Off-season: the sweet days for the professional baseball player. Or they should be.
In late autumn and early winter, Northern stoves glow hot and Southern fairways grow lush. With a salary that makes off-season employment irrelevant, he idles the winter solstice with no job, no boss, no game days or midnight plane rides. A few obligatory hours in the gym or the weight room before racquetball or golf. Then home to the TV.
And then a cruise line asks him to come on board with his mate for a free, mid-November week of Caribbean frolic. The 1994 Baseball Cruise. Ports of call in Grand Cayman, Cozumel and Cancun. All the player must do is cover his bar tab and submit to a few soft interviews, an open-mike panel, an autograph session and a couple of clinics.
So up the gangplank of the MS Dreamward, the Norwegian Cruise Line’s immaculate, 2-year-old liner, ambled 11 current players and their sporty spouses or mates as well as a few old-time players and their savvy, patient wives. Life, for pros young and old, is a soft breeze, a gentle chop.
Except on this dark getaway day, when tropical-storm-soon-to-be-Hurricane Gordon hurled 50-mph winds at Ft. Lauderdale and pinned the Dreamward to its dock. As if it were a metaphor for baseball today, the ship, no matter how hard its crew labored, could not get out of the box.
Finally a tug was summoned, and the liner, with its 1,200 passengers-ballplayers, honeymooners, pensioners, a few dozen kids-not to mention enough food and drink to sate Cuba, fled southward.
A theme cruise is yet another carrot, apart from the midnight buffets and the mounds of chocolate-dipped strawberries, used to lure the uncommitted on board. Norwegian Cruise Line pitches theme trips with athletes from all major sports, car racers, jazz musicians, country music crooners and comedians.
It is meant to be a nonchalant, no-hassle time for the celebrities and, in this era of restricted access to the pros, a hands-on bonus for the ogling fan.
Not only does a baseball nut, for example, get to banter with Twins’ second baseman and 1991 American League Rookie-of-the-Year Chuck Knoblauch, but the fan can gaze on his bronzed body as he lies out in the sun, admire his ankle tattoo-“KNOB”-and note the technique of Knoblauch’s girlfriend as she slathers yet another coat of lotion on his pectorals.
A difference with this year’s baseball cruise, however, was the nagging fact of the major-league strike, which fractured the season and turned players against owners.
Players on board the Dreamward, even in their tank tops and Topsiders, were simply taking a break from the picket line. Fans-their fellow passengers-were still locked out.
“I’m here on my honeymoon,” said Shelly Burstein of Boca Raton, Fla., “but I’m also a big fan and I’m mad as hell.”
As the cruise progressed, more than just autographs would be extracted.
There were names-not big ones-among the big-leaguers on board. There was Boston’s Billy Hatcher, the fireplug-size outfielder who ruled the 1990 World Series with a .750 average when he played for Cincinnati. Hatcher brought along his wife, Karen, two adorably impish kids and their baby-sitter, and spent evenings relentlessly plying the Caribbean stud poker table.
And there was Knoblauch, one of the majors’ young stars; and outfielder Jeff Conine of the Florida Marlins, whose live bat put him on the 1994 All-Star team. Two solid pitchers, Tom Gordon of the Royals and Scott Kamieniecki of the Yankees, also cruised.
Backing them up were young, steady players such as Minnesota outfielder Alex Cole, Expos’ pitcher Butch Henry, Red Sox shortstop John Valentin and the Cardinals’ infielder Geronimo Pena. And finally, a handful of neophytes, all pitchers and just up from the minors, which included the Florida Marlins’ Robb Nen, Jon Lieber of the Pirates and Cleveland’s Paul Shuey.
The old-timers, who shared the vintage of the majority of cruise-line patrons, know the cruise routine well. Maury Wills, the great Dodger base-stealer and 1962 National League MVP, has become an NCL favorite and boards three or four of its ships a year.
“I’ve become sort of a cruise junkie,” Wills said, smiling like a thief. “That doesn’t make me a bad person, does it?”
“Not in the least, son,” assured Lew Burdette, the former Milwaukee Braves ace who killed the Yankees in the ’57 series. “I started cruisin’ in 1984,” Burdette drawled in his native West Virginia-ese. “Been on 50 of ’em.”
With Burdette and Wills was Herb Score, the once-brilliant Cleveland Indians left-hander best known for the tragedy in 1957 when a Gil McDougald line drive shattered his eye socket and all but ended his career. Score has been an Indians broadcaster for years.
And Fred Stanley, an 11-year man who played solid shortstop for the good Yankees teams of the 1970s, was billed as “management” because he is director of player development for the Milwaukee Brewers.
So laden, the Dreamward pushed south and west on its first night and day at sea, and it soon became obvious that Hurricane Gordon was no pushover.
Its swells caused decks to sway. Passengers clamored for motion-sickness pills. Complexions went green. Tuesday’s scheduled stop at Grand Cayman was called because of seas too rough for tenders used to shuttle passengers between ship and shore.
The weather also prevented the erection of a batting cage. No pitching demonstrations. No chance to see Hatcher or Conine or Knoblauch take six swings and out. No look at Maury Wills dragging a bunt. Major-league baseball at sea, it appeared, would mimic the status of the game back home.
For the most part, however, no one seemed to mind. The sun came out and tiers of deck chairs were soon filled. Hatcher, Kamieniecki, Shuey and a few other players joined passengers in body-slam basketball games. A spirited set of Olympics-style games with teams made up of players and passengers also transpired, but none of them involved a baseball.
