By Rick Lopez

He had a clutch going on me, his free hand up deep under my arm, as if I belonged to him then. Cream-colored latex gloves and heavy boots. Vaseline on my bicep, his tool-hand pressing a broad furrow into my upper arm, buzz of electricity throwing ink into my skin, the needle a blur. It was, as he said, “like being scratched.” Not pain, but a deep centering hum that put tension into your teeth. It did not distress me.

It was my first time, and I found myself trying not to betray the way it felt: this conceptual intimacy.

“Scared?”

“No. Just wired.”

Two feet of snow outside, gas heaters exhaling in the corner, losing to the chill. Me in short-sleeves, letting a stranger scar me for life.

“Who is it? he asks me.”

“An old-time ballplayer…”

“What’s it mean? he tries again.”

“It’s a political thing…”

And it is, and I don’t mean to be evasive, honestly I don’t, but you see there were these wild drawings all over the wall and I’ve got blood and ink smeared across my arm and it’s fifty degrees in here and I need to pay attention to this very particular kind of fun I’m having these days, wrapping my arms around this new-found smile I wear so often now, this fun I’m having, this world I’m learning.

Forty years old, a tattoo parlour, 12th and Wayne. At last I’m a grown-up. I’ve got black ink in my skin, got another few thousand books to read, got a high-gloss polish I’m putting to the fluid of my world-view. Got my heroes in a row.

The quiet envelops us, hints of breath in the air, I’m cursing the rotting soul of Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis, that tension in my teeth. It’s been nearly 75 years now since he up and banished eight White Sox for throwing the World Series and I’ve got the sign, it’s clinging to my left shoulder where it can feel my heart thumping away. It was 1919 and cold black ink fell from an American sky. Oh a few of them deserved it, a few of them spent hot hours sweating into the cups of gamblers who were smarter than they were, setting it up and laughing and sneering like weasels are apt to do. Gin, tobacco, and cold hard cash, trading away the dreams of thousands, ideals and innocence that were not theirs. But listen: My boy here, he hit .375, best in the series, had the only home-run, played flawless defense, all this in his blood. I would’ve taken the money too if my boss were as tight and humorless as Comiskey, my boy just went along, just wanted to play his game, just wanted to hit that ball.

There’s books, all the books say it ain’t so. But they just don’t get it, stuck in the dead rock of archaic laws. It’s not my fault, I’ve done what I can.

So I got the sign on me, cold black ink in my shoulder, a message to no one. Just a small gesture begging justice, a few words to imprint a feeling I have, another passion to add to my string of passions.

And the gloves snap off: “That’s it, it’s done…” I walk quickly to the mirror, eyes wide open, thinking the word “hard-core.” And there, etched into me:

Re-printed with permission from “Baseball and the 10,000 Things.”

(originally published in Baseball Ink Vol. 1, No. 4 – March 2001)

By Mike McCann

Mike McCann has been a baseball fan as long as he can remember. He has a goal to visit every major and minor league baseball stadium. This regularly-appearing column will follow the progress of “Bunko” and his quest.

Labor Day weekend is a significant point in the minor league baseball season. It is the last weekend of regular season games and the last chance for teams to make one final run for a playoff spot. For me, it is my final opportunity to attend a minor league baseball game. It is also a weekend with an extra day off from work, so there is an added incentive to take a little trip to see a few more games.

My girlfriend, Steph, and I decided it would be nice to make a trip to Niagara Falls. Steph had never been there, and I think that it is a pretty nice place and didn’t mind seeing it again. This would be my third trip through Buffalo in the past five years, and now would finally be my chance to see a game there. I’ve driven right by the stadium before, but my trips never seemed to coincide with a Bisons game…until now.

During the day on Saturday, we went to the falls and saw some of the attractions there. In case you are interested, the Canadian side is much nicer than the American side. We were finished in plenty of time to make it to the Buffalo Bisons game. The start time for the game was 7:05, and we made it to the stadium around 6:15…only when we got there, we saw people walking out. I thought that this was quite strange. I found out that the game time had been changed to 4:05, and we had missed the game. Yet another attempt to see a game in Buffalo had been thwarted.

