If you happened to catch a teenage David Rubenstein during an Orioles game at Memorial Stadium in the 1960s, you might have noticed that he wasn’t always paying attention to the action on the field. Instead, his head might have been buried in a biography of John F. Kennedy or the pages of some other history text.

“I usually took my books,” he says, “and read so much that my friends would make fun of me.”

Rubenstein’s voracious reading was perhaps a sign that he’d one day work in the White House and later pen a book about U.S. presidents, but it was hardly an indication he would one day become a billionaire or the team’s owner some 60 years later.

But make no mistake, he was also a huge fan. He was the type of kid who snuck down from the 75-cent bleacher seats to the mezzanine, then to the newly created box seats as the innings wore on to get a better view of his baseball idols. Among his favorite O’s were some of the modern franchise’s early folk heroes: 6-foot-3, 215-pound catcher Gus Triandos (“slow runner, but hit a lot of home runs,” Rubenstein recalls); 1960 American League Rookie of the Year Ron Hansen; and All-Star first baseman Jim Gentile.

Then came along a young Brooks Robinson (“a modest, unassuming, low-key guy; I really admired him”), followed by an even younger Jim Palmer, who at age 20 was just a few years older than Rubenstein when he left town for college in 1966, the year the O’s won their first World Series.

Sometimes, an usher working the box seats tapped Rubenstein or one of his buddies on the shoulder and told them to leave. They’d scram, then come back. “We were just kids having a good time,” says Steve Baron, a longtime friend of Rubenstein’s. They rode the city bus to the stadium from their middle-class, predominantly Jewish neighborhood of Fallstaff in northwest Baltimore. In the fall, they split $2 student season tickets to watch the Colts play football, too.

In the pages of his books, Rubenstein was exploring a broader world, but at those games, he mostly just had fun. Making his way to the box seats where O’s then-owner Jerry Hoffberger sat was not part of some master plan.

“I didn’t know what ownership was,” Rubenstein says, chuckling.

On Opening Day late last March, five days after longtime Orioles owner and Greektown-raised lawyer Peter Angelos passed, another local kid who made good—one even richer than Angelos and more of a prodigal son—held his first press conference at Camden Yards.

Sporting a white O’s home jersey, an enthusiastic grin, and a seemingly limitless bankroll, Rubenstein announced, “This is a new day, a new chapter,” from the sixth floor of the B&O Warehouse. And O’s fans, who had soured on the previous regime’s recent underfunded payroll and a 40-plus-year championship drought, were eager for the chapter to begin.

It’s early January and Rubenstein, 75, bespectacled with parted white hair, sits in front of a computer in an office at his suburban Bethesda home. He’s dressed in a suit and tie, typical for his many public appearances. As tycoons go—especially one who got rich in private equity—Rubenstein is astonishingly well-liked, largely due to his easy manner, disarming sense of humor, and fluency in a variety of subjects, including business, politics, history, and, increasingly, sports.

A mural of the U.S. Capitol Building in Washington, D.C.—where he made his career and fortune—is behind him. At 27, Rubenstein achieved his dream of working in the White House, as President Jimmy Carter’s deputy domestic policy advisor. Ten years later, he co-founded the private-equity firm Carlyle Group, which made him extraordinarily wealthy (Forbes estimates his net worth around $4 billion).

Over the last few decades, he’s given away more than $700 million and become known for “patriotic philanthropy,” like buying and then loaning a rare copy of the Magna Carta to the National Archives and putting up at least $10 million to fix the Washington Monument. Until this February, he was the chair of the board of the Kennedy Center. (Donald Trump removed him from the position and installed himself.)

He’s become a prominent interviewer of public figures, too, hosting TV shows on Bloomberg and PBS. He has written books on investing, politics, and leadership. His latest, The Highest Calling, includes interviews with most living U.S. presidents, including Joe Biden and Trump.

Maybe as impressive as Rubenstein’s connections is the fact that he never uses notes when giving a speech or interviewing someone.

“He has a photographic memory,” says Baltimore’s Carla Hayden, the Librarian of Congress, a friend. “He absorbs and devours information.”

Rubenstein has been focused on baseball a lot more lately. In his first full offseason as Orioles owner since he led the group that bought the team from the Angelos family for $1.7 billion last March, Rubenstein and ownership partner Mike Arougheti have spoken with general manager Mike Elias almost daily about personnel decisions—and Rubenstein is getting up to speed on the modern game.

Gone are the days of his youth when batting average, RBI, and home runs were the only important stats. Today, teams value wonky-sounding metrics like “on-base plus slugging percentage” or “wins above replacement”—an estimate of how many wins a player contributes compared to an average MLB Joe at his position.

“OPS, WAR. I’m learning,” Rubenstein says. But he stresses that he’s not a meddling owner: “I’m [not] saying, ‘Mike, pay this, pay that.’”

Importantly, Rubenstein has put no limit on how much his GM can spend, a luxury for a middle-market team in a salary-cap-less sport where tickets and concessions generate most revenue.

The Orioles’ spending had plummeted in recent years to among the lowest in baseball. Fans were told to trust the process as the team fortified its farm system and spent little in free agency. The rebuild seemed to be working—the club made the playoffs the year before Rubenstein purchased it—but the O’s clearly needed an influx of energy and cash.

