If you have been paying attention to the weather, you know: It is snowboarding season.
No! Wait! That's not right. Despite the blizzard-o-thon that has hit the Sparks-Reno area, it is baseball and softball season. At least, that is what the City of Sparks is telling us.
I know this because I, along with sportswriter Ben "the Oregonian goateed one" Kwasney, had to attend a mandatory softball manager's meeting last Tuesday. Ben and I are heading up a city league co-ed softball team this year. The team is made up mainly of journalists (who are not known for their athletic ability, but rather, for the ability to shovel large amounts of food into their mouths while simultaneously typing).
This team is called "Sparky's Machine." The name, of course, comes from the Tribune's lovable plastic mascot and mayoral candidate, Sparky The Tribune Trout. And we players are ... well, his machine.
In other words, nobody could think of a better name.
Of course, seeing as a new sports bar called Sparky's is going to be opening soon -- located conveniently between both major Sparks softball complexes -- people will probably think we are sponsored by the bar. And once the owners of the bar see us play, I fear they may try and sue us.
Anyway, back to my topic, which is the manager's meeting. To know what the meeting was like, imagine this: several hundred people, mostly guys, many of whom are wearing baseball caps, stuffed in a convention room at John Ascuaga's Nugget.
And then add beer. Lots of it. Oh, and the meeting ran long, too.
To start off the meeting, a man by the name of Tony Pehle, the city's recreation coordinator, got up and informed us that the Nugget had given the City of Sparks the room for free. I thought this was quite a nice gesture, until I realized it was really one of the Ascuaga clan's shrewdest business decisions ever. You see, there was a bar open in a corner of the room, and as a species, softball players are known to thrive off of beer.
That night, the softball players lived up to their reputation and then some.
After we managers all had a chance to register, get raffle tickets and look at the various displays from vendors, the meeting officially started. Beers in hand, most of the managers actually listened to what Tony had to say for a good several minutes.
For the remaining 1 1/2 hours, they primarily talked and made bodily function noises.
Nonetheless, at times, the meeting got rather animated. At one point, there was a rather in-depth discussion on the uniforms that the players have to wear. The questioning droned on and on, and one person was asking a question -- seriously -- about the size of the numbers that had to be on the jerseys.
It was about an hour into the meeting, meaning some of the guys were starting to feel the effects of the beer. One of the guys sitting about three rows behind me was clearly bothered by the question.
"Go home and PICK YOUR NOSE!" he said. I could tell he was trying to say it so only those in close proximity could hear him. But I could also tell he was full of beer, and he consequently made the comment in a volume loud enough that everybody in the entire room could hear him -- and most of the people at the Silver Club, which is located completely across the street.
After the questions ended -- the volume rising minute by minute -- it was then raffle time. A number of businesses had donated softball-related prizes, which were to be given away.
And like the meeting, the giveaway went on for a while, too, because Tony felt the need to extensively thank each and every donor of each and every prize. I understand why he did -- he wants more free stuff to give away next year, too -- but many meeting attendees got restless.
The prizes included softball bat grips, a special tape that you put at the bottom part of the bat to assure a good grip. After Tony gave away another grip to someone, a slightly buzzed individual near me made another "under the breath" comment at about the volume of a moaning cow going through a painful birth.
"Great. Another softball player working on their grip," he said. His buddies around him laughed. It was really quite a nice Beavis and Butt-head moment.
The meeting was certainly an interesting experience. And I can honestly say that, as the manager of Sparky's Machine, I took a lesson away from that meeting:
If I am going to be a softball team manager, I have GOT to start drinking more beer.
Jimmy Boegle, a fifth-generation Nevadan, encourages all of his players, including the wind-blown catcher, to come out to practice. Jimmy's column appears Tuesdays in the Tribune, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@alumni.stanford.org.