Ah, to be a Sky Carp in tornado warning after bus ride to Cedar Rapids
CEDAR RAPIDS — The local television stations were filled with tornado warnings Tuesday on their 6 p.m. newscasts. So I did the most-sensible thing I could think of and went to Veterans Memorial Stadium to pretend I was the right fielder for the Beloit Sky Carp.
I’m from Oakland, Calif. We don’t have tornadoes. We never see skies get this creepy in daylight hours. OK, once in a great while we have an earthquake that dislodges a section of the Bay Bridge connecting San Francisco and Oakland. Hey, no place is perfect.
This is the first of six games in six days in Cedar Rapids. We bused in with an eight-game winning streak. No one here cares. We’re just anonymous guys in gray uniforms with a weird team name.
Sky Carp. We don’t have those in Oakland, either. I’m told that’s not a flying fish, but instead a slang term for geese that don’t migrate in winter. Somebody said they named the team that to represent a city that’s so vibrant and strong that no one wants to leave.
Sure. That’s it.
We’re playing the Cedar Rapids Kernels, and their name is no better. Kernels are the whole seeds of a corn plant. Geese vs. Seeds, as if I needed to be reminded this isn’t San Francisco or even Oakland.
The tornado warning lasted until 6:30. We started play at 6:37. They had a promotion scheduled here called “Bark in the Park.” People could bring their dogs into the stadium. They called it off, though, because of excessive heat. Yet, adults brought their kids.
I came to town with a .193 batting average. That’s not good, but our team’s average is only .227 and that’s better than a few others in this league. I’m 23. I’ve been in the Miami Marlins organization since I signed with them as a 17-year-old six summers ago.
Am I complaining? Heck no! I chose a $1.35 million signing bonus from the Marlins instead of playing at Cal State Fullerton. No knock on Fullerton, but it was like picking ice cream over cream of broccoli soup.
It’s my third-straight season in Beloit, but it’s still a lot more fun than 2019, when I suffered a tibial stress fracture and missed that season. Or in 2020 when COVID-19 canceled the minor-league season. I went 975 days without playing a game.
My first time up tonight, I blistered a single to left-center and eventually scored. My second time up, I ripped another single to center, stole second base, and then stole third. I have wheels.
They had a little kid do the public-address announcing in the fourth inning. He got my first name, Osiris, right. That was better than most of the p.a. guys in this league. Some of them don’t even try, and to them I say I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance.
If you Google “Osiris Johnson,” by the way, it’s just me for quite a while until you find the Osiris Johnson who’s an artist/videographer in Chicago. Or so he says. I’m not buying it.
My third time up, I walked, advanced to third base, then was tagged after getting in a rundown when I was caught too far off the bag after a sharp bouncer went to the shortstop. We call it a pickle.
A pickle. That’s funny. I didn’t laugh, however, and got my uniform filthy sliding back into third base.
You don’t know what you’ll get in this league, but it’s guaranteed to be strange. They played a snippet of the theme to “Happy Days” on the p.a., then immediately switched to Jimi Hendrix. Where am I?
One of the Kernels hit a long drive to left field. Our guy caught it at the warning track, and the fans above him behind the fence screamed at him to toss them the ball. He did, and there was chaos as they fought for it.
Imagine being someone’s houseguests and they showed off a baseball they got at a Sky Carp-Kernels game. Although, that might be brilliant on their part since it would have you reconsidering paying for a hotel room after all.
I went 2-for-4 with a walk, my batting average went up nine points, not a single fly ball came my way in nine innings, and we won our ninth in a row. Then I drove in two runs Wednesday afternoon and my batting average climbed another five points, but we lost.
Four more days here and we bus back to Beloit, a city no one wants to leave. Just like I crave cream of broccoli soup.
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