In walked Rubenstein. This year, the payroll is up to more than $150 million, 15th of 30 MLB teams, 40-percent higher than early 2024—and more than triple the budget from 2021. (The O’s also made the playoffs in Rubenstein’s first season, although, for the second year in a row, they didn’t record a postseason win.)

This offseason, Elias signed free-agent outfielder Tyler O’Neill to a three-year, $49.5-million contract, the first multiyear deal Elias has given out since becoming GM in November 2018. “We can [now] run the team the way we feel is optimal,” Elias says. “They’ve really liberated us to do our jobs.”

But even with a lot of cash on hand, difficult decisions must sometimes be made. Undoubtedly, the most-discussed topic of this Orioles offseason was the one who got away: O’s ace Corbin Burnes, who signed a six-year, $210-million deal with the Arizona Diamondbacks in December. Fans thought, “uh oh, here we go again,” even though baseball insiders had never expected Burnes to stay here after he arrived in a trade with one year left on his contract.

“Money was not the issue,” Rubenstein insists. Family was. Burnes, 30, and his wife have had a home in Phoenix for six years and are raising three young kids there, including twin girls born last summer. It’s hard to beat driving them to school and going to your home ballpark the same day, Burnes said upon introduction in Arizona.

“I’m not sure any amount of money would have made much difference,” Rubenstein says. “We had an offer that, when you add it all up, was very competitive. We were prepared to put in the money necessary.”

“WE CAN RUN THE TEAM THE WAY WE FEEL IS OPTIMAL.”

Rubenstein didn’t always have the money. His father, Robert, a former Marine who served in World War II and whose family immigrated from Ukraine, worked as a U.S. Postal Service file clerk. His mother, Bettie, went to work making dresses when her only child was six. They lived in a modest, two-bedroom rowhouse at 4834 Beaufort Ave., bought for $6,000, followed by another at 4213 Fallstaff Rd., purchased for $8,000 in 1959.

Like many sports-mad boys, Rubenstein’s childhood dream was to be a pro ballplayer—but he quickly realized he was too small and slow. Later, he was greatly inspired by JFK’s televised inauguration address on Jan. 20, 1961—“Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.”

The next day, Rubenstein and his classmates analyzed the speech in Mrs. Joan Shaw’s sixth-grade class at Fallstaff Elementary. And when he found out that a lawyer, Ted Sorensen, had written it, Rubenstein had a new dream.

“I was reasonably good at writing and reading and talking,” he says. “That’s why I ultimately went to law school. I thought being a policy advisor in the White House would be the highest calling of mankind.”

Rubenstein bussed to high school at City College, about a 75-minute ride each way, and joined clubs to strengthen his college applications. He went to Duke University and law school in Chicago on scholarship. After graduation, he got a job with a New York firm where his idol, Sorensen, worked. And then one day he got a fateful call about working on the presidential campaign of a peanut farmer from Georgia. He said yes.

In the years to come, Rubenstein was a regular in the Oval Office and flew on Air Force One. But then Jimmy Carter lost his 1980 re–election bid and Rubenstein faced a new reality: as a political has-been. He became a partner in a D.C. law firm, but didn’t enjoy it and saw friends making more money in business.

In 1987, newly married and raising the first of his three children, he cofounded Carlyle, a leveraged buyout firm that grew out of his and his partners’ Washington relationships. Six years later, the firm held a majority stake in about a dozen companies that generated billions in revenue annually, chiefly from the U.S. government. (A 1993 New Republic cover story by Michael Lewis said Rubenstein “almost unwittingly” helped create a “new social type: the access capitalist.”)

Carlyle eventually went global and has gone on to have more than $400 billion of assets under management. Rubenstein stepped down as co-CEO in 2017.

Over the years, he didn’t completely forget Baltimore. Rubenstein served on the boards of Johns Hopkins University and Hospital. In 2007, he donated $5 million for a building on Wolfe Street that’s part of Johns Hopkins Children’s Center. And he’s reunited with at least half a dozen old friends from the Lancers Boys Club of his youth who’ve gone on to disparate careers.

“For a couple years, he would fly us all up to Nantucket,” says Baron, the former CEO of Baltimore Mental Health Systems, referring to Rubenstein’s private jet and $39-million estate on the exclusive New England island. When they last visited two years ago, the guest book included a familiar name: Joe Biden.

But after Rubenstein returned home for his parents’ funerals at Mikro Kodesh Beth Israel Cemetery in East Baltimore in 2012 and 2017, his perspective changed. He realized he had neglected his hometown, especially after his parents retired to West Palm Beach, Florida, years earlier.

“Baltimore gave me a good public school education. My parents grew up here, my parents were married here, my parents are buried here, and I’m going to be buried here,” he says. “I gave away a fair amount of money, but I didn’t do as much for Baltimore as I thought I should have.”

He took note of the population decline, crime, and relative lack of corporate headquarters. He had long talked privately with friends about doing something big, namely, buying the Orioles, to help “revitalize” the city, he says.

But as far as he knew, the team wasn’t for sale.

Then the details spilled out about an ugly lawsuit filed by Louis Angelos against his brother, John, and his mother, Georgia, revealing that Peter Angelos—who’d bought the Orioles at auction for $173 million in 1993—had been incapacitated since a collapse in 2017.

Roughly three years later, John, the eldest of Peter’s two sons, was appointed the team’s MLB-mandated “control person” by his mother. By 2023, John would say publicly that the team would be “financially underwater” if it signed players to long-term contracts.

