Chapter 17

Josie and I had a very pleasant four-day mini vacation back at her place just off the Baltimore waterfront. She was almost two weeks away from heading to Ft. Lauderdale for spring training with the Orioles' big-league club, and I was planning to head down at the same time, although we wouldn't be staying in the same hotel in Florida. Too public. Maybe the BirdSports brass already knew about our little liaison, but flaunting it in Josie's employer's hotel wouldn't be intelligent.

In fact, Bill Bowman had instructed me to be extremely circumspect, even while in Baltimore. For example, if Josie was to have a visitor in her home who had any connection whatsoever to organized baseball, I was to make myself scarce for the duration.

Furthermore, my instructions from Bill were to fly to Tampa-St. Petersburg, rather than Lauderdale, when the time came to head for Florida.

"You don't want to let the Orioles get the idea that you're dying to come back into their organization," Bill said over the telephone. "It could hurt your asking price, and cause any bid you got from the Orioles to be low-balled. That's the last thing you need."

It was true. I was still uncertain whether there would be any "bidding" for my services at all. If I got a bite from any major league organization, I knew I'd be tempted to take it -- whether or not any kind of dollar bonus was in the offing.

And even if a competitive bidding situation did arise, I had no doubt that I would take less to sign with the Orioles than with a competitor. It wasn't because I loved the Orioles that much, but because I wanted to be close to where Josie was, and the Orioles organization was the only one that could guarantee that.

I didn't have to tell Bill Bowman any of this. He already knew. But he emphasized to me that it could be potentially a very expensive proposition, if the Orioles front office got wind of my attitude.

"I've already had some sniffing around from four clubs," he told me.

"Four! Really? Wow! That's incredible, Bill. Which clubs are they?"

"Kansas City isn't even pretending to be casual about signing you. Evidently they scouted you in Mexico and liked what they saw. And I've had inquiries from the Giants, and the Phillies, and Colorado."

"Not the Orioles?"

"Not yet. But the Orioles have scouted you, too. I'm certain they know about you. But they're being coy, Freddie. All the more reason for you to keep your distance, once Josie heads for Florida."

"Yeah. I can understand that."

"Anyway, this is no time for you to be thinking with your little head," Bill told me. "You've got to keep an open mind about this thing. I'm still working on the Twins. With the Royals and the Twins both openly looking at you, you'd be in a position to get a real competition going to sign you. You can't be so fixated on the Orioles that you ignore other clubs."

"You're getting to be a regular Scott Boras, Bill. I never expected you to drum up this much interest in signing me."

"Well, don't get your Jockeys in a wad just yet. Nobody's mentioned any dollar amounts. Some of these clubs could just be looking for a freebie. All this could evaporate in a twinkle of an eye if we don't play it intelligently. But the good news is, I can already tell from the Royals' level of interest that there's no way you're going to have to go back for another season with the Saints."

"So you're saying that if all else fails, I'm going to get a contract offer from Kansas City?"

"That's right."

"How are we going ... how are you going to orchestrate this thing, Bill?"

"Simple and straightforward, for the clubs that have expressed an interest. Also, the Mets and Yankees and Red Sox -- none of whom has expressed an interest, but I'll notify them anyway. I'll offer any and all of them a look at you in Tampa. I've already got a location arranged -- not a spring training site, but convenient to Legends Field in Tampa. Right in the Yankees' back yard! ... And if anybody wants you to come to their park for a tryout, it'll be 'Have ball, will travel' for you."

"Yankees, you said? Jeez, Bill, I don't know about the Yankees."

"You're thinking like a fan, instead of like a player, Freddie. Don't be a dunce. We get the Yankees halfway interested, they'll throw money at you like nobody else!"

"I got nothing against money, but I never saw myself as a Yankee."

"Well, it's premature to worry about that now. But a fat offer from the Yankees can't hurt you in inspiring interest among the other clubs. Best-case scenario, the Red Sox and the Yankees both get interested. Then they'll be bidding on you like you were the second coming of Roger Clemens!"

"Wouldn't the Orioles be a little bit embarrassed, if they let me go into free agency, and then one of the AL East clubs picked me up?"

