Diary of a Diehard

In a strange scheduling twist, the Diamondbacks have two days off during spring training and they are both on Thursdays. Today happens to be one of those days. Now given I am such a fan, I naturally assumed that I had the day off too. I woke up this morning, and rolled over smacking the alarm clock across the room making a perfect basket in the Diamondbacks wastebasket. Of course the force used to hurl the clock ripped the clock out of the wall breaking the outlet cover in the process. When the clock came to rest in the bottom of the metal can, the noise woke the dead or in my case, Dakota. He immediately bound into the bedroom up for the day. Knowing my sleep was over, I drug myself out of bed. As I shuffled across the floor, Dakota took my place in bed. “Thanks a lot!” Trina said as I made my way to the shower. It was much to early for sarcasm. Dog Dot Com also heard the commotion and she began to howl. I decided after my clock stunt, if I were going to get any rest, I better go to work. So I got dressed and headed to the office leaving Trina to deal with the wild bunch. I can see that I’m probably in for trouble when I get home tonight.

Ever since we first got Dog Dot Com, my life has been anything but normal. It started with Dot Com deciding that everyone’s biological clock should be on the same time zone as hers. This meant we were expected to go to bed at 7:30 PM and get up at 4:15 AM. When the family would not comply with this schedule, she made sure we all heard about it whining and howling until someone got up with her. After that, it has been the potty training that goes along with having a puppy. It didn’t matter where I stepped, she had planted little puppy bombs in the exact place where my bare feet would find them. She has the tendency to lead you to believe she is learning to go outside. Just as you are lulled into thinking you are over the worst part, she reminds you she is still a puppy and can go potty wherever she wants. Now this week, we have moved into the next area, the chewing phase. There is nothing safe that her little puppy teeth have not tasted. Whether it be my ear, shoes, socks, Dakota; it is all fair game. The one area she had not touched was the computer, until now. I have been working on networking the computers in the house to share Internet access and files between Mallorie and I and temporarily laid Category 5 Ethernet between the computers to test. While I was configuring IP addresses, Dottie decided it was time she went digital. As I came down the stairs, there she laid, the remnants of a network between her teeth. It was apparent that Dog Dot Com was under the belief that all networks should be wireless. I quietly yanked the wires from her mouth, the twisted pairs flossing her puppy teeth as she struggled to hold on. It would not have been so bad had the wire she ate not been my link between the computer and the cable modem. I was cut off like Gilligan from the mainland. Unlike Gilligan, I did not have the Professor, that master of the coconut shell to bail me out. It took a couple of days before I was back up and on-line. In the mean time, Dog Dot Com has gotten the taste of the Internet. She may never go back to being a mere analog dog.

As I got home from work, Dakota met me at the door, ball and bat in hand. “Let’s play ball dad!” I didn’t even have a chance to put my briefcase down before he threw me the ball to pitch to him. I eagerly obliged even through the yelling Trina was doing that we shouldn’t be playing in the house. I threw pitch after pitch with the wiffleball and each time his little plastic bat would make a connection causing me to dive for the ball before it hit something and broke it putting both Dakota and I in the dog house with Dog Dot Com. After several minutes of throwing batting practice, I began to tire and my reflexes weren’t what they should have been. In a way, this was my spring training. Like the Major League players, in our house hitting is ahead of pitching at this stage of the game. I was resorting to throwing junk balls relying heavily on my knuckleball to try and get one past this two-year-old hustler. His hitting was dead on, he rarely went after a bad pitch and made me work for every out. I began calculating and if he continued at this pace, he would break Pete Rose’s hits record somewhere around the age of 12. Of course my arm would go out somewhere around the age of 7. Given his hitting expertise and his subsequent running around the living room sliding head first on the tile, he reminded me very much of what I was like as a kid. At that time, I was given the nickname Charlie Wiffleball. It is time that I pass that name on to the next generation. After another 20 minutes of throwing to Charlie Wiffleball Junior or Junior for short, I made a mental note to go out to the Internet and search Fog Dog for a wiffleball pitching machine. I may be getting old, but I’m not stupid. Well not until I let loose a wild pitch hitting Dakota in the batting helmet. I knew I was in trouble when he dropped the bat and charged the mound. I wasn’t expecting his attack especially when he is still waist high to me. He dropped me faster than broccoli down the garbage disposal.

