What's the worst that could happen?

[Moriarty9]

As a kid growing up, every single Christmas Day, like clockwork, my dad would get me a new glove. From Little League through High School and Legion ball to college, I always got a new mitt. That stopped back in 2002, after I suffered an awful shoulder injury that ended my college pitching career as a sophomore.
The new glove was replaced by other types of Christmas gifts and eventually I joined dad on the men’s slow-pitch softball team he played for - Levin Accounting – and, when I could, helped my uncle coach his son’s Little League team.
It was much to my surprise this Christmas when, as the family gathered at my grandmother’s home out by the Cape, that I unwrapped a familiar gift with a smell that brought me back to my glory days. I tore the wrapping paper off what was the box for a toaster my mother had purchased earlier in the year and cut through the tape sealing its contents inside. I had hoped for a digital video camera but thought the box was far too light to be the one I had not-so-subtly hinted at in the weeks and months leading up to Christmas. I opened the box and froze for a moment, surprised by what rested inside the cardboard container. I reached in and pulled it out – a new mitt. As I removed it from the toaster box, that wonderful smell of the soft leather glove hit me like a tidal wave. I looked up, somewhat confused, at my father, who sat next to my mother and was grinning like a fool.
“Thanks dad,” I said. “But isn’t this a little small for the outfield?”
He nodded.
“It’s not for the outfield,” he replied. “It’s to wear while you’re pitching.”
I laughed as I had never pitched in any of our softball games and the team’s sponsor has been the one and only pitcher the Levin Accounting squad had ever had.
“Dad, I’m just an outfielder and Barry isn’t going to stop pitching now,” I said.
That’s when he smirked a little and told me to take a look at what was taped on the bottom of the toaster box.
Confused, I slowly turned the carton upside down and saw a newspaper article taped to the cardboard.
The headline read: “Tornadoes’ hopefuls to give it a whirl”
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Read it,” my father insisted.
I looked back down at the article.
“WORCESTER – Think you’ve got what it takes to play professional baseball? Then the Worcester Tornadoes want to see it,” the story read. “The team announced last week it would be holding three try-out dates, giving local high school and college players the chance to impress manager Rich Gedman and compete for a potential roster spot with the Tornadoes.”
I looked up at my father, not knowing what to say.
“Dad, I … I don’t think they’re looking for slow-pitch softball outfielders,” I said.
He laughed.
“But every team at every level is always looking for pitching,” he responded.
“I haven’t … dad … I … I haven’t pitched to anything but 11 and 12-year-old kids for almost four years,” I said, shooting down the suggestion that I had any shot of making it onto the team. “I can’t hang with those guys. They have stronger arms. Better arms. Arms that haven’t had surgeries performed on them.”
He shrugged.
“Just give it a shot. That’s all I’m saying,” he said. “We’ll have you start warming up the arm now and build up your strength and by that first February try-out you should be able to at least give it a shot.”
I protested but my father refused to accept it. A couple other family members urged me to give it a chance.
“What’s the worst that could happen? They don’t sign you and you’re right where you are today,” my sister insisted. “It’s a win-win situation. There’s nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
Eventually, after being subjected to what felt like an intervention, I agreed.

[Moriarty9]