Meantime, a new long-term Camden Yards lease agreement between the state and the Orioles was overdue. Deep-rooted fears about the team leaving the city (aka The Colts, v2.0) grew. In 2022, Ted Leonsis, the D.C.-based owner of the Capitals, the Wizards, and a burgeoning sports streaming channel, Monumental, proposed Rubenstein invest in his two teams, media platform, plus the Orioles, if Leonsis could reach a deal to buy the team. He negotiated unsuccessfully, but the wheels were greased.

In July 2023, John Angelos asked to meet Rubenstein for lunch in Nantucket, where Angelos was renting a home. He offered a minority share. Rubenstein was intrigued but wanted more: a “path to control” in a few years.

A few weeks later, he heard better news. Angelos was willing to sell complete control.

Georgia Angelos endorsed the idea. She liked that Rubenstein was from Baltimore and she “had seen my TV shows, read my books, and thought I might be a good owner,” he said in a 2024 podcast.

Negotiations began and continued for months, through Christmastime 2023, when lawyers and bankers joined a massive Zoom call between interested parties—and everything nearly fell apart. Rubenstein bristled at comments from Angelos’ reps he considered “somewhat insulting about our knowledge of finance” regarding an item on the team’s balance sheet.

“I don’t want to put up with this anymore,” he said on the call in frustration. “I’m done.”

He logged out, walked away, and left everyone wondering what to do. “I thought they would sell to somebody else,” Rubenstein says now, but a week later, cooler heads prevailed, talks renewed, and the deal was finalized.

Since taking over, few dispute that Rubenstein has hit almost all the right notes. Last Opening Day, he proclaimed his goal of returning a World Series winner to Baltimore for the first time since 1983. Excitement filtered to the clubhouse.

“We want leadership to want the World Series as much as we do,” Gunnar Henderson said to reporters.

On Eutaw Street, Rubenstein chatted with fans and famed beer vendor Fancy Clancy and took selfies with anyone who asked. Across the street at Pickles Pub, Rubenstein’s ownership partners, led by Arougheti, bought everyone a pre-game beer. Rubenstein has since attended dozens of games and has deliberately spoken directly to Baltimoreans.

“I want to give people a sense that there’s real hope in Baltimore,” he said in a speech at Beth Tfiloh Congregation in November. “The Orioles are the heart and soul of the city in many ways. When they do well, it makes the whole community feel much better about itself.”

He now has his own box—Suite 33—and he’s invited season-ticket owners to share it with him, perhaps remembering the thrill he felt as a kid at Memorial Stadium. But he finds that he prefers his front-row seat near the home dugout, on top of which he once awkwardly danced to “Thank God I’m a Country Boy.” He was Mr. (Ruben)Splash another evening, hosing fans in Section 86. He has tossed vintage O’s hats—the style he wears—into the seats and made funny promotional videos.

“He loves it,” says longtime friend, former Baltimore Mayor and current University of Baltimore president Kurt Schmoke, who’s part of the new ownership group. “He enjoys getting out into the crowd, walking around, taking pictures.”

“THE ORIOLES ARE THE HEART AND SOUL OF THE CITY IN MANY WAYS.”

People seem to enjoy seeing him, but goodwill only goes so far. Fans remember the Angelos era, which started with a similar narrative about a locally invested, wealthy owner. Even if this offseason underwhelmed some—on top of losing Burnes, no truly marquee player was signed—the payroll increase signals a will to win.

The O’s have revamped their business operations, hiring Catie Griggs from the Seattle Mariners last July to oversee things. The club has $400 million in state funding to refurbish Camden Yards, part of a new 15-year lease agree- ment that began in 2023. The O’s can unlock $200 million more from the state and add another 15 years to the deal if it agrees on a ground lease to redevelop the real estate around the ballpark, which Rubenstein has said he intends to do. Meantime, a 12-item value menu for fans—including $5 beers—revealed in January was a popular choice.

The primary question, though, is whether the O’s will agree to long-term contracts with young stars such as Henderson and Adley Rutschman. If not, what’s the point of anything, really?

“Those are complicated things,” Rubenstein says. “I would just say the Orioles have a tradition of having some players stay with the team for a long, long time,” referring to two of his boyhood heroes, Palmer and Robinson, as well as Cal Ripken Jr. “And I hope Gunnar Henderson and Adley Rutschman will be in that tradition.”

Rubenstein knows the optics and reality: They are a new generation’s baseball idols. In October, on the first day of the O’s short-lived 2024 postseason, Rubenstein headlined a networking event hosted by nonprofit media outlet The Baltimore Banner at Meyerhoff Symphony Hall.

“How many people think we should keep more of our young players in Baltimore?” he asked the audience. A roar of applause followed.

Months later, on the eve of the 2025 season, he shares this answer: “I’d like fans to know I’m focused on trying to win a World Series. It’s not easy. There are 30 teams, and only one can win, but we have a good young team, and we’re prepared to spend the money to get a good team and make it even better.”

This year we celebrate our 50th Best of Baltimore issue—our biggest and boldest yet. Subscribe before 6/20 to guarantee your copy commemorating this milestone anniversary. 

Maybe the most telling bit of lore about Orioles pitcher Grayson Rodriguez begins, ironically, with a home run.

“Growing up, I was actually a better hitter than a pitcher,” he says, though this story features a blend of both skills.

