First of all, my apologies to any of you who may have been eagerly awaiting a 2nd "DROP" from this Lemon. Since I last blogged to you all I have spent several days at a rugged camp outpost with no wireless internet access and then upon arriving in Nashua I was striken with a computer virus which has now been remedied. So let's see, where to begin....
After an uneventful drive north, I found my way to what is known as the "Dan Douquette Sports Academy". You may be envisioning pristine fields, immaculate facilities, an all around wonderful experience...let me assure you, it was not. The "academy" is actually an old, run-down christian camp retreat yet what you will now find there seems like something devised by Satan himself. Me and my new teammates ALL shared a common room with about 15 sets of bunk beds. The room came complete with your choice of bunk bed matress or collapsed couch(I actually choose the latter). Most nights were spent tossing and turning and most morning were spent walking off stiffness of the neck and low back. Despite the adverse living conditions, the camp was equipped with what I would consider an above average mess hall and all the baseball you could handle. We practiced during the day and played night games at Historic Waconah Park (built 1892) in downtown Pittsfield, Mass. The most unique experience of this trip, aside from the military style living arrangement, had to be the sun delays at Waconah. Yes, you read that correctly, sun delays. I can now say I have had games delayed by rain, snow, hail and believe it or not, sun. That darn, pesky sun sets every night and wouldn't you know it, it sets right in the batter's face. So EVERY night at Waconah, expect a 40-50 minute sun delay. During the sun delays we were treated to an unorganized game of T-ball played by the youth of Pittsfield and if you are lucky, you'll get to see 35+ year old men reliving their glory days on the ball field by chasing down and tagging out 7 year old girls. It was truly something I will never forget.
After a few days at camp we left to return to the safe confines of Nashua, NH. First order of business...take a shower in an actual bathroom. Once this task was completed I got settled at the host-family's home in picturesque Amherst, NH and spent the remainder of the off day recovering from my camp experience. My host "parents" Gil and Marlene Hulme are very nice. They have five grandkids and are avid Boston Red Sox fans. They actually remind me a lot of my grandmom and grandad, so I have felt very much at home here. Their house comes with a few features I am not accustomed to, most notably a brook with a small row boat. I am not one for adventure on the high seas but I think I may be able to master this body of water. My first time at the brook, I saw 2 ducks and 1 turtle, a far cry from the stray cats and dogs you encounter on the streets of Philadelphia. Another comfort of home I was not expecting is that I am rooming here with Mark Romanczuk (SMH class of 2002). As some of you may recall Mark attended Stanford University and signed with the Arizona Diamondbacks in 2005. After some unfortunate injuries, Mark finds himself on the indy-ball circuit trying , like all of us, to get a shot at the affiliated minor leagues again. Mark and I were constant workout partners in high school and throughout the off-season months in college. While I wish he was still with the D-backs, it is great to be playing with him again after a 7 year hiatus.
We have been in Nashua since Thursday and have been hard at work prepping for the season. A sad part of that preparation is the cutting or releasing of players. We have let several guys go and it is never fun seeing a guy pack up his locker. These moments all start the same way. The player arrives at the ball park ready for the day's workout. He has likely spent months preparing for this season and essentially years preparing for the chance to be called a professional. Then a coach or clubbie (equipment manager) says the five worst words you could hear, "skip wants to see you". Now, in pro ball, there are rarely times when the manager, or skipper, calls anyone into the office for a reason other than to cut them. Once you have been summoned, your fate is all but sealed. It usually goes like this, "this is the worst part of my job.....there's is no easy way to do this.....we have a tight roster.....blah blah blah". Bottom line is, you got cut. For most guys, this is the first time in their lives they have been told that they weren't good enough to play for a team and it is a bit shocking. The worst part is having to return to the clubhouse and pack your things with all of your former teammates looking on. The usual cliches are spoken to the released player, "good luck", "keep in touch", etc but the fact of the matter is, very few of them will be heard from again.
Today the last of these cuts were made. This years American Defenders roster features players from around the corner and around the globe. A few have played for years and some have spent years hoping to play. The backgrounds of the 21 other guys are unique as my own and we have each carved our own strange path to arrive at this small New Hampshire town but for the next 3 months we are teammates. After the summer of 2009, who knows where the baseball life will send us but for now, we must listen to the words of John Fogerty, " We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field." Born again....that is what every baseball season gives you, a chance for new life.
Blogger's note:Above are several images of camp Douquette. We occupied the 2nd floor of that large barracksy looking building.
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