I walked into the DCU Center, although as far as I’m concerned it’s still the Centrum, with a small gymbag containing my spikes, glove, baseball and cell phone. I looked around the locker room as guys bigger and stronger than me, younger than me, and, with better arms than me filed in, dressed and prepared for the open try-out. While there were some guys my age, and some older, the majority were high school students and college students. In fact, as I looked around, most were wearing their school uniforms: Auburn, Shepherd Hill, Holy Cross, St. Peter-Marian. I stood there in my softball uniform: Levin Accounting.
Dave Smith, the third base coach of the Tornadoes came into the locker room and gave everyone a quick rundown as to the day’s events. The short story was that there would be a lot of running, a lot of hanging around and waiting, a lot of throwing, a lot of hitting and a lot of guys going home disappointed.
The group was split into a number of smaller groups, primarily segregated by position. There were 11 other guys in my group, three that were in high school, five that were in college, two that were out of college or had never attended, and one that had been drafted out of high school by the Milwaukee Brewers in 1997, but had undergone three surgeries and was out of the game by age 23.
We did plenty of stretching, playing pass, taking grounders and running before, one-by-one, pitching coach Bobby Ojeda called our assigned number to take the hill.
When I heard them call my number – 203 – I nervously walked over and met Coach Ojeda.
“What do you have kid?” he asked.
Not sure what exactly he meant, I responded: “Sorry?”
“Don’t be sorry kid, just tell me what you got,” he said. “What do you throw?”
I felt like an idiot for not figuring it out on my own and told him I threw a four-seam fastball, changeup and curveball.
“Alright,” he said. “Give me five of each.”
I nodded and walked onto the artificial mound sitting on the arena floor, 60 feet and six inches away from the plate laying in front of a catcher I had never thrown to. I moved my feet around, trying to find a comfortable spot before settling in on the thirdbase side of the rubber.
My arm was loose after warming up several minutes before and I looked in at the catcher, hesitating to throw.
“C’mon kid,” one of the coaches said.
Hurriedly I went threw my windup and delivered a high fastball.
I looked over at the coaches and team personnel, most of whom were scribbling in their notebooks. Coach Ojeda just stared blankly at me, then, with his eyes, indicated I should keep throwing.
Again I looked over to see where the catcher had set the glove as my target. I went threw my windup and delivered a fastball a little bit below the target. I continued, each pitch right in the area of the target. Of my five curveballs, only one was a 58-footer, failing to even reach the plate nevermind hitting the strike zone.
I walked off the mound and went back to my seat. No feedback or comments were offered. For another 40 minutes I sat and watched others pitch. Then they told us to take lunch and come back in one hour.
I joined a couple of the other guys from my group at a pizza place down the street and we each talked about what we thought our chances were and where we had played and such.
We came back to the Centrum about 15 minutes early but had to sit in the concourse awaiting the doors to be opened up.
It was 25 minutes later that the doors opened up and Coach Smith told us each group had a sheet posted inside the arena where comments were listed. We hurried over to our area and huddle around the sheets. Some of the others from my group read their results aloud: “Good movement but poor control … doesn’t have professional stuff … should work on mechanics.”
I traced my finger down the paper looking for #203. About two-thirds of the way down the sheet was my number.
“Strong fastball … good changeup … should work on curveball … decent runner … below average fielder … awful hitter … should return Saturday at 2 p.m.”
My eyes must have doubled as my head shook a little as I read that last comment: “should return Saturday at 2 p.m.”
I was going to get a second look. I had done enough to earn another opportunity. I couldn’t believe it. I was one step closer to actually putting on a baseball uniform once again … so long as I didn’t fall flat on my face in the second try-out. But hey, what was the worst that could happen?

[aboe7830]

following

[Moriarty9]

I walked into the Centrum, wearing my familiar Levin Accounting uniform and toting my gymbag. Seeing some familiar faces from the previous weekend’s open try-outs, I talked to a few guys as we warmed up and loosened up our arms.
Thirdbase coach Dave Smith walked in and congratulated us for making it to the private try-outs. After a few minutes of telling us what to expect, he introduced the rest of the coaching staff and then manager Rich Gedman. I had met Gedman when I was 11-years-old, taking part in a baseball camp he ran. Although I didn’t remember him when he played for the Red Sox, the fact that he had played at Fenway Park was enough for this 11-year-old.
Coach Gedman spoke to us and over the next few hours watched us hit, run, field and, lastly, pitch.
Pitching Coach Bobby Ojeda, also a former Red Sox player, told me that this time around I would throw 15 fastballs, 15 changeups and 15 curveballs. Gedman stood by and watched as we took our turns throwing to the catcher.
I stepped in and my fastball was good as I managed to hit my spots with relative ease. The changeup, always my favorite pitch, was also hitting the glove. The curveball was better than the last time out – none of the 15 hit the arena floor in front of the plate.
We were told to take lunch and come back in one hour.
Somewhat superstitious, I got a couple of the other guys to head to the same pizza place down the street and I made sure we grabbed the same booth I had sat in the week prior.
We returned 10 minutes early and, just a few minutes later, the doors were opened.
Coach Smith thanked all of us for our time and began reading a list of guys who could go home now. As he read through the list I began thinking about how good my chances were of making it through to the next part of the process. I replayed each pitch in my mind, trying to think how far the catcher had to move the mitt or how much of a pop resonated throughout the Centrum.
As guys began filing out, dejected and disappointed, Smith congratulated those who made the cut and posted the new groupings on the wall. I looked through the groups but didn’t see my name. Had I been lost in thought when he called off my name?
My face began turning red as I realized I had been cut. I grabbed my gymbag and tried to sneak out without anyone noticing I had mistakenly stuck around.
I was almost through the door when Coach Smith called out my name.
“Moriarty! Where you going?” he blurted out.
I turned around.
“Wha?” I mumbled out.
“Where are you going?” Smith asked. “Your group is the first up. Let’s go.”
Confused but more than willing to stick around until he realized I was on the cut list, I quickly joined the group walking out toward the artificial mound.
Each of us threw to a handful of other hopefuls, pitching as if it was a live game.
We were each given two simulated innings.
My first inning started with a thud – the thud of the ball hitting the batter above the thigh.
I induced a groundball, a pop up and struck out the fourth hitter of the simulated inning for the third out. When I returned for my second and final simulated inning, I started things off with an eight-pitch strikeout before a wicked line drive and a couple of groundballs.
About two hours later the final pitches had been thrown and we were all told to head home and that some of us may be called for future try-outs.