In the first scrimmage of his junior year at Central Heights High School in the small East Texas city of Nacogdoches, the already 6-foot-5 Rodriguez swung hard at an inside fastball. A left-handed batter, he muscled a homer to right field but hurt his pitching hand (the right one) in the process—wrist tendinitis, an athletic trainer later told him.

For the rest of the season, it pained him to hit and throw, but even with a compression wrap around his hand, he still threw harder than 90 miles per hour. Still, it wasn’t quite the more attention-grabbing 95 mph that had put him on pro prospect lists a year earlier. Scouts, who’d been coming around, stopped showing up for his starts. Rodriguez guessed they thought he was regressing and maybe wrongly presumed he’d become complacent, already having an offer to play college ball at nearby Texas A&M.

What they—and he—didn’t know was that Rodriguez was throwing with a broken hand. A doctor’s visit following the season revealed he had a cracked hamate bone. It’s just below the pinky and ring finger, a delicate spot, especially for a pitcher who relies on gripping a baseball. After surgery to repair the break, Rodriguez’s velocity returned—he reached 98 miles per hour as a senior—and the scouts did, too.

Six years later, the stakes and expectations could not be higher. At 24, he’s more seasoned and more muscular, though at 230 pounds, given his height, he’s still not bulky.

The fastball he slings now at Camden Yards often touches 100 miles per hour, running in on righties and away from lefties. The off-speed pitches he has developed since he was drafted with the 11th overall pick in 2018—like an 85-ish mile-an-hour changeup that drops an average of three feet—often confound the best pro hitters.

“I feel like I’m a very competitive person, and baseball is something I can do where I can be competitive,” Rodriguez told Baltimore at the start of the season. “I like the one-on-one, me versus the hitter, being able to have a fight with the guy that steps in the box, every five days. It’s a lot of fun.”

Today, with stops at Orioles minor-league affiliates in Delmarva, Bowie, Aberdeen, and Norfolk, Virginia, behind him, Rodriguez is a bona fide big leaguer and the most electric and beloved homegrown hurler on the O’s roster. He sits among the Major League leaders in wins and strikeouts through his first five starts, and gives last year’s AL East division champs a chance to win every time he takes the mound. (Dedicated fans on social media celebrate “Grayson Rodriguez Day” when it’s his turn to pitch.)

“He’s got the ability to reach triple-digits as a starter, and he’s got the ability to do it late in the game, late in the season, and that’s not something you see very often,” says Norfolk Tides pitching coach Justin Ramsey, whose career in the Orioles’ farm system rose alongside Rodriguez. “And he’s a freak when it comes to how he’s able to generate the spins on the baseball, whether it’s the fastball, the breaking balls, the changeups, whatever. It’s special. The sky’s the limit for him.”

When Rodriguez was growing up in the Lone Star State, his dad, Gilbert, who had played outfield at a small West Texas college, built a field on the family’s 13-acre property for his son to practice. He cleared brush, used a tractor to level a slope, and added a dirt mound and baselines—and eventually a 200-foot home run fence. It was a practical matter. A field in town they liked to use was often occupied. Young Grayson didn’t need any extra encouragement.

“I just always wanted to play baseball,” Rodriguez says.

The sport is in the family blood. His mother, Temple, was a softball coach. Not-so-little Grayson had hands big enough at 10 to utilize the seams on a baseball to create uncanny spin, an arm strong enough at age 12 to make a catcher’s mitt pop, and the size, strength, and swing as a teenager to hit a ton of home runs.

But it wasn’t until he was a high school senior that he learned the fundamentals of a good windup and delivery, and how to use his lower body to generate power, thanks to instruction from mentors like David Evans, a former O’s pitcher who ran a training facility near Houston, a two hour and 15 minute drive south from Nacogdoches.

On draft day, however, Rodriguez had no clue the Orioles were planning to pick him so high until he and his family heard his name announced on television during a selection show watch party at home.

In many ways, Rodriguez remained raw when he first joined the organization. He was all power, little finesse. Not until 2019, after the O’s current front-office and coaching regime led by general manager Mike Elias and manager Brandon Hyde took over, did Rodriguez develop a second “out” pitch to complement his heater—a changeup with unusual downward movement. With high-speed video cameras showing how the ball, depending on the grip, left his hand, Rodriguez learned quickly and was repeating the pitch consistently in two days.

Nonetheless, as is the case with most ballplayers, there were unexpected roadblocks on his path to the majors. First, the pandemic hit. He suffered a back muscle injury in 2022. Then he had a few false starts en route to The Bigs, leading to a bout of self-doubt.

Despite years of recognition as one of the top pitching prospects in the game, Rodriguez did not get his first real taste of major league ball until last April. He had struggled in spring training in 2023, did not make the Opening Day roster last season, and instead started the year in Norfolk. Only out of necessity, after an early-season injury to Kyle Bradish, did Rodriguez get called up last April. Then, after a couple of uneven months, he was sent back down.

Back with the Tides, Rodriguez proved resilient, regrouping with Ramsey, finding better form, more reliable command, and maybe most importantly, renewed confidence.

“It was partially a rhythm and timing thing of delivery we were working on,” Ramsey recalls, “but also just the intent to get [the pitch] there, trust it, and not try to be too fine.”

“WHEN HE’S ATTACKING THE STRIKE ZONE RIGHT AWAY, GOOD THINGS CAN HAPPEN FOR HIM.”

