Degrees of Separation from MLB Greatness

Craig Biggio from Upper Deck 1992 deck.

As I've written about previously, during my three years as a minor league mascot, I acquired quite a few pieces of memorabilia, as well as baseball "stuff" that was laying around the clubhouse. It's these seemingly throwaway collectibles that permit a (though tenuous) connection to the rich history of professional baseball. Among the trinkets collected at the time was an unopened box of Upper Deck MLB trading cards from the 1992 season. I began making appearances as Spikes prior to performing in games beginning with the Rochester Red Wings 2001 season, and I seem to recall having acquired the box around mid-season in 2002.

While I have long been a fan of collectibles, and as such should have figured that if they were to have any value it would be in keeping the box unopened, I am also a parent. My kids and I had quite a fun time opening each pack and organizing the cards numerically, by team, by position, by subset and so on. I was familiar with many of the players, and had met at least two whose cards were in the deck (Deon Sanders as a visiting minor league player and Cal Ripken Jr. as a returning legendary Red Wing) so it was fun to talk to my kids about those different interactions. By no means a complete set, those cards we did find were put neatly into a card protector sleeve and placed into a three-ring binder for safe keeping. Occasionally, I or my son will pull the binder out and thumb through the pages looking for cards of past favorites.

This coming weekend, the National Baseball Hall of Fame (a wonderful place in Cooperstown, New York, I've visited with my kids  twice in the past) will be holding their induction ceremony for four players for whom I happen to have found their cards in the 1992 set: Craig Biggio, Randy Johnson, Pedro Martinez and John Smoltz. The Baseball Hall of Fame Class of 2015 is the largest in 60 years. I've scanned both the front and back of each card and posted them here. My son, a Red Sox fan, had not realized Pedro Martinez had once been a Dodger; I recall him as an Expo though his greatest success came as a pitcher and personality for the curse-busting Boston Red Sox.

Pedro Martinez Rookie Card.

Pedro and older brother Ramon Martinez from the Blood Lines subset.

Randy Johnson.

Pitcher John Smotlz batting on the front of the card--the Atlanta Braves 
are in the National League.

For myself, just like any collectible, the value in possessing these cards is small beyond the memories they evoke, and this weekend, as I watch the Hall of Fame ceremony on television, it will be neat to point to the athletes whose cards I acquired while working with minor league athletes myself, some of who may one day make the hall, too. This ability to desperate oneself (if you've ever been in a Single A through Triple A game you have probably had the same experience if you think about it) by six degrees from baseball history is one of the things that makes it such a great professional league.

Minor League Mascot Memories, Part 3

Hanging with the indoor lax team's old mascot Lax-calibur during
one of the many Mascot Kickball games that would be held prior to
home games. I think my parents had brought the kids and took some pics.

Fan picture from 2002.

Time sure does fly! It's been over a decade now since I last laced up the over sized bird feet and worked the local minor league baseball stadium for cheers, hugs and the occasional hot dog. Though the subject doesn't come up frequently in conversation in my current "real" life, other than to suggest to students that I was at one point "a professional cheerleader," there are many moments during spring/summer that I fondly recall this unique work experience. When, after three complete seasons of working home games for the team, I walked away from the experience, I did so in much the same way I hope to when I am ready to retire from my teaching career: I placed my belongings from my locker into a backpack, said a few thank yous and goodbyes, and never looked back.

Unlike the way I envision my post-teaching days, however, I do return to my prior place of employ from time to time: I love going to the ball park to experience the Americana of minor league baseball. For a few years after I left the team, when I did make it to the stadium for a game, some of the ushers and team employees with whom I interacted regularly would exchange pleasantries with me. But, time soldiers on. Eventually, I was happy to once again be an anonymous fan in the stands, albeit one with a little more insight as to what goes on behind the curtain of the day-to-day entertainment side of minor league baseball.

The bobble-head of the character I
played for 3 seasons. I think this
was released in summer 2002, my second
 season. I remember that night at the park
was very well-attended, and I
signed oodles of the white boxes
 in which they were packaged.

