Back to Bat Girl Zen

After the pitch, we’re off back to the elevators to go to our seats for the game, with thanks to the Sox for supplying half of them for free (!). We say goodbye to our handlers, and then, as we’re getting off the elevator, my mom is suddenly AWOL. I look back, and she’s chit-chatting away with someone who looks vaguely familiar. She gets off, all a flutter.

Mom: Didn’t you see? That was Governor Quinn!

Cori and I look at each other, clearly thinking the exact same thing.

Me: Damn, I wish I had noticed! I would have asked him what the hell it is with property taxes in Illinois being so high!

Cori: And I would have asked him why he’s bankrupting the state with no pension reform. What the hell, guy?

Mom: I wish I had told him he looks SO much better in person than he does on tv! On tv he looks so old and ugly, but he looked so young and dapper! Nowhere near as horrible as he looks on tv.

Me: Umm, mom, it’s probably better you didn’t have a chance to say that…..

We then repair to our seats to watch the game, and have a raucous good time watching the White Sox kick ass, clearly thanks to my warming up the field for them and all. And thanks to Cori’s Rack. That girl has some amazing powers.

It’s notable, however, that only after he’s sucked down the two margaritas I bought him as a result of our bet, that my brother has second thoughts about the whole thing. Realizing that the Sox didn’t really kind of do anything, that there was no mention anywhere of the whole Breast Cancer Awareness Day, that even the players didn’t know who we were. And that clearly I did win the bet after all. Hmm, sneaky, that one.

NB Andrew: You know, I think it’s because the White Sox didn’t have their home game on Mother’s Day. Yeah, that’s probably it.

Me: Dayna’s game for the Yankees wasn’t on Mother’s Day, and she got to hang out in the dugout, meet all the players, hang out behind the batting cage with the coach – hell, I think they even let her run the bases a few times, just for yucks. Maybe even put her in the starting lineup. Dayna said it was the best day of her life.

NB Andrew: Well, it’s probably because this game is a couple of weeks after Mother’s Day. Too much time in between.

Me: My friend Amy’s game for Detroit was just this past Thursday. She was interviewed on tv, and her and her family were in a suite, and the Detroit Komen people stopped by to greet her, and the announcers kept mentioning her, and she said she was treated like a queen by the whole Tigers organization.

NB Andrew: Well….umm…..hey, how ‘bout them Blackhawks?

We also get into a discussion about the first first pitch vs. second first pitch thing.

Normal Brother Andrew: And you didn’t even get to throw out the first pitch – it’s too bad the Kid went before you.

Me: No, are you kidding? That was perfect! This way the Kid was the warm-up, and I was the closer.

Now, I probably sound like we had a lousy day – and that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was a gorgeous day at the ballpark with my favorite people, and we had the best time. Maybe not because of White Sox management - I mean really, it’s not like they needed to do all that much, and certainly nothing that would have actually cost them any money. As my brother said, this was kind of low-hanging fruit for them. They could have thrown us a few bones, like getting to meet and chat with all the players, and gotten some great PR out of it – you know, kind of like every other team did. After all, how could you NOT love the Yankees after what they did for my friend Dayna?

Not content to let breast cancer survivor Dayna Varano watch batting practice from in front of the Yankees' dugout, manager Joe Girardi insisted she join him on his customary perch right behind the batting cage.

Varano was welcomed by Girardi and the rest of the Yankees as an honorary batgirl before Thursday night's game against the Royals. She had plenty of smiles, but, as she expected, plenty of tears.

Varano said that she and Girardi spoke about members of the Yankees manager's family who had suffered from cancer. In between, Girardi made sure she met any Yankees player who walked by.

Asked who had given her autographs, Varano turned around to reveal a jersey littered with signatures.

"It happens fast and furious, so I'm not positive of everyone that went by," Varano said. "But they're all so great."

"It's an absolute honor for us," right fielder Nick Swisher said. "All of us, we've been very blessed to be where we are. We haven't had to go through the kind of things she's had to go through. So for all of us, she's a major role model."