"Well. They let you go as a light-hitting infielder, Freddie. It would be hard for their fans to blame the Orioles just because you came back as a free-agent pitching prospect."

"In my experience, fans can blame their home clubs for just about anything that goes wrong."

"Maybe so. But things have been going pretty well for the Orioles in the Paul Warren era," Bill said. "They're not exactly poor relations these days -- even against the Sox and Yanks."

"I'd really like for the Orioles to at least be among the clubs bidding," I told him.

"I know you would, Freddie. And I have an idea that might help that along."

"Yeah?"

"You know Dave Hooks?"

"The Orioles' catcher? Sure. I mean, maybe he doesn't know me, but I met him, during my fifteen minutes of fame last season with the big club."

"Dave Hooks has a little brother. A student at Johns Hopkins, right there in Baltimore."

"Ballplayer?"

"The little brother? No. Not a pro, anyway. But he and Dave are tight. Hooks lives in Arlington. He raised his little brother after their parents died. Dave Hooks and his wife made a home for Little Brother while the kid went to high school, there in Arlington."

"And you know all this intimate detail ... how?"

"I got some of it from Josie, if you must know," Bill said. "The rest, I got from what we'll just call My Sources."

"OK. So what happens next?"

"What happens next is, two weeks from now, pitchers and catchers report to Ft. Lauderdale for spring training. But right now, Dave Hooks is up in Baltimore most weekends, at Johns Hopkins, seeing his little brother and working out with him at the university's field house."

"OK."

"I want you to drop by there, and renew old acquaintances with Dave Hooks. I've got you in there, Saturday morning, February 2 ... Groundhog Day."

"And I'm supposed to just happen to be in the Johns Hopkins University field house, same time as Dave Hooks?"

"You're going to be there with your own catcher, warming up the old pitching arm in preparation for your trip to Tampa to show off your wares."

"My own catcher?"

"None other than Betsy Ellenbergen, girl catcher."

"Isn't she still in school?"

"Oh, yeah. She's still in school. But she is coming with me, briefly, to Baltimore so that we can orchestrate this thing."

"Couldn't I just find some guy to catch me, here in Baltimore?"

"Yes, you could. But this is going to be a morality play, Freddie."

"I don't get it."

"You and Betsy are going to be there when David Hooks shows up. I mean, he might not show up at all, and all this will be an elaborate and expensive little failure, but my best information is, Hooks will be there."

"And then what?"

"Then you're working out with Betsy, slow and easy, and all of a sudden you recognize none other than David Hooks, first-string catcher for the Baltimore Orioles, right there in the field house with us common people."

"Uh-huh."

"So you go over and introduce yourself, and remind David Hooks who you are -- ex-teammate of his on the Orioles, no less. And then maybe he remembers you from last spring, and he introduces you to his kid brother, there, and you introduce Betsy -- and me, if I decide to be there, but right now I'm thinking that, no, I shouldn't be there with you."

"I think I see where this is going," I said.

"So you explain -- if you need to -- that the Orioles let you go last spring, and how, since then, you've been converting to becoming a pitcher. OK. So, see, Dave Hooks is there, tossing a baseball around with his kid brother, doing his low-key conditioning for the upcoming spring training resumption in Lauderdale, and you let it slip how you're going down to Tampa yourself, to try to latch onto a club, land yourself a minor league contract."

"I try to get Hooks interested in me as a pitcher, right?"

"You don't do anything overt. You're not asking him for any favors. You just talk to him as long as he seems interested in talking. You show a little interest in the kid brother, what's he studying, you know? All that stuff. And maybe Betsy asks Dave for his autograph, you know? You all talk a little baseball. And then you wave bye-bye, and you and Betsy resume the workout, only now, you warm up and start cutting loose with the hard stuff."

"Hoping Dave Hooks notices I've got a hummer," I said.

"That's right. And if Hooks is watching your workout, he sees that Betsy, even though she's a dwarf, and female to boot, is a competent catcher. But, eventually, Betsy is going to fall backwards, right on her butt there on the cinder track, catching one of your ninety-eight-mile-per fastballs. And Betsy's going to protest that she's just not up to catching you anymore, Freddie, on account of you've gotten so much faster since your workouts with her last season."