[Moriarty9]

It was a Saturday night in June when my cell phone went off. I was in the dugout waiting to bat for the Levin Accounting team and didn’t recognize the number so I let it go. Sunday morning I listened to the voicemail and quickly found myself looking at the clock and jumping up to collect my things.
Domingo Rodriguez, a 23-year-old Tornadoes pitcher, had suffered a minor elbow injury and the team had selected a handful of the pitchers from the try-out to come to Hanover Insurance Park at Fitton Field and work out with the team and possibly fill Rodriguez’ spot.
There were only four others that made it to the park, meaning I had a 20% chance of being the guy selected. Two of the other four were lefties, which I figured gave them the edge. We each threw a few simulated innings against a handful of Tornadoes hitters, including Bear Dunn, a third baseman from a neighboring town.
As I walked off the field that day I was pleased with my effort and congratulated some of the other guys on their work. Coach Ojeda quietly stopped me as I walked toward the locker room and said to grab a shower and then come see him in Coach Gedman’s office.
It had to be the fastest shower I’ve ever had in my life as I scrubbed up and washed myself as if my life depended on it. I got dressed with my hair still soaking wet and walked to the manager’s office, knocking on the door.
“Come in,” Gedman responded.
I walked in and saw Gedman, Ojeda and Dave Smith sitting around his desk.
“That was quick,” Ojeda said. “Take a Mexican shower or what?”
I smiled a little and stood before them.
“We liked what you did out there today Shaun,” Gedman said. “What are you doing Wednesday?”
Flustered I quickly tried to think about what I was doing this week, when the next softball game was, when the next Little League game was and my work schedule.
“I’ll be working and my cousin has a Little League game,” I said.
Gedman nodded.
“Well if you’re busy I guess we’ll just have to ask someone else to go up against Sussex,” Gedman said, shrugging.
“No!” I blurted out. “I mean, I’ll be available! I can make it!”
Coach Smith smiled as he got up and came over and grabbed my hand.
“Congratulations,” he said, firmly shaking my hand. “Welcome to the Tornadoes.”

[Moriarty9]

I walked into the Tornadoes clubhouse, scanning the lockers to find my name.
After a few moments, I saw it.
“99 – Moriarty” the tag read.
I slowly walked over and stood before the locker, reaching out and touching the jersey. I stood there in a trance, shocked to see that in a matter of hours I would be pitching in a professional baseball game. My staring contest with my locker came to an end when my cell phone went off. It was my dad.
“Hey dad,” I said, answering the call.
“Are you there yet?” he asked. “Did you get in okay?”
“Yea, I’m standing at my locker right now,” I said with a smile as I picked up my glove. “Thanks dad.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” he said. “I’m not the one who went to the try-outs and earned a roster spot. That was all you. I’m proud of you.”
Getting a little teary-eyed, I began thanking him again when I heard the loud clack of the door opening and a few players walked into the clubhouse.
“I gotta go dad,” I said. “I’ll see you guys at the game.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said. “Good luck.”