Not many mementos of this time remain. This was long before regular folks had cell phones with cameras, and every moment of life was not yet documented incessantly with digital images. I also adhered strictly to the secret code of not allowing myself to be photographed with some aspect of the costume off, thereby exposing my "human side." There are no "head-off" photos with overly muscled torso and four fingered furry hands out there. As a result, the only images I have of my time as a minor league mascot are those that family and friends took during appearances or games, as well as the small amount of tchotchke and memorabilia that I managed to collect. Like most collectibles, such as comic books and trading cards, these things have little value beyond the experiences they represent.

Most of what I do have is thanks primarily to kind stadium ushers or team staff who worked the games and would acquire things for my kids, at the time, semi-regulars at home games. They even were lucky enough to get out on the field to change the bases during the seventh inning stretch a few times. The baseball organization was beyond wonderful at allowing my kids to be a small part of the work I did for them at games.

Cards I posed for (and would often give out at
appearances) during my tenure.

At the time I was mascoting, I was also teaching full-time at an urban charter school for which our annual evaluation was a portfolio of artifacts and student samples. While putting together lesson plans and worksheets, I also did my best to compile some choice artifacts from the stadium, too, a few of which appear in this post. Always nutty about organization, I also kept a binder with pages of detailed directions for certain goofy dances (the Macarena was never as easy as it looked in videos), as well as my evening schedules for between inning games and appearances. This was the very early days of the Internet, so I printed out and stored in binders any research I could collect online about the art of mascoting, much of it prepared by the actor who portrayed the Detroit Tigers mascots, Paws.

The "relationships" those who portray mascots for extensive periods of time (no disrespect intended to the interns who participate in the time honored experience of slipping into the fur suit out of necessity) one develops with fans despite brief, mute interactions can be powerful. After a while, season ticket holders become attuned to those movements and signature moves (thumbs up, pratfalls, etc.) that become associated with you and your interpretation of the character to the point that they know when it's you, or when it wasn't you the previous game. Among my fondest memories are quiet moments of acknowledgement from the team's fans I met along the way. Many children would come to the park with personal drawings or notes for the character which I would occasionally hang in my locker during the season for inspiration.

After sharing with the team brass that I would be stepping down at the conclusion of the 2003 season, I was honored to receive (in costume as the character, of course) the plaque to the right during the team's end-of-year awards. Given out at home plate prior to the final home game of the season, it was just the last of many kindnesses afforded me from an exemplary organization during my years of service.

Now that my own kids are much older and have less interest in mascots and the like, nearly all of the related collectibles have migrated to the attic with other memories. The three summers from 2001-2003 I spent at the ballpark performing at nearly every home game (I was told I had a remarkable attendance record--I hated to disappoint fans that came to expect me) now seem many worlds away.

Last home game of the 2002(?) season with fan favorite Howie Clark. Notice how
far digital photography has come! Not sure where Howie is now
(I think he was briefly with the Blue Jays after leaving the Red Wings, but he was
one heck of a nice guy.

For previously published posts, click the links below:

Minor League Mascot Memories, Part 2
Minor League Mascot Memories, Part 1

Minor League Mascot Memories, Part 2

Spikes (me) and the original Rochester Knigthhawks Indoor Lacrosse team mascot
(Laxcalibur?) during one of the Rochester Red Wings Mascot Days. (7/17/2001)

Last November, when I began cleaning out our attic in an effort to collect some things to take to the Volunteers of America, I unearthed old work binders, folders, and loose pay stubs that prompted me to begin writing about My Past Life As A Professional Mascot, Part 1. As you may recall from that post, I fell into the mascoting game, and eventually performed as our local Triple A baseball team's mascot for 3+ years, including off-season appearances in parades, award ceremonies, festivals, conventions and the like. As I gained experience (and confidence), the management was kind enough to offer me the better gigs and permit me to be slightly selective. At the time, my kids were still very young, but the money and "benefits" (such as getting the kids into the games, bringing them with me to appearances, and getting them on the field, were more than worth it.

Jordyn and Jack helping on the field during the seventh inning stretch.

