No. 678 – Secret Touch

Performer: Rush

Songwriters: Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson, Neal Peart

Original Release: Vapor Trails

Year: 2002

Definitive Version: Live in Rio, 2003

By September 2003, I was feeling good about being in Cleveland. I had my routine down, and my research was going great. I was feeling comfortable. And when I got an email that the Cleveland chapter of SABR, the Society for American Baseball Research, of which I was a member, was having its fall meeting downtown on a Saturday, I decided to go. I would bypass my usual Saturday of working all day at home while I watched college football on TV. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made.

The meeting was held at Alice Coopers’town (get it?), which was the aforementioned brass-rail bar where Scott and I watched the Stanley Cup playoffs while awaiting friends coming from the Pink Floyd concert nine years before.

The guest speaker was Joe Santry, who worked for the Columbus Clippers—my hometown team—and was a noted Columbus baseball historian. He spoke about Jack Graney, who was a beloved Cleveland baseball player, and his ties to Columbus baseball. (In fact, Graney was the namesake of the Cleveland chapter, aka the Jack Graney Chapter.)

Other than that, I couldn’t tell you what Joe said that day until the end. He finished his brief presentation with the announcement, by the way, the Clippers were looking for an official scorer, so any SABR members who were interested should speak with him after the meeting.

I couldn’t think about anything else the rest of the meeting. I had quit my job at The Dispatch—essentially thrown my newspaper career out the window—just so I could research minor-league baseball statistics and history (while continuing to write for BaseballTruth, of course). Now here was an opportunity to actually SHAPE the said statistics. I would help to generate the numbers that appear annually in The Sporting News annual Baseball Guides.

But the most enticing thought was that I COULD do it. I’d been scoring games since I was 8, knew baseball cold (or at least thought I did) and—best of all—I had a wide-open schedule. Every baseball team plays at least a dozen or so day games, which a full-time job would prevent from attending. That was no problem for me.

At the time, my plan was to be in Cleveland till my lease ran out at the end of March and then head to L.A. But it wasn’t necessary to be in L.A. at that time. Why not, say, just head out in September when the minor-league season ended?

I spoke with Joe afterward, gave him my BBT business card, and he said to get in touch with him after New Year’s. I was feeling giddy, but there was only one problem: The job paid bupkiss—$40 per game. It was obvious that I couldn’t support myself on that, so I needed some help. Fortunately, I had potential free room-and-board.

I approached Dad at Thanksgiving and told him of my opportunity—I would work Clippers games for a summer before heading to L.A.—so would it be possible if I freeloaded off him for a summer? He was all for it, thought it sounded like a great opportunity for me, and what the heck, most of the summer, the house would be empty anyway.

Laura, Matt and Casey would spend the summer—from mid-May to Labor Day—at Torch Lake. Dad would be going back and forth half the time and gone the rest. I would essentially serve as in-home security while taking care of the yard and any other chores that popped up.

That said, I also think he thought—as I did—that it would be a great opportunity for us to bond when he was home during the week as we hadn’t since certainly before I started dating Debbie and, truthfully, since the divorce.

With that resolved, I called Joe, and he had me come in for an interview and a scoring test. I drove down from Cleveland the night before in January (when I found Los Lonely Boys) and wore my suit, which was the right move even though NO ONE wears suits in baseball.

We chatted for a while about my experience. Joe explained that I would be an employee of the International League (AAA ball), not the team, to maintain independence in the scoring. Then Joe had me score about five innings of a game on videotape. I also met Ken Schnacke, the GM of the Clippers.

When we were done, Joe asked how many games I wanted to do. Still not grasping that I already had the gig, I said I could do all of them if he wanted. (I had no idea how many people they interviewed.) All he said was to come in a few days before the season started in April to check out the set-up in the press box.

And with a final handshake, it was official: My major-league dream had died 24 years before, but I now was employed by Organized Baseball.

Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway (and there are plenty of stories to come), that would be—and probably always will be—the best job I ever had.