Johnny Bizarre
“What’s your name son?” asked the varsity baseball manager.
“Johnny Buzhardt, sir,” replied the young hopeful.
“Johnny Bizarre?”
“No, Buh-ZART."
Nevertheless, his teammates referred to him as Johnny Bizarre. Since Spring training began, he certainly lived up to his nickname. No one at school seemed to know this kid. Even students in his classes were barely aware of him. Yet he showed up on the first day of Spring training claiming he wanted to be a pitcher. He made an unlikely athlete, tall and gangly, all arms and legs, and a string bean of a body. One thing he could do is throw the ball hard, really hard. As a fifteen-year-old sophomore, he threw harder than most college seniors. The first time he threw the ball, heads turned as the ball hit the catcher's mitt with such force that it sounded like firecrackers going off. After about 10 pitches, the catcher had to walk off the field and take off his mitt because his hand was red and swollen from the impact of the ball. It turned out throwing fastballs was the only thing he could do. Other than that, he seemed to have no idea how the game was played. When the ball was hit back to him, he had no clue what to do with it as the batter raced around the bases. The fielders would scream at him to throw them the ball, but he just stood frozen on the mound, seemingly paralyzed with fear. When the side was out, he often walked into the opposing team’s dugout instead of his own. Everyone on the team wondered what was wrong with him. The manager checked with the school and found he was a decent student, never caused any trouble, and was never in a special ed class. The school psychologist would only say there was nothing in his record that would suggest he would have any problem with participating in extracurricular activities such as team sports. He had the talent to be on the team, but it was out of the question that he could play in an actual game. The manager decided he was too good to cut, so he would be on the team but stay on the bench unless there was a situation where we really needed a pitcher to get a strikeout.
The battle for the championship was to be decided on the last game of the season with the crosstown rivals. Up until now, Johnny would spend every game sitting on the bench next to the manager where the manager could keep an eye on him as well as the game. When the top of the ninth inning rolled around, the score was tied and the manager turned to Johnny for the first time. “Johnny, I want you to warm up,” he said. Johnny stood up and with excitement in his voice, asked, “What should I do, sir?” “I want you to go to the bullpen and start tossing the ball to the catcher to get your arm ready,” the manager replied. “Do you know where the bullpen is? Never mind. Pete, can you walk johnny over to the pen and get someone to catch him? When he’s warmed up, bring him back to me.” Pete and Johnny started walking down the tunnel that led to the pen. After the opponents loaded the bases with two outs, Pete and Johnny came back to the bench. “Perfect timing,” said the manager. “Ok Johnny, this is what I want you to do. I’m going to go out to the mound and signal for you. When you see me signal, come out and meet me at the mound. I’ll hand you the ball and leave you there. Make sure your foot is on the rubber when you throw and try to hit the target set by the catcher with your fastest pitch. If someone hits the ball towards you and you are the closest one to it, try to catch it on the fly. If you can’t, pick it up and throw it to the fielder who yells at you to throw it to him. You got that?’ Johnny nodded his head. “Any questions?” Johnny shook his head and smiled nervously.
Johnny slowly walked out to the mound and took his appointed eight warmup pitches. Then he peered into the catcher and let the ball fly. The batter never took the bat off his shoulder and had a look of surprise on his face as the ball popped in the catcher’s mitt and the umpire bellowed “Strike one!” The batter turned toward the dugout and shrugged his shoulders. The batter swung through the second pitch as the umpire indicated strike two. Johnny wound up one again and this time the batter managed to hit a weak grounder right back to the pitcher. Johnny scooped it up easily. The first baseman yelled, “Throw it here,” but Johnny did not even look towards first. Instead, he continued to look at the catcher with a blank expression on his face. The catcher furiously pointed towards first base and yelled, “Throw it to first,” where the first basemen was furiously waving his arms to no avail. Still there was no reaction from Johny who gripped the ball with his glove. At this point the first baseman and catcher ran to the mound. When they got there, they desperately tried to open Johnny’s glove and pry the ball away. But Johnny resisted and the two players knocked him to the ground, the first baseman punching him in the jaw hard enough to knock him out. With Johnny unconscious, they finally retrieved the ball, but by that time all three runners and the batter scored. They effectively lost the game now that they were four runs down. The manager and trainer ran out to the mound. While the trainer worked on reviving Johnny, the manager screamed and pulled his hair, knowing he would be blamed for keeping Johnny on the team and putting him into a critical game. “I gave him explicit instructions”, he yelled at no one in particular. “I told him what to do if the ball is hit to him!”
