(Written at 11:30 p.m. on Friday, 8/14)
I love to broadcast. It's my lifeblood, my energy. Outside of my family and friends, my time behind a microphone is the best time I have in my life. (Insert “If only I had a girlfriend”-type reference here.) It's just...it makes me feel good. It's not even an ego pumper. It's like it's a validation of time and effort; that for me to be able to say anything behind a mike makes me realize that all the hard work I've put in to making this happen was worthwhile.
Many times this year, Mother Nature has been a bitch to my broadcasting aspirations. I say that with love and kindness, for Mother Nature has also given me plenty a sunny day so that I may enjoy my normal day-to-day job that I do with the Blue Jays. But, on the days where I've been allowed to broadcast, it has decided to rain on my parade more often than not. Now...I'm one for the realization that Florida is in a drought and the rain is necessary, but good lord, for three hours, could you turn off the waterworks just ONCE?
Well, apparently, Mother Nature decided that it didn't just want to destroy my thoughts of broadcasting a Friday night game. Oh, no. It decided to try and make a run at my TV spot, as well.
It's funny to think that on Thursday afternoon, life decided to throw me a curveball or two. C'mon. I write about baseball for a living. As if that cliché wasn't going to come up during any of my writings. No, I'm talking about how a drive across the state of Florida almost made me turn around and head back to Clearwater.
Am I a pansy? Eh, at this point, for me to complain about something as mundane as the weather in Florida in August seems pedantic (Thank you, Peter Griffin) at best, but good lord...I had never experienced anything like that in my life.
Around 1 p.m. or so that day, a good storm came through the Tampa Bay area and hit Dunedin pretty hard. Hagler/Hearns hard, so to speak. It was one of those that was quick, but you felt its power. So, around 2 p.m., after the Blue Jays staff enjoyed birthday sundaes for Kathi, who turned 25 (Welcome to the club. Enjoy feeling old for a while before realizing you're not even 30 yet.) I ventured east to Viera, which is just north of Melbourne on the east coast of Florida. I had been asked by Bright House Sports Network to come on for an inning during their Game of the Week for the FSL that involved Dunedin and Brevard County.
Now...weather patterns as they are, with me being inside, I really didn't get to feel how strong the storm was. Usually, the cells that are strongest are heard on the aluminum roofs of our office buildings. So, after going through a shower as I headed for I-4, I thought I had seen the worst of it and it would be clear skies to Viera.
Yeah, about that...for those of you who have not experienced weather in Florida during the month of August, this is the time of year when hurricanes begin to occur. Now, I'm not saying I went through a hurricane, but the weather is such that cells are usually strong around this time due to increased amounts of humidity, causing more clouds to take in water, and, because of the hot temperatures (Haven't seen the heat index under 100 in about four weeks) it makes the hot air able to mix with the cool air of the clouds to not only create the hard rain, but allows for electric currents to roam freely, causing the variety of thunderstorms that are seen in the Tampa Bay area every summer. Now, most of it is the heat lightning generated by the clouds, but every now and then, a cloud gets rid of a bolt via a lightning strike. No big deal, right? Unless you're afraid of lightning, which I'm not.
So as I exited the Tampa area heading east on I-4, I looked ahead to see nothing but dark skies and thunderbolts crashing down upon central Florida. It wasn't exactly doomsday, but for me, it wasn't something I looked to enjoy in the least. In fact, I got my first true taste of tropic thunder when I saw a lightning bolt crash on the shoulder of the west side of the freeway. About 50 feet away from me. And I saw it crash.
Gulp.Did I say I wasn't afraid of lightning?
So imagine my unsurprise at what followed: copious amounts of rainfall that pounded the freeway and would not stop as I got to Plant City, 20 miles east of Conjunction Junction. It started out like a hard storm would normally start, but then it got stronger. The rain fell at a faster rate. The highest possible setting on my windshield wipers wouldn't go fast enough. I was clinched at 10 and 2 on the wheel, peering out over it to look as closely and as attentively as I could to the traffic ahead of me, slowing down due to the cars that had been stymied by Mother Nature's best rendition of the last time she saw the end of “Terms of Endearment.” We all cried. C'mon, now.
And Mother Nature was bawling. I mean the type of bawling that only happens to 13 year old girls that find out that the Jonas Brothers broke up and that the new “Twilight” movie was never to be released. Like the type of crying Rams fans did when Adam Vinatieri made the Field Goald Heard 'Round the World in Super Bowl XXXVI.
It rained hard, I guess, is what I am trying to say.