[Moriarty9]

I walked out to the bullpen as fans began filing into the stadium. In-between pitches I looked around, taking in the sights and scanning the crowd for familiar faces. As my warm ups came to an end, I spotted my parents, sister and grandparents. I smiled and offered a quiet wave, hoping not to embarrass myself in front of my new teammates.
I walked back to the dugout after a few more warm-up pitches to get ready for the game.
Never in my life did the National Anthem seem to go on as long as it did that night. It seemed to last forever as I stood on the thirdbaseline wearing that white Tornadoes uniform with the black and orange cap in my right hand and covering my chest.
As the crowd cheered at the end of the anthem, I made my way to the mound for the start of the game.
I didn’t know what to expect. The season was only two weeks old and we were at 5-7, as were the Sussex Skyhawks. They had a couple of good hitters, including their cleanup guy Tony Wilkerson. Through his first 35 at bats of the season, Wilkerson was hitting .343 with a pair of homers and 11 RBI. Their starting pitcher, Pete McDuffie, was no slouch either. The lefty was 1-0 with a 2.81 ERA in his two starts.
Our lineup didn’t boast the same kind of offense that Sussex had displayed thus far.
Masuhiro Imai, our switch-hitting secondbaseman, was batting leadoff with a .125 average; catcher Pancho Arteaga hit second with a .227 average with leftfielder Roosevelt Fuller (.269, 0 HR, 6 RBI) third and DH Jorge Gonzales (.255, 0 HR, 3 RBI) hitting cleanup. Thirdbaseman Orlando Zarate, .244 with two homers, hit fifth with firstbaseman Lawrence Elder (.222, 2 RBI) hitting sixth. The bottom of the order was rounded out by rightfielder Raul Gomez (.182), centerfielder Julio Orozco (.296, 1 RBI) and shortstop Richard Gibson (.208).
I hoped our bats would come alive tonight because a little run support sure would be nice that first and possibly only time out.
My first professional pitch was to Sussex shortstop Armando Vazquez. It was a curveball, called strike on the outside corner. I followed it up with a high and tight fastball for a ball and a hard fastball on the inside half of the plate that was swung on and missed. I tried to push a low fastball by Vazquez but it was fouled off before I came inside with another fastball that was swung on and missed.
I pumped my fist, the adrenaline flowing through me freely as I recorded my first out – a strikeout no less. As I walked back to the mound, I quickly found my family’s seats and grinned.
A groundout and a seven-pitch strikeout later and I was out of the inning, retiring the side in order.
Wilkerson was the first Skyhawk to reach base, singling a 1-1 fastball to leftfield to open up the top of the second inning. Fortunately, he was quickly erased on a 1-4-3 double play. Unfortunately, the double play was then followed by a Pedro Pena to rightfield, giving a 1-0 lead.
I managed a 1-2-3 third inning and as I walked to the dugout off the mound I heard a loud ovation coming from the grandstands. I looked up and was shocked to see my uncle’s Little League team – the one I had helped him coach the last couple years – in attendance after having played a game earlier in the night. It was a special moment.
We managed to tie the game at 1-1 in the last of the fourth after back-to-back doubles from Gonzales and Zarate and took the lead with a two-out double from Gomez.
I went to the fifth inning with a 2-1 lead, having thrown 56 pitches and letting up three hits while striking out four. I managed to preserve the lead with a groundout, strikeout and a lineout. In the sixth, after allowing a leadoff double, I managed to again maintain the 1-run advantage with a popout and a pair of strikeouts.
Wilkerson led off the seventh with a single up the middle. Working with a slim lead, the tying run on base and 85 pitches thrown, I began wondering just how far Coach Gedman would let me go. I wanted to get through and earn the victory, but I didn’t know what kind of a leash they’d give me.
I pushed the thought out of my mind to focus on the task at hand. I worked SussexBurgos low in the zone and managed to get him to ground into a double play before forcing another ground out to end the inning.
In the home half of the seventh we had two men on with one away. I sat on the bench, hoping to get a little more run support, a little more wiggle room. Fortunately I got it. Gonzales doubled in a run before Zarate was intentionally walked to load the bases with one out. Dave Edwards came in to pinch-hit and slapped a two-run single to right before Gomez singled in another run. Orozco then came through with a big two-run double, making it 8-1. The scoring ended there for the inning but now I was working with a seven-run lead with six outs remaining.
I took the mound with a new level of confidence, knowing I had done my job and that the offense had done theirs and that we should come away with the win … so long as we didn’t let up or let the Skyhawks back into the game.
I managed to retire the side in order once again, picking up my 8th strikeout along the way.
I had thrown 110 pitches and was pretty sure my night was over as I walked off the mound in the eighth inning. My family sitting a little ways up and beyond our dugout cheered, as they had at the end of every inning, and I smiled out at them.
When I entered the dugout, my suspicions were confirmed as Coach Ojeda came over and shook my hand, congratulating me on a “fine job out there tonight son.”
The offense put together another run in the last of the eighth and lefty Leon O’Bryan came on to close out the game, which he did while facing four batters.
Coach Smith had grabbed a ball that had been fouled into the dugout back in the seventh inning and handed it to me as a souvenir from my first professional win.
We met on the field after the final out had been recorded, congratulating one another on the win. As we went back to the dugout to head to the clubhouse, I looked out at the crowd and saw my family giving me a standing ovation as the 11 and 12-year-olds on my uncle’s Little League team jumped up and down.
I grabbed the baseball sitting in my back pocket and tossed it up to my father in the stands.
“Merry Christmas!” I yelled out to him with a grin.