When Johnny shook off the cobwebs in the training room and regained full consciousness after the game was over and the loss was official, the manager shook him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking out there, son?” he asked. Did you forget my instructions?” Johnny looked back at him in anger. “Why would I follow your instructions,” he shouted back. “None of you guys care about me. You just tolerated me because I can throw hard. No one ever invited me anywhere. You treated me like I was an outcast. Why would I want you guys to win? I just wanted to prove I can pitch.” The manager’s expression changed from anger to something more like pity. “But why did you try out for the team in the first place?” the manager asked. “Because I thought if I could prove I was a good pitcher and help the team, you guys would like me. I would feel a part of something that I never had before. I was an idiot for thinking that. You guys are just like the rest. You don’t care about me or my feelings. I just felt used and unappreciated. “Why Johnny?” the manager asked in a lower voice, no longer shouting. “We all like you. We respect your talent. Every one of us.” “Then why is it when you guys go out to a diner after the game, no one thinks of asking me?” Johnny continued. Even the name you call me. I told you on the first day that my name is pronounced Buh-ZART, but everyone including you calls me Johnny Bizarre. I don’t say anything because I don’t like to make waves, but you think that doesn’t hurt? I know you don’t consider me one of the gang, but do you have to put ugly labels like that on me?” At that point, the first baseman came into the room. “I just came to check on you Johnny. I’m really sorry for slugging you. I got so caught up in the game and wanted to win so bad, I couldn’t think of anything except getting that ball. I just want to know if you’re OK.” A tear started dripping down his cheek. “Yeah, I’m OK,” replied Johnny. “I might have done the same thing in your position. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have taken it out against the team. I should have just quit and realized I’m not qualified to be part of this team. I really don’t know how to play baseball beyond throwing. But I should have quit, not thrown the game. I’m sorry too.” The two players embraced each other. “Now I realize we hurt your feelings, and I apologize for mispronouncing your name,” said the manager. “I want you to come back next year. I promise everything will be totally different. I will talk to the team and tell them how hurt you were and make them promise to pronounce your name right. And we will include you in everything we do. Because not only are you a great pitcher, but you’re also a great guy. I think we all learned a valuable lesson today. Johnny smiled for the first time and replied, “I’d love to come back next year. I’m going to study hard and learn the game in the offseason and we are going to win next year. Who knows? I may even figure out which dugout is ours,” he said with a laugh.
“Johnny Buzhardt, sir,” replied the young hopeful.
“Johnny Bizarre?”
“No, Buh-ZART."
Nevertheless, his teammates referred to him as Johnny Bizarre. Since Spring training began, he certainly lived up to his nickname. No one at school seemed to know this kid. Even students in his classes were barely aware of him. Yet he showed up on the first day of Spring training claiming he wanted to be a pitcher. He made an unlikely athlete, tall and gangly, all arms and legs, and a string bean of a body. One thing he could do is throw the ball hard, really hard. As a fifteen-year-old sophomore, he threw harder than most college seniors. The first time he threw the ball, heads turned as the ball hit the catcher's mitt with such force that it sounded like firecrackers going off. After about 10 pitches, the catcher had to walk off the field and take off his mitt because his hand was red and swollen from the impact of the ball. It turned out throwing fastballs was the only thing he could do. Other than that, he seemed to have no idea how the game was played. When the ball was hit back to him, he had no clue what to do with it as the batter raced around the bases. The fielders would scream at him to throw them the ball, but he just stood frozen on the mound, seemingly paralyzed with fear. When the side was out, he often walked into the opposing team’s dugout instead of his own. Everyone on the team wondered what was wrong with him. The manager checked with the school and found he was a decent student, never caused any trouble, and was never in a special ed class. The school psychologist would only say there was nothing in his record that would suggest he would have any problem with participating in extracurricular activities such as team sports. He had the talent to be on the team, but it was out of the question that he could play in an actual game. The manager decided he was too good to cut, so he would be on the team but stay on the bench unless there was a situation where we really needed a pitcher to get a strikeout.
