Jeff Delahey: “I’ve heard you’re a lock to make the team.”
David Dawson: “I doubt I’m a lock. They have two more cuts to make before anything is final. All I can do is my best and whatever they ask of me to help the team.”
Jeff Delahey: “I know you’re a team player … What everyone wants to know is which sport are you going to play? Football or baseball?”
David Dawson: “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. For now, I’ll play both and see what happens.”
“And we’re out.”
“That was painless,” I said.
“I’m saving the hard-hitting stuff for later.”
“What’s the deal with TV? I thought you despised those pretty boys.”
“I’m following you around during the football season.”
“And I agreed to that?” I asked, doing my one-eyebrow skeptical look.
“I told them you would. That’s how I got the job. You wouldn’t want to make me homeless, would you? My wife wouldn’t be happy.”
“I want to see the final cut before I’ll sign any releases,” I warned him.
“I could just follow you around. You’re a public figure now,” Jeff tried.
“Who would get a restraining order against some creepy old guy who said he wanted to touch me,” I shot back.
“The school has already agreed,” Jeff tried another tack.
“I guess you could blur me out,” I offered.
“Or I could agree to show you the final cut,” Jeff conceded.
“I’m not trying to be difficult, but I do have an image to protect. You might catch me doing or saying something I shouldn’t. I have other interests that surprisingly pay me very well.”
“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If I do catch you being human, let’s talk about it before you decide to cut it.”
“I’m not looking to be one of those people on reality TV who makes a fool of themselves just to get ratings. To be honest, if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t even consider doing it. You’ve at least been fair with me. I’ll work with you, but not at the expense of my career.”
“I can’t imagine you doing something that would do that,” Jeff said to appease me.
Unfortunately, I had too much of my mother in me. That meant that at any given time, in the heat of the moment, I might say or do something I would regret later. Caryn had mentioned this documentary to me. But I’d put that away somewhere in my brain as something I didn’t need to deal with right then and had forgotten about it.
The problem was that no matter what they promised you, if they filmed something newsworthy, all bets were off. The only thing that would stop them was if there was some sort of penalty if they breached a contract. I had a feeling that if they found a dead hooker in my trunk, I might have a problem even with that in place.
“Okay, contact my people and get it in writing. I’m trusting you, Jeff.”
“No worries. You’ll be happy when this is done.”
I wouldn’t bet on that.
◊◊◊
The press and the production people from USA Baseball started to filter in with players. I answered questions about my experience here and what I thought about other players. I kept everything light and upbeat. You can’t go wrong complimenting a teammate.
I did get asked a lot about ‘the catch.’ I gave Moose all the credit.
“He has some drills designed to help us concentrate on the ball and use our hand-eye coordination to catch it. One of the drills is to catch it over our head with our glove behind our back. When I saw the ball coming at my face, I did what every player would do: I ducked. It was just blind luck that I remembered the drill and put my hand behind my back. I think no one in the park was more surprised than me when I found the ball in my glove,” I explained.
It turned out I’d had a good week. I led all 108 participants in several categories: home runs, runs batted in, stolen bases, and wins as a pitcher. I was in the top ten in fielding percentage, batting average, and slugging percentage. Of course, this was only over eight games. My one monster game skewed the numbers in my favor. If I was going to have a big game, during the initial camp was the best place to do it.
Next up was the home-run derby. I found a spot in the stands where I could stretch out and watch the action. It didn’t take me long to zone out. I’d seen what amounted to a glorified batting practice enough for several lifetimes.
I felt someone sit down next to me. It was Lucas Kite, scout for the Chicago Cubs.
“Why aren’t you in this?”
“Other teammates needed the exposure for the chance to make the cut, so I gave up my spot.”
“That was nice but foolish. You do realize several of the pro scouts just showed up today. You need to start looking at your long-term future.”
“Let me ask you something: who would you rather have in your clubhouse, a team player, or a prima donna only out for himself?” I asked.
He laughed and shook his head.
“I hear you, but when you get to that level, it’s different. It’s a business that allows you to have the best job on the planet: you get to play baseball every day. But it all comes back to, it’s a business.
“Would I rather have someone that fits the clubhouse? Absolutely. Would I sign a self-centered jerk over a nice guy? If his numbers were better and if having him in the lineup gave us a better chance to win, I would. If you go to the NFL, it’ll be the same. A lot is overlooked if you can deliver the goods,” Lucas explained.
“But being a jerk can hurt your bottom line,” I pointed out.
“All day long, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get paid.
“David, I appreciate that you have a handle on the team play and your image. All I’m saying is, you can take it too far. You realize your spacing out here in the stands tells the scouts you’re not interested. They can more easily twist why you aren’t participating. They’ll say you think you’re a lock and will only put out enough effort to get by,” Lucas said.
I looked at him skeptically, and he held up his hands.
“I know better, but consider the scouts who are seeing you for the first time. What are they thinking?”
“There’s not much I can do about it now,” I complained.
“Sure there is. Help me scout these hitters. What can you tell me about the guy hitting now?” Lucas asked.
“First off, the bat he’s using is too big. He believes he can get more power with it. What he doesn’t realize is it hurts his bat speed, and while mass is important, more force or bat-head speed will get more pop out of the ball. He also holds his hands too low. It causes him to have to move them up before he makes his swing. If he held them higher, he would have his hands in position a split-second sooner. And we both know it’s the little things that make the difference between good and great hitting.
“He’s also slow at recognizing a pitch. That’s likely why he has trouble hitting the curveball. He’s apparently not picking the ball up out of the pitcher’s hand. Either that, or he hasn’t been trained how to tell by the delivery and ball rotation what the pitch is. This causes him to react to a pitch instead of being proactive and having a plan. With proper coaching, I expect his flaws can be fixed. That is if he can learn to see the pitches.
“I expect he’ll make the top 40. The coaches like his size, and he has some power. I just think he could be a lot better,” I concluded.
“Have you ever considered becoming a scout?”
I laughed.
“You mean living out of a suitcase and having to come to games like this every day? Track down rumors of the next big thing and try to decide which raw talent has what it takes to possibly make it to the next level? I’d get to chase dreams with no chance at a personal life, eat bad food at ballparks, and make barely minimum wage?” I asked.
“When you put it that way, it sounds so glamorous.”