My pitching line:
8 0/3 innings, 5 hits, 1 run, 0 walks, 8 strikeouts, 110 pitches, 73 strikes; Win (1-0), 1.13 ERA

[majormet]

Interesting read thus far...

What league is this that Moriarty is pitching in and does it have connections to the majors? Or is it an independent team?

[Moriarty9]

The Worcester Tornadoes are in the Canadian-American League. It's an independent league set up in the northeast with 10 teams from New Jersey, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Canada.

There are a couple guys who have played in the big leagues that are now (or have been recently) in the CanAm League such as Rich "El Guapo" Garces, Oil Can Boyd and Choo Freeman.

[Moriarty9]

WORCESTER - A strong outing by newcomer Shaun Moriarty and poor New Jersey defense led to a Tornadoes victory tonight, 7-0 at WORCESTER – Fine pitching by newcomer Shaun Moriarty coupled with poor Hanover Insurance Park at Fitton Field.
Moriarty improved to 2-0 with seven shutout innings, in which he yielded one hit and one walk while striking out nine. Worcester reliever Bob Jaggers pitched the final two innings, allowing one hit and striking out one.
“I felt pretty good out there tonight,” said Moriarty, whose 0.60 ERA over his first two appearances have caught the eyes of a number of teammates.
“He’s got some good stuff,” catcher Pancho Arteaga said. “His fastball is hard and has good movement, the curveball was working really well tonight and he does a really nice job with his changeup.”
Tornadoes rightfielder Rob Ross led the charge offensively, going 2-for-4 with a three-run homer in the third inning. While Ross’ three-run shot was enough offense to pick up the win, the Jackals defense paved the way for Worcester as only one of the Tornadoes’ seven runs was earned. New Jersey thirdbaseman Teddy Coates made a pair of errors while starting pitcher Alexander Croy also made an error.
Croy, who dropped to 1-3 with the loss, let up six runs, one earned, on seven hits and one walk with a pair of strikeouts over 4 1/3 innings.
With the win, the Tornadoes improve to 9-9.

