Jon Toner
Aug 29, 00, 10:47 pm
A friend of mine is recovering from Hodgkin's (sp?) disease. The cancer had spread to the bone, and things were not looking all that good.
One evening we were talking about things he'd like to do. He said he's always wanted to fly on a plane, and also mentioned he'd like to take in a ballgame with me.
I decided to try for the double-play. After checking out some possibilities, I discovered a date where Boston was playing in Tampa (chosen for the $144 RT fare than anything).
Well the Gods of Baseball have smiled upon this mission in so many ways...
When discussing this with a coach in our Little League (where Phil umpires) - lo and behold, his son is VP of Corp. Sales for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. He calls his son and we'll get the royal treatment (more to follow).
Other managers hear about it and start taking up a collection so Phil can go fo free.
After choosing the dates and booking the flights, his chemotherapy date is moved. Instead of being 10 days before our departure date (where he be feeling much better), it is moved to 3 days before (when he could still be bedridden and lethargic). Phil is now not looking forward to the trip.
Last thursday he visited the doctors. The chemotherapy that he's been going through has been effective. No tumors. He still must go through bone marrow testing, but no chemo.
So feeling fit and happy as can be, we leave for the game. We were flying CO. I'd used miles to get us upgraded to FC all the way (his first-ever flight might as well be in style, right?). Turns out they never bothered with the certs - very nice.
Smooth flights, excellent service (as usual). We touch down in Tampa at 1:00p and make it to the hotel room.
Now comes the complicated part. Remember the VP of Corporate Sales? Phil has no clue what awaits him, and I can talk about it in the room. So I come up with a cover story of visiting a customer and disappear for a couple of hours while Phil takes a nap.
I also notice that I forgot the camera!!! Quick run to the mall for two disposables.
Back to the hotel, I awaken Phil and we head over. At Tropicana Field, I call the VP. Phil has no clue what awaits...
Until the tour begins. From 5:00 until 7:00, we are wondering throughout Tropicana Field, visiting all the attractions (the Batter's Eye restaraunt is very nice, by the way!). The only places we didn't go were the dugout and locker room. The tour culminates with Phil getting on the field to watch the Red Sox take Batting Practice.
For most of the time, he's standing less than 5 feet from JIM RICE (any late 70's baseball fan can explain the significance - my lasting Jim Rice memory is watching him snap a bat on a check (held up) swing --- TWICE --- over the course of his career). Can you imagine the torque that is required to do this???
We also received a very generous collection of memorabilia, including autographed baseballs by Fred McGriff.
We are sitting next to the ballplayers' wives directly behind home plate. And I can tell you that there was very little doubt how some of those millionaires spent money on their wives. I think that special chemical waste permits may be required to bury some of these women when they die. The human body may be 80%+ water, but with some of these women, I think it almost equal parts silicone.
I'm feeling great. Everything has gone even better than planned. With my positive baseball karma at an all-time high, the Gods of Baseball decide to reward me. In the third inning, Nomar Garciaparra fouls a pitch straight back. Instantly I realized that the ball had a chance of bouncing off the facade in front of the broadcast booths. Playing the carom that would make Carl Yastrzemski proud (ask a 70's era Red Sox fan --- they can explain), I move into the aisle to play the ball.
The ball is mere inches from my greedy hands when some guy behind me lunges forward. Instead of landing in my two hands, I must reach back and it GLANCES OFF MY PALM!
Adding insult to injury, the ball bounces directly into the lap of some guy who'd spent the last inning on his cell phone. He picks up the ball, looking at it like some strange archaelogical object and says to the party on the phone, "You'll never believe what just landed in my lap!"
The guy who lunged forward immediately apologized, but I was inconsolable. My once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was gone. Not only was it a MAJOR LEAGUE FOUL BALL, but it was from the bat of NOMAR GARCIAPARRA!
We spent the rest of the night watching the game, Phil consoling me from time to time.
The Red Sox lost as a result of a TERRIBLE decision by Jimy Williams (manager of the team), but the score was secondary at that point. (Wow, did I just actually say that!?!)
Nice return flights home this morning. Back to the grind tomorrow. Phil still hasn't stopped smiling.