Rodriguez returned to Baltimore in July, and he delivered, posting a 2.58 earned run average the rest of the season, a massive improvement over his 7.35 mark in the first half. He struck out more batters, yielded fewer home runs, and held opponents to a .227 batting average after the mid-season call-up. A dominating eight-inning, seven-strikeout performance against rival Tampa Bay in the middle of the division title race demonstrated why so many have long considered Rodriguez ace material.

“He’s got such a good fastball and change-up,” Hyde says of his young right-hander. “If he gets 0-1 on hitters, it puts the hitter in a defensive mode because his stuff is so good. When he’s attacking the strike zone right away, good things can happen for him.”

When everything is clicking, you can see Rodriguez scream with excitement into his glove after a strikeout or successful inning. His emotion on the field belies what could otherwise be described an unassuming nature—that is, as unassuming as 6-foot-5 can be.

He is friendly and approachable with teammates, coaches, friends, and the media. He speaks with a charming Texas accent and is gracious with his time. On his non-pitching days, he laughs easily, trades friendly trash talk, and plays video games like Call of Duty.

And while baseball has him in Baltimore and on the road for most of the year, he’ll tell you he’s a homebody and country boy at heart. The first thing he bought with his $4.3-million signing bonus was a Ford F250 pick-up truck. In December, Rodriguez married his high school sweetheart, Madison, and they’ve already built a home on a 22-acre lot next to his parents’ house on the outskirts of Nacogdoches. Rodriguez’s grandfather left the land to him and his brother, Garner—a 6-foot-7 high school basketball and baseball prospect.

“Our family has been here for generations,” Rodriguez’s mom, Temple, says, and jokes, “We are pretty much kin to everyone, especially now that Grayson is in MLB.”

If he didn’t make it in baseball, Rodriguez says he’d probably be working for his grandmother’s interior design business back home like his parents. In the offseason, Rodriguez retreats as often as possible to the Texas woods or neighboring Oklahoma or Kansas, to bowhunt whitetail deer. He hides in camouflage amid the bramble, thicket, and trees for hours, waiting for an older buck to appear.

As with baseball, Rodriguez started hunting as a kid, tagging along with his uncle, a wildlife biologist who introduced him to the concept of state-regulated deer population management.

“It’s not like the first thing that has horns is what I shoot,” Rodriguez explained one day in the O’s clubhouse, describing his fascination with food plots, forage, and a healthy deer herd. (On Instagram this offseason, he posted a picture of himself smiling in camouflage behind his “first Axis buck.”)

He said he plans on hunting on the Eastern Shore this year, too. “We don’t want to diminish the herd,” he said. “You’re actually trying to grow the deer population. In return, we get to harvest the mature deer. There’s a lot that goes into it.”

Sort of like pitching. On the mound, there’s a hunt-or-be-hunted game between pitcher and hitter that casual fans don’t see but is the heart of professional baseball. Is Rodriguez going to throw his good fastball on the first pitch? Probably, but maybe not. Will he throw one again in a two-strike count to punch a batter out? Possibly. Or, as the hitter might guess, will catcher Adley Rutschman call for the nasty changeup?

Hitters also watch pitchers’ arm angles and deliveries for hints, as do advance scouts, looking for a “tell” about what may be coming. The best pitchers throw different pitches with the same motion and hand location every time.

“That’s a big thing,” Rodriguez says. “It’s called tunneling, making it harder for the hitter to pick it up out of your hand, so they don’t know the difference between a fastball, a changeup, a curve ball, or a slider.”

Having the physical skill to throw different pitches consistently in the strike zone is one thing, but mastering the mental game can be a difference between a good pitcher and a great one. More often than not, Rodriguez has his good stuff these days, but when he doesn’t, he knows it’s still his job to throw strikes, no matter the conditions or pressure. Even with his trusty fastball, command remains a challenge at times for the young starter.

“Some days are better than others,” he says. “Sometimes you break the plate into thirds, halves, or just the whole thing [is your target].”

When you’re a prospect as hyped as Rodriguez, fans expect greatness out of the gate. And for the most part, Rodriguez has delivered. But the truth is, Rodriguez—along with fellow young stars Gunnar Henderson, Adley Rutschman, Colton Cowser, and Jordan Westburg—is still improving, learning from the experience that comes from playing at the highest level.

Last year, Rodriguez threw more than 120 innings for the first time as a pro, helping the O’s win 101 games. But everything ended abruptly in the postseason, when they were swept out of the AL Division Series in three games by the eventual World Series champion Texas Rangers (one of Rodriguez’s favorite teams growing up).

It was Rodriguez’s rough Game 2 performance in front of a jazzed-up home crowd that was cited as a primary cause. He lasted less than two innings, gave up five runs, and walked four in an 11-8 loss. After, he looked downtrodden, lamenting that he couldn’t throw his fastball where he wanted. He figured out he was trying to throw too hard, and his technique broke down. Two nights later, the O’s season was finished.

“A big thing from that game’s going to be experience,” Rodriguez says. “Playoff baseball is a lot different. The stakes are a lot higher. I thought I had to do a lot more than what I’d been doing, and obviously, that wasn’t the case. It’s still nine innings, three outs, three strikes, and everything’s the same. I think that’s going to help me a lot moving forward.”

