Gardner WebLog

I wanted to write a separate note to thank everyone who has surfed onto (I guess thats what it is?  Surfing?)  the blog this summer.  I started it to sort of help to keep in touch with people from home (VA and CA now…) and it turned into a good way for me to process a lot of what went on during the season.

I never included any names of the players I played with, and tried to keep descriptions of scenes pretty vanilla, just because I didn’t know who would or wouldn’t want their name broadcast over the internet to a cast of thousands (or the faithful 40 or 50 hits I get on the blog every day…haha).  As most of you can probably imagine, the descriptions of dialogue could have been a lot more ‘colorful’ as well, but we kept it PG.  One side-note I just remembered, I did throw in a few extra pictures in the album for anyone who wants to check them out.

One side-note I just remembered, I did throw in a few extra pictures in the album for anyone who wants to check them out.

But anyway, thanks to everyone.  Playing baseball every day has been a wonderful blessing to me, and to have the support of so many more people makes it a lot easier to put a jersey on every day and play (or sit in the bullpen and…watch).  It really is living a dream, even though at certain times the dream turns into somewhat of a nightmare, which I think showed through in the blog a little bit!

Your comments, support, and encouragement made the blog and the season a really good time for me.  Thank you all, take care, and throw strikes!

Good luck,

Adam Gardner

gardner.adam@gmail.com

Our season ended four days ago and it feels like I haven’t picked up a baseball in three years.  Playing every day blurs time and skews one’s perception of how days, weeks, and months pass by.  The last six months have been tedious but quick, difficult but simple, and both boring and exciting—all at the same time.

No other job could combine feelings of boredom and excitement.  After your first few extra-inning games, you’re just rooting for offense—from either team—so you can get back home or to the hotel and go to sleep.  I’m convinced that when I was on the mound pitching innings 12 through 14 at Stockton two weeks ago, the team wasn’t necessarily rooting for me, they were hoping for something else—resolution.  It could be a vital part of the game—men in scoring position, two outs, and a struggling pitcher on the mound, but because you’re there every day, and see those moments every day, you’re not really moved by it.  We’re not necessarily jaded, we just play a lot of games…

I’ve always been a competitive player, intense on the mound—sometimes too intense, and willing to grit it out in tough situations.  This year, though, really tested that.  After a few bad outings in a row, with nothing else to take my mind off of baseball, it was really hard to keep it all together.  I can’t imagine the added pressure that some guys have on them in the big leagues—contracts, media scrutiny, or crazy fans—and yet they still slump, break out, and streak over and over again, season after season.  What comforted me the most after bad games was not that ‘the game didn’t matter’ because we had so many more, or that I was on a winning team and they would pick me up, it was that I had other things I could do with my life.  I could walk away from baseball and still be ok.  Not everyone could.  Some of the players on my team are playing baseball because there’s nothing else they can do.  Knowing that I could get a good job or go back to school helped me keep a level head when I wanted to ram it into something after giving up back to back home runs…

The first two weeks of the season dragged on—we had rainouts, injuries, commuter road trips—it seemed like the season would go on forever.  Then we took a trip down south to play
Lake Elsinore and High Desert, hit Bakersfield on the way back up, and the games flew by until the All-Star Break.  At the break, we all got a few days off (except the guys who went out to Virginia to play in the all-star game), and came back feeling good and ready to finish the season out.  The problem was, we were only halfway through.  July took forever.  We didn’t have many road trips, but the ones we took were to Visalia (where it was 119 degrees before one game, with no AC in the clubhouse and only scalding hot water in the showers) and Bakersfield.  We’d then come home and split series with Stockton and Modesto, alternating between home and away games.  We were playing well, but the days wore on everyone.  August picked up, and then the last two weeks of the season felt like two days.  Before anyone really realized it, we were packing up and taking off.

So we’re all done.  Municipal Stadium in San Jose is quiet now, and most of the vendors, interns, mascots, and bar-b-que crew have found new jobs or are back in school.  And for the players, too, life is quieter.  Nobody will hound us for autographs, ask for balls, or care what we’re doing every night from 7 to 10 pm.  Until we all come back next March, we fade back into lives of normalcy.  Like the old timers who all came back and played on the ‘Field of Dreams’ in that great movie, at the end we all sort of walk into the cornfield, slapping each other on the back, laughing and thinking about next year.  Because in everyone’s mind, next year means “I’ll hit .350 with 100 RBIs and move up to Fresno.”  Or “Next year they want me to be a closer so I’ll do well and get a September call-up to the big leagues.”  Next year is all that matters.

It took about 6 months, but I’ve figured out how to use the photo function on the blog, and put a few pictures in.  There are a couple more, which I’ll do later because it’s late and uploading takes a while. 

To pull them up, click on ‘Some Pictures’ under the ‘Albums’ list on the right.

We’re two deep in our first playoff series—locked up with
Visalia at 1-1.  We leave tomorrow morning for their place.  I think this will be the 5^th time we’ve been down there, which means it’s maybe our 33^rd game against them this year?  After playing us so many times, their coaches know our hitters pretty well—we had two hits tonight.  Both were home runs, but I feel like their guys have our guys pretty nailed down.  That being said, we know who hits well in their lineup and where not to throw the ball to each hitter.  At this point in the season, it really becomes a battle to see who messes up and misses a spot first.  They had two home runs as well, and only two other hits.