There are certain days in one’s live that become defining moments that will forever be etched in your mind. This happens to be one of those days. Fifteen years ago, Trina and I were expecting our second child. We had just finished our last ultrasound the week before and found we were having a girl. We were both quite excited and awaited the day she would arrive. On this day, I was out of town on business and Trina was at home. She didn’t feel quite right and went to the doctor. He immediately admitted her to the hospital and began the delivery of our child. I was told of the event and rushed home on a plane to be with Trina. I arrived at the hospital just in time. As Lindsay was being born, a blood vessel in her umbilical cord burst causing her death. They say that time heals a broken heart. I used to believe that until I lost my daughter. I remember that day like it happened just yesterday. The emotions and the images still crystal clear in my mind. I remember the prayers that were offered, the faces of our loved ones as they gathered around us comforting us. I remember the numbness I felt as I had to choose the coffin where I would lay my daughter and the dress we picked out for her to wear this one last time. But most of all, I remember the weather and the bitter cold that enveloped me as I stood above her tiny grave bidding an Earthly farewell. I am an avid baseball fan who loves the game dearly. I would enjoy nothing more than to share a game with my daughter. Sitting her on my lap and showing her all the sights and sounds of the game. Remember honey, daddy loves you and misses you greatly.

There are times when I wonder whether I should make a career change. This weekend happened to be one of those times. Don’t get me wrong, I have a pretty good job and the best part about it is the flex hours I can work so that I can go to all of the Diamondbacks games. There are trade-offs like everything else. In my case, I have to be on call every nine weeks. What this means is that I get paged whenever there is a problem with a server at work. This duty manager goes on for a week straight. In the off season, having the duty manager is bearable. After all, it does not interfere with baseball so I can live with being on call 24 hours a day for 7 days. But when spring training rolls around or worse, the regular season, it can be almost more than a guy can handle. Today happened to be one of those days. I had plans on going over to Mesa to watch the Diamondbacks play the Chicago Cubs in a split squad game. Just as I was about to leave, I was paged telling me of a potential server problem. I set all of my gear down and went to the computer to begin testing and troubleshooting. While I was doing this, I listened to the game on the Internet again. At about the third inning, I had the problems solved and ran to the television. The game was being televised on WGN in Chicago and I quickly set the satellite to that transponder to see the game. There I witnessed the Diamondbacks get taken to school by the cubs. The strange part was it seemed my duty manager pager and the Cubs were somehow in-sync. It seemed each time the Cubs scored, my pager would vibrate. In the 7 run seventh inning, I began to feel much like a white lab rat. By the end of the game, I had been trained much like Pavlow’s dog. Each time my pager went off I assumed the Cubs had scored. Worse yet, each time the Cubs scored I felt a vibration on my waist. This would not have worried me so much but I had set the pager on the desk 3 innings ago. Make a note to self, leave pager home during next game.

I am sometimes amazed at the depths I will go to see a baseball game. I had grand plans to again try and attend a Diamondbacks spring training game in Scottsdale. The Diamondbacks were playing the San Francisco Giants and it was a beautiful day. I was up and ready with everything packed. I grabbed the three younger kids to take them to the game, went to the garage only to find there were no cars parked there. That was strange. I remember distinctly parking in the garage last night. Confused, I walked back into the house trying to recount my steps last night. How could I misplace my car? It’s not like I have a hole in my pocket and it slipped out. Still scratching my head, Whitney offered to help. “Dad, there is a note on the counter.” As I picked it up, I read the following, “Jeff, had to go to the store. Ashley went to the gym. Will see you this afternoon.” This afternoon?!? Are you kidding me? Do these people have any idea what they have done? I frantically started calling cell phone numbers but I could not reach anyone. By game time, I gave up. I tuned into the game via the Internet and began listening. It is just not the same. I wandered down to the family room and blankly turned on the television and began scrolling up the channels. When I reached channel 33, I froze. There in living color were the Boston Red Sox versus the Houston Astros. A game on television! I sat there watching the action on the screen. Pitchers, hitters, base runners. This was great. It was only after watching for 5 minutes that I began to realize that no one on the broadcast was speaking English. Pitch after pitch were being called in Spanish. I had stumbled upon Univision. I had no idea what they were saying but it really didn’t matter. I had found a baseball game and a way for me to spend some time watching spring training while stranded without a car. As Garrett Morris so elequently put it, “Beisbol has been berry berry good to me.”

