“The best I ever saw? I hate these kinds of questions.”
“How about top five?”
“That would be easier. But I don’t like having to make lists. I’m not that guy. I know that guy but he’s not me.”
“Yeah, I’m the list guy, the stat guy, the nerd guy. So, come on, tell me, what’s the best baseball play or game that you’ve seen in person?”
“I’m not sure this is where you were going, but the most memorable event at a game I went to occurred in the bathroom when I went into one of the stalls to smoke a joint.”
“What? No. That’s the best you got?”
“I was taking care of business when I heard someone in the next stall having a hard time of it. A lot of groaning and moaning.”
“I can’t think that would make the best of list.”
“Either would I. But the more I listened the clearer it became that the guy was having a different hard time. Soon we heard her moans and groans and, well it was distracting.”
“I’ll say. You’re right, dude. That wasn’t what I had in mind. I was thinking a no-hitter, a grand slam, a playoff game, that sort of thing.”
“I got to tell you. Guys were screaming along, shouting out encouragement and soon enough they both hit it out of the park and they got a standing ovation. It was memorable.”
I was standing behind these guys in the registration line, getting a contact high off of them. I couldn’t smell any dope but they still reeked of it. Maybe it was the Hawaiian shirts, surfer shorts, and flip-flops. Here I was thinking this would be to be a more strait-laced, middle-America kind of crowd and already things were shifting.
Even though these guys looked like stoners, they were in good shape—mid-twenties and probably played baseball in high school or college.
I’m guessing the latter because we were all registering for the Los Angeles Dodgers Second Annual Adult Fantasy Baseball Camp in Vero Beach, Florida. It was October 1984. The humidity was giving us a break, and we were going to shag balls, play some games, meet some all-stars, learn some pointers, and become better team players.
At least that was part of the job description I’d been given. I wasn’t here because I was a baseball fan or former player trying to relive my glory years. I was here because my client was launching a company and he wanted to do some team building. The Dodgers would help him do that. In case they faltered, I’d be there to make it all better.
It might have been easier without the murders.