Brock Davis
Posted: Fri Nov 19, 2010 6:21 am
As a kid, I would forego (a nice way of saying ditch) school and make my way down to Candlestick Park to watch the Giants.
After the walking, and taking buses, and cable cars (this was before BART, for you bay areans), I would get to the ballpark around 9:30 for a 12:40 game.
I knew that I could sneak in if I made it there before 10:30, when all the employees started showing up.
Now, the first time I did this, I was with an older kid who knew the ropes. He showed me where to sneak in, where to hide if chased by security, and most importantly, that most security will buy the story that you're a players son, giving access to the whole ballpark.
Naive that I was, I told my friend I wanted to be Willie Mays son if asked. He spent five minutes explaining to me why a caucaseon kid could not be Willie's boy. I settled for being Chuck Hiller's boy. An average 2b, who is noted in my mind as hitting the first grand slam in National League history during a World Series.
I know. I saw it. I was 'sick' that day.
My friend and I befriended a security guard. To him, we were Jimmy Bolin and Danny Hiller . My friend moved, but I was hooked. Sometimes, the guard would ask why I didn't hang around 'my dad'. I told him that he didn't want me around so he could focus on the game.
I loved batting practice.
Watching Willie McCovey hit a towering shot with the wind blowing a constant 20 mph to right field.
It was like a good driver on a golf course, the ball just got small real fast.
Opposing teams never had a guy like McCovey.
Then, there was this skinny guy that took bp for the Houston Colt 45's. His name was Brock Davis. This guy was the best batting practice hitter I ever saw! Every ball on a perfect arc, jetstreaming with the wind to land far out of the park. I couldn't wait to see him play.
But, the starting lineups were announced without his name. I was disappointed. I "forego'ed' school again the next day just to see him hit bp again. The guy was amazing! And still, no name in the starting lineup. He came up to hit later in the game and struck out.
I told my friends who were as equally enthusiastic about baseball, that Brock Davis was going to be a superstar!
That next year I traded for his baseball cards, even giving up some Giant cards for him. This was the precursor to fantasy baseball. A players worth, and how much we liked players, were reflected in his worth in a trade.
News then, wasn't like now. We had a 'transaction' column in the paper to keep us up to date about trades and players going to and from the minor leagues.
I missed the column that said that Brock Davis was sent down to the minors and would never play that year for Houston.
Missing 'transaction columns' would come back to bite me later too.
I've looked back at Brock Davis career stats, and believe me, I laughed out loud when I saw that he had hit just one major league home run. If fantasy baseball were around back then, he would have been a 'sleeper' for me in every sense of the word.
My days of sneaking in Candlestick came to a stop too. My friendly security guard grabbed me by the ear and led me to an office. On the way, he told me how disappointed he was that I had been lieing to him about my name. I screamed that my name was Danny Hiller and to let me go.
He stopped, bent down, and looked me in my crying eyes. "Son, I didn't think it was right for your dad to completely ignore you during batting practice, but, I thought that was him and not me.
But, if you want me to believe that he is such a bad father that he would be on a plane to play for his new team, the New York Mets, while leaving you behind, I find that too much to swallow."
Baseball fan before circumstances, my crying stopped. I looked at the guard and said, "Who'd they get for him?"
He replied,"A real father's son, you are!"
I never got that sentence till later.
After the walking, and taking buses, and cable cars (this was before BART, for you bay areans), I would get to the ballpark around 9:30 for a 12:40 game.
I knew that I could sneak in if I made it there before 10:30, when all the employees started showing up.
Now, the first time I did this, I was with an older kid who knew the ropes. He showed me where to sneak in, where to hide if chased by security, and most importantly, that most security will buy the story that you're a players son, giving access to the whole ballpark.
Naive that I was, I told my friend I wanted to be Willie Mays son if asked. He spent five minutes explaining to me why a caucaseon kid could not be Willie's boy. I settled for being Chuck Hiller's boy. An average 2b, who is noted in my mind as hitting the first grand slam in National League history during a World Series.
I know. I saw it. I was 'sick' that day.
My friend and I befriended a security guard. To him, we were Jimmy Bolin and Danny Hiller . My friend moved, but I was hooked. Sometimes, the guard would ask why I didn't hang around 'my dad'. I told him that he didn't want me around so he could focus on the game.
I loved batting practice.
Watching Willie McCovey hit a towering shot with the wind blowing a constant 20 mph to right field.
It was like a good driver on a golf course, the ball just got small real fast.
Opposing teams never had a guy like McCovey.
Then, there was this skinny guy that took bp for the Houston Colt 45's. His name was Brock Davis. This guy was the best batting practice hitter I ever saw! Every ball on a perfect arc, jetstreaming with the wind to land far out of the park. I couldn't wait to see him play.
But, the starting lineups were announced without his name. I was disappointed. I "forego'ed' school again the next day just to see him hit bp again. The guy was amazing! And still, no name in the starting lineup. He came up to hit later in the game and struck out.
I told my friends who were as equally enthusiastic about baseball, that Brock Davis was going to be a superstar!
That next year I traded for his baseball cards, even giving up some Giant cards for him. This was the precursor to fantasy baseball. A players worth, and how much we liked players, were reflected in his worth in a trade.
News then, wasn't like now. We had a 'transaction' column in the paper to keep us up to date about trades and players going to and from the minor leagues.
I missed the column that said that Brock Davis was sent down to the minors and would never play that year for Houston.
Missing 'transaction columns' would come back to bite me later too.
I've looked back at Brock Davis career stats, and believe me, I laughed out loud when I saw that he had hit just one major league home run. If fantasy baseball were around back then, he would have been a 'sleeper' for me in every sense of the word.
My days of sneaking in Candlestick came to a stop too. My friendly security guard grabbed me by the ear and led me to an office. On the way, he told me how disappointed he was that I had been lieing to him about my name. I screamed that my name was Danny Hiller and to let me go.
He stopped, bent down, and looked me in my crying eyes. "Son, I didn't think it was right for your dad to completely ignore you during batting practice, but, I thought that was him and not me.
But, if you want me to believe that he is such a bad father that he would be on a plane to play for his new team, the New York Mets, while leaving you behind, I find that too much to swallow."
Baseball fan before circumstances, my crying stopped. I looked at the guard and said, "Who'd they get for him?"
He replied,"A real father's son, you are!"
I never got that sentence till later.