[Moriarty9]

Growing up, my friends and cousins were constantly in the backyard making crazy pitches or taking swings with heavily taped Wiffle Ball bats.
We’d always emulate our favorite players at the plate and on the mound. I can still remember hunching myself over the plate like Mo Vaughn and squatting down like Jeff Bagwell or throwing sidearm like Dennis Eckersley.
My cousin Cal Powell always assumed the roles of Cal Ripken Jr. and Mike Mussina. Although he’s from Cal was always an Orioles fan – largely just because he shared his name with Ripken. Although he’s four years younger than me, he always managed to hold his own in the family games of Wiffle Ball – especially on the mound. He always knew how to throw the different breaking pitches and would make up grips and test them out on us. Although I haven’t seen much of New Hampshire, Cal the last couple years, I’ve heard from my father that he’s been doing quite well as a pitcher and centerfielder for Franklin Pierce College in New Hampshire. I managed to catch one of his games yesterday and he told me there had been a handful of scouts making the trip up there to take a look at him. Apparently, one of those scouts saw something he liked as Cal was drafted today by the Colorado Rockies as a pitcher.
From what I’ve heard so far, it sounds like he’ll be a reliever and start off with the Casper Rockies, Colorado’s Rookie League team, as soon as he signs. Cal was taken in the 29^th round – 842^nd overall.
I heard about his draft selection while on the team bus heading to the ballpark for tonight’s game with the Nashua Pride. He was planning on coming to the Pride game tonight to see my start, but I’m not sure if he’ll make it now as I’m sure his friends and teammates will want to celebrate with him.
I gave him a call as I got off the bus and left a voicemail to congratulate him and ragged on him for surpassing me as the best ballplayer in the family. Hopefully he has some good success and can make a name for himself and work his way up to the big leagues.
My sister said today that with my success with the Tornadoes so far that maybe I can race Cal to the Major Leagues. I had to explain once again that the CanAm League is not a MLB minor league, its an independent league … not that guys from here haven’t been signed to minor league contracts or worked their way onto a big league roster.
Who knows, maybe it could happen someday. I’m not counting on it and I’m certainly not going to worry about it. I have enough to worry about – like finding a way to beat the Pride tonight.

[Moriarty9]

While I was pretty nervous my first two games with the Tornadoes – especially that first outing – tonight’s game in Nashua was one of the most stressful from the first pitch to my last in the eighth inning.
I started the game off with a quick strikeout and I was feeling good until Pride firstbaseman Brian Calhoun took me deep with two outs and nobody on in the bottom of the first inning. I was starting off in the hole but fortunately my teammates were able to put a run on the board in the third inning after a Roosevelt Fuller double. Rosey was pretty good tonight, picking up three hits and three RBI. Only problem was their starting pitcher, Murray Manson, was pretty good too. He let up one run in 7 1/3 innings, keeping me stressed to the max as we were locked into a 1-1 pitcher’s duel all night long.
Over my eight innings, I let up one run on three hits with no walks and six strikeouts. I had 107 pitches and Coach Gedman decided to bring in Carl Moore in the ninth inning. Carl was awesome, pitching two perfect innings with three strikeouts and holding Nashua down until we could score a few runs in the top of the 10^th and get the win.
I pitched pretty well and I was pleasantly surprised that my cousin Cal was able to make it to the game tonight after being drafted by the Rockies today. I didn’t think he had made it to the park but in the third inning they showed him on the big screen in centerfield with a congrats type of message.
We went out after the game and had a couple drinks to celebrate his draft selection. I joked with him that as bad as the Orioles are that even they wouldn’t pick him up. Of course he quickly reminded me that at least he had been drafted. It’s tough to joke around about his talent when he’s the one playing for a MLB-affiliated team.
I wish Cal the best of luck and can’t wait until I have to grab a plane ticket and head out to Denver to catch a Rockies game.

[Moriarty9]

I was cruising through last night's game against the Grays when my shoulder starting bugging me. It wasn't too bad and I managed to get through the seventh inning easy enough and pitched through the pain in the eighth.
Coming off the mound in the eighth and walking into the dugout, Coach Ojeda and Coach Gedman were right there waiting for me. I was a bit surprised to see them as I had let up just one hit and no walks with nine strikeouts over my eight innings so I certainly didn't expect to get pulled, especially since I had only thrown 87 pitches.
They had noticed me wince a few times and wanted me to sit the ninth as a safety precaution. This morning, I was called into the park early and met with the coaching staff and the trainer. They want me to sit out a start or two, just to be safe. I don't like the idea - it took me a long time to get to this point and I don't want to waste the opportunity. However, its not necessarily my call and I have to do what they want. Afterall, they're just trying to protect me.
On the bright side, we won last night's game 5-0, bringing me to 3-0 with a 0.58 ERA on the season.

