The Short Story of a Long Season, by Head Mobster:
Nick Martini waded out of the corn and into the outfield, a bat and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes.
“Is this heaven?” he asked.
“No,’’ said Michael Mariot. Mariot sighed wistfully and shrugged some as he walked into the corn and disappeared. “It’s Cincinnati.’’
Martini smiled broadly. “Man, I was playing in Korea this time last year,’’ he said to no one in particular.
“Tell me about it,’’ said Brett Kennedy. “I was playing in Central Islip.’’
Martini nodded. He had no idea where that was. It didn’t matter. He was here now.
Martini walked into the clubhouse, suppressing a desire to grin or, maybe, cry. He was a 33-year-old outfielder whose entire baseball career was a suitcase. Six big-league teams, 11 minor-league seasons, 2022 in South Korea, a member of the NC Dinos. They’re outta Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do, if that helps clarify things.
“We’re glad you’re here,’’ said David Bell.
“Skip,’’ Martini said, “you have no idea.’’
Living on the fringes of the footlights does one of two things to a ballplayer’s dreams. It washes them in the flotsam of cynicism and fate. Sent down again? Whatever. Crash Davis comes to mind.
Or it makes their dreams larger than life. Ballplayers on the periphery are pinstriped versions of Steinbeck’s Lennie, dreaming of livin’ off the fatta the land.
Nick Martini allowed the satisfaction to wash over him. "Damn,’’ he said. “Here I am.’’
Living on the career fault line in baseball does have its advantages. You might see the world. If you’re lucky and persistent and can hit a curveball on occasion, you might find yourself drinking coffee (one cup) in a major-league clubhouse, pondering the strange vagaries of life, picking the last of the corn from the (blue) collar of your shirt.
And then you might hit four big-league homers in a couple weeks, after hitting two your entire existence. Only in America.
“Welcome.’’ Martini turned and saw Chasen Shreve. Martini didn’t know Shreve, but he felt as if they’d been friends forever. Shreve was 33, too, and had spent his professional baseball days wandering little towns all over the country. Shreve knew the South better than most blues singers: Danville, Mississippi, Gwinnett, Memphis, Louisville, Lynchburg. Chasing a dream that at times seemed as tangible as a cloud.
Welcome, indeed.
Nick Martini doesn’t have the luxury of satisfaction for long. The Moment is too good to do anything but live in it. Maybe years from now, he’ll look back at late ‘23 as an affirmation of who he was and what he did. And how, for a moment in time, he was part of a group of players who unexpectedly made a summer special.
Playoff players or not, the ‘23 Reds will be remembered. For the likes of Elly De La Cruz, certainly. But also for Nick Martini and Chasen Shreve. And Michael Mariot, who twice came thisclose to retiring, pitched in his first big-league game in seven years. . . then was designated for assignment just a few days later.
Here’s a thing about sleeping in the overhead luggage racks of aging Greyhounds, a fact of life in the low-minor leagues: It breaks you or it builds you. It reveals just how deeply your dream burns.
What we’re seeing at the Small Park in this overachieving summer is the face of persistence. Coming from behind is easy when you’ve spent your career watching the movie from the back row. It’s damned near second nature.
Perpetual striving isn’t simply an honorable trait. It’s a survival skill.
Maybe Martini will ponder that someday after the uniform comes off for the last time. Meantime, he has some work to do.
Tuesday night, the Reds trailed 6-3 in the 8th, seemingly destined for a loss at a point when every loss seems like doom. That’s when Nick Martini strode in from the corn and hit the crap out of a Justin Topa fastball, sending it deep into the moon deck in right. Changwon, Gyeongsangnam-do sends its regards.
That tied the game at 6. The Reds ended it in the 9th when a base hit by rookie Christian Encarnacion-Strand scored rookie Elly De La Cruz. The Reds have used 22 rookies this year. Their enthusiasm and optimism comes from the same place as Nick Martini’s does. Only the formula is different, and not as well aged.