Besides watching batting practice, Varano threw out the ceremonial first pitch and assisted Girardi in the delivery of the lineup card to home-plate umpire Brian O'Nora. She was joined by her mother; her husband, Steven; and three of her four children, Alexa, Siena and Luca.

And then there's the video of Dayna enjoying her amazing awesome day - I will only note that she did NOT almost get hauled away for getting too close to the dugout.

Don’t get me wrong – I wouldn’t be the Miss Tasha we all know and…..well, know, if I weren’t curmudgeonly and bitter. So yes, I’m rather annoyed that I managed to win the Bat Girl Contest for the one team that seemed to do less than any of the other 29, from what I can tell. The team that was owned by not just the Yankees and Detroit and all the other teams, but especially the Cubs, for god’s sake. I’m slightly peeved that the Sox didn’t do anything at all for the breast cancer awareness home game – where they usually do something for a whole bunch of survivors, not just the Bat Girl. And they give out pink hats or some such schlock. All my people deserve their pink schlock!

I’m bummed that no one bothered to interview me – not that I give a rat's ass about yet more fame and fortune, but because I didn’t get a chance to say what I would have said, which is this: that breast cancer is deadly. That there is no cure. I would have told them that all the pink is great, but the problem with it is that it can give the impression that breast cancer isn’t as serious as it is. That my friends and I are fierce advocates for moving beyond just awareness – that we need to focus on education, educating not just doctors who continue to tell women that they’re too young for BC, until they’re suddenly stage 4, but also women who have never heard of Inflammatory Breast Cancer, for example, which can be very aggressive. And that we need a damn cure already. Awareness isn’t enough. Find a fucking cure already - our friends are dying.

But I didn’t get to say any of that, because there was no PR associated with this whatsoever, which is a shame for the whole "awareness" part of this. Maybe the problem is that the bar is set pretty high for this event, so anything other than the full court press seems a bit...inadequate. Plus there's some home team pride going on here - we were all kind of sad that our beloved White Sox were basically owned by every other team.

My family and friends though, they cared and they all made me feel like a total rock$tar, though I don’t feel I deserve that appellation. They made the effort to come spend the day with me, and those who couldn’t make it, sent emails and Facebook postings and irate letters to the MLB insisting that I get my first pitch – and, well, pretty much I felt like the luckiest person on earth. One dear friend, Dee from Alaska, cc’d me on the email she sent to Kate Gibson, the MLB woman – and it was so sweet and thoughtful, it brought me to tears. And further solidified my already Zen approach about the whole thing – that no matter what the White Sox did or didn’t come up with, it would be an amazing and perfect day.

But my dark day back in July of 2008, at the Sox game, that was a different kind of day entirely. We’ll recall that my whole goal with all of this was to get my perfect day back, one that wasn’t completely screwed up by my having to leave in the 4^th inning to go see my first set of doctors – this was shortly after I was diagnosed – thinking that they’d be the answer to everything and that I could move forward with a treatment plan. Instead, these doctors told me I didn’t have very many treatment options, that chemo doesn’t work on my kind of tumor, that my only option was a mastectomy, and oh yeah, that even with reconstruction, I’d still be disfigured. “Your breast will never look anything like a normal breast.” Yes, they said that.

That was by far the most traumatic day I’ve had of any related to The Cancer. By far. It still has the power to bring me to tears, when I remember the feelings of hopelessness and abject fear and rage at the unfairness of it all.

So I wanted my perfect day at the ballpark back, with my brother, in large part to thank him for everything. In spite of his original “could be worse” faux pas, he’s been one of my biggest supporters, so the fact that he didn’t get to meet the players he most wanted to meet, that bums me out. I would have easily given up the 2^nd first pitch if he had had a chance to do that.

But as my brother and I were driving home, I had a bit of an epiphany. That there are no do-overs, really, but that sometimes you come full circle in a way that’s truly satisfying. That I had gone from a very traumatic cancer-related day that was etched in my mind forever, to one a few years later where I was laughing and yucking it up and having a great time with my Cancerchick friends as well as others I had become closer to in that time. With some of these women who I had met only because of BC, but I now feel my life wouldn’t be complete without them in my life.