I looked down to my speedometer to see that it was only at 35 MPH, half the speed limit for the freeway at that time. My HAZARD lights were on. Not brights, not high beams...HAZARD lights. It was about five minutes in that I seriously considered turning around and heading back to Tampa to hang out with the guys at work for Kathi's birthday. But then I realized that since I was moving faster than the storm that I should just suck it up and it will all be over soon.
So for 15 miles this kept going. All through Lakeland, I didn't see anything. Not even the Hooters that's right there on the freeway. I saw none of it. I instead saw barely 25 feet in front of me, with only flashing lights and my own damn instincts to guide me through this test of nature's strength. I remember texting with a couple of people when things were fine on the drive, but this was not that time. This was me thinking about how the hell people in Florida drive through this every August. I sure as hell wouldn't. This wasn't even a hurricane! I had driven through some strong storms down here, but this was something else. Clouds about 50 feet off the freeway pouring down endless streams of precipitation and throwing in lightning for good measure because they figure the tall aluminum structures in the Lakeland area didn't get enough juice for a Thursday night.
When I finally came out of the damn thing after about 20 minutes of me wondering if me traveling 155 miles to do one inning of TV was truly worth it if I had to go through this to get there, I breathed a sigh of relief...and then immediately called Garrett back at the stadium to see if this cell was going to head for Viera (A storm that would have ended the thoughts of the game being played that night. No questions asked.) and he informed me that it was instead heading northeast towards Orlando and then Daytona. Thank you, Mother Nature.
Oh, but then Mother Nature got crafty. Once I arrived at the park at 6 p.m., I was greeted at Space Coast Stadium (I originally typed Space Ghost, which is hilarious) by the Manatees staff and the Bright House Sports people, including former AL Cy Young Winner Frank Viola, who's as nice as they come and truly enjoys what he's doing. I caught the crew up on the team and then took in the view from the press box...where we could all see a storm pouring rain out in the distance.
Mother Nature, you're a cruel bitch.
We were hoping it was just crossing to the west, heading across Melbourne and over towards St. Cloud/Kissimmee, but it wasn't. It was heading for the stadium. The tarp was on the field. The TV time was in jeopardy once more.
The storm hit the field and it hit it pretty hard, but two things saved me: First was that it was a short storm, but wasn't nearly as strong as the one I went through to get here. Second, the tarp was on the field in plenty of time and the field had not taken water in a few days, meaning that it was ready to soak some stuff up. The drains in left field were ready for the water and the field took it well. When the tarp was taken off the field and the excess water was squeegeed off, I waited for Manatees GM Kyle Smith's announcement on the game. Thankfully, it was still on. It was to start at 8:15. My TV time was intact and I was happy.
I thanked whoever has power over Mother Nature for allowing me the chance to do the game and I pressed on for my inning, a phenomenal piece of sports talk in the middle of two quick half innings. Much too quick for me, of course, where I wish I could have stayed the rest of the game.
The game itself was something else. 1-1 until the Jays got two home runs, one from Kevin Ahrens and another from Jesus Gonzalez. We had a 4-1 lead in the 9th with Tim Collins, the best reliever on the team, on to close the game out, but a bleeder fell, a line drive wasn't caught, and the Manatees took advantage of a bases-loaded walk and a couple other hits fell, tying the game at 4-4. When Trystan Magnuson somehow got a line drive double play out of the situation and then got a fly out to end the inning, we were looking at extras. It was 11:30. The day wasn't over yet.
But, the Manatees won on a walk-off sacrifice fly in the bottom of the 10th to win the game and the series, sending Dunedin to Daytona with a gut-punch of a loss. As bad as I felt, for me to go through so much rain for one inning of TV time was worth it. Made me feel good to be behind a microphone and tell a story for a while. I guess what you realize is that if you feel like it's something that's worthwhile in your life, you gotta go after it, regardless of who it is, what it is, where it is...or why it's even there in the first place.
And now, here I lay in Delray Beach, 24 hours later, and looking back on a Thursday that was much more than I expected. Couldn't have asked for anything else out of a day like that. I'm now in Delray Beach, fresh off muchos fried potatoes, talks of desperate women in need of loving (Thanks to my uncle and aunt, no less) and a viewing of “500 Days of Summer”, which was a good romantic comedy that will hit close to home for those looking to figure out their views on love. (Ahem...) In eight hours, I will surf Deerfield Beach and continue my march towards my uncertain future, wondering what will happen next and being ready to handle it when it happens.
(Editor's Note: Bad weather forced the free surf lesson to be canceled. Sad face.)
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