Boston Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon was a huge fan of Pete Rose, so when it came time for a hunting trip, Paps felt elated to have the all-time hit king join him in the woods of Maine with his twin brothers - and of course his famous dog that ate the ball that won the 2007 World Series. They met at Paps' house in Mississippi. Pete came in and immediately found himself showing Paps the prizes of a lifetime. As they sat on the couch, Pete described each one.
“This is the bat that got me hit number 4,192 to break Ty Cobb's record. Nothing like it in the world. Priceless. I normally don’t ever bring it out but you were such a fan of me…well…hold it.”
Jon felt the hard ash bat and took a swing. As a reliever in the American League, he has forgotten to hit, and that was apparent from the hard bruise on Pete’s head after taking a swing…but Jon thought – history is made every day.
“OK Jon, this is the ball that I slugged for that hit. That my friend…is something that I cherish…so don’t throw it! “
Pete then took a sigh and grabbed another ice pack.
“And of course…”
Jon held his breath as the jersey that was Pete Rose’s was held up to the light.
“That, Jon, was the exact jersey that I wore when I got 4,192. Those three things…are what I hold onto in my exile. It keeps me going Jon. Anything ever happened to them…I think I’d kill myself.”
Jon ignored Pete’s moaning and cursing and instead felt the history in his place. Suddenly baseball has an appeal that he never appreciated.
“OK…so why don’t we leave this stuff here and bring the dogs and go hunting…OK!”
Jon jumped from his seat.
“Jon”
It was the first time Pete yelled since getting slugged with a bat.
“Jon…I know you’re excited and all but…the dance…we can avoid that right?”
“Oh…ya…sure, “said Jon suspecting that Pete feared he might get hit in the head with a leg kick.
Anyway, the trip was fun, so much fun, that Pete Rose decided to stay another three days but Jon was tired and went back home. His large dog fell into the house and hit the sofa. Jon smiled.
“Now don’t you touch Mr. Rose’s stuff OK! Remember what you did to that baseball…but…oh, we all make mistakes. ”
The dog barked and Jon felt relieved.
“I’ll be in the shower if you need me.”
Jon left and climbed into the shower. He heard some growling in the background but ignored it. The warm water was so refreshing during the blustery cold of the January winter. He felt the tingle of warmth return to his hands. Hunting wasn’t fun. The deer were absent…perhaps it was Jon doing the dance and it ended up with just two days of frozen bodies -- but Pete loved it.
Jon got up and dried off. He put on his clothes and stretched his body. Tonight was popcorn and a movie. He walked to the living room. Jon looked around. Where was Pete’s stuff? Where was the priceless, irreplaceable stuff?
His dog barked…then Jon noticed the brown trail of dung that fell on the floor.
“No!” shouted Jon. He ran over and saw Pete’s jersey. It was covered in poo and yellow stains.
“Boy…How you could do this! I told you after 2007 to never do that again and you promised me!”
We realize that it is intellectually impossible for a dog to make a promise like that but try to explain it to Jon.
Jon took a breath. He knew it just needed a wash…with lots of bleach. Ya…bleach would fix it all and give it a new shine.
“Oh crap…where’s his number?”
Jon then noticed the entire back of the jersey was torn to shreds and littered all over the living room.
The phone rang. Bad timing. This was not a good time. Jon ran to it.
“Hey Jon. You won’t believe it. Bud Selig called me on my cell phone. He says that he’d like to see my stuff. He’s flying down in two days. See you then!”
Jon stood there like a zombie. He stepped in some material and sprung his leg up.
“How do I...that’s wood. That’s…AHHHH”
Jon limped into the kitchen from the splinter on his foot trying desperately to avoid the landmines of dung littering the floor via a large amount of hopping and ran to the kitchen to see Pete’s priceless bat shredded up with splinters of wood on the floor.
“Hot glue…just need some hot glue…oh no.”
Jon knew the situation. The ball. The ball that Pete valued so much…just like the ball he valued so much in the 2007 World Series.
“Where???”
Jon couldn’t describe the heart-stopping shock to his system. He was about to throw up but realized his dog had already done it…all over what was left of the baseball.
“Wash…hot glue…lots of glue. I can fix that ball…and I can Pete's name. I can fix the jersey…I can fix the bat. Ya…a grinder…that’s all I need…oh I am so dead!”
The phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Jon…you won’t believe it. Bud Selig said he’d reinstate me to baseball if I’d donate these supplies. Can you believe it! He’s planning a big ceremony. This is big! Isn’t that great!”
“Oh…that’s…just great.”
“Jon…my stuff’s OK right?”
“Oh…ya…everything is fine…ah…take some more days…weeks if you need too," said Jon while barely clinging to his sanity.
“Great…see you tomorrow. I’m coming home early. I got my life back!”
Jon hung up the phone. He circled the room and tried to capture some semblance of a plan.