"It all sounds pretty hokey, Bill."

"Listen, Betsy can pull it off! She can demonstrate, first of all, that she's a damned good catcher. Hooks will notice her, too. I mean, she's cute as a button! If David Hooks doesn't notice her, his kid brother will. I mean, he's a college kid, right? They've got to be around the same age, him and Betsy. One of the Hooks boys, or both of them, are going to get distracted if Betsy's there, catching for you."

"How do I explain what she's doing in Baltimore?"

"You won't have to explain anything. All you have to do is get noticed. And then Betsy complains that you're too much pitcher for her, and catching you is painful, and maybe even dangerous, and your days of warming up with her as your catcher are over forever."

"And then you're thinking Dave Hooks is going to offer to catch for me, for a little while -- right?"

"Could happen, yeah."

"Awfully hokey, Bill."

"Well, OK. I know that lots of things can happen that cause it not to come off the way I've worked it out. Lots of things. But I don't see how anything bad can come out of at least trying. And, best-case scenario, you get a chance to impress the Orioles' first-string catcher -- the best catcher in the American League -- and let him know that you're a talented, unsigned, free-agent pitching prospect."

"There's just no way this can all work out, Bill. No way!"

"Well, it doesn't have to work out. Either way, in a couple of weeks, you and I are going to Florida, we're going to offer you around to anybody who wants to take a look, and we're going to try to get multiple offers, competing for your services. If Dave Hooks doesn't take the bait, all we've lost is a Saturday morning in February. What else do you have to do? Visit the Aquarium?"

"OK, Bill. You are, after all, my agent."

"One more thing," Bill said.

"Yeah?"

"You should keep Josie out of this. Dave Hooks knows her from her work with BirdSports. He doesn't need to know about your ties to Josie, or about her involvement in your signing with St. Paul last summer. Far as Hooks is concerned, your only connection to the Orioles is your brief time with the club last May, before you went back to Bowie and they released you."

"How do I explain -- if he asks -- how I came to be a pitcher?"

"Tell him about Mexico. Drop a few names. Tell him how Dewey Wainwright told you he thought you could maybe be a pitcher. Hooks probably knows Wainwright."

I told Josie that evening about the David Hooks scenario. Like me, she thought Bill Bowman's plan was too elaborate and that it required too many details to fall perfectly into place for it to ever work.

She was especially critical of the Betsy Ellenbergen participation. How could a major league catcher like Hooks be impressed with me if I showed up with a mere girl as my practice catcher?

"I think Bill's figuring that Betsy will be noticed, even if I'm not sufficiently noticeable in my own right."

"David Hooks only has eyes for his wife. I never saw a guy more head over heels about a woman."

"Well, he doesn't have to marry Betsy, he just has to notice her. Anyway, she's probably perfect for Dave's younger brother. I mean, get real. They're a couple of young guys; they're going to notice Betsy!"

"I never thought Bill Bowman was such a conniving, single-minded guy! He missed his calling; he should be a sports agent, full-time!"

"Well, he agrees the whole thing with Hooks might not work out exactly as we planned it, but he wants us to give it a shot. He figures if I impress Hooks, he'll talk me up to the club's brass."

"I guess Betsy really is a pretty attractive little number. Unless Dave's little brother is gay, I suppose he's bound to notice her."

"If we show up, and if Dave Hooks and his brother show up, this thing has a good chance to work."

"You think maybe I should call Dave? Tell him about you? Try to make it a little bit more than a chance meeting in the field house?"

"Thanks, but Bill says no. In fact, he wants me to downplay knowing you at all."

"Fraternization fears?"

"No, I don't think so. I think he just wants any interest that we can drum up on Dave Hooks' part to be the product of this chance meeting."

"Well, it's a pretty far-fetched scheme," Josie said, "but it'll be brilliant, if it all works out. It would be hard to find a better advocate for your pitching talent than David Hooks. The guy is an absolutely superb ballplayer."

