Monday, January 30, 2012

Rockies Fantasy Camp

Dad's helmet had to be special ordered, size 8.

 I was in sunny Arizona for a few days, getting some vitamin D, watching a little Rockies Fantasy Camp baseball, and introducing Arthur to his new adoring fans (everywhere we go everyone says, “Hi, Arthur!”  I’m pretty sure they don’t know my name).

I took Arthur on his first plane ride.  He did awesome!  I did awesome, too, and since I’m not a great flyer, that’s really sayin’ somethin’.  He helped a lot.  I didn’t have to take any drugs.  I’m so thankful for my little fella.

I had "sunflower seed cheeks" from all the seeds I ate.  
On day two, a foul ball almost hit me.  I was walking back into the clubhouse to go to the bathroom, and I had my back to the field.  I heard someone yell, “Heads up!” and just ducked, since I couldn’t see the ball.  It hit about 3 feet from me.  Since I was the closest one, I had to get it back to the dugout.  I picked it up and started running it in.  The guy standing there held out his hands for me to toss it to him, and I shook my head.  “Uh, uh.  I throw like a girl.”  He said, “Like a pretty girl.”  Aww.  Sweet.  When I repeated this story later to my sister, she asked if he was cute.  It’s hard to say, all boys are cute in a baseball uniform, but also they all look the same and I’m really not clear on which boy it was.

I got to watch some fun baseball, and got to meet some former players.  One night Larry Walker came up to pet Arthur.  Arthur would have none of it.  He was spooked already, for some reason, and didn’t want anyone to pet him, he didn’t care if you were going to be in the Hall of Fame or not.

Mom chatting up Larry Walker

Later the same night, my dad had baseballs to be autographed, and so he asked me to get Vinny Castilla and Larry Walker.  I offered both men my signature in exchange for theirs, and can you believe that both of them declined?

Vinny Castilla, chillaxin' in the training room.

On the bus the next day, I sat behind Dante Bichette.  As I walked back into the clubhouse after my dad’s game later that afternoon, George Frasier and Bob Apodacka were talking, and Bob stopped politely to hold the door for me.

Dad calling pitches for Dante Bichette in the campers vs. coaches scrimmage.

It’s got me thinking about fame.  They’re just regular guys.  Well, they’re regular very talented guys, but regular guys just the same.  They’re not more special than, well, say, me for instance.  So, I’m not quite sure why they don’t want my autograph.  I’m Arthur’s handler, after all, plus, I’m really cool.

Arthur in his rally cap, cheering.

I got back on Saturday and it was so good to be in my own bed.  I think Arthur felt the same way, he has pretty much been sleeping ever since we got back, except for a quick trip to the dog park yesterday.  It was the first time that coming back to my little house really felt like coming home, and that was a treat.  Home sweet home.

Here are photos of some of the highlights:

Dad in his catching gear, where he mostly played, but he also played a little outfield, a little infield, and pitched one inning (with one strike-out,  yay, Dad!).

The whole group

In our rally caps.  "Come on, Dad's Team!"

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