[Curtis]

There's some really weird stuff going on with your posts. I tried to copy one that was obviously missing some stuff from the middle to show you what I mean, but the stuff that copied was what had been missing, and when I went back to check on it, the parts that I had tried to copy were missing. Weird. Almost as weird as seeing Bobbie Ojeda refered to as an ex-Red Sox player. (Mets, man! He's an ex-Met!)

Anyway, I like your story, and especially your conversational style of telling it. I hope you can continue it.

[Moriarty9]

Originally Posted by Curtis

There's some really weird stuff going on with your posts. I tried to copy one that was obviously missing some stuff from the middle to show you what I mean, but the stuff that copied was what had been missing, and when I went back to check on it, the parts that I had tried to copy were missing. Weird. Almost as weird as seeing Bobbie Ojeda refered to as an ex-Red Sox player. (Mets, man! He's an ex-Met!)

Anyway, I like your story, and especially your conversational style of telling it. I hope you can continue it.

Yea, you'll notice there's a few posts that say I edited them. I type them up in Word then copy and paste the whole thing to the forum but sometimes, for whatever reasons, portions seem to magically disappear. So I've had to manually cut and paste portions and place them accordingly.

I'll have to keep a better eye on it to make sure I don't let any portions slide by without the full story being in there.

As for Ojeda, I believe he spent parts of more seasons with Boston than the Mets. Probably appeared in more games with the Mets but he came up with Boston and thats all that matters in my book!

I'm going to continue the story and, at various points, may do some interactive portions where readers can dictate certain aspects. We'll see how it goes.

[Curtis]

Originally Posted by Moriarty9

As for Ojeda, I believe he spent parts of more seasons with Boston than the Mets. Probably appeared in more games with the Mets but he came up with Boston and thats all that matters in my book!

There you go! You made me curious, so I checked him out. Six years, 140 games with Boston; five years, 140 games with the Mets; and four years, 71 games with three teams not worth mentioning. But, he won his only world championship (only postseason appearance) with the Mets, and that's all that matters in my book!

[Moriarty9]

Originally Posted by Curtis

There you go! You made me curious, so I checked him out. Six years, 140 games with Boston; five years, 140 games with the Mets; and four years, 71 games with three teams not worth mentioning. But, he won his only world championship (only postseason appearance) with the Mets, and that's all that matters in my book!

Stupid 1986 World Series ... *grumble grumble* ... Bill frickin Buckner ... damn passed ball ... stupid Ray Knight ...

[stevebydac]

I work in Worcester, one block from the DCU Center!! I think I saw you the other day.

[Moriarty9]

When I was a kid, there were two real big holidays for me.
One was Christmas, as it was for every other kid, and the other was Independence Day. While I always excelled in history class, my affection for the Fourth of July had nothing to do with the Boston Tea Party, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death, or George Washington. It was the fireworks.
I remember one Independence Day, before they made all of the fireworks illegal here in Massachusetts, being so excited when it got dark enough for my Uncle Dan out in Framingham to announce it was time to start the fireworks show. Like any overly excited kid, I bolted for the closest door – which happened to be a sliding glass window and a sliding screen that led to the patio. While the glass portion of the door was open, the screen was not and, like a zany cartoon character, I plowed through the screen door.
Although its not quite as awe-inspiring as it once was, I still find fireworks on the fourth to be an entertaining time with friends and family, which made this year’s Independence Day all that more special.
We hosted the Capitales de Quebec this evening for a dusk-time Fourth of July match-up with a grand fireworks show after the game – which had its own fireworks as we and Quebec combined for 31 hits and 12 runs. A number of my friends and family members were on hand, even though I wasn’t pitching. After the game ended and the experts began lighting the first fireworks of the night, I snuck my way through the stands and grabbed a seat with the group.
Before I could make my way from the clubhouse to the bleachers, however, Coach Gedman gave me a Declaration of Independence of my own – I was finally cleared to return to the mound and would do so Saturday, July 7.
Sitting on the bench with a hurting shoulder was extremely difficult as every time one of our pitchers struggled I wondered how I could have done in their place.
I waited until the fireworks finale was about to begin to break the news, creating my own oohs and aahs moments before the bright streaks of blue, red, yellow and white illuminated the night sky.
It was a fun time, even if the guy in the row below us kept telling me how he worked right by the DCU Center, just one block away. Some of these fans are something else.

