About the times I played at Madison Square Garden and Yankee Stadium

Tossing aside any sense of due modesty,
I can objectively state, that in my youth,
I was considered among the “elite” as a neighborhood athlete.
In fact, some may have considered me something of a “legend”.
(At least on Buchanan Place in the Bronx, the PS 91 schoolyard and the fields of Camp Colang).

Lean and mean,
OK, “skinny and good hustle”,
I was very fast, with good hands and I was a true student of the games.

As proof of my bloated, self-obsessed boasting…
allow me to enthrall you with my outstanding performances
at two legendary sports venues….

“The World’s Most Famous Arena”

It’s true.
Not only did I display my basketball skills before The Garden crowd…
but I also was my team’s high scorer!

Now, I may not have been playing for the New York Knickerbockers,
nor  competing in the NIT Finals,
but I was proudly representing my Camp Colang basketball team.

How did that happen?

Well, as one of the annual highlights of my many summers at Colang,
(located in Lackawaxen, Pa.,“in the heart of the Poconos”),
the camp had a partnership with the Knicks, in which they would
bring a handful of pro players to the camp for a “Knicks Day”.
They would give us campers some instructional drills, sign some
autographs and end the day by playing against our counselor team.

What the partnership also included,
was after the summer camp season,
a number of campers would be invited to Madison Square Garden
to play an “exhibition game” vs. one of our neighboring camps.
It would be played during half-time of an actual Knicks game…in front of the packed crowd!!

 So there I was,
on the MSG floor,
in front of the frantically excited crowd,
(OK, many of them may have been taking their “bathroom break”
or were  busily chowing down franks and beers while discussing the first half).

I was in my Colang uni with my skinny legs hanging out of my shorts,
nervously lined up on the court  with 25 other teammates,
on one of the longest “lay-up lines” ever.
Those skinny legs were shaking as I got to take my one lay-up.
The basket seemed 60 feet high.
I missed my one shot.

And then the whistle.
The game started.
The entire game was to last about 15 minutes.
And with 25 players per team,
no one would get a whole lot of “playing time”.
As I sat on the Knicks bench,
watching a bunch of other 10 year-olds nervously, aimlessly,
running around the court,

I suddenly heard…
“Bobby Skollar, you’re in”.

I ran out to the court in a bit of a daze.
I won’t swear to it,
but I do believe I heard a swelling roar from the crowd
as my name was announced and I hit the floor.

Breathing hard from running up and down the court,
and the thrill of the moment,
I was half-hoping that the ball wouldn’t find me.
But, somehow I wound up standing alone to the side of the basket,
actually, kind of behind the basket,
and the Official NBA Spalding ball was bouncing right to me.
I managed to catch it and, without thinking,
threw the ball up in a soft arc,
and…

SWISH!!!

I couldn’t believe it!!!
I had “tickled the twine”, “smooth as glass”, “SCOOOORE”!!
Over the Garden P.A. system I heard…
“Basket, Skollar, Colang”
I almost passed out.

With our 15 minutes of fame running out,
and now fueled by my success,
I somehow managed to steal an errant pass,
and was driving to the hoop,
NOTE: For some reason I was never able to make an open lay-up.
A player from Camp Delawaxen bumped me, knocking me down.
The P.A. Announcer, once again called out my name…
“Foul on Delawaxen, Skollar to the line”.

The action was paused as stepped to the line.
With all eyes fixed on me,
I felt dizzy and a little nauseous.
I bounced the ball a few too many times,
trying to gain my composure.
I looked towards the basket, which seemed miles away,
I set myself, gripped the ball, and with my best form,
lofted a “glorious”, high arching shot,
that landed…
ABOUT 6 INCHES IN FRONT OF ME!!!
NEARLY HITTING ME IN MY HEAD!!!

Now, instead of hearing the cheers of the crowd,
I imagined hearing loud guffaws, bellowing down from the rafters!

Minutes later…
the whistle blew.
Game over.
Final score: Delawaxen 17, Colang 3.
Colang high-scorer: Skollar, 2 points.

Hey, I played at The Garden!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to Yankee Stadium”.

To say I am a “Yankee fan”,
may be the biggest understatement ever uttered.
Those of you who know me (or follow The Forever Kid),
may have taken note of my somewhat “unhealthy obsession” with the Yanks.
(Coming soon – An entire Writing about my rather remarkable Yankee experiences)

So, in 1987, when my friend Jon Skelly’s wife told me that she was considering sending Jon
to Yankee Fantasy Camp as a 4oth birthday gift…
but only if I was willing to go along with him…
it took me about one minute to begin oiling up my beat up Bobby Schantz mitt
and practicing my best Mickey batting stance in the mirror.

For those of you who may never heard of Yankee Fantasy Camp…
it offers up an extraordinarily rare opportunity
for Yankee fanatics, aged 30 and older, to spend 3 days
living out their fantasy with ex-Yankee players at their Spring Training facility.
It includes playing games in the stadium*, hanging with the players, unlimited photos, videos, autographs
along with getting your own “official” Yankee uniform, replica championship ring and…personalized baseball card!!

About a week after Skelly and I signed our “contracts”…
I remember my hand trembling and my heart set aflutter,
as I opened an envelope from The New York Yankees.
It previewed all the highlights of our upcoming “fantasy weekend”.
Also included was a “workout schedule”,
critical for us older guys so we could get in shape
to do something most of us hadn’t done in many, many years.
There was a daily regimen of exercises for us to do over the pre-fantasy month.
Of course, “exercising” wasn’t something I fantasized about…
so about two days before leaving for camp…
I did maybe a dozen sit-ups.
I figured, that should do it!

The title of this writing calls out…
“The time I played in Yankee Stadium”.
And that’s true.
Now it may not have been the Stadium in my hometown Bronx…
but the spring training home of the Yankees in Fort Lauderdale, Florida,
is called “Yankee Stadium”!

An added feature to this Stadium,
is that it was located about 10 minutes from where my parents lived!
So Mom & Dad were able to come watch their super-talented (?) son make his Yankee debut!!

Skelly and I flew down to Lauderdale,
Hardly needed the plane!
We were beyond excited (and more than a bit nervous)
to live out our Yankee fantasy.

At the airport, we loaded onto the “team bus” to take us to the“team hotel”.
It was our first opportunity  to check out our “teammates/competition”.
There were about 50 of us,
all shapes, sizes, ages (ranging from 30-80+ years old).
There were some guys who looked like they could have been pros!
Maybe I should have done more than 20 sit ups.
I soon learned that some of the guys had done this before…
one 70something guy was at his 15th camp!!
One little guy, with a big mouth, announced to all  that he brought along
his own “personal film crew” to record his performance for posterity.
We all hated him immediately!

After checking in, we headed to…The Stadium!

Walking into the locker room,
where the real Yankees prepped to get their game on,
I was like a 12 year-old!!
And there was my locker!  With my name on it!
Hanging inside was my uniform, #15!!
“The Pinstripes” …
the jersey, the pants, the socks, the hat, the cleats.
We brought our own jockstraps).

As I donned those legendary pinstripes for the first time,
and looked at myself in the mirror,
I actually kinda looked the part.

And then, something magical happened…
I suddenly began speaking with a Southern drawl,
I took on all the subtle mannerisms of the players I had watched for years,
I scratched my nuts more than I ever did in my life.
I was a New York Yankee!

Somewhat uncomfortable, wearing cleats for the first time,
I stumbled out through the tunnel to the field,
Like a 14 year old girl wearing her first pair of stilettos.
As I emerged from the dugout into the bright Florida sunshine,
the crowd went wild!
OK, it was my Mom and Dad and a few random wives and kids.

Standing on the field made me dizzy.
It was a whole lot bigger than I imagined,
(even for a Ft. Lauderdale stadium).
The distance from 3rd base to 1st base seemed like miles.
And I feared that making it from centerfield to home might be further than I could jog.
And there were grandstands and scoreboards and fresh-cut grass and chalked baselines.
This was not my usual concrete playground of Da Bronx!

I scoped out at the rest of the “roster” of uniformed camper-players,
Lots of Mick’s number 7’s.
Lots of too-tight belts around protruding beer bellies.

And then…
I saw the “real guys”…
Moose Skowron,  Hank Bauer, Stan Bahnsen, Tom Tresh,
Hector Lopez, Jake Gibbs, Tom Sturdivant, Mike Ferraro
It was like my baseball cards had come to life!
Now came the “founders” of the camp…
MICKEY MANTLE and WHITEY FORD!!!

HOLY CRAP!!!!!

As Whitey delivered his friendly official greeting,
Mickey threw in a few wise cracks,
Umm…Number 7 was pretty much drunk the entire weekend.
I was barely listening. I was in a “fantasy daze”.

We were divided into 6 teams.
Skelly and I were together, The S&S Boys!
We were managed by Mike Ferraro, former player and Yankees 3rd base coach.

When Manager Mike asked me what position I played,
I thought about giving my stickball position…
“Second Manhole Cover”,
but decided on “Centerfield”,
to be as far away from the hardball as possible!

The schedule had us playing double-headers every day.
We’d play a “round robin” tournament to determine the championship.
But first came batting and fielding practice.
NOTE: In the games, no camper-players were allowed to pitch, only the coaches.
The fear was that some hot shot would try to show off his fastball and “bean” one of the campers…
probably me!

At the first practice,
even though I was terrified…
I shocked myself by hitting the ball pretty well!

Just like  I did against the pitching machines at the batting cage on Moshulu Parkway!
I mean, I didn’t “reach the seats”, but I made good solid contact!

Fielding? Not so much.
I wasn’t used to catching “real baseballs”
and they were a lot harder than Spaldeens!!

And as far as running the bases?
Well, I knew that used to be a real speedster,
so on my first hit, I tore off down to first.
“Tore” being the operative word!?!

Even before the first game…
I made my first visit to the trainer’s table.
I was not alone.
Ankles, calves, knees, arms, shoulders,
were all being attended to in the crowded trainer’s room.
As part of the “fantasy”…
the trainers happened to be the longtime trainers for the actual New York Yankees!
Gene Monahan and Stevie Donahue!
They became my angels of mercy during my many visits to their training tables.
I began with my hamstring.
My instructions to them was…
“Do whatever you gotta do to get me back out there!”.
Over the course of the 3 days, they bandaged me up so much…
I looked like the Michelin Tires Man.

But I played every game!

The “Ferraros” were a .500 team,
Won some, lost some.
I was actually one of the better hitters…
Batted .333!!
I did however make a few errors in the outfield,
including misjudging a couple of fly balls,
and memorably dropping an easy pop fly.
“Memorable”, because when I ran off the field,
my own Dad heckled me from the stands!
“How’d you drop that??”
I yelled back,
“Hey Dad, I haven’t played ball in 25 years! Give me a break!!”

DAMN FANS!!

I did become a favorite of Manager Mike,
always able to keep my teammates laughing on the bench.
One afternoon, when all us campers were being interviewed for a camp video,
we were asked to tell a bit about our “baseball background”.
Most of the campers talked about how much they loved the Yankees.
I went a somewhat different way…
with a straight face I said…
“Well, I actually I played some pro ball for a couple of years in the Mexican League,
under the name of ‘Roberto Escolar’. I did, however get kicked out of the league
following some nasty allegations of misconduct with underage Senoritas”.

The videographers and other campers stared at me with their mouths open…
but Ferraro and my teammates broke up and High-fived me.

When asked about our favorite thing so far at camp,
just about every camper said “Meeting Mickey!”.
Not me.
“I’d  have to say  that  I cherish those very special moments with trainer, Gene Monahan.
Ooooh, his touch is like magic, his hands so soft”.

Yeah, I was a good interview.

As something of a “reward” for somehow making it through two games a day…
we got to spend our evenings having dinner (and getting drunk) with the “Players”.
It was great hearing the insider stuff, (some of it pretty raucous).
And as a bonus for me,
I got to invite my dad to join us.
(He was as big a Yankee fan as I am).
I loved seeing him with Mickey,
telling him how he met him as a rookie
at the Sportsmen Show in the New York Coliseum.
Mickey was teaching visitors how to fly-cast.

The climax of the three-day fantasy was for each team to get to play
a couple of innings against a team of the “real Yankees”.
The game was to be played in front of a crowd,
“under the lights”…a night game.
There even was a PA Announcer to “call the game”.

The game was scheduled for a Friday night…
which raised a bit of a “situation” for my team.
It seems that more than half my teammates were…
ORTHODOX JEWS!!

NOT actual teammates.

Therefore…they wouldn’t be playing on Shabbos!
Manager Mike decided that our short-hated team’s shortstop would have to be…
ME!
I quickly found that the ball comes at ya a whole lot faster than it does in centerfield!
I made one error…and one “stop”…with my chin. OW!!!

And then came my at bat.
The Announcer blared out…
“Now batting, Number 15, Bobby Skollar”

I went with “Bobby”…sounded more like a real player.

I was cheered by my adoring fans…
Mom, Dad, Sister, two Nieces.

But before stepping to the plate,
knowing that this was my final “fantasy moment”,
I walked up to Manager Mike,
and boldly told him…
“Hey Skip, y’know the one thing I was hoping to do these past few days…
was to bat against Whitey.
He smiled at me, patted me on the back and…
motioned for a pitching change!

Whitey Ford laughed, then came over from where he was playing first base.
He took about 3 warm up pitches…
and then shouted from the mound.
“Come on Rook! Step in there”.
I couldn’t believe this was happening!!

The 60-year old “Chairman of the Board” threw me a curveball
that started about a foot away from the plate…
and wound up almost hitting me in the face.
Wow! I imagined what he must have been like in his prime.

I swung at the next pitched…and hit it!
YESSS!!
A pop up to second.
I was beyond thrilled.
I stopped on the way back to the dugout and shook Whitey Ford’s hand!

I will never forget those three days 35 years ago.
The “fantasy” was real.

In the dugout….Skelly, me and some other guy.

And I have the card to prove it.

        What was the closest you got to living your sports fantasy?.