To meet or not to meet (your heroes)?

My dad turned 64 this weekend, and so far things are looking good. I still need him, and he’s been well-plied with an assortment of Thai food, homemade brioche and apple cobbler. He taught me about rhythm and keeping time one afternoon while we sat on the floor in his office, my clumsy five-year-old hands working hard to hit the one, TWO, three, FOUR of “Love Me Do” before giving up in the chaos of “Yesterday,” so there were lots of these jokes leading up to Saturday. 

Baseball isn’t really his thing. He’s more driven by nitrate-rich hot dogs than discourse around the hot corner, but we turned the radio on yesterday and midway through the seventh inning, as he sliced salami and cheese (are you sending a theme?), he looked up and asked, “Is this Shannon Drayer?” I was flabbergasted. 

“Wow. Um, yeah, it is.” And then, because meat isn’t the only thing this man thrives on, “Great job, Dad! I’m shocked – and so impressed!”

He smiled, pleased to still be surprising me. “Of course I know her. She was so nice to my girl, I’ll always remember that.”

Almost a decade ago, I was granted Mariners media credentials for a freelance piece I’d pitched without considering the consequences of my actions. Namely, that in order to write said piece, I’d have to actually conduct interviews with the players. I was so petrified of appearing as young, foolish and inexperienced as I was, I did something absurd. I asked for help. Specifically, I sent a message to Shannon Drayer on Twitter (rip), asking for any tips about how to navigate the clubhouse. Rather than send me some vague info, or leave me on read, or any of the other things she would have been well within her rights to do, she replied and said I could meet her in the press box and shadow her as needed that day. Sure enough, I arrived hours before first pitch, heart pounding, and there she was. I followed her everywhere, as she introduced me to folks, kindly explained the unwritten rules of the clubhouse, helped me navigate the elevators and did her best to get me in front of the players I needed to talk to. I’d never felt like a more grateful duckling, and it solidified me as a Shannon fan for life.

This is a long-winded series of anecdotes to get to the real question, but it’s an off-day during Spring Training and we are a community, not (just) a soulless pit of letters and numbers. Sometimes it’s nice to channel the beloved old-school blogger vibes. Anyway, what’s one of your favorite baseball celeb memories? Did you almost step on Mike Leake while he was lying on the floor? Did you lose by a country mile to Jonatan Clase in a foot race? Did you have to chase after a perhaps-not-sober Wade Boggs on a golf course? Did you flag a random guy over during BP to ask for an autograph without knowing who he was, only to show the accompanying picture to your family and learn it was mid-Cy Young Award-winning season Blake Snell? Did you have a near-death experience after choking on your coffee when Félix Hernández walked into Chace’s Pancake Corral while you were enjoying your Tuesday morning ritual? Lay it all on me (or try to guess which of these examples is made up)