Well as Will Ferrell put it in his SNL skit depicting Harry Carey, "A lot of things happened, some good...some bad."  This spring training has been very up and down.  Of course, it has been a very good experience.  But things are looking up for me people.  AJ actually managed a complete sentence that was directed at me.  AJ then asked a follow up question after I answered the first.  Once again people, things are really looking up.  I went to dinner with Jim Thome, Paul Konerko, and AJ the other day.  This was a huge bragging nugget to my friends back home.  I called a couple of friends the day before and casually brought up the fact that I was going to dinner with three all-stars and at least one sure fire hall of famer.  For all of you people who have heard such good things about Jim Thome, I just wanted to let you know they are all true.  Jim treated me as his equal when I have yet to step foot in a major league game.  He will be in the Hall of Fame, probably first ballot, and he treated me like I had known him for ten years.  There is a lot to be said for treating people like that. 

 

      I try everyday to make sure that I treat people in a way that I would like to be treated.  I will be the first to say that I love the fans.  The fans are why I play this game.  When I run out onto the field and the fans go crazy, that's what fires me up, that's what gets me ready to play.  I try to sign as many autographs as I can each day.  Problem is, sometimes it just isn't going to happen.  There are days where it's impossible.  I feel bad when I can't sign every autograph but the fact is, I have a job to do.  If I pull a hamstring because I was not loose for the game, I am blamed for that.  I think there are moments when people forget that.  There is another problem which a lot of players keep in mind when signing autographs.  There are some people out there that try to profit off your signature.  THAT'S PRETTY SAD.  I was once approached by a little boy about six years old.  He ran up to me while I was going to the cage and asked if I could sign his baseball.  He then asked me if I could sign it on the "sweet spot".  Pause right there and tell me when you were six did you know what a sweet spot was?  I did not find out until I was 18 years old!  Anyways, on with the story.  Even though I was a little suspicious of how he knew what the sweet spot was, I reached down to sign his ball.  My teammate, who will remain nameless, asked the little boy, "What's your name buddy?"  Once we found out what his name was, my buddy asked him if it would be alright if I personalized the baseball to him.  Pause right there and tell me if you were six or you have a six year old child who wanted an autograph, wouldn't you be ecstatic to have your name on the ball?  I know I would have been beyond pumped.  Personalizing a ball is genuine.  It means that you wanted it for you and no one else.  Back to the story.  The kid looked shocked and depressed when I asked him if I could personalize it for him.  He looked blankly around and then said ever so meekly and unexcitedly that I could.  Finally I went into the cage as the kid ran off.  My friend told me to watch from the cage.  I then watched the little boy run to a couple of grown men.  He started to walk with what I guess was his father and gently handed him the ball.  For me, this is one of the saddest moments I have had as a pro.  I love kids.  I love the fact in how genuine they are about getting autographs and how their joy helps make my job easier (not that it is too difficult).  I will never forget bawling after I heard the news that our game was cancelled one afternoon.  I was ten and my Dad had just called the game.  It's that emotion, that love for baseball that I see in every kids eyes.  It always makes me smile.  So for all you true fans and kids out there, thank you for making my life easier and more enjoyable.  You truly are the reason I play the game.  The genuine people unfortunately get mixed with the guys who are there to profit, and for that I apologize.  For the true fans out there, I just want to say thank you.

 

      But it is basically all quiet on the western front ladies and gentlemen.  I will be heading east, back to my southern roots, on Saturday.  Back where people drink sweet tea, say "ya'll" and "yes ma'am".  Where there is more green than concrete and skyscrapers aren't always metal.  Where there are actually trees, big majestic two-hundred year old oak trees entrenched in southern soil.  Where the writings of Pat Conroy float through the marsh breeze on the coast of the southern shore.  Where thunderstorms are actually welcomed after two months of no clouds.  But mainly, where baseball parks light up the bright red marinated sunset.

 

Should be fun.

 

     

HEY! Let me ask you a question.  If the moon were made of spare ribs would you eat it?  I know I would, heck...I'd have seconds, then I'd polish it off with a nice cold Budweiser.

 

Will Ferrell imitating Harry Carey

           So recently I have continued to notice that I don't know "jack squat" about anything.  I might as well be living "in a van down by the river!"  While the baseball seems to be coming relatively easy, the clubhouse ribbing seems to get even tougher.  Lately, the border war between AJ and I has become relatively heated.  I have hit two homeruns this spring training and the next day is always a rough one.  AJ claims that my bag is on his side of the "border".  I walk in and he asks why I placed my bag inside of his locker.  He insists that I purposely threw my bag in his locker to mock him.  I think we all know that is the last thing I want. 

