By Brian Smiley
Expositor staff / Mississauga
Reposted from March 29/04

If Simon and Garfunkel�s Mrs. Robinson is still looking for Joe DiMaggio, I know where to find him. I almost joined him Saturday night. But, while Joe is busy as a player, my inclusion into heaven�s hall of fame wouldn�t be as a practitioner of the game.

Joltin� Joe left us for the big baseball diamond in the sky back in 1999. Following � and during a lot of � my first tryout with the Intercounty Baseball League�s Brantford Red Sox, I was certain we�d have the same address.

It became quite evident, quite quickly, that at this point in time I have a better chance of finding Brantford�s missing $30 million lottery ticket than I do of making the Red Sox, even if it�s as the team�s bat boy.

The reason behind the negative appraisal of my baseball skills in front of Brantford�s top brass is simple. As of this writing � late Saturday night, immediately following the tryout � I�m going to be lucky if I can get up and out of bed Sunday morning, let alone make another tryout.

And walking my dog, which I do each morning, will have to fall on the shoulders of my beautiful and intelligent wife, Alison (and if sucking up doesn�t work, you can bet I begged).

And speaking of my lovely Labrador retriever Maddie, it�s because of her that I entered Saturday�s tryout with great confidence. Over the winter, her and I walked each other two to three times a day which I felt would get me in great shape for this adventure. Aside from a few pulled muscles in my neck from yawning each morning, I was ready to go.

Little did I know what awaited me.

Prior to Saturday�s workout, I tried to recall past tryouts I�ve had. Each one I remembered didn�t involve much more than hitting and throwing, which is basically what baseball is about. But that�s not true according to Red Sox manager Rick Johnston, an evil, evil individual who believes in torturing his players.

R.J., as he�s known to everyone, isn�t really all that bad if you�re a genuine ballplayer. But if you�re trying to do your best imitation of Babe Ruth, he�s the devil in disguise.

This is the second season Johnston has been at the helm for Brantford. Last year, he guided the Red Sox to the league�s championship series which they lost to the Guelph Royals in the seventh and deciding game. Prior to the start of that season, Brantford worked out in the spring at an indoor complex in Hamilton. This year, the team has started its indoor workouts at Johnston�s new baseball facility in Mississauga, The Baseball Zone. Johnston�s complex includes several batting cages, an open field area, four teaching areas with tees and soft toss areas and four portable pitching mounds. It�s actually quite a unique place � considering it�s not much bigger than your average high school gym � that is utilized to its full potential. Aside from teams and individuals renting out the facility, Johnston and his staff also give private lessons.

But, back to the practice.

Everything went smoothly for the first half an hour but that was while we potential players sat and listened as Johnston reminded everyone why they were there and what he expected. He also let the new recruits know why last year�s team went as far as it did a year ago � because it was a team that was highly skilled, had fun and outworked other teams.

And then we proceeded to work on the last part of that philosophy, which was about the same time things started to go downhill for me.

For 15 minutes we warmed up with some running drills. I use the term warmed up loosely here because while Johnston only wanted to get our heart rates up a bit, boys will be boys and no one wanted to look slow.

So, needless to say, I felt the need for speed but was sorely (literally) let down by dormant muscles I thought had left my body a long time ago.

While executing these drills, the real players moved through them effortlessly. A few, including star pitcher Brad Hogeterp, always made sure the rookie (me) was OK. Yes, I said to him. No, I said to myself. After a quarter of an hour running, I was spent. I could have went home right there and then and called it a night but it wasn�t to be.

After nearly two hours of long toss, fielding drills and batting practice (more on those next week), it was time to wrap things up with a few suicides, some ab crunches and 20 deep knee bends that ended with us jumping as high into the sky as possible. After more than two hours of practice, and probably the most exercise I�ve had in the past five years combined, the first session was over.

But the agony was just beginning. As I walked up a flight of stairs to put my batting helmet away in a storage area, my legs began the burning that hasn�t ceased as of yet.

And even though I�m the Hurtin� Unit to Randy Johnson�s Big Unit, that isn�t going to stop me.

During the last of the strenuous exercises, Johnston yelled, �Do you want to make this team, Smiley?� And while I answered, �Not any more,� I�ve had a change of heart. So, R.J. I�ll see you Saturday. And this time be prepared for a player who�s ready to work his tail off without the fear of meeting any non-living Yankees legends.