Being back at work today, I had to recount how I missed another Diamondbacks game. My co-workers seem to find joy in my misery going so far as to place bets on whether I will be able to catch a game before spring training is over. By the end of the work day, I am relatively depressed and ready for the weekend to begin. I dragged my tired body into the house and plopped myself into my new Bank One Ballpark seat. As I sat there, my thoughts turned to baseball and the fun I have had watching the Diamondbacks over the past two years. In the midst of my daydreams, I was startled by the doorbell. “Oh great” I thought “I’ll bet it’s an opportunity to buy another 17 boxes of girl scout cookies.” As I opened the door, I was greeted by a smiling postal worker. I was taken aback by this sight. I did not realize there was such a creature. I always envisioned postmen as only having smiles on their faces while they were cleaning their firearms. “Will you sign here please?” the postal worker asked. I absently autographed his ledger “To the best Diamondbacks fan.” He looked rather confused and asked if I would just put my name down. I apologized and signed again. This time, he handed me an envelope, thanked me, and went on his way. As I shut the door, I began to look at the package. The return address was one I was well familiar with. It was the Arizona Diamondbacks. I eagerly tore open the package and inside found a most precious prize. It was my 2000 season tickets. I reverently admired the tickets looking at each one, counting them and envisioning tearing them out of the booklet to attend the game. It was almost enough to bring tears to a man’s eyes. When I finally got over my sensitive moment, I began to do my best impression from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I danced around the living room singing, “I’ve got a golden ticket!” As Trina and the kids came into the living room to see what was going on, in unison they made one comment “Looks like your dad got the tickets today. There will be no living with him for the next three weeks.”

Five years ago today, I eagerly awaited a press conference where Arizona was awarded a baseball franchise. As the televised conference was going on, I was at work. Trina on the phone to me repeating everything that was said so that I did not miss anything. That was a memorable moment in my life. Partly because I could now go to see Major League Baseball, partially because I now shared my birthday with the Arizona Diamondbacks. Each year since that date, I have received at least one item for my birthday that had a Diamondbacks logo emblazened upon it. Today was no exception. I received to seats from Bank One Ballpark, a personalized authentic jersey, a new Diamondbacks hat, and a Diamondbacks polo shirt. After the gift unwrapping, Trina, Dakota, and I headed to Tucson to see the Diamondbacks play the Seattle Mariners. We had gotten half way to Tucson when we encountered a traffic accident that had closed the freeway. After sitting in traffic for 3 hours, we were finally sent back to Phoenix. I pleaded with the police to let us through. I explained that my sanity depended upon my getting to the game. The policeman calmly stated, “Hit the road fan boy.” With that I was again shut out from the ball game. Dejected, I turned the car around and drove back to Phoenix. Not wanting to miss baseball completely today, I went to Phoenix Municipal Stadium and watched the Oakland Athletics play the Colorado Rockies. I am beginning to think that I am not to attend a Diamondbacks game this spring. Overall though, I would say this was one of my better birthdays.

Today marked the second game the Diamondbacks would play this spring in Phoenix. I had tickets to the first one rained out on Monday so I had planned to attend this one. I was at work early so I could get everything done before lunch. As the time came near, my pager and phone became more vocal. It was like the Baseball Gods had conspired against me. Game time came and went and I was still sitting at my desk typing feverishly on the keyboard trying to get everything done. By the time I looked up, it was time to go home. I drug my tired body into the house where I was met by Tiffany’s shining face. “Dad, are you ready to go? Mom said you were taking me to gymnastics tonight.” Oh good, nothing I would rather do after missing a baseball game than sit in a stinky gym watching 10 year-old girls attempt the splits while mothers gush over them from the sidelines. My only ray of hope is knowing that tomorrow I am going to the Diamondbacks game in Tucson tomorrow.