So in the end, I have to say that I didn’t quite get my perfect day back.

I got one that was even better.

My Bat Girl Odyssey, cont.

I’m walking over towards the dugout and figure I’ll just lean against the fence and get a picture there, and Kristine is mumbling something in an increasingly panicky voice, something about “security” and “can’t go near the dugout” and whatnot. I’m not really paying attention, because really, she can’t possibly be serious. So I get to the stairs and turn around to pose, and KH2 is waving her arms frantically.

KH2: No no, you can’t go near the dugout! The security…..hey, I’m sorry, she doesn’t know…..

A menacing-looking Security person is coming towards me, as I stand there incredulous. Are they fucking serious??

Security: Miss, you…

Me, tersely interrupting: I’m moving.

I try standing at the very end against the dugout fence, but no, that too is verboten. So I stand about a foot in front of it, and look sullen. Which isn’t hard to do, because now I’m a little pissed.

Me, to Kristine: Are you serious? So every other Bat Girl gets to actually sit inside the dugout for their games, and you’re ready to have Security haul me off because I’m too close?

(Please note the pictorial evidence, of Katie Whosiwhatsit, the Bat Girl for the Chicago Cubs, IN THE FRICKING dugout both before and DURING THE GAME.)

KH2: Umm….I…..I’ve only worked here since November! I don’t know! I’m just the messenger!

Me, surly and incredulous: So what do we actually get to do, other than stand here on this little circle?

KH2: Well, some of the players will be coming out soon…

Me: Do you know which ones? Buehrle, Konerko, Prbzbzbzbzbynski?

KH2: I don’t know….

Me: Just out of curiosity, are any of the Blackhawks here?

KH2: Umm…..

Sigh.

Finally some players start heading onto the field, while at the same time, kids are descending on the ballpark, coming down the aisles such that the players are on the field, and the kids are in lines going up the stairs in the stands. Since we’re on the field, KH2 starts taking us on the rounds of the players. Where it becomes clear they have no idea who we are or why we’re there. Breast Cancer Awareness Game? Ha.

This is how it goes. We get to a player, wait patiently, then KH2 taps said player on the shoulder. The ensuing dialogue is as follows:

KH2: Hi Paul, this is our esteemed Honorary Bat Girl that we’re honoring for Breast Cancer Awareness Day, and we’re so excited to have her here with us! Let me introduce you.

Ha, just kidding! This is how it really goes:

KH2: Umm, excuse me…..could you maybe take a moment……maybe just quickly sign her shirt?

Honestly. So I get my shirt signed, my brother gets his ball signed, and Mickey is annoying me because here my brother and I are, trying to be polite and not suck up too much of the players’ time when there are these long lines of kids, and Mickey is having each player sign a ball AND her shirt.

Me: Mickey! Pick ONE, ball or shirt! Don’t be rude.

Mickey: Oh, okay.

She then ignores me and continues to have them sign both. So we make the rounds like this, and are hustled quickly past one side because the Dodgers are practicing their pitches there, and all the players are perfectly nice and gracious – which is cool, given they have no idea who we are – but we don’t get to chat with any of them. Except one, who is my new hero: Gavin Floyd.

Yes, Gavin figures out that we’re somehow “special” – maybe he notices the shirt with the huge pink ribbon on it – and actually takes a moment to chat with us. About the weather, the game, whatever. We’re talking with a real live player! And I get my picture with him! Swoon.

After we make the rounds, we head back to the little circle and meet up with Stacy.

Stacy: Ooh, I like all those signatures on your shirt. Are you going to wear your shirt…..when you throw out the opening pitch?

Omg! Much happiness and exultation! My brother now decides I owe him drinks, and I happily accede. I get my fricking opening pitch!

Elated, we head off to the stands, and are told to come back at 12:15 to go back on the field for some special pre-game ceremony. Not sure what that is, but I know that for other games they’ve had some walk around the field for the Bat Girl and her family and friends, and a coterie of other survivors, all with much fanfare. I call Cori to find out where she is.