Now that summer is upon us (and I have yet to finish my attic-cleaning), I am once again digging through old records and files and have happened upon some photographs which have jogged up some old memories from my mascoting days. Sadly, the late 1990s-early 2000s were not a time during which cellphones with photographic capabilities were commonly, and other than some pictures my daughter who was about 11 at the time took while accompanying me to appearances, or at games. There were also some very kind ushers who also snapped one or two great pics of my kids. The only picture I have from beneath the stadium is the one above with an usher. I had a locker in the Rochester Raging Rhino's locker room, which was also where the usher's would meet prior to games.

Spikes and Bob, one of the incredibly helpful ushers at Frontier Field.
This pic was taken by one of the very best, Heather N. 

Sadly, I have a terrible memory for names, and other than Heather and Bob (above), most of them have been lost to me. When I do go to a game (usually once or twice a year), it is good to see that many of them are still working there delivering such excellent support to the local minor league baseball fan. As an employee, at the time I do recall each of them being incredibly friendly and helpful to me during my time there. While I would be assigned an intern as a "handler" during most games, more than once it was the ushers who came to my rescue during equipment malfunctions or troublesome fans (of which there were maybe two in 3+ years). The Rochester Red Wing fans, especially season ticket holders, were incredible to work for.

Clash of the Titanic Birds: Spikes and an older version of Ellsworth Eagle at the opening
of SUNY Brockport's new baseball facilities in 2001. Pic by Jordyn N. (7/14/2001)

During my time with the Red Wings, I also had a number of opportunities to work with Ellsworth Eagle, the then official mascot of SUNY Brockport. Having completed two degrees (Bachelors and Masters) from the school, it was kind of cool to be there during the christening of their new baseball "stadium." Having my daughter there acting as photographer was really fun, too.

Spikes at the Ten Ugly Men Festival then held at Ellison Park. (8/7/2001)

Regrettably, I was never much of a networker so most of my time at events such as this was not spent developing relationships with the other performers. I also had no sales role in the organization, as is now common with many professional mascots nowadays, so I was able to interact professionally with those who had requested the appearance to insure that I did has they expected without the need to "glad hand" with an intent of potentially extending the nature (advertising, etc.) of the relationship. I was proud to receive positive feedback following appearances and the organization was very supportive and complimentary of my efforts. I took my role as Spikes seriously and committed to delivering good performances for the primary audience, the kids (and young at heart) in attendance.

Looking back over 10 years later, the design for the Red Wings Spikes has remained pretty much the way it was when I had the role, while both Laxcalibur and Ellsworth have undergone fairly significant design changes. There is something to be said for a well-designed and performed character, and I am proud to have been a small part of Spikes' (and his female counterpart, Mittsy who was introduced during my final season) success.

Minor League Mascot Memories, Part 1

In a past lifetime, sixteen years ago now, I was a professional minor league baseball mascot. Even now, long after my "retirement," it is odd to write about. The challenge for me remains not wanting to violate the unwritten code that came along with the position. When I was a working character, I took my job very seriously, and as a result, was proud to be told I did a much better-than-adequate job of it. Part and parcel of being a professional  mascot (unless you are one of the few touring characters that are permitted to do so) is not communicating verbally with anyone (fans, handlers, or staff--within earshot of fans) while performing. Other than family and close friends, I rarely talked about the role outside of the stadium. Even now, as I sit here typing many years removed from the experience, I am uncomfortable exposing myself to the three people who actually read these posts. After so much time has passed, it does, however, feel good to put "pen to paper" and reflect on the experience. In the final analysis, I was a serious young(-ish) person, in an over-sized fur suit, who walked away from my time with many wonderful memories...

Gifted to me at home plate (in costume) at my

final game, the last of the 2003 season.

Most folks working in fur suits across the country on any given day, whether at restaurant chains, college sporting events, or for minor league teams, are part-time employees or intern volunteers who (either by choice or via short straw) end up sweating out a few periods, innings or appearances as a character. It is a way "in" for many, and at the professional level it often gives the eager upstart the opportunity to demonstrate their motivation to achieve. In the years preceding my assumption of the regular role of my character, there had been many interns, part timers, freelancers and grand-kids of the few full-time team employees playing the character on an as-needed basis.

