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.

Top of the Fourth

And at this crystal clear lake in the throws of Spring’s rebirth, everything is perfect. The sun itself is reflected from its waters to all points of the valley until the valley itself overflows with light. Life of the valley itself emanates from this lake and its joyous welcome spreads back up the rivers, streams, and puddles, high into the mountaintops and to the lone ash leaf, which flutters one last time in the breeze before giving way to the bud that replaces it.

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Bottom of the Third

As she was about to turn around and head back to the kitchen, she noticed the black truck in the corner of the living room. A smile quickly crossed her lips and the day instantly melted away. Monday was Opening Day.

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Orioles or Bust

While I told Andrea and others that I planned on knocking on a whole bunch of doors, I knew that the only job I had my sights set on was the Baltimore Orioles. I did not have a plan B. With a literal “Hail Mary” on my lips, it was Orioles or bust with what felt like everything at stake.

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Middle of the Third

Then one night, he heard baseball whispering to him … calling out to him, and he started to take notice. He could not help but take note of a team that did not belong in the Fall, a team that ignored Winter’s demands. This team seemed to take the Fall hostage and fought off Winter with last-strike rallies, improbable catches, and pitchers whose rubber arms had turned to cannons. It was a team that knew nothing about blowouts and everything about drama. They were, in short, magic, and he took notice.

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Top of the Third

He would continue to buy the block of tickets through the years, even after the fire. They would remain largely empty through those years, even during sellouts. They became something of a legend in baseball … a silent, unmarked, almost living memorial to a hero.

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Bottom of the Second

He pulled himself back to the present and spent the rest of that night staring at the ticket and rereading the article over and over. He hadn’t seen the ticket in seven years … he barely remembers sticking it in the scrapbook. By dawn, he knew what he had to do. He knew it was going to be a difficult battle, one that may even cost him what was left of their friendship, but he knew what must be done.

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