After that disappointing sweep, one of the O’s front office’s priorities was adding a proven, playoff-caliber starter to the pitching rotation. That became Cy Young Award-winner Corbin Burnes, acquired in a trade with the Milwaukee Brewers, around the same time the O’s learned that Bradish would again miss the start of the season with an injury. If anything, the high-profile trade took pressure off Rodriguez, who entered this season as the team’s No. 2 starter.

“He’s a lot more relaxed [this year] knowing he has a job,” Gilbert Rodriguez says of his son. “When I went to watch him at spring training, I could tell that he’s settled down.”

On days he’s scheduled to pitch in Baltimore, Rodriguez eats breakfast at Miss Shirley’s on Pratt Street. And when he bends his lengthy frame into a seat, he doesn’t need to see a menu.

“Cy Young Omelet, please,” he says, ordering the dish of egg whites mixed with applewood-smoked bacon, spinach, and white cheddar that’s also a favorite of the best pitcher in Orioles history, Hall-of-Famer Jim Palmer. (Palmer won three Cy Young Awards in the 1970s, as the American League’s top pitcher.)

The order is a fitting choice for Rodriguez, and it says something about his attitude. He’s not shy about wanting to reach the standard by which all O’s starting pitchers are measured. When he wakes up the morning of a game he’s starting, it’s not long before he begins thinking about “getting ready to dominate,” though that doesn’t mean jitters don’t creep in.

Before he arrives at the ballpark, Rodriguez “gets his mind relaxed,” he says, often by watching hunting shows. Either that, or educational YouTube videos about deer herd management. In other words, you can put Baltimore on his jersey, but you’ll never take the Texas out of him.

“…YOU CAN PUT BALTIMORE ON HIS JERSEY, BUT YOU’LL NEVER TAKE THE TEXAS OUT OF HIM.”

About 20 minutes before his first start of this season against the visiting Los Angeles Angels, on a chilly Saturday at Camden Yards, Rodriguez looked around at the stadium and the fans in the stands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he started throwing warm-up pitches in the Orioles bullpen to Rutschman.

Seven fastballs. Then, a changeup, a slider, and a cutter, followed by a mix of about a dozen more pitches. In the game, everything came together. Rodriguez followed Burnes’ 11-strikeout, winning Opening Day performance with a career-best nine Ks of his own in six strong innings, where he allowed only one earned run, one walk, and four hits in a 13-4 win.

“That was one of the better outings, for me, that he’s thrown here,” Hyde said. “He was in total command.” Even Palmer, Rodriguez’s breakfast inspiration, noted the excellence in the MASN broadcast booth.

Afterward, Rodriguez smiled in front of his locker.

“I was pretty eager,” he said, standing before an assemblage of reporters and several TV cameras. “That last outing [the playoff loss against Texas] put a sour taste in my mouth. Being able to come back to this ballpark, erase that, and move on to 2024 was pretty big for me.”

A week before Adley Rutschman sent a baseball flying into the right-field sky above Camden Yards at 111 miles per hour—his first home run to hit the concrete of Eutaw Street on a fly, 407 feet away—a neighbor of his parents in suburban Oregon returned another home run ball.  But this wasn’t the standard, tiny white baseball you find in the major leagues or even Little League. Instead, it was a 12-inch circumference yellow Jugs ball, a larger, softer kind made for practice.

Years ago, Rutschman’s dad, Randy, a former college catcher and longtime baseball coach, would pitch dozens of them, night after night, in the driveway to young Adley, who’d smack them with a bat into the cul-de-sac in front of their three-bedroom house. Like an archeological artifact, this returned ball had dirt caked on one half of it and the fade of a decade or so of sunlight on the other. It was unearthed in the digging of a landscape renovation project four houses away.

“I’m giggling,” says Carol Rutschman, Adley’s mom, a longtime high school math teacher. “Because everybody finds the balls in their yard. It’s like a coveted thing—here’s another one, you know?”

Adley sent those balls flying everywhere. Only once did the ever-joyful future slugger foul a ball off and break the front door window. Mom often begged him to come in for dinner.

“I think on Adley’s tombstone, it’s going to say, ‘Just one more,’” his mom says. “That’s what he would always say. He would just want to hit ball after ball after ball.”

It’s almost too perfect of a story, an image of stereotypical Americana. The cute kid (in a cul-de-sac, for crying out loud) dreams about playing professional baseball one day, takes batting practice in relative anonymity from an available father while mom prepares supper. You could make this stuff up, but with Adley Rutschman you don’t have to. It’s all true.

Nature met nurture. Coaching and playing sports is in the Rutschman family DNA. Adley’s grandfather, Ad, still spry at age 91, is a legendary college football and baseball coach in Oregon—the only collegiate coach at any level to win national championships in baseball and football. Randy Rutschman was a college catcher and is a noted coach of the position in the Pacific Northwest. He deliberately did not force his son into baseball. It didn’t work. Throughout his childhood, Rutschman and his younger sister, Josie, enjoyed family “vacations” on road trips around Oregon with the George Fox University and semi-pro teams that their dad coached.

“There was an association from a young age: baseball, vacation. Baseball, fun,” Randy says. “Both kids.”

When he was eight, the same age at which he famously won a regional Pitch, Hit & Run competition in Seattle, Rutschman shagged fly balls with the college guys. At every age, he constantly asked his dad to toss him pitches to hit. “Randy always said yes,” Carol says.

