Typical Day

Typical Day

Homer Runne, a second baseman for the Milwaukee Brewers, wakes with a start at the sound of his 8:00AM alarm. He shakes his head as though trying to shake off the unsettling dream he was having. 

In the dream, he had been seconds away from making the final out of the game—he could see the ball as it was heading for his glove and he had his foot on the base—then he looked down and realized he was stark naked. He dropped the ball. Yikes.

Just a dream, he reassures himself. In tonight's game against the Chicago Cubs, though, Homer will definitely be wearing his full uniform—pants included.

Because the game isn't until 7:05PM, Homer doesn't need to be at the stadium until just after lunchtime. That leaves a tiny window in which to get all his errands done for the day. Yup, like any other person with a day job, Homer still has an ordinary to-do list to accomplish: shirts to take to the dry cleaners, grocery shopping to do, and maybe a quick run to the bank. 

Not the most exhilarating start to the day, but three-and-a-half years in the major leagues has taught Homer he has to do them now or they'll never get done.

Homer pulls on a pair of dry-fit shorts and a crew neck shirt before heading out at 9:00AM. He basically lives his entire life in athletic wear—the more sweat-proof the better.

While grocery shopping Homer spends a little too long comparing the relative merits of beef versus turkey burgers, and he doesn't get back to the car until 11:34AM. He needs to be at the stadium by 12:30PM to join the team for stretching. 

If he's learned one thing over his past three seasons with the Brewers, it's to never, ever, ever be late to stretching—no exceptions. Players who show up late for stretches are known to mysteriously disappear from that day's roster.

 
Hopefully it won't be revisiting him in the fifth inning. (Source)

Homer grudgingly nixes his errand at the bank in order to find himself a quick pre-stretch lunch. Without time to go back home, he grabs a smoothie from one of his regular spots before high-tailing it to the stadium.

With more than six hours to go until the first pitch, the stadium looks like a deserted ghost town. The most enthusiastic tailgaters won't even arrive for another couple hours. Homer drives quickly through the empty parking lot, flashing his parking pass at the security guard.

Homer hustles onto the field at 12:35PM and joins the team as they circle up to begin stretching. He pays special attention to the slight twinge in his hamstring, which has been tight since a particularly aggressive sprint towards first base last week—and adding insult to injury, he was called out when he got there.

Homer pairs off with the third baseman to toss the ball back and forth for warm-ups, gradually increasing the distance until they're throwing almost the full length of the field. Then it's time for drills and technical work. 

The team splits into its two cliques: infielders and outfielders. Homer goes with the other infielders to practice strategic situational plays: runners on first and second, runners on first and third, and, trickiest of all, runners on all three bases.

 
I'll take what I can get. (Source)

Their throwing arms and upper bodies warmed up, the team regroups at 2:00PM for batting practice. Homer is a fielder to his core, and while he's no power hitter (yes, he understands the irony regarding his name), he's fast enough to make it on base with a well-placed hit. His batting average is a decent .237, which puts him in the upper part of the bottom half of the team.

Once everyone has batted, the team heads back to the clubhouse to relax until game time. With 162 games for every team (and hopefully more with the playoffs), pre-games become a routine affair. Homer deals a deck of cards to the rest of the infielders for a game of hearts. Other players sink themselves into the sofa to play video games or do some push-ups.

Yeah, there's not a lot of difference between a locker room and a dorm room.

At 6:30PM—around half an hour before the game—the inevitable nerves kick in. Like a taxiing airplane about to take off, all electronic devices are put away and video games are turned off. Homer gathers up the cards, changes into his uniform, and heads toward the field. No matter how many games he plays or how relaxed he feels early in the day, he always gets some butterflies shortly before game time.

The stadium announcer's deep, rumbling voice echoes over the PA system, signaling to Homer that it's his turn to take the field. Game time.

By 11:00PM, Homer is showered and back in his comfortable civilian clothes. He climbs into his car after some high-fives and back slaps to his teammates. On his way out Homer notices that the stadium's parking lot is mostly empty again—just the way he found it when he arrived earlier in the day.

The only thing that's changed is he's finally hit his first home run of the season.