            It seems like everything I do is put under the microscope.  But I guess that's ok because it keeps me on my toes.  The other day was Harold Baines' birthday.  I actually had the day off that day but as soon as I got to the field, AJ informed me I would be presenting the cake to Harold.  So in the bottom of the first I came out of the bathroom with the cake and presented it to Harold.  Harold almost dropped the cake which would have been awesome.  I was kind of hoping he would just throw the cake on me because I deserved it!  But that would have been detrimental to the stomachs of our training staff who devoured the whole cake once it was safely back in the dugout.

           

To take a quote from Matt Foley:   

 

"You kids are probably saying to yourselves, hey I'm going to go out and grab the world by the tail and wrap it around and pull it down and put it in my pocket.  Well I'm here to tell you, your probably going to find out as you go out there...that your probably not going to amount to jack squat!"

 

Well to be honest, the last couple weeks have made me feel that way.  I'm pretty depressed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Kidding.

 

 

 

"A funny thing to do is, if you're out hiking and your friend gets bitten by a
poisonous snake, tell him you're going to go for help, then go about ten feet
and pretend that *you* got bit by a snake. Then start an argument with him
about who's going to go get help. A lot of guys will start crying. That's why
it makes you feel good when you tell them it was just a joke."

It takes a big man to cry, but it takes a bigger man to laugh at that man.

Well just when I thought I had a lot of things figured out, I realized I had no clue.  It wasn't long before AJ Pierzynski caught me unaware.  Just as I had stepped in the box for live BP, which is thrown by pitchers, AJ asks me about my number.  Remember now that I was trying to focus on the pitches and impress the people around me so I wasn't very tuned in to what AJ was saying.  Nevertheless, looking back on it, I probably should have just turned around and focused completely on AJ because I had no idea of the consequences of my mindless banter.  Here is the conversation.

 

AJ:  So Beckham, why in the world would they give you number 80?

 

#80:  Not sure man, it's my first spring, what number do you think I should have been given?

 

AJ:  Well I figured they were just going to un-retire and give you Harold's number.

 

#80:  Who's Harold?

 

Now I would like to stop right there and clarify.  I was fully aware who Harold Baines was.  I had met him earlier that week.  I will admit that I did not realize the magnitude of the player he was in MLB history.  What I meant to ask AJ was "What's his number?"  But being nervous anyways that I was hitting live BP in front of people who mattered, I didn't really think about what I was saying.  So AJ, being very outgoing and witty, made sure that this moment was not forgotten throughout the clubhouse.  Word soon spread and I knew it was only a matter of time before I was called out on a much larger stage.

 

It was a few days later, just when I was recovering from my embarrassment when it happened.  There were a bunch of camera crews on the field and I was asking around on what was going on.  I figured there had to be some sort of big announcement.  So we had all gathered for stretch and were just going through announcements when Joey Cora decided to play a little game entitled "Who am I?"  As soon as the first stat was recited, I knew exactly what was going on.  Joey went through about ten different stats in which Harold was on the ALL-TIME list.  I was a little embarrassed, to put it mildly, that I didn't know more about the greatest White Sox player.  At the end Joey said lets take a crack at it.  It seemed like a million hands went up and of course he pointed directly at me and I then recited what I had learned about Harold. 

 

#80:  That would be Harold Baines, he wore and still wears #3, and is Jerry Reinsdorf's favorite player.

 

Harold then came up behind me and I was given a picture and sharpie for Harold to sign.  I asked if he could sign it to me and once he did I turned around to about ten different cameras in my face.  At this point Jermaine Dye told me to tell them what happened and I then proceeded to continue my embarrassing day by retelling the story everyone in camp already knew.

 

I now have Harold's picture signed, and it currently resides in my locker where everyone can see.

 

The title of this post represents my feelings so far throughout camp.  In the SNL skit "The Japanese Game Show", Chris Farley is a contestant on the show and has absolutely no idea what is going on.  He can't speak Japanese and really struggles to answer anything correctly that is asked.  I thought this skit is very similar to my experience thus far.  The one good thing that I can cling to, is the fact that once I step foot on the field, I feel like I am right back into my comfort zone.  Once I start playing all the off-field actions are forgotten and I remember why I'm here.  AJ makes the baseball easy.

 

I would like to leave you with a quote from another SNL skit in which my blog is named after.

 

 To me, it's always a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?" you can say, "Sorry, got these sacks."

Jack Handey