By his early years at Sherwood High, Rutschman was throwing faster than 90 miles per hour off a mound. In fact, college coaches initially recruited the wunderkind as a pitcher. Only after Rutschman kept growing, to the 6-foot- 2, 220-pound specimen he is today, did he become a powerful, switch-hitting, and fundamentally-sound everyday-playing catcher. Pro scouts and agents came sniffing, along with college recruiters.

“You start to develop, figure out your body, your swing gets better,” Rutschman says now, “and then they’re like, ‘Oh, this guy can hit a little bit, too.’”

In April, sitting in the Orioles’ dugout a few hours before a game against the Boston Red Sox, Rutschman is about to hit again, in a real professional batting practice, the type kids watch from the bleachers. Given his background, some may argue his success to this point was preordained. But here’s the thing. There are hundreds, even thousands, of would-be Adley Rutschmans out there. Kids who come from an athletic pedigree, who dream of going pro, and are hyped at a young age. But only a tiny percentage come close to attaining what Rutschman has already accomplished.

THERE ARE HUNDREDS, EVEN THOUSANDS, OF WOULD-BE ADLEY RUTSCHMANS OUT THERE…BUT ONLY A TINY PERCENTAGE COME CLOSE TO ATTAINING WHAT HE HAS ALREADY ACCOMPLISHED. 

 

When I ask him how he’s dealt with the expectations, like being the top-ranked pro prospect for years, he explains: “It’s a process. It’s not natural. You have to work on it.”

In 2018, his Oregon State Beavers won the College World Series and by then Rutschman, a sophomore, was so feared a hitter that in one of the games he was intentionally walked with the bases loaded. Two days after winning a national title, he answered a bunch of congratulatory text messages, then asked his dad to throw him batting practice, already looking ahead to the next thing. Then he became the top overall pick by the Orioles in the 2019 MLB Draft after being referred to by analysts as the “perfect prospect,” given his skill behind the plate and leadership abilities.

Somehow, Rutschman has since met and exceeded every expectation others have had for him. So much so that his likeness—light brown hair and sharp blue eyes included—was recently made into thousands of Captain America-themed giveaway bobbleheads for fans at Camden Yards.

“He’s for sure that guy,” Rutschman’s good friend and teammate Terrin Vavra says of the superhero rep. “He’s in the trenches, he’s battle-tested, and he’s got a little bit of that look to him, too.”

The American hero image tracks for many reasons, both superficial and meaningful. Rutschman is a single, fit, 25-year-old man who wears an (orange and black) uniform and plays with joy and effectiveness in the dirt of the great American pastime. He vanquishes enemies (with home runs and throwing runners out at second) and is “driven to be one of the best in the game,” O’s catching coach Tim Cossins says.

But Rutschman also has a boyish lightness about him that’s infectious. He celebrates victory with his signature, genuine bear hug (often around gargantuan closer Félix Bautista), and he meets every pitcher on their way to the dugout after innings to offer encouragement.

“That’s not traditionally a thing that follows the protocol of professional baseball, for whatever reason,” Cossins says, “but it’s part of his leadership skills, and part of who he is, and it’s unbelievable.”

The catcher’s mitt is Rutschman’s shield, the bat his secret weapon, and seemingly everything he does is smooth—walking, talking, swinging, catching, throwing, even chugging. He did that last one, at a fan’s urging, a few days before spring training, while behind the second-floor horseshoe bar at Checkerspot Brewing near Oriole Park. In a team-organized “Birdland Caravan” event designed to build interest for the season, fans screamed across the room: “We love you, Adley!” “MVP!” “Chug a beer!” It had been a long day of glad-handing. So he took one down, without spilling a drop on his orange jersey or the floor.

After being drafted, Rutschman moved as quickly as possible through the O’s minor-league system. The pandemic is the only thing that managed to slow him. He finished second in A.L. Rookie of the Year voting in 2022 and hit .254 with 13 homers and 42 runs batted in.

Broadly speaking, Rutschman’s early-season call-up to the majors was the undeniable catalyst for the Orioles’ unexpected 10-game summer win streak that signaled the end of a moribund stretch of Baltimore baseball. It also marked an acceleration of the years-long organizational rebuild that officially began when the club drafted Rutschman four years ago. That plan, by the way, is in a new phase now, according to him.

“We’re going,” Rutschman says, meaning to better places, like, as of press time, the second-best record in all of baseball. “We’re going right now.”

Rutschman is soft-spoken and tends to lead by example, so when he speaks, you can’t help but listen carefully. This year’s Orioles roster, filled with twentysomethings and other top prospects like infielder Gunnar Henderson, is already getting used to winning in the majors and having Little League-like fun doing it. (See: the water-themed celebrations.) And there’s more young talent coming, like 2022 No. 1 overall pick Jackson Holliday, who’s already making waves in a minor league system that ranks among the best in the sport.

This is everything Rutschman—and Orioles fans—have wanted to see for years, and it’s reminiscent of the magical, glory days of the franchise back in the 1960s, ’70s, and early ’80s when the minors were similarly stacked, Memorial Stadium rocked, and three World Series were won.

When Rutschman talks more about this, and his place in remaking a professional baseball team into a winner, he is profound and revealing.

“When it first started,” he says, meaning the hype, “and you start to feel those expectations creep into your mind—maybe you get some anxiety—for me it was about identifying that those thoughts were there and trying to redirect them: ‘What do I care about? What can I control? And what goals can I make for myself to maximize this day?’”