Then it hit me. I knew that Batavia, NY, was less than an hour away and that the Muckdogs had a home game that started at 7:05. I’m really glad that I looked up all of my options in that area; catching a New York-Penn League game would definitely be the best way to make the most of a bad situation. We got to Batavia during the 1st inning, so we really didn’t miss much of the Muckdogs game against the Williamsport Crosscutters. It was also an opportunity for me to see Batavia’s second baseman, Chase Utley, the Phillies first-round draft pick in 2000. Since I live just outside of Philadelphia and have been a Phillies fan my entire life, it was nice to see the Phillies farmhands.

I had been to a Batavia Clippers game at Dwyer Stadium in 1996, so I wasn’t able to whittle away at my quest list. I was just happy to be able to see a baseball game. The game itself was pretty good as well. Batavia beat Williamsport, 10-8. The Muckdogs manager was arguing some of the umpires’ calls and was eventually ejected. There is a different element to this argument when you can hear the voices from the field rather than those from the crowd supporting the manager’s cause.

The following day we drove to Jamestown, NY, which is south of Buffalo. I had never been to Jamestown before, so this time I was able to cross another team off the list. We were able to see the Batavia Muckdogs again in their game against the Jamestown Jammers. At this game, I won the prize for dirtiest car in the parking lot. I really didn’t think my car was that dirty, and I’m pretty sure that they picked my car since it was parked up front and slightly dirty from all the driving I had done the previous few days. Anyway, I went to the customer service area for my prize, a free car wash. I was saying how I wasn’t from around there and would be able to use the car wash since I was leaving right after the game. They tried to explain to me where it was, but I decided that it would be better if I gave the certificate to the people sitting next to us. The game was pretty good as well, and Batavia won 7-3.

That seems like a pretty good Labor Day weekend to me. I was able to see two New York-Penn League games in western New York. Still, I need to get to that game in Buffalo. I will have to combine it with a trip to Erie, PA, sometime. Now that the offseason is here, I will need to start planning trips for the 2001 season…and the possibilities are endless.

One additional element, which makes my quest more interesting, is that when teams move, the number of active cities conquered so far in my quest may actually decrease. During the offseason, the Queens Kings moved across town to become the Brooklyn Cyclones. I do realize that both Queens and Brooklyn are boroughs of New York City, but it is still technically a move, so my active total drops from 31 to 30. I have seen games in 32 different cities (St. Catharines, Ontario being the other, no-longer-active city), and I have visited 33 different stadiums (both the old Memorial Stadium as well as Camden Yards in Baltimore, in case you were curious).

I’ll do my best to keep you informed of my travels. Hope you are able to get out to a game yourself soon!

(originally published in Baseball Ink Vol. 1, No. 4 – March 2001)

By Bennett Oberfeld

In Philly their fans would boo Jesus
Asking “What’s he done lately to please us?”
“We’ve heard all the loud raves
Of how Jesus saves
So did he blow that late lead to appease us?”

Bennett Oberfeld has been a die-hard baseball fan for over 30 years, rooting for home town teams starting with the Orioles, to the Cubs, now for the Braves. He has been to 24 of the 30 existing ball parks, but refuses to see a game in Montreal Olympic Stadium or the Metrodome.

(originally published in Baseball Ink Vol. 1, No. 4 – March 2001)

For more five-line fun, check out our new Baseball Limericks site!

By Bennett Oberfeld

When you ask Mr. Cub Ernie Banks
“How could you play with inferior ranks?”
What with two MVP’s
Five hundred homers to please?
He just said “Let’s play two” and gave thanks

Bennett Oberfeld has been a die-hard baseball fan for over 30 years, rooting for home town teams starting with the Orioles, to the Cubs, now for the Braves. He has been to 24 of the 30 existing ball parks, but refuses to see a game in Montreal Olympic Stadium or the Metrodome.

(originally published in Baseball Ink Vol. 1, No. 4 – March 2001)
For more five-line fun, check out our new Baseball Limericks site!

Bench: Bobby Murcer (OF), Dale Mitchell (OF), Joe Carter (OF), Paul Blair (OF), Harland Clift (3B), “Indian” Bob Johnson (OF), Don Demeter (OF), Fred Patek (SS), Bill Russell (SS), Mickey Tettleton (C), Darrell Porter (C), Cal McLish (P), Tom Sturdivant (P).

(originally published in Baseball Ink Vol. 1, No. 4 – March 2001)