Day 1 - The Good, the Bad and the Embarrassing

They call it fantasy camp because you're living out the fantasy of being a major league player and hanging out with guys you watched on TV for so many years. I think it's also called fantasy camp because of the fantasy you create in your head in which you're still good at baseball.

My first full day of camp started out strong: 1) Arriving at Champion Stadium (above), spring training home of the Braves and where I once caught a foul ball live on ESPN. 2) Eating a carb-heavy breakfast spread, then seeing all the unlimited snacks that are available throughout the day. 3) Seeing my locker with my jersey on display. 4) Putting on said jersey and suiting up in full uniform. 5) Learning that my locker used to be Chipper Jones' locker.

All of those were great.

The greatness continued in early batting practice. I stepped into the cage against Sid Bream, he of The Slide. I took three or four good hacks and ripped some line drives, even earning some praise from Bream. This was exciting because the other early hitters had not made good contact. But then I caught a ball in the perfect spot on the bat to make it feel like my right hand had been struck by lightning. I didn't think much about it at first, as I've gotten the "bumblebees" in the hands before. Side note: Wooden bats hurt worse than metal ones when you don't square the ball up right. I've not used a wooden bat since ... well, ever. Lesson learned. This bat even has my name on it. You'd think that would indicate that I could rely on it to not hurt me. 

I decided against any more early BP to let my hand rest and heal. But as the minutes went by, it wasn't feeling any better. After a brief morning meeting, we headed to our evaluation "stations" -- hitting, fielding, pitching, base-running and catching. At these stations, the former players evaluated everyone to see which players they wanted to draft later in the day. I started out at the hitting station, shagging fly balls in the outfield. I made a few plays, drawing a compliment from Johnny Estrada. The confidence grew. I'm pretty sure at this point I was penciled in for an official invite to spring training. It came my turn to hit off Estrada. First pitch, I barely tipped it. I was swinging somewhat timidly because my hand was still smarting. Second pitch, weak pop-up. Third pitch, missed completely. What?! My earlier hitting display against Bream was now losing its luster. Fourth pitch, I hit a solid liner into the outfield. Fifth pitch was another liner. Sixth pitch was a comebacker to the mound, but it was another instance of the pitch getting "in my kitchen," as colorful and folksy TV commentators like to say. I knew at this point my hand was probably not going to get any better today. Thus, I would be in trouble once the game started.

During the break for lunch, I visited the training room to see whether they could offer any help with my hand. They gave me a sock filled with ice and wrapped it around my hand. See picture below.

That had a limited effect. Cut to the game and -- spoiler alert -- 0-for-3 with a strikeout. Our team lost 17-3, or something similarly lopsided. Oh, I also lost a ball in the sun. So there was that, too. It's possible they're rethinking my invite to spring training.

After the game, the trainers had me soak my hand in the ice tub for 12 minutes. That also had a limited effect. Then they wrapped my hand in special gauze. See below. It actually helped as the night went on. That and the Advil. As I type this, it actually feels well enough to hit tomorrow. Prayers accepted.

Whatever healing my hand has done has been offset by the ribbing from my coaches, Marquis Grissom and Pete Smith. Smith called it "embarrassing."

"You look like a burn victim," he said.

Then: "You've got baby hands."

I sense there will be a kangaroo court fine in the morning.

Despite the rough introduction to "The Show," the day was still pretty cool. Besides spending time with my coaches, I also got to have lessons with Javy Lopez, Eddie Perez, Otis Nixon, Steve Avery, Mike Bielecki and Zane Smith. But the highlight for me by far was my pitching "tryout." I hadn't expected to pitch with a hurt hand, but they wanted everyone to give it a shot. Much to my surprise, I was able to throw relatively pain free -- and fairly fast ... for a fantasy camper. I don't know how fast (I'm sure it was at least 95 ... or 55), but it was fast enough for Marvin Freeman to stop talking (he's always talking) and take notice. Brad Clontz, another former Braves pitcher, also told me I'd done well. I hope it wasn't a fluke, because I'll be pitching at some point in tomorrow's morning game.

We wrapped up the evening with a team dinner at Benihana. One of the campers got hats for Grissom and Smith. I also learned on this excursion that one of my teammates was a zombie on "The Walking Dead."

I'll close with a trivia question that Pete Smith tried out on us: Who were the original five Braves "Young Guns?" Hint: Steve Avery is not an answer. The key word is original. Think it over and I'll post the answer tomorrow night. I was able to get three of the five easily, then -- after much thought and a couple wrong guesses -- one of the last two.