The battle for the championship was to be decided on the last game of the season with the crosstown rivals. Up until now, Johnny would spend every game sitting on the bench next to the manager where the manager could keep an eye on him as well as the game. When the top of the ninth inning rolled around, the score was tied and the manager turned to Johnny for the first time. “Johnny, I want you to warm up,” he said. Johnny stood up and with excitement in his voice, asked, “What should I do, sir?” “I want you to go to the bullpen and start tossing the ball to the catcher to get your arm ready,” the manager replied. “Do you know where the bullpen is? Never mind. Pete, can you walk johnny over to the pen and get someone to catch him? When he’s warmed up, bring him back to me.” Pete and Johnny started walking down the tunnel that led to the pen. After the opponents loaded the bases with two outs, Pete and Johnny came back to the bench. “Perfect timing,” said the manager. “Ok Johnny, this is what I want you to do. I’m going to go out to the mound and signal for you. When you see me signal, come out and meet me at the mound. I’ll hand you the ball and leave you there. Make sure your foot is on the rubber when you throw and try to hit the target set by the catcher with your fastest pitch. If someone hits the ball towards you and you are the closest one to it, try to catch it on the fly. If you can’t, pick it up and throw it to the fielder who yells at you to throw it to him. You got that?’ Johnny nodded his head. “Any questions?” Johnny shook his head and smiled nervously.
Johnny slowly walked out to the mound and took his appointed eight warmup pitches. Then he peered into the catcher and let the ball fly. The batter never took the bat off his shoulder and had a look of surprise on his face as the ball popped in the catcher’s mitt and the umpire bellowed “Strike one!” The batter turned toward the dugout and shrugged his shoulders. The batter swung through the second pitch as the umpire indicated strike two. Johnny wound up one again and this time the batter managed to hit a weak grounder right back to the pitcher. Johnny scooped it up easily. The first baseman yelled, “Throw it here,” but Johnny did not even look towards first. Instead, he continued to look at the catcher with a blank expression on his face. The catcher furiously pointed towards first base and yelled, “Throw it to first,” where the first basemen was furiously waving his arms to no avail. Still there was no reaction from Johny who gripped the ball with his glove. At this point the first baseman and catcher ran to the mound. When they got there, they desperately tried to open Johnny’s glove and pry the ball away. But Johnny resisted and the two players knocked him to the ground, the first baseman punching him in the jaw hard enough to knock him out. With Johnny unconscious, they finally retrieved the ball, but by that time all three runners and the batter scored. They effectively lost the game now that they were four runs down. The manager and trainer ran out to the mound. While the trainer worked on reviving Johnny, the manager screamed and pulled his hair, knowing he would be blamed for keeping Johnny on the team and putting him into a critical game. “I gave him explicit instructions”, he yelled at no one in particular. “I told him what to do if the ball is hit to him!”
When Johnny shook off the cobwebs in the training room and regained full consciousness after the game was over and the loss was official, the manager shook him by the shoulders. “What were you thinking out there, son?” he asked. Did you forget my instructions?” Johnny looked back at him in anger. “Why would I follow your instructions,” he shouted back. “None of you guys care about me. You just tolerated me because I can throw hard. No one ever invited me anywhere. You treated me like I was an outcast. Why would I want you guys to win? I just wanted to prove I can pitch.” The manager’s expression changed from anger to something more like pity. “But why did you try out for the team in the first place?” the manager asked. “Because I thought if I could prove I was a good pitcher and help the team, you guys would like me. I would feel a part of something that I never had before. I was an idiot for thinking that. You guys are just like the rest. You don’t care about me or my feelings. I just felt used and unappreciated. “Why Johnny?” the manager asked in a lower voice, no longer shouting. “We all like you. We respect your talent. Every one of us.” “Then why is it when you guys go out to a diner after the game, no one thinks of asking me?” Johnny continued. Even the name you call me. I told you on the first day that my name is pronounced Buh-ZART, but everyone including you calls me Johnny Bizarre. I don’t say anything because I don’t like to make waves, but you think that doesn’t hurt? I know you don’t consider me one of the gang, but do you have to put ugly labels like that on me?” At that point, the first baseman came into the room. “I just came to check on you Johnny. I’m really sorry for slugging you. I got so caught up in the game and wanted to win so bad, I couldn’t think of anything except getting that ball. I just want to know if you’re OK.” A tear started dripping down his cheek. “Yeah, I’m OK,” replied Johnny. “I might have done the same thing in your position. I was angry, but I shouldn’t have taken it out against the team. I should have just quit and realized I’m not qualified to be part of this team. I really don’t know how to play baseball beyond throwing. But I should have quit, not thrown the game. I’m sorry too.” The two players embraced each other. “Now I realize we hurt your feelings, and I apologize for mispronouncing your name,” said the manager. “I want you to come back next year. I promise everything will be totally different. I will talk to the team and tell them how hurt you were and make them promise to pronounce your name right. And we will include you in everything we do. Because not only are you a great pitcher, but you’re also a great guy. I think we all learned a valuable lesson today. Johnny smiled for the first time and replied, “I’d love to come back next year. I’m going to study hard and learn the game in the offseason and we are going to win next year. Who knows? I may even figure out which dugout is ours,” he said with a laugh.
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