Most Minor League teams offer something besides the game as entertainment to the fans. Often, this takes the form of on-field contests between innings, where kids and adults from the stands can try their hand at Frisbee tosses, pop-up catching, or one of our favorites, the “Dizzy Bat Race,” in which two people place their forehead on the handle of a bat and, keeping the end of the barrel touching the ground, spin around the bat for 30 seconds, and then attempt to run a footrace without falling over. It’s usually amusing for the crowd and quite humiliating for the participants.

     Ron and I never really showed much interest in joining the on-field shenanigans, but as we were taking our seats at Ed Smith Stadium, a young lady with a clipboard approached us and asked if we’d like to compete in a golf game after the third inning. Well, since we were 1200 miles from home and therefore stood little chance of embarrassing ourselves in front of anybody we knew, we agreed.

     Now, I am what you might call a “duffer” on the golf course, and Ron had barely picked up a club in his life, but the chance to set foot on a ballfield, and during the game, no less, is always an exciting prospect. So as the bottom of the third began, we made our way behind the plate to meet up with the events coordinator. The rules were simple: We would each have three swings at a plastic golf ball (a real one would clearly have been a threat to the lives of everyone around us!), and whoever logged the longest drive would win a free round of golf at a local course. Never mind that we would be leaving town the next morning; one of us was guaranteed to win, and we’d surely have some fun in the process.

     After the third out was in the books, we were escorted onto the field to the tee mat behind home plate. I was chosen to hit first, and instructed to aim down the third base line in foul territory. My first hack resulted in a wicked slice (the same problem I usually have on the links) that narrowly missed the catcher taking warm-up pitches… Ooops!  Attempt number two was somewhat more successful, at least heading in the right direction before trickling to a stop about halfway to third. On my final try, though, I got in a good solid whack. It drifted left a bit, which turned out to be fortunate, as it caught the gravel warning track and continued to bounce and roll on the hard surface well beyond the bag.

     Ron had his work cut out for him, but as it turned out, I needn’t have been worried. (Sorry, Ron, no offense intended!) None of his 3 tries went very far, I’m afraid. But he didn’t much care, nor was I about to gloat over my victory. It was just for fun.

     After the game, we were eager to hit the bars. Considering how far a discount coupon for furniture had gotten us in Butte the year before, free golf would surely encourage any good bartender to feed us complimentary drinks all evening!  Well, no such luck.  The nightlife in Sarasota was sparse, at best.  We finally found ourselves at a passable neighborhood-tavern type of establishment where the lone employee, a rather good-looking barmaid, had a lousy attitude.  She acted as if we were bothering her by daring to order a beer.

     It was getting pretty late, so we decided this would be our last stop before heading back to the motel. The question remained, what to do with our free round of golf?  We glanced around the room at the two or three other customers and surmised they were not exactly sporting types, so we decided to take our chances with the barmaid.  Maybe she’d lighten up a bit due to our magnanimity.   Maybe she’d buy us a round, or at least be civil to us.  Again, no such luck.  We might as well have been offering our dirty socks for all the interest she showed.  Still, we convinced her that she must know somebody who played golf, as we didn’t want the prize to go to waste.  Reluctantly, she tucked the envelope behind her cash register, where I’m fairly certain it remained only until it was time to empty the trash.

     Oh well, just like in baseball: sometimes you win; sometimes you lose; sometimes it rains.  The best nights of the week still awaited us to the north.