I love so very much.  

I will be posting between now and the start of camp and then each day during camp.  I hope you will follow my activities and that you enjoy the ride almost as much as I do.  I got great feedback from those who have read my previous MFC blogs and enjoyed them a great deal.  I hope you will do the same.  

If you'd like to read my account of the 2013 MFC, go to: 2013metsfantasycamp.blogspot.com.

If you'd like to read my account of the 2014 MFC, go to:
2014metsfantasycamp.blogspot.com

On this, the eve of 2016 New York Mets Fantasy Camp, there is much which is unknown. What IS known is that I am in Port St. Lucie, in high anticipation of what lays ahead. But there are participants who are being held hostage by Jonas. Not Nick Jonas, but winter storm Jonas. They actually give names to winter storms now, much like the practice when a hurricane forms. Many of my fellow campers are set to fly down from the New York City area. But if any of you have been near a news report in the last 24-36 hours you know what the conditions are there. Some of you may even BE stuck in that area as you read this. 

I take great pride in residing in an area of these United States where what the east coast calls Jonas, we call "Saturday". Granted, I have great sympathy for those players. As of right now, about 45 or so of them will not arrive until Monday evening. They will arrive after three flights that day. Our fearless leader, Doug Dickey, has done his best to make this week's schedule of events come together as close to the original plan. I am far from envious of that young man, that's for sure. 

I actually arrived into the Sunshine State last night when my Sun Country flight touched down in Orlando around 10:20 p.m.  I changed my own itinerary in order to attend the memorial for my late aunt Beatrice, who passed away on January 8th. She lived to the age of 89, which is a damn good run if you ask me. She is the person who introduced me to the Mets and taught me about team loyalty, even when your team is absolutely worthless while on the field. We would sit in her apartment and watch the Mets on WOR channel 9, and win or lose, mostly lose, we would watch the entire game. This was in the days when games started at 8 pm. 8 pm! Can you believe that? Of course, games routinely lasted 2-2 1/2 hours. She was at games 3-5 of the 1969 World Series. It was one of the highlights of her life. We didn't share a ton of things, but we always knew we had a kindred spirit in each other.

 When I spoke today at her memorial I donned a white home Mets jersey over my white shirt and Mets-themed tie.  It was in her honor that I did so. My brother-in-law Sam, who is a professional piano player, played me to the podium with a light rendition of "Meet the Mets" on the organ.  It just happened that her memorial was on the day before I was due to arrive at fantasy camp. I am dedicating my time at fantasy camp to her this year. 

After some fun time with family members whom I don't see often enough, the drive down to PSL was my last step to readying myself for my exciting week. A stop at Duffy's Sports Bar gave me a chance to run into guys and gals whom I'd played with and against in 2013 and 2014. It's such fun to see the faces of fans who have a common bond with myself. They live and die with this team as do I and this year is different in that there will be a new pennant raised at Citi Field come April. Excitement for the upcoming season is rampant for the first time since the late '90s. 

Tomorrow those of us who are here will hit the field for some drills and the week will be underway. It'll probably be over before I know it, but I will try to bring it to you through my eyes and hope you enjoy the ride.