First off, I just want to say that we have been blessed to be watching such a great World Series so far. These two teams are made for each other. Young, homegrown talent, fast, pitchers throw strikes, put the ball in play, can play catch, and run the bases intelligently. Good baseball. So since the last post had a couple of good events to mention…first off had a great training session with Barefoot Ted up in the hills of Los Angeles. I learned more about the barefoot running style, the Indians, and my technique. My hope is to pass it on to my son and see if that alleviates his heel/achilles pain. I’ll keep you posted.
So the second good thing that happened was that I hooked up with a good friend and ex-teammate from my first days in pro ball. Kevin Koslofski played a number of years in professional baseball – he was a speedy left handed hitting outfielder with a great arm from Illinois. Our paths first crossed as teammates on the 1990 AA Memphis Chicks and later for a couple seasons in the big leagues with KC. Anyway, he was traveling through So Cal on business and I brought him over to the house to reminisce about the glory days (Bruce Springsteen – one nothing) over pizza and the World Series. It brought back so many memories of one of the best seasons and teams I ever played on. The 1990 Memphis Chicks. I caught, Sean Berry 3B, David Howard SS, Frankie Liriano 2B, Jeff Conine 1B, Kos, Bobby Moore, Brian McRae, Pete Alborano outfielders, Stu Cole, Kyle Reese, Tommy Dunbar, Jorge Pedre. The pitchers -Scott Centala, Brian McCormack, Carlos Maldanado, Hector Wagner, Ritchie LeBlanc, Jim Campbell to name a few. And our manager was the one and only Jeff Cox. What a year… we won the Southern League championship and I made friends that will last a lifetime. It was my first time out of California, my first time in humidity, my first time eating grits and drinking sweet tea, my first time meeting Southern girls, my first time taking 18 hour bus rides, my first time meeting Latin players, and my first time doing my own laundry. There were points in the season – somewhere in the back roads of Georgia in the middle of a 18 hour bus ride – that I wanted to kill every person on that bus. I could’ve cared less if I ever saw any of them again. Ever. There were times I wanted to come home. I didn’t though. When the dust all settled, I had a ring, memories of a lifetime, friends I’d been through the wars with, and probably the finest baseball playing experience I’d ever had.