Me: Cori, I get to throw out the first pitch! Where are you guys? Are you close?

Cori and my mom are joining me and my brother for the on-field ceremony, yet neither is here yet.

Cori: There was confusion about who was picking up whom – we’re driving like maniacs on the Ike! We’ll be there soon!

Me: Cool, get here in 15 minutes!

My brother and I wander about, I track down margaritas and swig one down, find my mom and her friend Suzanne, and finally get a text from Cori.

“Just jumped out of the moving car, on my way to the gate.”

Sweet! See, this is the definition of a true friend – someone who’s willing to jump out of a moving vehicle for you.

Finally Cori gets there with her family, along with Robyn and Adrienne, and Don’s here already, so the gang’s pretty much all here. Whee! Time for fame and glory!

We head back in and go back onto the edge of the field, and I get the ball that I’m going to throw out. The first pitch! Yay me! Yay…wait, what?

Stacy: Okay, so we’ll have the first pitch, and then you’ll go….

Me: Wait, I’m the second first pitch? Who’s throwing the first one? Patrick Toews? Some kid with cancer?

Stacy: Let’s see……some seasonticketholder (she says this really fast).

It seems that perhaps I’m a last-minute add-on, probably as they realized that they’re having just a season ticket holder trump me on the first pitch. And this Bat Girl thing is supposed to be a big deal – at least based on how every other team has done it. So I chit chat with the kid who’s throwing out the first first pitch.

Me, to kid who’s maybe 17, and whose dad clearly got him this gig: So what’s your deal? Why do you get to throw out the first pitch? (please note that I say this in a friendly fashion – he seems like a nice kid, and this whole day is just kind of entertaining, quite frankly.)

Kid: I honestly have no idea. I don’t even deserve this.

Me: So you don’t have cancer, like me?

Kid: No.

Me: Hmm, well then, you had better throw out a good first pitch. Do you play baseball?

Kid: I do play baseball.

Me: Awesome! So it had better be a fastball over home plate.

Me, adding: No pressure or anything.

I then talk to the coordinator guy, who explains to me the sequence of events.

CG: Okay, so you get to the mound, and you can stand on top of it, or before it…
Me: Oh, I’m definitely standing on top. No guts, no glory, that’s what I say.

CG, looking at me with something akin to respect: Well. Okay then. Good for you!

I have a new fan. And this guy I like – he’s friendly and knows his stuff. But I honestly can’t even say I dislike anyone we’ve met – they’re all very nice, especially Stacy and Kristine, but it’s also clear that their White Sox higher-ups put little thought into this day, at least in terms of what women might like. A guy? Yeah, he'd be excited at just breathing the same air as some White Sox players. A woman? Yeah, we pretty much want to be made to feel special.

Because no, there’s no pre-game ceremony. They sing the anthem. Kid throws out the first first pitch. We high five each other as he’s coming in, and then it’s my turn. I wave to the crowd, and am suddenly nervous – I stopped practicing my pitch 2 weeks ago when I was told I wouldn’t get to throw anything. Damn. I would take my time, but who the hell wants to watch me stand there and dither? I give the ball a little toss, then throw it, and……..close! One little bounce, less than a foot from home plate and Buehrle. Whew, I’ll take it.

As I’m walking up to Buehrle as instructed, I tell him “I think it’s great all the work you and your wife do with dog rescue organizations!”

Him: Oh, that’s all my wife’s stuff.

Me:…….

Talk about a fallen idol. Well, not fallen really, since he's still very gracious and it was cool to get a chance to meet him – but still a bit of a surprise. Though throwing out a pitch? Yeah, freaking awesome.

(Next: why this was the best day ever.)

Zen and the art of being a Bat Girl

Before the game

Normal Brother Andrew has come into town from California for the weekend for the game, and I’ve come back early from working very hard at Galena with Miss Nettie also to go the game – since the Sox didn’t have a home game on Mother’s Day, they’ve picked the May 22^nd one against the LA Dodgers as their Breast Cancer Awareness Game. Supposedly. At least that’s the idea.

