Welcome back, blog faithful, for yet another week of wit and whimsy, or something like that. To get right to the point, this one is going to be about some very vivid memories, all brought back to the frontal lobe this week after Bats, Balls, & Burnouts experienced a totally unexpected spike in sales on Amazon. As in, right back up into the top 100 in the category. We hadn’t seen that lofty status in probably a year. That’s not to say that the book is back to top-seller status, although it does continue to sell through various platforms, but it does mean that on a couple of consecutive days during the last week, a lot of people decided to buy a copy all within the same 24 or 36 hours and those simultaneous sales sent the ranking soaring. And that’s not a bad thing!

With that in mind, I took some time off from writing yesterday (I’m on Chapter 6 of the new book!) to do some nostalgic reading. For the first six months or so after Bats, Balls, & Burnouts was published I couldn’t help picking it up regularly, for a couple of reasons. The first was to see if I still liked what I’d done and the second was to go through it to peck away at the stuff I wish I could do over again, which is really masochistic. There are some clunky spots in it, for sure, but for the most part I’m willing to admit I like it. I’m proud of it.

Yesterday, after the spike in sales settled down, I was thinking along those same lines. In my head, I was pondering the thought “I wonder who these people are, and why they all bought it within a day of each other, and I also wonder if they’ll be happy with the $49.95 purchase…” So I picked it up and read a few chapters, trying to put myself in the new buyers’ shoes. And, I immediately gravitated toward a series of chapters. They are chapters I’ve gone to many times before, and that tells me they must rank as some of my favorite chapters in the book. They are the chapters about Paintsville, Tiger Town, Lakeland, Medford, and Royals Stadium (as it was known back then).

The reasons I hold those chapters in such a high place are many, but they are diverse and all of them are very much about life-altering places and events. They were the culmination of so many dreams. My summer in Paintsville, Kentucky was magical. The whole thing was a fantastic experience shared with a group of great guys and fantastic local fans, and my play on the field meant a lot to me. You can’t fake your way through pro ball, and I held my own. I don’t think I’ve ever posted this photo before, because I’m no longer 100% sure who the young lady is. I believe she either worked in the concession stand or in the box office and she may have been related to our owner. I remember her asking to have a photo taken with me on the field during batting practice one day, and I said “Only if I get a copy too.” I think the little boy peeking in at the ballplayers through the open gate is pretty priceless as well, in a Norman Rockwell sort of way.

Mary Bienek, the wife of Vince “The Bronze Fox” Bienek and a Paintsville native, once told me who this young lady was but I don’t recall the details now. If Mary contacts me after reading this blog, I’ll do an update. And holy crap I look young in this picture. Also need a haircut.

So, anyway, back to the tale at hand. Paintsville was a wonderful experience from the day we arrived until the day we all shared hugs and said goodbye. Spring Training in Tiger Town the next year was also something I’d dreamed of my whole life. It was five weeks of constant “pinch yourself” stuff just being there and competing, although the scary ritual of seeing the list of released players on the dorm bulletin board every morning was something I still recall with dread. And the toenail I allowed to get infected after it became ingrown, knocking me out of the lineup for about a week, was one of those “How can I be so stupid?” moments I’m sorta known for.

You know I like to put places and faces to the stories, right? This morning, I did some snooping around on Google Maps and was able to get this angle of Tiger Town. It hasn’t changed much.

The dorm is the building in the lower right. From this angle, it’s looks like a capital C. My room was on the top floor and I think I even remember the window.

If you walked out the front door and stayed on the sidewalk it would take you to the dining hall. Of the two buildings across from the dorm it’s the one with the slightly darker roof. From there, after breakfast we’d all walk on the sidewalk over to the large minor league clubhouse, which is the building with the white roof just below the practice infield. Beyond that sits the four-field complex where we spent every day working out or playing games. To the left, Joker Marchant Stadium where the Tigers play their Spring Training schedule.

I also mentioned, in the book, that the site of Tiger Town was originally an air base during World War II. Two of the old hangers are still visible next to the big parking lot, and the road that runs up and down in the photo was an old runway.

These are really incredibly vivid memories. If I close my eyes I can transport myself back to the summer of ’78 in Paintsville or the spring of ’79 in Tiger Town. I can smell the pine tar and hear the crack of the bat. Of course, the second part of that Tiger Town chapter is about then playing for the Lakeland Tigers in the Florida State League, over in the big ballpark. Interesting memories, and still very vivid, but mostly just frustrating. And let’s not even talk about the stress of having to hold a rope with Howard Johnson, when the tightrope walker made the round trip on a wire strung between the tops of two of the massive light towers. Then the long drive back to Kirkwood after getting released in early June, only to then find out I had to get my butt out to Medford, Oregon the very next day.

I’ve posted this photo before, but it’s worth a repeat because the characters were such a major part of the plot. That’s Mike Altobelli, me, Terry Harper, and Pete Slattery. Otherwise known as Alto, Hawk, Harp, and Slats. It’s pregame and we’re at Miles Field, our home ballpark. I’ve searched and searched for good photos of Miles Field, because it was such a classic minor league park, but there really aren’t many to choose from.

I had the chance to get back there a few times, when driving between Seattle and Sonoma on the NHRA Western Swing, but it’s gone now, replaced by a modern ballpark for whatever team plays there now, in whatever league. I checked the Northwest League’s website and Medford is no longer part of that circuit.