We were talking in the bullpen today about why our stands were looking thin today.  It seemed like nobody in San Jose knew we were playing, much less in the heat of a playoff battle for the Northern Division Title (haha…no really).  Anyway, I came up with a theory, called the “Seasonal Sports Theorem.”  I don’t know the difference between a ‘theory’ and a ‘theorem,’ but the latter sounds a whole lot cooler, so we’ll use it instead.

The Seasonal Sports Theorem first assumes that there are only two major American sports:  football and baseball.  Both basketball and hockey are secondary, but still play a role.  Both football and baseball are able to coexist because they respect each other’s seasons—baseball starts in March with Spring Training, and ends in October, before football season heats up.  NFL Sundays start in September and culminate in a now early-February Super Bowl, just in time for pitchers and catchers to report around Valentine’s Day.  It is a living, breathing, symbiotic relationship—and should it fall apart, would surely cause a disruption in the space time continuum.  Whatever that is.

So, in short (people always use ‘in short’ after a long explanation of something…why is that?), nobody was at the game today because we are heading into ‘football’ time.  People feel the weather getting colder, and except for New York and Boston, where they are used to watching baseball in overcoats, most places have mentally switched from baseball mode to football mode.  Look at media coverage—sure, there are wild card races and stuff, but most of it on the weekends is football.  The major exception is the ALCS, NLCS, and the World Series, when sports fans must budget their time—I don’t know how I’ll be able to manage three fantasy football teams, keep track of the Skins, AND pay attention to the Series.

Of course, throwing a wrench in this theory are places like Miami (Dolphins and Marlins), and Southern California (Padres, Angels and D&d%e$rs (it’s a curse word up here I think), and the SD Chargers too), and other places where the weather doesn’t really change.  They find ways to remind people of the seasons, though (I walked through this outdoor mall called “The Grove” in West LA last year in December, and although it was 65 degrees and people were in shorts, they had snowflakes up on lampposts to remind customers that in other places, snow falls during winter).  I don’t know.

All things being equal, people start to focus more on football once September hits.  See what you think.  When you show up to work tomorrow and someone asks about ‘the game’ this weekend, he’s not talking about the no hitter Anibal Sanchez threw the other night for the Marlins—he’s talking about football.  I’ll bet on it.

As you flip through the TVs channels this weekend, watching college football and NFL previews, remember that there is still some great baseball being played in minor league stadiums around the country.  The summer’s not over yet!

Be that as it may,  tomorrow is the last game of the regular season.  Tomorrow will be the 140^th we stand listening to the National Anthem before the game, the 140^th time some lucky kid gets to yell out ‘play ball’ before the game, and the 140^th time we sit out in the bullpen and pontificate on the finer points of life.

140 is a lot of games.  We’ve been playing since April.  Since April 6, we’ve had 11 days off, counting the all-star break.  Without the break, it’s only 8.  So with the exception of a few rainouts early on and 11 off days, we’ve played baseball every night since early spring.  It’s late summer now.

Much has changed.  We’ve had an especially ‘transient’ team this year—guys moving up and down, and people getting hurt.  It sort of hacks away at the team’s identity, but I think we got good guys and have a good core of players from the beginning.  

Personally, I think a few things about me change throughout the season.  After going through two full seasons, I’ve noticed some weird stuff that changes about me as the season goes on.  Let’s make another numbered list.

1. I get a lot worse at writing, and a lot better at talking.  During the season, I’m always talking to other guys during games, with my roommate at home, or in the clubhouse.  So it becomes easier to speak and express myself.  My writing, however, (and I’ve looked back at previous blog posts—just look at how many times I use the word ‘weird’ in this post…hello?!) suffers.  Starting work in the fall usually helps me get back in writing shape, but sitting in a cube all day not speaking to anyone makes talking harder too.  Is that weird?
2. I shower more and more frequently.  At this point, I take like three showers a day.  In the morning, after the gym, after running at the field but before the game, then after the game again.  I’m not saying that I live in filth in the off-season, but my showering schedule changes…
3. Relating to (no—talking at all to) girls gets awkward.  Again—playing baseball, you’re always around guys, so when you’re forced to interact with the ‘fairer’ sex, it gets awkward.  During the season, Ellen is extremely forgiving as I stumble through weird stories about the team during the season.  Remember—140 games—11 off days.  I live with guys.
4. I think I wrote a post about this before, but you start to feel when games are going to turn, or when weird stuff is going to happen on the field.  Last night we played 16 innings, and everyone in the bullpen knew we were in for a long game around the 5^th inning.  I don’t know why, but we were sure we’d be there forever.  Watching that many games, you see that games turn on several key 5 to 10 minute stretches over 9 innings—a couple hits strung together, or a pitcher striking out the side in a key late inning.
5. Signing autographs feels normal.  I don’t care what happens, but at the beginning of each season, I’ve felt really weird about just signing people’s belongings.  Now it’s like, “Hey, your glove?  Cool.  A car wash advertisement?  No problem.  Your neck?  Sure, bud.”  Kinda weird, again, but now it’s standard operating procedure.

Anyway, it’s coming down to the wire.  The playoffs start next Friday, where we’ll face either
Visalia or Stockton (hopefully Stockton since Visalia has OWNED us lately) in a five game series for the Northern Division title.

Go Giants.