THE LUNAR REPORT - "INFLATABLE DAVE" March 9, 2010
It’s hits me like this every year. The weather is warm. Spring Training is in full swing. In Florida. In Arizona. The first Major League pitch will be thrown before we know it.
It takes me back. It has every year since I ended my brief four-year stint in the Minor Leagues. Back in ’06. Another dead dream. Another case of wasted time and talent.
It was 2003 when this dream began. With the Durham Bulls. The Triple-A farm club of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. A teammate of mine, “T-Bone” we called him, was like me. A bit older. Some say we were both “past our prime.” But, by God, we gave it our best shots. To be called up to the “Bigs.” To the Majors. To Tampa Bay. It wasn't to be.
Some say there’s never been a duo like T-Bone and me in Durham. Before the ’03-06 seasons or since. We made a huge impact. My guess is the front office is still talking about us.
But Tampa Bay? I don’t think they ever knew we existed. Maybe it all had to do with age. Maybe we didn’t fit the Devil Rays’ “future plans.” Or. Maybe Tampa didn’t even have a kid’s inflatable slide attraction or speed pitch. But the Bulls did. That’s where I got my nickname. “Inflatable Dave.”
The first position I played in Durham was Inflatable Obstacle Course and Giant Slide facilitator. Out in center field. Or rather, over the center field wall. My job was to make sure hundreds of youngins’ entered and exited that attraction safely. And orderly. Maybe some of the parent’s complained. Maybe those complaints kept me in Durham. Killed my dream. But I was coached to make all the little guys wear socks while on the slide. Shoes were not allowed. Neither were bare feet. Socks only. A Health Department thing.
All those kids. In 90-degree weather. Wearing sandals to keep them cool. And it was up to me to tell them they couldn’t join their knee-socked little friends on the main attraction of every young baseball fan in a three-county area. Yeh. I’m sure there were complaints about me.
Of course, my coach/manager, Derek (D-Man) didn’t care for me either. He was half my age. So all those times when he angered a parent, the parent would inevitably say, “Well, I want to talk to YOUR boss.” That’s when they would walk up to me to complain about him. Not a good thing. Especially when I was dreaming of being “called up.” To the “Bigs.”
T-Bone and I had teammates. Youngsters themselves. Teenagers. They felt entitled somehow. You know. Not the work ethic of a couple of veterans like T-Bone and me. For them, planning, dreaming, hoping for future recognition went only as far as their cell-phone signal could take them. Maybe they each wanted the Big League, too. But they wanted a date after each game more.
So, one day, D-Man saw an opportunity to turn a 50-dollar-a-night operation into a major right field attraction. He moved me from the comfort of my Giant Inflatable Slide position and T-Bone from his VIP Parking position. That’s right. To the Speed Pitch attraction. The slide was free. The VIP parking was pre-paid. The Bulls charge cash money for speed pitch.
D-Man may not have been very good with parents. But the man knew cash opportunities.
Within a couple of weeks, T-Bone and I set a speed pitch revenue record that stands to this day. $862. In one night! Only a couple of times did we dip below the $500 mark. It rains sometimes during Durham summers, you know.
The Devil Rays should have been told about T-Bone and me. My guess is that upper Bulls’ management couldn’t deal with the potential loss of revenue. They knew we would be snatched up in a heartbeat. Imagine the thousands we could have generated on the warm and sunny Tampa Bay.
The “Bigs.”
I can only imagine. Dream.
It takes me back. It has every year since I ended my brief four-year stint in the Minor Leagues. Back in ’06. Another dead dream. Another case of wasted time and talent.
It was 2003 when this dream began. With the Durham Bulls. The Triple-A farm club of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. A teammate of mine, “T-Bone” we called him, was like me. A bit older. Some say we were both “past our prime.” But, by God, we gave it our best shots. To be called up to the “Bigs.” To the Majors. To Tampa Bay. It wasn't to be.
Some say there’s never been a duo like T-Bone and me in Durham. Before the ’03-06 seasons or since. We made a huge impact. My guess is the front office is still talking about us.
But Tampa Bay? I don’t think they ever knew we existed. Maybe it all had to do with age. Maybe we didn’t fit the Devil Rays’ “future plans.” Or. Maybe Tampa didn’t even have a kid’s inflatable slide attraction or speed pitch. But the Bulls did. That’s where I got my nickname. “Inflatable Dave.”
The first position I played in Durham was Inflatable Obstacle Course and Giant Slide facilitator. Out in center field. Or rather, over the center field wall. My job was to make sure hundreds of youngins’ entered and exited that attraction safely. And orderly. Maybe some of the parent’s complained. Maybe those complaints kept me in Durham. Killed my dream. But I was coached to make all the little guys wear socks while on the slide. Shoes were not allowed. Neither were bare feet. Socks only. A Health Department thing.
All those kids. In 90-degree weather. Wearing sandals to keep them cool. And it was up to me to tell them they couldn’t join their knee-socked little friends on the main attraction of every young baseball fan in a three-county area. Yeh. I’m sure there were complaints about me.
Of course, my coach/manager, Derek (D-Man) didn’t care for me either. He was half my age. So all those times when he angered a parent, the parent would inevitably say, “Well, I want to talk to YOUR boss.” That’s when they would walk up to me to complain about him. Not a good thing. Especially when I was dreaming of being “called up.” To the “Bigs.”
T-Bone and I had teammates. Youngsters themselves. Teenagers. They felt entitled somehow. You know. Not the work ethic of a couple of veterans like T-Bone and me. For them, planning, dreaming, hoping for future recognition went only as far as their cell-phone signal could take them. Maybe they each wanted the Big League, too. But they wanted a date after each game more.
So, one day, D-Man saw an opportunity to turn a 50-dollar-a-night operation into a major right field attraction. He moved me from the comfort of my Giant Inflatable Slide position and T-Bone from his VIP Parking position. That’s right. To the Speed Pitch attraction. The slide was free. The VIP parking was pre-paid. The Bulls charge cash money for speed pitch.
D-Man may not have been very good with parents. But the man knew cash opportunities.
Within a couple of weeks, T-Bone and I set a speed pitch revenue record that stands to this day. $862. In one night! Only a couple of times did we dip below the $500 mark. It rains sometimes during Durham summers, you know.
The Devil Rays should have been told about T-Bone and me. My guess is that upper Bulls’ management couldn’t deal with the potential loss of revenue. They knew we would be snatched up in a heartbeat. Imagine the thousands we could have generated on the warm and sunny Tampa Bay.
The “Bigs.”
I can only imagine. Dream.
Please visit the sites of some of my friends.
If any ideology is so serious that you can't have fun while you're doing it, it's probably too serious.
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It's not the drinking to be blamed, but the excess.
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