Most fans put their baseballs and gloves away, although some tucked them under their deck chair in hopes that a game of pepper or catch among the pros might develop. None of the players caught the sign.
“I’ll get it out of them in autographs,” said Nick Castillo, 13, of Miami.
When the Dreamward finally docked in Cozumel and Cancun after three days at sea, fans and players forced to stay aboard because of the storm scrambled for shore. Some snorkeled, some scuba dived, others signed on with on-shore excursions, most moseyed about the island’s shopping strips. Quipped a nightclub comedian later, “The players kept screaming at their wives, ‘Don’t buy that! We’re on strike!’ “
On Friday, another day at sea, the players were scheduled to be onstage for an open-mike session with passengers. A crowd of 300 filled the ship’s Stardust Lounge, a good audience now mellowed by five days of gluttony and sea breezes.
The old-timers regaled the group with great stories of Jackie Robinson, Willie Mays and Sandy Koufax.
Then it was the current players’ turn. Moderator Jon Miller, the voice of the Baltimore Orioles and a rotund, slippery-tongued guy, tried to keep things anecdotal and harmless.
“What was it like, Scott Kamieniecki of the Yankees,” Miller asked, “to pitch your first game in Yankee Stadium?”
“No big deal,” said Kamieniecki. “I’m from Michigan, so I was more nervous the first time I played in Tiger Stadium.”
Said Miller to the Marlins’ Robb Nen: “You’re one of the few palindromes (his name is spelled the same forward and backward) in the majors.”
“Yeah,” replied Nen, “there aren’t many of us. It’s a pretty good feeling.”
But these cream-puff questions made the fans restless, and finally it was their mike.
“I grew up with Mickey Mantle and Yogi Berra,” said Shelly Burstein of Boca Raton, “and look what they gave back to baseball. You guys have Dwight Gooden, who went into drug rehab, and Steve Howe, who’s been busted seven times for cocaine. What are you guys gonna do for the game?”
Whoa. The players were not sure they wanted to touch that one. They sat like prisoners facing a cranky parole board. Jon Miller tried to soften things. “Yeah,” he said, “why did you guys allow Gooden and Howe to do drugs?”
Miller got a laugh, but he did not get the players off the hook. Hatcher finally blurted: “Everybody should be personally accountable for what he does. Don’t blame us for players who use drugs. We don’t like it any more than you do.”
A fan named George Wanninger, 84, from Cincinnati, raised his hand.
“Back in the 1920s,” Wanninger said, “the Reds had a pitcher named Dolf Luque who used to throw both games of a doubleheader. Nowadays you guys pitch six innings and you have to go home and go to bed. How come?”
Five big-league pitchers looked out at Wanninger and chafed.
“I don’t have a clue,” Chuck Henry, the muscled Montreal Expos starter, finally said. “Maybe the old guys were stronger.”
A lady in the sixth row stood up. “You guys are paid so much to play a game,” she said, “and still you go out on strike. I want to ask you all, `Do you know how lucky you are?’ “
The players did not want to touch that one either. Sideways glances abounded like foul tips.
Finally, the Yankees’ Kamieniecki leaned in and said: “Look, don’t think we live in a vacuum. I come from Detroit. My family is blue collar. They work in the auto factories. When I go home, I take plenty of crap from them about all this.
“Professional baseball,” Kamieniecki continued in probably the most articulate of the player responses, “is not a game, it’s a business. I don’t like that any better than you do. But as employees we feel we have to stand up and fight for what is ours. If you understand the game and the business, I think you’ll understand our position.”
The audience accepted that, and moved on. Nick Lebonitte, 13, of Fairfax, Va., asked why playoff games-when they were played, that is-start so late.
“I’ve never been able to stay up late enough to see the end of a World Series game,” he complained.
“One reason, kid,” Hatcher said, “Money.”
That got big applause.
Then the true business of the baseball cruise transpired in the form of autographs and candid photos. Fans queued up with baseball cards, mementos, baseballs, pennants, even napkins. The players, captives all, graciously signed and posed for more than two hours.
One fan asked Knoblauch if he minded the heat about the strike. “Not really,” he said, “I’m actually surprised that we don’t get a lot more of it.”
On Saturday, the final full day of the cruise, the ship anchored off an out island in the Bahamas. The weather had finally calmed, though it took hours for the crew to clean up the mess left on the beaches by Hurricane Gordon.
There were still no batting cages or pitching rubbers to be found, but players engaged in fierce volleyball games with teams made up of adults and kids who called them by their first names. Young Nick Castillo of Miami high- and low-fived Shuey like a brother.
“He’s a good guy,” Nick said. Even if he never got a lesson on how to throw a split-fingered fastball.
Before the games broke up and the tenders returned everybody to the mother ship, a fan elbowed Billy Hatcher.
“Go back to work, will ya, Billy?” he said.
Hatcher smiled, shrugged and made no promises.
CRUISING WITH THE PLAYERS
Norwegian Cruise Line has scheduled theme cruises, including major professional sports, motorsports, tennis, volleyball, music and comedy, throughout 1995.
Fares for a seven-day Caribbean cruise range from $1,329 to $5,379 per person, and include air transportation from major North American cities.
For more information, contact a travel agent or Norwegian cruise Line, 95 Merrick Way, Coral Gables, Fla. 33134; 800-327-7030.
Other cruise lines also offer theme cruises, including cruises for fans of individual teams. Information about cruises for Cubs and White Sox fans during the 1995-96 offseason should be available later in the year.
