Life in the Minors
WITH a not-so-spectacular -- well, in fact, dismal -- 5-11 run out of the gates this season, bright spots have been hard to come by out here in Dragon land. Big Luke’s big heart makes
losing easier to takeWith probably the largest group of returning players among any Frontier League roster, we had hopes that the familiar faces could help us regain the momentum we created last season when we set a new club record going 48-36 to capture the league's West Division crown. Unfortunately, this has not been the case.
But in a season where the baseball has been a disappointment thus far, there have been a few positives.
One bright spot in particular has come in the form of the familiar face of our lucky bat boy, Luke, uh ... something. I never quite got his last name. I will figure that out tonight, though.
"Big Luke" entered our lives last season when one day he just showed up at our clubhouse door and asked to be our bat boy for the night. Well, one night turned into two, which turned into a home stand, which turned into a full season.
He kinda became the stray cat that we took into our home.
A cartoon of a kid, "Big Luke" is actually quite big.
At 14 years of age, Luke already checks-in at a towering 6-foot-2 and 270 pounds. His size 14 sneakers are the biggest in a clubhouse that features about 20 or so fully grown men of over 6-feet in height themselves.
To say he lumbers a bit as he makes his run from our dugout to homeplate would be an understatement. But having a personality more suitable for a 4-foot-2, 45 pound skinny kid, Luke is as charming a child as I have ever met.
With Big Luke, "yes sirs" are a dime a dozen. He's always hustling around somewhere. Whether he's running more baseballs out to the umpire, retrieving a bat, a batting helmet or a pair of batting gloves, or simply running to the concession stand to grab the pitching coach a pretzel and a Gatorade to cool him down during a 95-degree southern Indiana evening, Luke is the man. No favor is ever too much to ask for with him.
With his happy demeanor and rosy cheeks he might pass for the Campbell's Soup kid ... save the fact that he is well, 6-foot-2, and 270 pounds.
A gentle giant, Luke always tells me -- with a smile no less -- about how the kids at school make fun of him and bully him.
I just told him, "Dude, you do realize that you're bigger than everyone at your school don't you? How big are your teachers?"
In his, "aw shucks" little way, he always just drops his head and cracks a big smile.
At our games he has become sort of a cult hero of sorts. The self-proclaimed "Third Base Deadbeats," a group of beer guzzling, trash-talking Dragon fans who terrorize every third base coach that dares take the coaches box against the Dragons, even came up with a special cheer for Luke which they belt out at least once a game. Poor Luke doesn't get off the hook until he steps out of the dugout and tips his cap.
Even after over a year of working with our ballclub Big Luke still has stars in his eyes when he comes to work every day. He really looks up to the players and gets giddy whenever they sit and joke with him or share a bit of advice.
The guys just adore Big Luke. Whether trying to share their wisdom about baseball, girls, or, well, girls, they have grown very fond of our bat boy. This year, the club chipped in to get him one of our game caps. Luke talked about it for days. On nights when the visiting team needs a bat boy, the Dragons refuse to let Big Luke jump dugouts, remembering the one time last season when he had to work for the "other" team, and longingly looked into our dugout from across the field for nine whole innings with the look of a puppy that had just been whooped.
We swore it would never happen again. So on those nights, we make our interns grab a kid from the stands to work for the other team. Luke is one of us.
Near the end of last season we all began to realize how much of an impact we had on Luke, when his mother sent the team a card thanking us for taking Luke into our hearts. She wrote of how life for him has never been easy. A tough life left him feeling like he didn't have a place to belong until he became the official bat boy for the Dragons.
Even the tough guys on our ballclub got choked up a bit as the card was passed through the clubhouse.
I finally realized how much this all means to him when we were eliminated by the Richmond Roosters in last season's Frontier League semifinals. As the guys sat in the dugouts hanging their heads, or hung in front of their lockers with their faces buried in their hands, there was Big Luke, sitting in a corner just bawling his eyes out.
A sentimental guy myself, I had to walk up to Luke to try to console him.
"What am I supposed to do now," he said. "I'm gonna miss you guys so much."
It was touching that in a competitive environment such as professional baseball someone could still find the human interest important. He didn't care that we were not going to be playing for the league championship. He didn't even care that we had lost. All he could think about was how much he would miss every one of us.
So when the knock at the clubhouse door came two and a half weeks ago, just a few hours before our opening day contest against the Gateway Grizzlies, the one guy who I hoped was on the other side of the door was standing there ... three inches taller and two shoe sizes bigger ... blocking the sun.