Steve Clarke - 100 Things Blue Jays Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die

To my amazing wife, Kasia, may we have many more long walks on the beach together, hand in hand. To my brilliant, beautiful, and hilarious daughter, Peyton, without whose loving attention this book would have been finished in half the time. To every kid out there with a glove and a dream. To C & T & M & D.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Id like to thank myself, and congratulate myself, and give myself a big pat on the back. Dee Dee Ramone

Well, unlike Mr. Ramone, I fully acknowledge that this particular project could never have been completed without the help of many others. Id like to give credit to the numerous people who contributed to this relatively large undertaking. They deserve a pat on the back.

I might never have been inspired to pursue writing professionally, had I not received such tremendous support from my mom, Linda. She proofread the majority of the words you see before you. So, if you find any errors, you know exactly who to blame.

Thank you to my creative writing teacher, Mr. Hougham, for further fuelling my love of the art of writing. As I headed off to Western, it was his reassurance that drove me to begin writing for the school newspaper.

Without the kindness of Bryan Douglass (now a bigwig with WayIn.com), I might have never taken the next steps. Bryan took me on as a blogger for a pair of basketball-related sites and later connected me with Cory Elfrink of Fanball.com, who was kind enough to hire me for his site. Special thanks, as well, to Mark Healey and the rest of the crew at Going 9 Baseball for allowing me to both write for the site and make appearances on their SiriusXM radio program.

Sincere thanks to Jeff Fedotin, assistant editor at Triumph Books, for his insight and advice throughout the writing process. Jeff is as sharp an editor as Ive encountered with a keen eye for detail and a passion for quality. Even as deadlines approached, Jeff was incredibly encouraging, and he deserves a tonne of credit for helping me put this thing together.

I am humbled by the kindness and professionalism of the entire team at Triumph Books, an innovative and bold publisher. My most sincere thanks, in particular, to Tom Bast and Mitch Rogatz for giving me this opportunity.

As I began writing this book, I reached out to my favourite writer, the remarkably talented Jason Parks of Baseball Prospectus. I asked him how he would tackle a project like this, and he provided thoughtful and meaningful advice. His insight primarily centered on the fact that Toronto need not consider itself the also-rans of the American League East, and fans would be remiss if they didnt celebrate the accomplishments of a proud franchise. His insight, simple as it might seem, acted as a guide for me throughout this process, and I owe him much gratitude.

Lastly, Id like to thank the individuals who took the time to speak with me, resulting in many of the quotes and stories in the book. Thanks to Joe Carter, Roger Clemens, Cito Gaston, Charlie Sheen, Julius Erving, Johnny Cardona, Jorge Arangure, Kevin Goldstein, and many others.

Introduction

Sadly, my introduction to baseball took place at Tiger Stadium, home of Detroits baseball club. I say sadly, because for just one day in my life, my loyalty was directed to a team, which would later become the archenemy of the Toronto Blue Jays. I should have known better, that day, than to clap my little hands and cheer for the vile gang of bandits who would cause so many problems for Torontos teams in later years.

Maybe my father should have stopped me.

Maybe I should have known intuitively that this hooting and hollering I did in favour of the Tigers would someday haunt my dreams. Hand in hand, my father led me into Tiger Stadium. The grass on the field wasnt just greenit was the most insipidly vivid shade of green my young eyes had ever seen. (My fathers lawn maintenance at home had instilled certain expectations for the colour of grassbrownish and peppered with little yellow flowers.)

Holding his meaty, freckled handI can still remember it nowwe walked toward our seats. My young mind was numbed by the sheer mass of humanity gathered in the stadium. No, sirthis was not the Rogers Centre on a Tuesday night in Aprilthis was a crowd . And they were brashcheering with unbridled passion.

They lured me in. My five-year-old mind was seduced by the madness, and I let go of all my inhibitions. I cheered for the Tigers with all my mighta shame Ill never truly overcome. Ive since decided to forgive my father for putting me in this situation and am (secretly) thankful for the experience of seeing my very first baseball game by his side. It wasnt his fault, damn it. It wasnt his fault.

Mercifully, his employer soon transferred him away from Tiger territory and closer to Torontowhere I would find comfort in the plush welcoming arms of BJ Birdy. Dads lawn maintenance acumen improved along the way, perhaps just coincidentally, and much greener grass prevailed.

In those yards, my dad taught me how to throw and catch, spurring on my love of baseball. He coached my teams through childhood and has always had my backboth on and off the fieldeven to this very day. He sparked my love for the Blue Jays, a team we love to discuss and share opinions about, even while we have often disagreed about nearly everything else.

I became a Junior Jay superfan, dorkily wearing a worn-out Blue Jays hat to school and even saving up for an absurdly shiny mid-1980s replica team jacket. My friend, Colin, and I walked to the Stone Road fire station in Guelph, Ontario, to pick up their giveaway Blue Jays baseball card packs. Arriving home, Id head up to my bedroom and study the stats on the back of the cards while listening to Tom Cheek and Jerry Howarth on my clock radio.

As if to compensate for that terrible day in Detroit, I worshipped at the altars of Ernie Whitt, Jesse Barfield, Fred McGriff, Jimmy Key, and Dave Stieband so many others. Mark Eichhorn, Jeff Musselman, Tony Fernandezthese guys were incredible.

I wanted to be a Blue Jay myself and could have been.

The marketat the timewas shamefully biased against max-effort, right-handed Anglo Saxons whose velocity topped out just north of 80 mph measured on a JUGS gun (which, for the uninitiated, is rumored to add a few mph to readings).

Undaunted, I took a chancelike many other young playersand attended a Blue Jays tryout camp in Cambridge, Ontario. I threw as hard as I could and ran as fast as my legs would take me. Ultimately, the baseball machine found no room for this particular flamethrower.

Thankfully, somewhere along the line, my mom sparked my love of writing and gave me all the encouragement I needed along the way. Shes probably proofread 95 percent of the articles Ive written for websites like Fanball, Going 9 Baseball, Comcast.net, and others. Shes even suffered through the painful experience of hearing me use the word tremendousupwards of 50 times in a 10-minute segment on one particular episode of the Going 9 Baseball Show on SiriusXMsomething no mother should ever be forced to endure.

So, now, I find myself charged with the task of spelling out 100 Things Blue Jays Fans Should Know & Do Before They Die the key moments in team history and a list of must-dos for admirers of the ballclub. I hope the book accomplishes its mission. As you read though the collection of stories, I hope you take pride in the uniqueness of the Blue Jays fan experience. Toronto has a rich and exciting baseball history, and if this book accomplishes anything, I hope it makes you love and appreciate this team even more, while perhaps making you smile a couple of times along the way.