The Mariners are in Tucson today to face the Rockies, and I’m not. I do have a few spies at the ballpark in case something unusual happens … like a Mariners victory.
In lieu of that, this is a day to relax, especially for those who aren’t in Tucson. That includes the smattering of ballplayers who stayed behind for a light workout in Peoria. And that brings back one of my more amusing spring training memories involving a lost bet, a naked romp around the field and the “consequences” of it.
It happened two years ago when most of the team was in Tucson. The pitchers who stayed behind were doing their early morning conditioning when a fairly high-stakes wager was placed.
Strength/conditioning coach Allen Wirtala, as he does most days, stood about 30 yards from the foul pole on the Mariners’ main practice field with three baseballs. If he could hit the foul pole with a ball, the pitchers ran more laps; if he missed, they ran less. Relief pitcher Mark Lowe raised the stakes. If Wirtala could hit the pole three times, he’d run one lap naked. Remember, it was really early in the morning, so nobody else was around … or so they all thought.
As you can imagine, Wirtala was money. He plunked the pole three times and the butt-crack of dawn truly became the butt-crack of dawn. Lowe stripped down to his shoes and began running. Everyone had a good laugh and the fun was over.
Or so it seemed.
A little later in the morning, an office sent word to Lowe that Chuck Armstrong, the team’s president, needed to see him upstairs in his office. “Why does he need to see me?” Lowe asked. “I don’t know, something about something he saw from his office earlly this morning,” he was told.
Lowe panicked. Why would Armstrong choose that morning to arrive early? Why would he look out the window? How would Lowe explain this?
Lowe was led upstairs to the executive level of the Mariners’ spring headquarters and into Armstrong’s office. The leather chair behind Armstrong’s desk was turned around, and all Lowe could see was a gray-haired figure.
Then the chair rotated around and sitting in it wasn’t Armstrong, but team attorney Bart Waldman. With a huge smile on his face.
Leaning into the office finally able to burst out with laughter was a group of pitchers, led by clooser J.J. Putz, who schemed the complicated prank that involved other players, a couple of coaches and front-office workers.
It didn’t end there.
Larry LaRue of the Tacoma News Tribune and I also were there and, being protectors of the public’s right to know, wrote about it in the next day’s papers. When Putz saw the stories, he wasn’t happy and he let LaRue know it.
A few days later, while throwing off the bullpen mound with LaRue watching, Putz called then-manager Mike Hargrove over and they had a serious discussion. Putz looked unhappy and he immediately bolted into the clubhouse dangling his right arm. LaRue, naturally, followed because an injured closer would be huge news and he’d have the story first.
When LaRue arrived in the clubhouse, he saw Putz sitting at his locker, head down, obviously frustrated. LaRue walked up and Putz raised his head. Then he smiled and said, “Gotcha!”
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