The rookies are too young to know better; the Martinis know a lot, and are determined not to repeat it. The rooks and the old men strive together. This impossible season endures.
In the book, Shoeless Joe, on which the movie Field of Dreams was based, Ray Kinsella, the Iowa farmer, asks Dr. Archibald (“Moonlight’’) Graham, what Graham’s biggest wish would be. In real life, Moonlight Graham was a pro ballplayer who spent seven years in the minor leagues, before getting exactly one major-league at-bat, with the New York Giants in 1905.
“A chance to squint at a sky so blue that it hurts your eyes just to look at it,’’ Graham tells Ray. “To feel the tingling in your arm as you connect with the ball. To run the bases ... stretch a double into a triple, and flop face-first into third, wrap your arms around the bag. That's my wish, Ray Kinsella. That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?"
Well. Is there?
KNOWING TO STOP WHEN YOU’RE AHEAD is one of life’s better tricks, so I’ll end with that. Except for this:
WE’RE GOING BACK TO TUSCANY in October 2024, and we’d like you to go with us. When I first announced I was partnering with tour guide deluxe Larry Fannon, your response was immediate. As of today, the 10-day tour of Italy’s incredible wine region has seven rooms available.
In short: Larry is a Loveland guy who has been running tours to Italy and Ireland for 29 years. For a decade, he has owned an apartment in a Tuscan village, where he lives six months of the year. Larry knows what (and. more importantly, who) he knows. He books the best guides, vouches for the nicest hotels and is very familiar with the best restaurants. He has run his operation strictly through word of mouth.
Without sounding like a carnival barker. . . I’ve been all over Europe either for work or pleasure. Tuscany was the best place I’ve been. We spent two weeks there and on the Italian coast in June. Simply fabulous. Mr. Keystone Light became a red wine drinker overnight.
If you’re interested in joining Larry, me and my wife Kerry for 10 days in the Italian wine country next October, contact Larry at
cruisetheinternet@gmail.com
Also: We’re also planning a trip to Ireland for next May 2024. Larry will be in Ireland in the next month or so, finalizing the dates. If you’re interested, no deposit is needed now, but Larry would appreciate your feedback regarding your interest in touring the Emerald Isle.
Below is the brochure for the Tuscany trip:
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TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . Dancin’ with Moonlight. . . On my list of Top 5 best one-hit wonder tunes.
I finished writing a book about my dad’s life in baseball in May. Your article on Martini (love him and hope he’s back next season) reminded me of some of my dad’s story, as did Moonlight Graham.
My dad was MVP on UofI’s best ever baseball team. He signed with White Sox at end of 1954. He got married that summer. In 1955 he played in Madisonville KY for about a month when the Kitty League ( ball) went under. Rather than try and catch on with another team he gave up his dream and headed to Michigan with his very pregnant (me) wife to begin teaching teaching and coaching at high school.
And that could have been the end of his baseball playing story. But his last summer (1957) teaching in Benton Harbor MI he hooked up with a local semi pro team. Who happened to be playing an exhibition against the Chicago White Sox that July all star break. The Sox were supposed the play their stars for an inning or two. But the Auscos were beating the Sox and Coach Al Lopez was not having that.
So dad got his chance to play with the pros. He went 3 for 4 and was the hitting star of the game. After the game the Sox/Lopez offered dad a spot starting for their AA team (whose 3B had just broke his leg). His dream of playing in the bigs could continue.
But he’d just accepted an offer to teach and coach at Glenbard West HS outside Chicago. His wife and 2 kids were ready to move. So dad walked off the field and his playing days ended. He’d go on to be a HOF coach, win a state title and coach ~1000 young men the game of baseball.
But he still dreams of playing 3B for the Sox in Texas. That hunger to play. Martini, Moonlight, the Reds rookies, Joey Votto. It’s hard to see it end.
Wonder if you can get Morgan Freedman to record that homage to Field of Dreams?? That would be classic!