When it came to my turn to introduce myself, Bossy Pants cut me off.
“This is David Dawson, who was a part of the USA Under-18 baseball team this year. I’ll show you two what I want you to do.”
Heather and I looked at each other and didn’t have anything to say because we didn’t want to piss off the little general. I wanted to be able to watch the game. I was a bit disappointed when we didn’t get to go on the field yet. Instead, Bossy Pants took us to the umpires’ locker room.
“These two are your helpers today,” Bossy Pants said to the home plate umpire, and then left.
“Come on in. I’m Kurt,” he said as he shook our hands.
We introduced ourselves, and he did a double-take.
“You’re the actor?”
“Yes, sir. For today, I will be playing your assistant.”
“Good. You two will be in charge of baseballs. We need to prepare them for the game.”
Kurt explained that for Major League games, they rubbed a special mud on the balls. The baseballs were also different from the ones they sold that claimed to be ‘official’ balls. Same balls, but a different color. He took us into the home clubhouse, and we checked out two cartons of baseballs. Each carton contained six boxes; each box held a dozen balls.
“Why do we need to rub mud on them?” Heather asked.
“When they’re new, we call them ‘pearls’ because they’re too shiny and slick to use. The special mud takes the gloss off the ball so it’s easier to grip,” he explained. “We need to get busy.”
Kurt turned out to be a great guy. He watched us like a hawk because he was responsible for the balls. He had a cup of warm water and a container of the mud. Kurt showed us how to hold the ball in our left hand while leaving room in our palms to create a ‘mud circle.’
“You can’t get them too dark, or it will give the pitcher an advantage. When I started, I tried using spit instead of water to mix with the mud. I realized that I would run out of spit pretty quickly. I even tried coffee at one point. But the baseballs ended up being too dark. I was drinking too much coffee, regardless. I’ve found that warm water works best,” Kurt explained.
He first demonstrated on a couple of balls before he let us try it. The trick was to get the water-to-mud ratio correct and put it in your palm. You then rotated the ball until it was covered. The goal was to get a thin layer of mud so the baseball turned from bright white to a slightly darker color. Kurt warned us not to put too much water in our mix, or it would take too long to dry.
While we got them ready, he told us stories of funny things that happened at games he’d umpired. Kurt also said what an honor it was for him to get to call balls and strikes for today’s game.
Once we had that batch done, he sent me to get another two cartons of balls. When we finished, Kurt had us put them in groups of five dozen into black bags, and then we locked them in a locker. He said that we would go get another bag when he told us to during the game.
◊◊◊
We took a bag of balls onto the field. We had nearly an hour before the game began and there seemed to be reporters everywhere trying to generate a storyline for tonight’s game. The Cubs had faltered in the last two games and had to win out to win the series. It all started with this one.
Between the dugout and the backstop, there was a little niche where two stools were set up.
“This is where you’ll be for the game. David, why don’t you borrow a glove just in case a foul ball gets away,” Kurt suggested.
I wondered where I would get one when I spotted Juan Revilla, my batting coach in LA last winter.
“Hey, Coach.”
He did a double-take and then smiled.
“I hear you took full advantage of your opportunity on the USA Under-18 team. Congratulations on being named the MVP,” he said and then flagged down some of the players.
“I want you all to meet someone,” Coach Revilla said.
Next thing I knew, I was meeting all the players. Some seemed tense and only nodded and then went about their business. Others welcomed the break from all the distractions going on around us. I joked that I was an emergency call-up and needed to borrow a glove. Marcus Watt, one of their backup infielders, let me borrow his extra one.
He insisted that I try it out, so that’s how I found myself playing catch with an actual major leaguer right before a World Series game. Even Bossy Pants couldn’t dampen my fun as she got on me for leaving Heather.
“Which one is she?” Marcus asked.
I pointed out Heather, and he made some inappropriate comments, which all guys seemed to do when they spot a good-looking girl like her. I motioned her over and introduced her to Marcus. Soon we had several players stop by. I thought it was to meet me, but I may have been wrong. Well, okay, I knew I was wrong. They all seemed to straighten up when they learned of Heather’s relationship to one of the owners.
