From Part 1:
“Well, that's not exactly accurate,” I counter, “I only argue with him when he's wrong.” Every occupant of the back seat explodes with laughter. I'm starting to think I might get along with these ballplayers. I'm also pleased to have employed a method of basic interviewing skills: make your subject comfortable. Not always my preferred strategy, but I'm going with it.
“So, boys, tell me about the significance of making it to Omaha.” Reporter mode on.
Part 2:
I'm deep in conversation with Matt Morgan, number 37, catcher, senior, when the bus stops. I check my watch and am surprised to see that it's lunchtime. While that didn't feel like five hours of non-stop interviews, the fact that my notebook is pretty full and I'm almost to the front of the bus testify to the fact that I've spent a whole morning working. Far from exhausted, though, I feel exhilarated. It's not just the team's enthusiasm that I'm catching; I'm starting to think I'm going to have the material to make this into a good series of stories. Of course, my job will be easier if the team can do its part by winning games.
I move back to my seat to put away my notebook and grab my bag before the hoard attempts to exit the bus. The last of the players are passing my seat as I stand up.
“Hey, Ace, you hungry or what?” asks Scott Meyers.
I blink at the nickname, but it's definitely one of the better things I've ever been called. “Yeah, I am, I've been working all morning.”
“Well, let's go then! We're hungry, and we've been sitting all morning.” Scott grins again, and I'm wondering if his self-assured nature comes from the fact that he's a graduated senior or that he's one of the stars of this baseball team. Maybe both. At least he's a friendly jock and not a stuck-up one.
I take a look at our surroundings as we exit the bus. Looks like a standard Midwestern small town, but I have no idea where we are. “So what town is this, anyway?”
“Beats me,” offers John Anderson, number 4, catcher, freshman.
“Have you ever traveled across the middle of the country? It all looks the same, man.” That profound philosophical musing comes from Ryan Bates, number 1, right fielder, sophomore.
Grunts of agreement issue from the rest of the group. Though undoubtedly true, that still doesn't answer my question.
“You really don't know, Ace?” asks Scott.
About that time, I spot the unmistakable red and yellow cyclone mascot of Iowa State in more than one shop window. “I do now. Iowa City, right?”
“Yep. You weren't kidding when you said you'd been working all morning, were you?”
“There's no time off in the news business, Scott. Especially for a woman. I'm going to work for the Daily Planet when I graduate, and I'm going to win the Pulitzer by the time I'm 30.”
Scott is silent for a moment. The rest of the group hasn't even been listening to us; they're probably too busy looking for pretty coeds or discussing what they want for lunch.
As we reach the door to the restaurant, Scott holds the door for me and catches my eye. “You get 'em, Ace.”
Surprised, I stop abruptly, risking getting run over by the players behind me. Scott gives me a solemn nod, then turns to join the conversation going on behind me.
*****
After a quick lunch, we are back on the road. I finish talking to the team, including Bobby the equipment manager, and the assistant coaches. I also spend an entire hour talking to Coach Williams. I begin to brainstorm angles for human interest pieces that will be most of my writing before the CWS starts. The second half of the trip flies by, and before I know it, we are pulling into the parking lot of the hotel.
A surprising cool breeze greets us as we step off the bus. Otherwise, Omaha looks like your average mid-sized city. “Not much to see here, boys. Why don't they move this party to somewhere more interesting, like Metropolis?” I'm mostly joking. Mostly.
“Cap, you tell Ace to stop talking bad about Omaha! She'll jinx us!” Brad Spaulding, number 8, lefty pitcher, junior, calls out to Scott, whose nickname is “Cap,” short for “Captain.”
“Relax, Spook, it was a joke,” Scott calls back. We're all waiting for Bobby and the bus driver to finish unloading the suitcases from underneath the bus.
Scott turns to me. “You'd be surprised, Ace. My dad brought me here to watch the College World Series one year. The entire town supports the Series and every team that makes it, though they usually root for the underdog. And there are some really interesting things to see and do in Omaha.”
I'm skeptical, and I'm not trying to hide it.
