“It is you again!” — old lady at the SABR Convention at Long Beach, showing her displeasure of having to sit near me at the Angels’ game.
Over the years, I have had many wonderful and often surreal baseball experiences, traveling from park to park across the land. This weekend at the SABR Conference in Long Beach, I realized that those experiences were in danger of being forgotten because I quit writing. While exchanging stories from the road with other SABR members, all whom I had never met, I received many incredulous looks as I began re-telling old stories to a new audience. “Who the hell is this guy? Is he for real? Is security close in case we need them?” many of the facial expressions screamed. I didn’t even make to many of the best stories (the smashing of the Tim Salmon Bobbleheads; the green assed Rally Monkey, etc.) for fear of scaring my new acquaintances.
Yes, I am for real — over the years, I struggled with what type of baseball writer I was trying to be. Was I a stat head? Was I a historian? Was I a clown with big red shoes? I think I finally have the answer — I am a baseball humorist who derives that humor from human interest stories. So the trek starts anew, with my writing being the record. I don’t know how many old readers will come back, or how many new readers will come aboard, but I feel the stories must be told.