Mission accomplished.
------------------
"I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own."
One evening we were talking about things he'd like to do. He said he's always wanted to fly on a plane, and also mentioned he'd like to take in a ballgame with me.
I decided to try for the double-play. After checking out some possibilities, I discovered a date where Boston was playing in Tampa (chosen for the $144 RT fare than anything).
Well the Gods of Baseball have smiled upon this mission in so many ways...
When discussing this with a coach in our Little League (where Phil umpires) - lo and behold, his son is VP of Corp. Sales for the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. He calls his son and we'll get the royal treatment (more to follow).
Other managers hear about it and start taking up a collection so Phil can go fo free.
After choosing the dates and booking the flights, his chemotherapy date is moved. Instead of being 10 days before our departure date (where he be feeling much better), it is moved to 3 days before (when he could still be bedridden and lethargic). Phil is now not looking forward to the trip.
Last thursday he visited the doctors. The chemotherapy that he's been going through has been effective. No tumors. He still must go through bone marrow testing, but no chemo.
So feeling fit and happy as can be, we leave for the game. We were flying CO. I'd used miles to get us upgraded to FC all the way (his first-ever flight might as well be in style, right?). Turns out they never bothered with the certs - very nice.
Smooth flights, excellent service (as usual). We touch down in Tampa at 1:00p and make it to the hotel room.
Now comes the complicated part. Remember the VP of Corporate Sales? Phil has no clue what awaits him, and I can talk about it in the room. So I come up with a cover story of visiting a customer and disappear for a couple of hours while Phil takes a nap.
I also notice that I forgot the camera!!! Quick run to the mall for two disposables.
Back to the hotel, I awaken Phil and we head over. At Tropicana Field, I call the VP. Phil has no clue what awaits...
Until the tour begins. From 5:00 until 7:00, we are wondering throughout Tropicana Field, visiting all the attractions (the Batter's Eye restaraunt is very nice, by the way!). The only places we didn't go were the dugout and locker room. The tour culminates with Phil getting on the field to watch the Red Sox take Batting Practice.
For most of the time, he's standing less than 5 feet from JIM RICE (any late 70's baseball fan can explain the significance - my lasting Jim Rice memory is watching him snap a bat on a check (held up) swing --- TWICE --- over the course of his career). Can you imagine the torque that is required to do this???
We also received a very generous collection of memorabilia, including autographed baseballs by Fred McGriff.
We are sitting next to the ballplayers' wives directly behind home plate. And I can tell you that there was very little doubt how some of those millionaires spent money on their wives. I think that special chemical waste permits may be required to bury some of these women when they die. The human body may be 80%+ water, but with some of these women, I think it almost equal parts silicone.
I'm feeling great. Everything has gone even better than planned. With my positive baseball karma at an all-time high, the Gods of Baseball decide to reward me. In the third inning, Nomar Garciaparra fouls a pitch straight back. Instantly I realized that the ball had a chance of bouncing off the facade in front of the broadcast booths. Playing the carom that would make Carl Yastrzemski proud (ask a 70's era Red Sox fan --- they can explain), I move into the aisle to play the ball.
The ball is mere inches from my greedy hands when some guy behind me lunges forward. Instead of landing in my two hands, I must reach back and it GLANCES OFF MY PALM!
Adding insult to injury, the ball bounces directly into the lap of some guy who'd spent the last inning on his cell phone. He picks up the ball, looking at it like some strange archaelogical object and says to the party on the phone, "You'll never believe what just landed in my lap!"
The guy who lunged forward immediately apologized, but I was inconsolable. My once-in-a-lifetime opportunity was gone. Not only was it a MAJOR LEAGUE FOUL BALL, but it was from the bat of NOMAR GARCIAPARRA!
We spent the rest of the night watching the game, Phil consoling me from time to time.
The Red Sox lost as a result of a TERRIBLE decision by Jimy Williams (manager of the team), but the score was secondary at that point. (Wow, did I just actually say that!?!)
Nice return flights home this morning. Back to the grind tomorrow. Phil still hasn't stopped smiling.
Mission accomplished.
------------------
"I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own."