In the end, I performed as the character for three full seasons of home games (over 200), as well as at numerous public appearances. On the rare game days I could not work, or at appearances that conflicted with time with my family, I was always concerned that the person taking my place would do a good job. Truth is, most people didn't know the difference. But, I did (and those who were season ticket holders or ballpark regulars, did, too). All characters have a built-in fan base and, short of knocking over young fans or using expletives, there was very little one could do to ameliorate that affection. I always sought to increase it through good performances, and working for (what was at the time) a team that did not play well on the field, this was a significant role with the team, or at least I'd tell myself that as motivation to perform well.

Original costume care direction that came with the

new suit I wore for all three seasons.

Like many interesting and unique experiences (as well as being a common theme in my life), this was an opportunity I very much fell into. At the time, I was working as a consultant teacher at one of the local Board of Cooperative Educational Services high schools. While not very professionally rewarding, it was a "teaching job" that did not have most of the responsibilities of a "real" teacher such as grading homework, staying after school for student events, and it provided quite a bit of down time (I didn't have a traditional classroom) for sitting at my desk or computer. I was, however, responsible for popping into a number of vocational classes and working with trade teachers on implementing academic content into their courses.

One such program I worked with was a business class, and one day after a particularly good lesson, the teacher, Frank, asked if I would be interested in earning some extra money. Frank then shared with me that after his own time in college as a volunteer mascot, he had been freelancing from time to time as a professional mascot with a local team. That team was looking for an actor to fill the role for the upcoming season. He had done quite a bit of appearance work for them but had tired of the day-to-day, game-to-game grind of mascoting and had been asked to think of anyone who might be interested. For whatever reason, it occurred to him that I might be good at it, so was gauging my interest.

Two days later, I picked up a large duffle bag at the organization's front desk. Inside the bag along with directions for care of the costume and suggestions for performer dressing, was an over-sized plastic mold head, foam torso with arms and a fur suit costume. I was directed to return two days later with a routine. This would be my try out--in costume--and as someone who had never really performed in front of anyone with the spotlight on them (not to mention dance and clown), I thought to myself, "What the hell are you thinking?"

To Be Continued...

Who Remembers Recycleman?

Back of card from the 2001 Rochester Red Wings team card set.

Even superheroes  find their status relegated to that of a historical footnote. Times change and a community's embrace of heroes change with them. For a period of three years, I worked part-time as a Triple-A baseball mascot for my local International League team, the Rochester Red Wings. During that time, which was among the most rewarding and difficult of my life, there was another "mascot," with who I worked the games that has since disappeared from the public consciousness. Beyond the fact that he was neither a furry nor mute, the unique nature of this mascot made him an original. He went by a few official monikers but was most recently referred to simply as Recycleman.

Ogden "Recycleman" Whitehead's
autograph circa 2001.

While taking in a 2013 home Rochester Red Wings baseball game early in the season with my son, it became apparent to me that despite all his years of service, Recycleman and his antics had been lost to the sands of time. Though veteran season ticket holders would certainly still recollect his trademarked signed-version of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game"  from year's of seventh inning stretch performances, anyone 17 or younger had no idea who Recycleman was. It is almost like he never roamed the stands shouting "Dub-dub-dub-dub-DOUBLE PLAY!" But I can tell you he did exist and was a memorable part of summer games for years. I know this, because I was there. I can't help but wonder: what ever happened to the world's first hearing-impaired superhero?

Recycleman was never a mascot in the traditional sense. In the first place, he owed this final iteration of his name purely from corporate sponsorship. His costume (a smallish baseball uniform in the company's green and black color scheme with cape) promoted an eponymously named waste management group (translation: refuse collection) headquarter in the region. Perhaps the most dramatic departure from "regular" mascot, was the fact that he did not perform in any sort of mask or with artificial musculature; he has accurately been described as a "black, pot-bellied, forty-something superhero."

Front from the 2001 Rochester
Red Wings team card set.

Recycleman did not face some of the performance limitations that other more traditional mascots did, and so was free to communicate and interact verbally with fans. In addition to being a man-in-tights or size-to-small baseball pants, Recycleman was also a hearing impaired, African-American. More than simply deaf, he was an advocate for those who experienced the same disability. Recycleman  did not need to act at, but a practical "disability" he dealt with through personal experience. This was his heroic quality.