The Medford chapter is one I think I really nailed, because it features so many highs and lows, beginning with just the thrash to get out there one day after driving home from Florida. Truly a “plow forward” moment if there ever was one. I can recall exactly how I felt out in left field during the first inning of the first game. I was slightly disoriented, and very tired, and in my head I remember thinking “Geez, where am I?” Baseball players will go to almost any length to keep playing. I’d gone from Florida to Oregon. And I got off to a hot start out there.

And then Bobby Garrett  threw his bat right through the batting cage netting and it hit me in the face. Life changed once again.

It was a summer of enormously long bus rides (do a Mapquest of the route from Victoria, British Columbia to Medford, Oregon for a good example) great friendships, and sheer exhaustion. 71 games in 72 days, connected by overnight bus rides, $8 per day meal money, and cheap motels. The bumps and bruises every ballplayer inherits were always nagging us, made worse for me by 50+ stitches and some broken teeth. We were all in the best shape of our lives, and by the end of the summer we could barely function. Bus leagues can be tough, and at the time the Medford A’s had one of the toughest schedules in Class A ball in that regard. But we loved it.

While I was searching around for old photos of Miles Field I decided to fly Google Maps around Medford for a bit. The Taco Bell I ate at almost every day for the first week I was hurt, is still there. I found it easily. Without the plastic spork I might have starved to death. I also found the apartment that Alto, John Pignotti, and I shared for a few weeks, and then I went looking for the house a bunch of us shared. Shaun Lacey, Danny Randle, Slats, Harp, Oscar Burnett, Alto, and me all bunking in with our radio play-by-play guy who charged us no rent. Most of us slept on the floor.

I remembered that the house was directly across the street from a school and I had a vague memory of the direction it was from the ballpark. Took me all of 15 seconds to find it. This is it. It’s a duplex and we all lived in the left side of the house. When you’re a long way from home, playing every day and riding the worst bus in captivity, you either fracture as a team or get very close. We were bonded.

And then I pitched and miraculously got a lot of guys out. All while still recovering from the facial and dental injuries and the sheer exhaustion of playing in the Northwest League. It truly was the best of times and the worst of times (thank you, Mr. Dickens) but I recall it all with great clarity and a lot of smiles.

And that, of course, leads to another chapter in which I got to throw a bullpen session at Royals Stadium in Kansas City, when the Oakland A’s finished the 1979 season there. Had we owned iPhones back then, I most certainly would’ve taken a few photos, but alas it all has to be recalled via memory now. That’s not a problem. I’ll never forget a minute of it.

So, yes there are a lot of other stories and anecdotes in the book that I like a lot, some I sincerely cherish, and I think I got most of it right. I like the way it flows and I like how I pieced it all together. But those chapters I just wrote about here hold a special place. It was all about living a dream I’d been chasing since I caught my first fly ball. I hope the folks who just sent the sales ranking up enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Here in Woodbury, we’re having a fantastic week. The leaves are brilliant right now, and after about 10 straight days of rain or drizzle, we’ve had a great week with royal blue skies. It’s a great time to be in Minnesota!

And another great thing we did was get together on Saturday night, with friends Terry & Lynn and Mitch & Kristy. We all headed over to the wonderful State Theater in Minneapolis for a fantastic show. At dinner, we discussed whether it should be called a “show” or a “concert” because it was a unique blend of those two things. It was the Aussie Pink Floyd tribute band. None of us had seen them before, but I’d heard a lot about them over the years and they did not disappoint. They were spot-on with the music, the stage presentation was amazing, and the capacity crowd ate it up. When they wrapped up with “Comfortably Numb” the whole place was singing along. Loudly. It was terrific fun, and they are incredible musicians.

Meanwhile, we also had a visitor over the weekend. Barbara’s sister Kitty flew up from Orlando to escape the heat and humidity and get a taste of autumn up north. She timed it just right. The day she got here was the first day the rain stopped.

We went on a road trip to Franconia, north of Stillwater up the St. Croix River, to show Kitty the funkadelic sculpture park up there, and she loved it. We were there a year ago at the same time, and it’s even better now, with a whole bunch of new concepts and installations. On the way back, we copied what we did last year as well, visiting a huge pumpkin patch off the beaten track.

We filled a large wagon with pumpkins we picked out of multiple acres, and those pumpkins in turn filled the back of my car. Now we have pumpkins galore on the front porch. We’re ready for Halloween, I think. The pumpkin place really is huge. I’d say at least 10 acres, and it has a corn maze too. We stayed focused on the pumpkins. STAY FOCUSED, PEOPLE!!!

So that’s about it for today, I think. Some great memories, quite a few book sales, and a fun weekend. All in all, that’s a good week!

As always, if you read this installment of Bob’s Blog and thought “I coulda done something worse” or “That was better than chipping a tooth” please click on the “Like” button at the top. My accountant is keeping tabs on that.

See you next week!

Bob Wilber, at your service and surrounded by pumpkins.

PS: Within a minute after I published this blog Erica Moon posted on Facebook “No front porch pumpkin photo?” so I feel obliged to fix that oversight. This is not all of them. There are three more in the landscaping as well. And somehow there was a debate as to whether or not we should bring home two more big ones.

Also, since I  bragged about the trees I just ran outside and took a tree pic. It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood!