Peace in the NL East by Mike Faloon

A hot stove dinner for a minor league team is a strange affair. You’re there—fans, team employees, sportswriters, local high school and college players—to celebrate the idea of a team, in this case the Syracuse Chiefs, more than the team itself, the players. There are no members of the 2008 Chiefs players at the dinner. It’s February. Pitchers and catchers have yet to report to major league training camp. MLB rosters are still undetermined and no one can say with any certainty which players will be sent to Triple A Syracuse. In truth, no one wants to play for the Chiefs in the coming season. They want to make it to the parent club, the Blue Jays, the Chiefs’ major league affiliate. “No one really wants to play here!” is common knowledge, and yet the mood at the Chief’s 47th annual Hot Stove Dinner, which doubles as a fundraiser for a local charity, is festive. Baseball is on the horizon and everyone gathered at the Holiday Inn is chomping at the bit for the season to begin.

I have to keep that generous, celebratory spirit in mind because the evening’s keynote speaker is Braves manager Bobby Cox. You may shrug with indifference. You may think, “Cool, a Hall of Famer in the making.” Not me. I’m a Mets fan. Orange and blue courses through my veins and Bobby Cox has inflicted more damage on the Mets than any one else, Bobby Bonilla included.

When my brother and I arrive at the dinner we buy a couple of LaBatts—Syracuse drinks more of the stuff than any city outside of Toronto—and cruise the auction items. I distract myself with a Sal Fasano game-used batting helmet. (How best to convince the Mrs. that our mantle needs to be adorned with Sal’s sweat-soaked brain bucket?) My brother, Casey is giddy. He loves being immersed in baseball, the talk, the detritus, the luminaries looming everywhere we look—unburdened by what to do about Bobby Cox. “Check it out,” he says, scanning the program of auction items, “a Mariano Rivera autographed baseball.” When Casey, a Red Sox fan at the front of the line of extremists, looks at anything Yankee-related without seeing crosshairs the flags of diplomacy are surely flapping in the breeze.

Our food is served as the high school and college pre-season players of the year are honored. (I love awards given in anticipation of performance—“Dudes, we think you’re going to kick ass this year, take a trophy!”) Bobby Cox introduces each kid and poses for pictures. He’s aloof at first, uncertain where to turn for the photos, but he seems genuine. He chats with each recipient, his smile broad and his cheeks rosy, none of which fits the profile of a villain.

The evening moves along. The speakers are funny, especially Bill Monbouquette, a former Red Sox pitcher. The Jake Myers Great Guy Award is given and then there is the final item for auction: the autographed Mariano Rivera ball. The opening bid is too expensive for the room. Heads turn to see who’ll take the plunge. Before the lack of response becomes uncomfortable a hand raises and of course it’s Bobby Cox, sparing us the shame of being unwilling or, more likely, unable to buy the ball. It’s a kind gesture and the applause isn’t thunderous but its well past polite.

Frank Tepedino, former Chief, former Yankee, is the speaker just before Bobby Cox. They met as teammates and Tepedino, Teppy to his friends, who later played for Cox, relates how kind his former manager was when delivering the news that he, Teppy, had been traded.

Bobby Cox laughs as he steps to the podium. “I kind of started liking myself after hearing Teppy talk.” Before he breaks into his speech Cox gives away the Rivera ball. It’s not surprising that he gives the ball to a kid but then he makes the kid, who’s wearing a Yankee jersey, say, on mic, that the 2008 Braves will win the World Series.

Like everyone else attending the dinner, I smile, laugh, and applaud. Any decent human being would do the same. But I’m something less than a decent human being when it comes to the Braves. They’ve squashed the Mets dreams many times over, and Cox is the man who signs the line up card every night. He’s the skipper responsible for sending Chipper “I Named My Child ‘Shea’ and, On My Website, I Inexplicably Find Myself Explaining What ‘Fern’ Is” Jones onto the field nearly 2000 times over the past decade. I’ve cursed Bobby Cox hundreds of times. Disparaged his skills, questioned his manhood, been, in nearly all ways, unfair. And here I am applauding him. My grudge has washed away and Cox isn’t done.

Cox tells jokes and shares anecdotes. He talks about how he thinks of long time Chiefs owner Tex Simone every time the Braves experience a rain delay. (“Let’s get this game in, there’s a lot of fans coming.”) He even thanks the Ross family. They own the local Twin Trees pizzerias and they used to live in the neighborhood where I grew up. They were on my paper route and they’d always forget to cancel their subscription when they went south for the winter. The papers would pile up on their porch but they’d make up for it with generous tips. All those years of bringing the Herald Journal to Mr. and Mrs. Ross and now I find out that Bobby Cox and I have mutual acquaintances.

Cox’s stories all involve him but they’re not tainted by ego. He graciously plays the role of baseball celebrity, patiently waiting to hang out with his buddies, talk about the good old days, make fun of the old teammate now wearing Velcro loafers, while tossing back a few beers. I don’t lead the standing ovation Cox receives when he finishes his speech but I join in.

Epilogue: My brother and I linger after the dinner is over. Casey wants his picture taken with Tex Simone. And Teppy. And Bill Monbouquette. He’s still giddy. He nudges me into approaching Bobby Cox for a picture. “C’mon, it’ll make a great cover for the zine.” I know he’s right.

“Hey, Bobby, do you have time for a picture?”

“Sure thing.” Cox turns to pose and politely puts his arm around my shoulder.

“I have to tell you, Bobby, that I’m a Mets fan.

My brother snaps the picture.

Cox shakes my hand and flashes a knowing smile. “I love the Mets, especially when we beat them."