Willie Randolph is a no for bench coach, and the life in the clubhouse at Mets Fantasy Camp
The former Mets manager will not be joining Carlos Mendoza's coaching staff
What’s Up with the Mets? 🍎
Former Mets manager Willie Randolph will not be joining Carlos Mendoza’s coaching staff (Newsday)
Mets Fantasy Camp - Part 2 ✍️
Yesterday, I wrote about a special moment (or two) Dwight Gooden and I shared at Mets Fantasy Camp. Today, I will get into the clubhouse life, what is was like from start to finish between the locker, treatment rooms, and morning meetings.
I arrived at the Mets Minor League Complex on Sunday, November 12 after checking in with Mr. Doug Dickey who, by the way, is the outstanding organizer, communicator, director and creator at Mets Fantasy Camp, and the core reason this event is so successful and amazing. Without Doug, there is no fantasy camp, and no way is this the best fantasy camp in the country without his genius.
I arrived with some personal baggage, and not anything that includes clothes or baseball equipment.
As I mentioned yesterday, just six days before I had been admitted into the hospital with a 103 degree fever and what turned out to be a staff infection on my right forearm and elbow (I am right-handed, by the way). Not only did I arrive at less than 100%, but my arm was still blistered from the infection and swollen.
Not exactly an ideal time to get such an infection.
I wasn’t even sure I could go. There probably aren’t a lot of people who are hospitalized with an elbow that looked like a red balloon who make it to fantasy camp just five days later, and for a while it looked like I would have to bail. It wasn’t until that Thursday when the doctor cleared me to go, confidently saying it would still be a week or so before the arm would resolve but it was safe to play provided the arm was covered.
So, I went to Florida as planned Saturday night, November 11.
The first thing I did when I entered the clubhouse was find my locker. It was in the second row towards the back. My white pinstripe jersey was hanging there with a locker tag with my name on it, just like the clubbies do for the pros:
Each player gets a home white pinstripe jersey and matching pants along with a road gray jersey with matching pants. All of the numbers, names and sizes are taken well in advance so there are never really any issues there.
It all fits like Cinderella’s glass slipper, transforming us from just regular people into ballplayers for a week.
After admiring my jersey, the first thing I did was visit with the trainers and discuss my medical problems. I told them I still wasn’t feeling great but good enough to be there, and they immediately wrapped my arm in a way that would ensure it was protected from the environment.
It was difficult to bend already, and the wrap and compression sleeve they made for me made it a little harder, but nothing I couldn’t manage ahead of the Sunday workout.
Mind you, the world inside the clubhouse is, to me, anyway, the glue for the entire event. It truly is a player’s sanctuary and a sacred place, and between that room and the treatment areas, that’s where baseball is made possible for all of the players.
Note - I didn’t take many pictures from the clubhouse outside of my locker and what you see in this story. To me, it’s a private space and not something I would appreciate being publicized in detail.
I was always one of the early arrivals and among those who left last. That’s mainly because I needed so much prep work between this infection and what would soon to turn out to be a bad bone bruise from being hit by a pitch in just our second game last Monday. I needed the wrap on my right arm, stretching and treatment on my right elbow and shoulder from pitching, the hot/cold tub routine, and then the training staff would build me a cast everyday for my left wrist to protect and restrict its mobility.
That made hitting a difficult task, but I still got four hits, drew seven walks and scored seven runs and pitched another five innings last Wednesday after sustaining the bone bruise.
Not bad for a guy with no arms on the field, right? :)
Then there was the post game routine, which included more treatment on my right arm plus the hot/cold tub routine. Kevin Baez’s methodology in the tubs was simple: 10 minutes in hot, 30-60 seconds in cold. That was something I really didn’t know a whole lot about, at least as far as the modern approach was. But, it worked. My legs felt generally great the entire week.
My arm, not so much but that will be for chapter 3 of this story tomorrow.
In the end, it was about 90 minutes of prep beforehand, 90 minutes of post-game treatment after our doubleheaders.
As I would go through all of this on a daily basis, I was reminded of what David Wright said at the end of his career about what it would take pre and post game for him to merely play one game, and how much preparation and maintenance it took for him to simply survive the day. It sounded like it was too much for him to handle, but after dealing with all of this unforeseen maintenance in the treatment rooms for a week, I have a newfound appreciation and respect for what he went through, which was probably 1000 times more stressful on his system.
In the process, I learned so much about targeted stretching, how the modern athlete prepares and conditions his or her muscles on a daily basis, individualized nutrition plans and how players are able to maintain their stamina and muscle health.
In other words, they taught me how to survive and endure eight baseball games in four days in an efficient manner.
Remember, there isn’t a single pro among the fantasy campers and everyone has to be over 30 to participate. Most people are over 40. Yes, there’s experience in the room among the players, and there are definitely players in there still playing competitively, some of which are way older than I am. But none of us really have a modern approach to game day regardless of our playing experience. Living in this world for a week helped educate me on how all of this works today in the professional spectrum, and I brought home things I can teach my daughter as she endeavors to be an elite athlete herself.
Lastly, and perhaps more important for those who are reading this, I gained a new perspective and appreciation for what the pros go through during the season. Having covered the Mets for so long, I knew these players worked and prepared extremely hard on a daily basis.
But members of the media don’t ever get to see what goes on outside the boundary of the clubhouse room itself. And I had no idea until now how much of that work includes preparation and treatment.
Baseball is a grueling sport, although it looks easy for these players from the stands and on the TV screen. The quick movements are brutal on the legs, and to do it repeatedly, day after day whether it’s hot or cold, raining or snowing is incredibly difficult no matter what kind of shape a player is in or how old he or she is.
Any player will tell you the last day you feel 100 percent is the first day of spring training.
But it’s these world class trainers in the treatment rooms that make it possible for them to go out there and play nine innings on a daily basis. They figure out a way to make a player who is feeling 60 percent feel 100 percent for the following three hours.
And then they do it again the next day for them.
I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know the next time I watch a game and a player has a rough day in between the lines, I will remind myself that while it may not be the player’s best day, that player - and all of the players - worked his or her ass off to be out there and give it 100 percent.
If you are interested in being a part of Mets Fantasy Camp, contact Doug Dickey: DDickey@nymets.com.
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