Scott grins. “You just need to relax, Ace. It's not Metropolis, but it has its own charm.” His face becomes more serious. “And don't let any of the guys hearing you putting down this city. You know how superstitious baseball players are, and Spook is one of the most superstitious I've ever seen. You wouldn't want a rumor going around campus that you cost us the College World Series.”
I open my mouth to protest, but one look at his face reveals that he's teasing me. And yet, I hear the truth in his statement. So the backwoods Omaha commentary stays unvoiced. Got it.
*****
We arrived at the hotel right after another team, whose insignia-bearing luggage would indicate is the University of Kansas team. They don't look too shell-shocked, considering Omaha is a big city to them.
While the hotel lobby is not undersized, it is also not designed to accommodate two college baseball teams. Feeling moderately claustrophobic and decidedly short, I locate an empty spot along a wall where I can simultaneously observe both teams and be out of the way.
From this vantage point, both teams look pretty similar. Of course, there's more of a plaid flannel vibe to the clothing choices of the Kansas team, but that is to be expected. The Kansas coach and Coach Williams have struck up a conversation as they both wait at the desk for the room keys for their teams.
Looking at the Met U team, it's clear that Scott is the leader of the team. I had figured that out from interviewing the players on the trip. I don't see a similar dynamic with the Kansas team, but that's possibly because I haven't met any of the players. That will change during the press conference tomorrow.
The teams are mingling, and if I thought our boys were excited before, then the only possible description of the players now is giddy. Save the evidence of puberty, this has become a lobby full of hyper twelve-year-olds.
The din of the lobby subsides as both coaches turn from the front desk holding large manila envelopes. The KU coach speaks first.
“We're all checked in and ready to distribute keys, but as you know, 'the last shall be first,' so we're going to let our Metropolis colleagues go ahead and pass out keys first,” the KU coach finishes with a wink. I didn't know people still did that.
The KU players chuckle. At Bible humor. How bucolic.
“Thank you, Coach McIntosh. It'll be good for you to practice being behind us,” Coach Williams replies. At that, the whole lobby laughs. “Mets, if you want dinner, you need to meet back here at seven p.m. That gives you about 45 minutes to get settled. There will be a team meeting after dinner in Conference Room C, which is on this floor. Bobby, go ahead and call out room assignments.”
*****
I hang behind after the team has left the lobby. “Coach Williams, where is the team having dinner? I'm not sure how long it will take me to pick up my rental car, so I'd like to meet you there if I don't make it back in time to ride the bus.”
Coach grabs a map labeled “Downtown Omaha/Old Market” from a stand near the front desk. “Here, let me show you. We're eating at Spaghetti Works in the Old Market, which is here,” pointing to an intersection on the map. “You'll have to park at a meter – do you have change?”
I nod yes.
“Good. Are you picking up your car at the airport?”
“I think so. My reservation says 'Eppley.'”
“That's it. Let's see if the hotel has a shuttle leaving soon. Then I'll call up and have one of the guys go with you.” Coach Williams returns to the front desk.
“Coach, that's really not necessary. I can handle it, you don't have to bother one of your players.” I am not a little woman, and I don't need taken care of.
“Oh, I know you can,” Coach Williams answers easily. Not a canned answer, his earnestness is evident. “But Scott has been here before, and he can point out some of the sights along the way.”
Well, if it's going to be Scott, I can deal with that. He's friendly. And not unattractive.
“Besides,” Coach continues, “you've been on a road trip with us. You're practically one of the team now, and I look out for my team. Like it or not, you're stuck with me.” He grins. “I don't want the bad press if you get lost on your first day in Omaha.”
Concern and caring are not very familiar concepts for me, so while I appreciate his sentiments, I'm a little unnerved. I fall back on an old standard. “Don't worry, Coach. Any negative reporting from me would certainly find small town America to blame.” I smile, to let him know I'm joking. Mostly.
Coach Williams isn't fooled. “I bet you'll change your mind about this town before we leave Omaha.”
“Really?” I'm intrigued. Why would I change my mind when I know I'm right?
Coach Williams just laughs. I think I'm a little insulted.
“Lois, don't tell Steve, but I think this College World Series is going to be that much more interesting with you here!”
*****
TBC