“I can…I can sand the bat. Pete will never notice it. I’ll reshape it…and the ball – hot glue…and the jersey…I can sew…everything’s going to be fine. I just ruined Pete Rose’s life! Oh you dumb dog. ”
Jon sat down due to the fact his splintered foot was starting to swell.
“Crap…gotta wash the couch too. OK. I can deal.”
Jon walked further getting splinters of wood in his feet trying to get to the washing machine before sliding on material and landing on his head.
“Boy…don’t you dare lick me! I know where that mouth has been. Oh man…I’m Julio Lugo!”
Jon was a wreck. He hadn’t slept all night. It was a day later when Jon had completed his repairs. Jon was drenched in sweat. He had used two tubes of hot glue, sandpaper, a rasp, an orbiting sander, a new baseball, a sharpie, sewing needle, thread and a prayer book. The jersey looked like Frankenstein in drag, the ball was replaced with a new one with a rough signature of Pete Rose and the bat was sanded down and broke in half during the process…grinders are much tougher a tool to control than Jon realized. Duct tape and glue somehow felt all wrong including the pink paint job (it was the only color on hand) to hide it.
The phone rang.
“Hey Jon. Pete here. T.V crew coming over. Going to be a big event.”
“Ya, big event all right, “said Jon falling into disarray. He had never eaten so much food in his whole life.
“OK…talk to you in a minute.”
Jon sighed. He heard the crew roll up the driveway. ABC was there…but nobody else.
“I thought relief pitching was tough."
The door swung open and as promised, Bug Selig, Pete Rose and an ABC news crew setup in his house. On top of that there was Johnny Bench and Terry Francona. Jon felt lightheaded as if he had given up 35 runs to Bucky Dent.
“Oh…hey…hi!”
Pete smiled and hugged Jon. “Jon…you look awful. Been doing the C.C. Sabathia diet?”
“Oh…ya…that’s it all right.”
“I agree, you should get some sleep," said Bud Selig introducing himself. Jon felt Johnny’s hand.
“John…so glad to meet you. Big fan.”
“Oh…I’m sure you have strong feelings for me.”
Pete said, “OK…where’s my stuff?”
This was the moment all right. The moment where Jon felt his stomach collapse into his feet. There was his dog next to him…the blasted dog that had ruined his life.
“Oh…I put it away…to protect against the…ah…dog…ya.”
Pete sighed.
“Smart move Jon and here I was worried that your dog was gonna do something.”
“Oh…dog…good dog…ya…dog good. Well go get it!”
Pete had a smile on his face but Jon only felt shaking in his feet.
“Ya…I’m sure everyone will be really glad to see your stuff.”
“Jon…nothing happened to it…did it?”
“Oh…no…everything is…just great.”
Jon then ran off. He could hear the cameras rolling out, the lights falling from the ceiling. ABC was going to hang Jon by the neck. Jon sighed and grabbed the bag. He walked back into the room.
“Jon…open the bag. ABC is here!”
Jon saw the impatient stares.
“Well, we can all see it from here…and we don’t want it damaged or anything, “said Jon.
“No, I need to touch this material and feel it, “said Bud Selig. “I mean…this is history.”
“Ya…history a good word right now…ya…it’s history all right.”
Jon sat down and pulled the ball out of the bag. He hoped that would be enough. He nervously handed the ball to Selig.
“Pete Ross? Hey, Pete, I know you're not the brightest bulb on the tree, but can't you at least correctly spell your last name?"
“Oh crap…I’m dead!”
“Wow, “said Johnny. “Had no idea your jersey had so many stitches on it.”
Jon now felt a warm fluid drain from his entire body down to his toes.
“Jon…what happened to my bat, “screamed Pete Rose now boiling with Cincinnati red all over his face.
“Jon…did your dog…”
“OK, “shouted Jon. He could take it no more.
“I tried…oh man I tried. I mean I tried hot glue and sewing and…oh man my dog did it all. Please Pete…I’m sorry.’
Jon never realized how many tears fell from his eyes at that moment. He felt the humiliation of the dog and right now wanted to crawl under a rock. Instead, he heard a busting of laughter from the entire troop. He looked up in dismay and confusion.
“What’s so funny?”
“Jon, ‘said Pete. “Do you honestly think I’d give you the originals of these items but when Terry Francona came up with this…I couldn’t resist. You should have seen the look on your face!”
Jon got up and the tears filled with rage.
"This…was a joke!”
“Totally, “said Johnny. “Now how bout some beer and a movie. “
Jon, who was never known for a good memory said, “Oh…ya…sounds good. TV.”
Tito sat down and said, “Joke’s not over yet Jon. The ball was the real deal.”
Jon felt blood drain from his face,
“Ok, just kidding. You know how we have fun on the team.”
Jon felt the jaw drag on the ground and said, “ya…real funny. Oh Jon can take it. He’s tough. Ya…Jon can take it.”
It was just then that Jon stepped in yet another pile of manure. The laughs poured out from the room. Another day in the life of Jonathan Papelbon.
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