We started our trek to Baltimore on Saturday at around 2 o’clock, a journey seven years in the making and seemingly destined to fall short of expectations.
Seven of us were going to see Tim Mayza, a 2010 graduate of the high school, pitch for the Toronto Blue Jays in a major league baseball game. Tim went to college and toiled in the minors for a few years before being promoted in early August. So most of the voyage has been his.
Surreal does not begin to describe a sentence that includes any variation of “Tim is pitching in the majors.” Watching him on the MLB Network toiling on the Wrigley Field mound against the Cubs was an out-of-body experience.
Our travels to Baltimore kind of mirrored Tim’s ascension to the Bigs. We started off with high expectations, purchasing tickets in advance, but the remnants of Harvey threatened to spoil the party. Most of the two-hour drive went through heavy downpours. Doubts crept into our heads about the wisdom of taking this journey to Camden Yards. There was no guarantee he would even pitch. We had arranged to talk with him briefly during Toronto’s pre-game. But there would be no pre-game with the tarp on the field.
We had no choice except to press on, as do the thousands of major league wannabes slogging through the minors. The worst-case scenario was the elephant in the car: no game, no meet-up, a futile five-hour round-trip. I fiddled through radio stations trying to hear if the Orioles had canceled the game.
However, it turned out to be the best of times. The rain stopped, making only a cameo during the game. Because of no pre-game, Tim had more time to talk with us in front of Section 66. He was the same humble, gracious, self-effacing person he was in high school. He posed for pictures, signed our tickets, and answered all of our questions before he had to be back in the clubhouse.
We ran into his parents in the centerfield picnic area and chatted amiably like we were at a high school game.
The contest was close for six innings, and Tim warmed up at one point. He was probably one hitter away from being brought in for a left-left matchup against Chris Davis. But the Jays got out of the inning and then took a 5-0 lead.
Tim warmed-up in the bullpen again in the top of the ninth, and we knew he was coming in to finish the game. We moved to seats behind the plate. Or tried to. A couple of us were flagged by a zealous usher who asked to see our tickets despite the approximately 300 empty seats around us.
Four of our companions pretended not to know us and remained in their pirated seats.
Et tu.
The rest of us moved down three sections to where the ushers were more apathetic.
Tim came in with a 7-1 lead and gave up a run on two hits, but ended things with a strikeout on a nasty slider. May I use SURREAL again?
The best part of the night was still to come. About thirty relatives and friends gathered near the third base dugout. Tim re-emerged and among the well-wishers was his ailing grandfather. They hugged, family members teared up.
Expectations exceeded, we headed home without the elephant.
The Q-View 