Given that the WS haven't been too forthcoming with any details, I have the strong sense that this will be totally half-assed, in keeping with the spirit of the typical Chicago sports team. My brother thinks the White Sox will channel the spirit of Bill Veeck, he of the promotions centered around midgets and other strange hoopla, and will do it up right. Hmm. We decide to bet on it – mai tais to the winner.

Arriving at the game

We follow instructions and pull up to the parking lot to the south of the stadium. My contact Stacy was supposed to put my name on their list.

Me: Hi, my name is supposed to be on the list. Last name is Huebner?

Parking lot guy: Hmm, no, it’s not there. What’s the name of your contact?

Luckily I had looked up Stacy’s last name - and even kind of remembered it.

Me: Stacy….Tchahaloupoulas, or something incomprehensible like that.

PLG: Okay, can you pull over there and call her?

Me, sighing: Sure.

I start pulling over, and before I can say anything, Andrew pipes up.

NB Andrew: So. I guess I owe you a mai tai, huh?

We decide to go double or nothing, and I call Stacy, who can’t understand the error, but she’s going to call down. In the meantime, we decide to take some pictures, to chronicle the esteemed Bat Girl Journey. I also figure I might as well include all bystanders in our pictorial, so I go to chat with the parking attendant people.

Me: Hey, I’m chronicling our journey here – can we get a picture of me in a pretend argument with you guys?

PAP: Oh no, no arguments! No no….

Me: Umm, I said pretend argument. You know, as in make believe?

They refuse to play along, but Andrew has gotten some pictures of me arguing with them about our getting into a pretend argument, so that works.

Finally, Stacy calls down, and we’re allowed into the parking lot. Needless to say, this doesn’t bode well for any kind of coordinated effort on the part of the White Sox……

Inside, at Guest Relations

Me: Hi, I’m supposed to ask for Stacy Tchihalalaloupoulos?

Desk person: Stacy Tsihlopoulos?

Me: Yes, that’s it.

DP: Okay, hold on.

Stacy shows up a few minutes later,

and after the introductions and my being given a glorious bag of pink schwag AND my Bat Girl jersey (!), I decide to ask the most important question.

Me: So, since I’m not throwing out the first pitch, who is? Someone famous?

Stacy: Umm, you know, I really don’t know? (She looks at her detailed schedule of events for the day.) No, I don’t have that information just now.

Me: So you don’t mind if we storm the field, like the Liggetts, do you? Though of course without beating up any refs. That would be rude. (bright smile)

Stacy, smiling nervously: Ha. Ha. Umm…

Me: Oh, I’m just kidding! We’ll probably just run around a bit, blurs in pink, chased by security. It’ll be fun!

Stacy doesn’t seem to understand my brand of humor, and she goes off for a few minutes – when she comes back, she has another person with her, an even younger woman named Kristine. Or as I think of her, Handler #2.

Kristine Handler #2: Hi! Okay, so I’ll help Stacy if she needs help keeping an eye on…..I mean…..assisting in making sure you all have a perfect day.

We set off, my brother and I and my friend Mickey who has come early and thus joined our little group.

Me: So what exactly do we get to do? Do we get to meet all the players? Do I have to beat any small children? I did put on the foil, just in case.

KH2: The kids won’t be on the field, they’ll be in the stands, so…..

Me: Excellent! That’ll keep the beatings down to a minimum.

Poor Stacy has disappeared, probably to go for a drink.

We get onto the field, and….no one’s there. But the glorious field! I’ve donned my special Bat Girl shirt, so I dump my other bags and start to make a beeline for the field.

KH2: Umm…..can you…I mean….do you mind just staying here in this little area? They don’t let anyone on the field.

Me, frowning: What? That’s….hey, look at those little seats in the front part of the dugout – can I take a picture there?

KH2: Umm…..but…..I don’t think……

I start walking over towards what I'll soon learn is the Sacred Exalted Dugout…..

(Next: whereupon our plucky heroine Miss Tasha almost gets herself tackled by Security)