Detours

Just like I'm taking a detour between injury and playing again for the big boys in New York by going to Nashville, I took a detour over the weekend between Florida and Nashville by going home to New Jersey. The plan had been for me to fly straight to Nashville, but plans change. I flew home with Vanessa and the girls on Friday and spent three nights back in my own bed. I don't expect to be home again until May.

I got to Nashville Monday afternoon and checked in with the club at their new stadium (Pepsi Field). Very nice place, much nicer than I ever played in when I was a minor leaguer. Then again, I'm a minor leaguer now (again) so I guess I'll get my chance now.

It was hard to get here from the airport because of road construction. It should normally be a straight shot of about 20 minutes, but it took about an hour. I drove myself (I'm renting a big Ford pickup truck, more on that later) and, because of the load I was pulling (more on that later), I had some problems getting up to speed. But I got here in one piece in time to sign in and check out my locker, which is considerably smaller than I'm used to. I was going to cry, but realized it's only a locker. I held back.

Seriously, I was going to cry. Getting here, I realized I haven't been this homesick since summer camp when I was 10 years old. Sometimes, you don't know how badly you don't want to be somewhere until you get there. I've been trying to put the best spin possible on playing a month in Nashville, and outwardly I seem well adjusted. On the inside, I'm a mess. That's why I went home instead of coming straight here. I was putting off the inevitable as long as possible.

But, I'm still a big boy. I have to suck it up. I would have made a horrible soldier, which makes me respect our troops in Iraq and Afghanistan that much more. I'd probably cry every day over there. Not because of fear. Because I'd miss my wife and darling teenage daughters (who were out when I left NJ so never said goodbye to me). Funny to hear this from a guy who routinely spends 50% of the time away from his family during the 6-month baseball season. Maybe I'm just getting old; either that or soft in my old age. (I turn 40 in less than 2 weeks.)

My living arrangements are set. No hotel. No basement of somebody's house. No rented home. Well, actually, I am renting a home, but it's not a house with a foundation. It's a mobile home. Specifically, it's a 2007 Rockwood Signature Ultra Lite 8293SS (http://www.alsmotorhomes.com/show.php?id=186). It's white, 29 feet long, and has two sinks in the bathroom. Because I'm rich, I arranged to have it and a new black Ford F-150 (http://www.fordvehicles.com/trucks/f150/) waiting for me at the airport. After a five minute lesson on how to drive the Ford and pull the Rockwood, I was off. I parked in a perfect spot: the parking lot of Pepsi Field.

I had someone install cable TV and wifi in the trailer. One of the clubhouse boys (they're actually boys for this team - like 16/17 years old vs. early to mid-twenties for NY) did my food shopping at a Whole Foods. He liked his $50 tip. (Vanessa told me not to overtip as a means of overcompensating for my homesickness. Don't tell her I gave the guy at the airport who gave me the driving tutorial $100.)

Our season starts here on Thursday against New Orleans. I've been anointed the temporary closer for the Nashville squad, and with continued finger pain for Billy Weston in NY, been also told to get my mind around possibly closing games for the Vets when I get called up. And to think I thought I'd be in their starting rotation today for their opening day in Florida. Instead, I take a strange way (to me) back to NY by coming here and pitching out of the bullpen, closing games.

My GM, Alvin Kirby, told me I could spend the opening series with the Veterans in Miami if I wanted and get here in time to be ready for Thursday's game, but I found myself surprisingly decline the offer. I needed to get to Nashville eventually. I need to sleep in this new bed. I need to get used to being here so I can throw a baseball like I need to do. (I've cried three times since starting this post. I'm like an old lady.) I need to get my head in shape, because I've realized it's a ways behind my body.

You can watch my games on the web if you want by purchasing a monthly subscription for $6.95. I know the team, and the league, is hoping to "move" a few thousand extra subscriptions because I'll be down here. I wish I could get a piece of that $6.95. I just tipped the cable guy $75 and hugged him for a little longer than he probably liked. If I don't run out of money before the season starts, I'll probably get arrested for not letting go of a hotdog vendor.