ABOUT GHOSTS IN THE GRASS
There are really two halves to this project … this site. The first half is the novel I wrote called Ghosts in the Grass that I’ll be publishing over the course of 27 weeks. It tells the stories of three different people, while not aware of it at first, connected through one team over the course of one season through a series of vignettes…glimpses into what it’s like to be a fan of this game. This story is more than just about these three characters and the people around them, though. It is about the experience of the game of baseball. The experience of Spring Training, of being in a baseball stadium, of being intoxicated by this beautiful game. It is about the love of America’s Pastime and how it impacts all those around it, for better or for worse. While it may certainly be overly romantic about the game, and maybe even a bit naive, this story is born from my love and passion for this sport.
To jump right into the novel, start here.
The other half of this site/project (Warehouse Windows) is my story…my journey through baseball as a fan and as an employee of the New Jersey Cardinals, the Baltimore Orioles and the New York Mets. My relatively short time entrenched in the game was not always great and was not always perfect, but they were some of the best years of my life shared with some of the best people I have ever known. I thought it would be an interesting exercise to put those stories out as they relate to the story I wrote. Revealing my inspiration, basically.
I hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please share.
When I think about baseball, I feel joy and love and heartbreak and every other range of emotion because baseball is romantic. Without the love of the game and the other emotions that come with it, you just have a list of stats. Any fan’s connection to baseball is a love story, and the game needs people to write those stories.
In the top of the ninth, the other team pushed a run across on an error by the second baseman. That seemed to open the gates a bit, rattling the relief pitcher who then gave up back-to-back home runs. When the bottom of the ninth came around, the stadium absolutely rocked, despite the deficit. The stadium got quiet after two outs were recorded.
This is the first time I have written about those two games that fall of 2000 and I can barely get through it as the emotions from those two days and that absolutely magical fall wash over me. I had always thought of them fondly, but now, nearly 22 years later, I am overwhelmed remembering the pure joy of those games.
He has learned to love that feeling, that rush to the senses that whole scene brings on. Sure, the playoff race multiplies it, but it fills him with energy and sharpens his mind. The excitement of the scene and the feelings put him on top of the world. He is aware he is a small cog in this engine, but he feels bigger than himself.
A baseball pennant race is different from other sports. The teams play nearly every day with that fates that change and turn with each hit, out, and inning. Each game is a new stanza added to the epic poem that is a season. They aren’t always perfect and they don’t always have rhythm, but they are part of a bigger story that decides the heroes’ journey. With each game, heroes rise and fall. Hopes die and are re-birthed. Winter’s team one day, Summer’s team the next.
Eventually, the champagne did its trick for most and quiet consumed the cabin of the plane. Soon, even the Young Ace and his perfect arm dozed off as the lights flipped off. Tuck found himself staring out the window thinking about Feliz’s question. From miles high in the sky, he could see the grass.