************************

With the team one game below .500, this afternoon’s game was important not just for me returning to the mound after missing a couple starts, it was important for us to win the game.
My parents and sister made the trip down to southeastern to see my outing against the New Haven County Cutters.
Thanks to a few hits from my teammates, I took the mound in the bottom of the first inning with a 2-0 lead. I hoped to be able to make those two runs be enough to pick up the win. Although I let up an infield single, I managed a pair of strikeouts and a groundout and was out of the first inning with relative ease.
I continued to roll on, producing a number of groundball outs until I left a fastball up in the zone that Roderick Randolph deposited it into the stands for a solo homer in the last of the sixth. It was followed with a groundout, a single and a walk – resulting with two men on and two outs before a groundball to shortstop got me out of the jam and the team out of the inning.
ConnecticutRandolph struck again in the bottom of the eighth, tying the game at 2-2 with another solo shot. I managed to get through the rest of the inning unharmed but we were unable to get anyone on base, nevermind score a run, in the top of the ninth, sending us to the home half of the ninth inning in a tied ballgame. Skip decided my day was over after 105 pitches and I was relieved. The game remained tied until the 12^th inning when New Haven County managed to win the game with a walk-off home run by Pat Moser.
Worcester loses 4-2 in 12 innings.
It’s always frustrating to lose a game, especially extra innings or a game where I can point to leaving a pitch up in the zone and paying dearly for it.

My pitching line:
8 0/3 IP, 2 R, 6 H, 1 BB, 6 K; 105 pitches, 70 strikes

Season stats:
3-0, 0.92 ERA, 5 G, 39 0/3 IP, 16 H, 4 R, 4 HR, 2 BB, 38 K

[Moriarty9]

We’ve been struggling as of late, dropping to 20-26 on the season, and Atlantic City was sending Eric Lee (8-1, 1.98 ERA) to the mound.
Needless to say, I wasn’t terribly confident about our chances. It’s not often than I really go into an outing – especially at home – thinking it’d be a surprise if we were to win, but that’s what the story was heading into tonight’s game.
Things were off to a good start personally and we managed to put together a few hits and load the bases with one out in the last of the second inning. We got onto the board with a two-out single from Rob Ross, our #3 hitter.
Despite what anyone will tell you, it wasn’t until I walked off the field after the fifth inning and looked up at the scoreboard and noticed that I had just lost a no-hitter two batters ago. I had walked a guy earlier in the game and was so intent on just working the batters and hadn’t even thought about how many runners had reached base or how many guys had base hits.
I was feeling good and managed to strike out the first two guys in the sixth inning before yielding a two-out single. I got out of the inning with a linedrive to centerfield.
Atlantic City DH Otis Marks put the pressure on me in the top of the seventh inning with a leadoff double. I battled Noah Harris and, after eight pitches, he struck out.
Dan Bowden, the Surf catcher, drilled a liner into rightfield and Ross made a nice shoestring grab but Marks tagged up and went to third, now with two outs. We got out of the inning with a groundout, retiring the side and keeping the shutout and lead in tact.
We went into the eighth inning with a 2-0 lead and I had 101 pitches under my belt. The eighth was pretty uneventful and after 10 pitches it was to the home half of the inning where our 5-8 hitters were due up. We managed to threaten but squandered the opportunities we created.
We went to the ninth inning clinging to a 2-0 lead and Carl Moore came in to close the door.
While it drives me nuts to hand the ball over to someone else in the ninth inning, especially with a shutout working and when I still feel strong, it’s not always my choice. I trust Carl to do his job, but it’s difficult to have to rely on someone else to get your job done – especially with the 3, 4 and 5 hitters coming up.
Carl induced a ground out, a fly out to rightfield and then a backwards K to end the game and secure the 2-0 victory.
It was a solid win – a big win.

My pitching line:
8 0/3 IP, 4 H, 0 R, 1 BB, 9 K, 110 pitches, 72 strikes; Win (4-0, 0.77 ERA)