His antics at games were the topic of conversation at many games: an online Campus Times article entitled "Red Wings Defrosted and ready to play from March 2001 (a game I think I worked) tells us "Recycle Man leads the cheers in the stands and often from atop the Red Wings dugout while throwing favors in to the crowd and encouraging fans to recycle." The same post also reminds of another common occurrence at games, as " fans are usually entertained by the Red Wings unofficial mascot Super Wasteman, formerly known as Recycle Man. Recycle Man leads the cheers in the stands."

Ogden, August 9, 2010.

In previous incarnation he was called Wasteman, which clearly was not the most enlightened name for a superhero, Super Wasteman and eventually Recycleman . In truth Recycleman was not so much a unique "character," as an extension of the only man to have ever portrayed him, Ogden Whitehead. Unlike Bruce Wayne or Peter Parker, Ogden was in many ways a more interesting character, than his caped persona. tracking down modern appearances of either Recycleman (a pseudonym likely trademarked by the company that sponsored him--and has not been used since his abrupt departure from the team) or Ogden have been difficult to come by online. Pictures of Ogden in costume have proved even more challenge to find. During the heyday of his tenure (this was while I worked there, so I'll call it a "heyday"), both my character and he were part of the team's baseball card set. I recall his giving me a number of his cards (as employees we rarely received any promotional items for free), which I gave to my own children at the time because "Recycleman was cool."

The few more recent articles I did come across mentioning Ogden gave little indication as to his current whereabouts, though following his tenure as assistant director of administration for the club, they do suggest that he stayed with his passion. In 2008, Ogden appeared at the Eastern Regional Black Deaf Advocates Night of The Stars. In 2010, according to a short article on Cincinnati.com, Ogden Whitehead signed the National Anthem and performed the 7th Inning Stretch at The Hearing Speech and Deaf Center of Greater Cincinnati's first "Dummy" Hoy Night on August 9, 2010, at a Red's game.

After that, the trail on Ogden "Wasteman Super Wasteman Recycleman" Whitehead goes very cold: I knew Ogden had family in Buffalo, where I suspect he may have relocated briefly, but I could find nothing to verify his ever having lived there. I searched online obituaries (morbid, I know) and found nothing conclusive. Like old heroes and superheroes, I and other Red Wings fans have only our memeories, htough it is unfortuanet that there are no indicators at the park he wonce prowled, cheering the team he loved, that he had ever even existed.

Coffee Cup Profile 1: "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"

Just about every "thing" has a story, and as I was getting my coffee this morning, it occurred to me that each of the four or five coffee cups in my weekly rotation has a story behind it. I thought I might share these coffee cups profiles with you, beginning first with one that is both very near "retirement," and my heart.

For a three year period, about three years ago, I was a professional mascot for my hometown's minor league baseball team. During my time with the organization, I had the opportunity to work with some wonderful folks, including those ladies and gentlemen who worked as ushers in the stadium. My locker was located in an area that doubled as the usher's pre-game meeting room. As they prepared for each game, I would be taping my legs, spreading Ben Gay and stretching for my two-to-four hour performance.

During these meetings, the usher's would go over any news and notes, and I would often participate and try to get them going before the games. They were an unimaginable help to me during the occasions when I needed assistance in stadium or on the field getting me food, making sure messages were delivered or just being an ear to bend during rain delays (of which there were quite a few).

After the 2001 season, my first as the team's full-time mascot, one of the ushers gave me the coffee cup pictured above to the left and right depicting one of the many benefits of the job. While the mascot for the team, my kids had many opportunities to be involved with the game, whether changing bases during the seventh inning stretch or watching the game in reserved seats behind the dugout. The image on the cup shows my son and daughter on one evening when they were on the field (I would guess during either the Pee-Wee Tequila dance or the YMCA dance--both timeless "classics").

This cup has been one of my most prized possession from my baseball days, and after five years of being washed and used, I guess it is almost time to retire it from use, as I fear the image soon will become too faded to see clearly. There is a place waiting on my desk for this coffee cup, as it is a favorite picture of my children, even more than a favorite coffee cup.

Breathe in, breathe out... YOU AND I ARE ALIVE!