Friday afternoon, I met Bill and Betsy at Baltimore-Washington International airport and drove them into the city in Josie's car. My little Honda was still rusting away in Bill's backyard back in Minnesota. Maybe in the spring after Bill had headed back home, he could arrange to have it sent to me wherever I ended up by that time, or maybe he could sell it for me.

I took them to their hotel downtown, where the three of us had dinner together that evening. We went over the little playlet we'd set up for the following morning at Johns Hopkins. Bill had decided that his presence at the field house would be a distraction. It was going to just be Betsy and me. I would pick Betsy up in the morning at the hotel and we'd head for the university together.

Next morning, Betsy and I had breakfast together before arriving at the field house around 9:30. We were both in appropriate workout garb, and Betsy carried a duffle with her catcher's gear. I had another one, borrowed from Bill -- a small bag full of baseballs.

We found the employee who knew about our visit, and got into the facility without difficulty. Betsy, decked out in the Tools of Ignorance, looked every bit as adorable as she had back in Minnesota, helping me to learn my new trade. She was a study in contrasts: too small to be a catcher, practically drowning in her heavy protective gear, but quite obviously, underneath it all, an extremely attractive person of the wrong gender for her assigned role. I suppose she'd have been more noticeable had she been wearing a bikini bathing suit, but only marginally so. My little catcher was adorable.

We looked around furtively, trying to spot David Hooks and his brother, but didn't immediately see them. The field house was almost empty, although there were a couple of runners on the cinder track. We started throwing a baseball, choosing a spot that was literally off the beaten track, closer to the center of the building. It was somewhat chilly inside the field house, but not so much so that throwing would be difficult.

My biggest worry had been that, with the place being so vast, David Hooks could show up for his own warm-ups and still be nowhere near our position. If we had to move very far to get to where he was, it would be pretty hard not to be obvious about it. But as it turned out, the Hopkins' facility wasn't nearly as large as the one back in Minneapolis. Anyone engaged in activity similar to ours was going to have to set up fairly close by.

Sure enough, after a half-hour of very easy tosses to Betsy, we were rewarded. David Hooks arrived, catcher's mitt in hand and light padding already on his body. With him was a nice-looking young fellow who looked to be roughly Betsy's own age. I stopped throwing and walked closer to Betsy.

"That's him," I told her, gesturing covertly toward the Hooks boys. "They're going to be close by. Let's drift over a little closer to their spot, but nothing too obvious."

When we'd taken our slightly adjusted positions, Betsy and I resumed tossing the baseball, with me gesturing to her that I was going to increase the pace a little. I wasn't surprised to see that she remained up to the task of catching me, even when I put on a little speed.

Betsy, a solid actress, ignored the Hooks brothers entirely, although I glanced over at them frequently, and didn't disguise my interest. I was amazed, really, that they had actually shown up. I'd been preparing myself for this whole fiasco's turning out to be a bomb. All it would have required would have been for the Hooks Brothers to make a simple, casual change of plans that morning.

Finally, I signaled Betsy to join me and I wandered over to where the younger man was tossing a baseball to his brother, David Hooks. "Excuse me," I said, from some distance way. "You're Dave Hooks, right?"

I'm sure David Hooks was accustomed to being recognized by fans of the game, and I had been told, by Josie and others, that he was the level-headed sort who wasn't egotistical about his fame as an athlete. I was rewarded with a friendly smile. David Hooks, obviously, was prepared to stop what he was doing long enough to speak briefly with a fan, perhaps provide an autograph on request.

"You probably don't remember," I said, "but I was a teammate of yours, briefly, last season."

He looked at me more closely and said, "Yeah! Yeah, I remember. You came up from Bowie during our first West Coast swing."

Well. That was gratifying. I'd been remembered, even placed in context. My name was probably an issue for Hooks, but after all, one couldn't expect perfection. I took the pressure off for him immediately. "Freddie Brumbelow," I said.

Dave Hooks' face fell momentarily. "They released you, didn't they?" he said. "After you went back down to Bowie."

"That's right," I told him. "But I'm still at it. I'm a pitcher now. Just came back after a season in the Mexican Pacific League." I didn't know how long this conversation was going to last, and I wanted to get all the highlights in, right up front.