To Rutschman, that means intense practice and repetition—every day. “This is something I told myself—if I maximize today and I maximize the next day and the next day, regardless of the results, if I’m not the number-one overall pick, if I don’t live up to other people’s expectations, at least I have no regrets because I put in the work, and I can live with that.”

“HE’S IN THE TRENCHES, HE’S BATTLE-TESTED, AND HE’S GOT A LITTLE BIT OF THAT LOOK TO HIM, TOO.”

 

It’s not just his work ethic that makes him feel old school. Rutschman is something of a throwback to the pre-digital days when nobody considered chronicling their every accomplishment in public. As all players do, he typically gets to Camden Yards about five and a half hours before first pitch. He’ll have meetings with coaches to go through the scouting report, talk with the media, have soft toss in the outfield, and hit batting practice, which fans can see.

But perhaps the most important parts of his pregame routine are done in private. In the batting cages, whether beneath the seats at Camden Yards or on the road, Cossins and Rutschman practice various scenarios he could face in the game. Framing pitches. Blocking balls in the dirt. Gripping the ball in the glove in such a way as to maximize throwing accuracy against would-be base stealers. Players all practice to varying degrees, but Rutschman’s focus is “impressive,” Cossins says.

“He’s grading his work, his routines, his performances in the games, and that’s what makes him special. Once you get the gear on him and you get in the cage and you start sweating, that’s when you really get a chance to know him.”

The same goes away from the stadium, at the beach on the Oregon coast. Given the option to do anything during last year’s All-Star break (the last such opportunity he might have for a while), Rutschman didn’t choose to cut loose in a city with bustling nightlife. Instead, he asked a group of close friends from back home if they wanted to meet at his parents’ modest beach home. He was content staring down a Pacific sunset, then building a campfire, a longtime favorite activity. You didn’t see any of this on Instagram.

Rutschman’s had a smartphone since middle school but is mindful of not getting absorbed by it, a common issue among his peers (and everyone).

“It’s so easy to play the comparison game nowadays,” he says. “It makes everything that much harder.”

He’s occasionally appeared in comical TikTok videos with his sister and seems most active around Christmas. But when he posts something on Instagram, it’s usually a re-share from the Orioles’ account showing a final winning score, or a Bible verse of the day. Because Rutschman is genuinely religious. His parents brought him to church as a kid, but he really got personally interested in spirituality at Oregon State, where he visited regularly with a pastor and attended Bible study with teammates. Until now, he’s never talked about his faith in the media because he doesn’t want to force his beliefs on anyone, but when asked, he said it’s “probably the most important thing in my life.” He reads Bible passages for 10 minutes in the locker room before every game and just finished the Book of Psalms, and was starting on Matthew.

“When it comes to things like dealing with expectations, a lot of it stems from my faith and the idea that my purpose is for something bigger than myself,” he says. “Obviously, as humans, we’re not made to be selfless—we’re selfish individuals—but the more I can be focused on my teammates and others around me, that takes a little bit of the pressure off of myself…It’s the backbone of everything, every decision I make.”

On the field, Rutschman is already considered one of the best catchers in Major League Baseball, and he’s not even done with his first full season.

“He makes it look really easy,” says Orioles Manager Brandon Hyde, a former minor-league catcher himself. “There’s not much I don’t admire.”

It’s possible Rutschman ends up in the Hall of Fame with a bird on his hat one day or at least a slew of records, though there’s no guarantee—of anything. Injuries can derail a career at any moment, and business decisions are a reality in pro sports. As of this writing, some fans are clamoring for O’s management to sign Rutschman to a multi-year contract extension before he even thinks about free agency in 2029. To this point, O’s General Manager Mike Elias declined get into specifics but said, “Anybody that sits here and watches Orioles games on a nightly basis can sense the impact he’s having and the value that he’s bringing. He’s 25 and getting better still.”

And Rutschman told us, “I really like Baltimore.”

Yet confidence and good times can be fleeting. Rutschman’s first Eutaw Street homer also busted a 0-for-19 hitting slump, serving as a reminder: While it may look like baseball—and life—comes easily to him, none of it actually is easy.

“Life has a way of creeping in and finding new ways to create a negative self-image, self-talk, self-thoughts,” he says.

Sometimes, the cause of anxiety or stress is obvious. Other times, it’s slippery. Rutschman had just such a moment of uncertainty last May during a road trip to Boston, eight days after he made his major league debut. Everything should have felt great. But something was gnawing at him. Maybe it was the slow start he was having at the plate, maybe it was the pressure.

After a Sunday afternoon game at Fenway Park with time to kill, he went to see a movie alone. (Top Gun: Maverick, if you’re curious.) Afterward, on the 30-minute walk back to the team hotel, Rutschman’s mind was racing. “Where was this overwhelming sense of fulfillment and happiness that I was seeking when I set this goal [of reaching the majors]?” he wondered. And then it occurred to him. He was seeking external answers to an internal problem. “It’s classic, ‘Oh, I thought if I had more recognition or a bigger house, whatever, that I’m going to somehow be happy,’” Rutschman says. “And then you find that does not equate to happiness.”

Thoughts racing, he decided to call one of his best friends, former Oregon State teammate Zak Taylor, now a mental performance coach in Oregon who dealt with extreme anxiety when he played baseball. Rutschman told him everything he was feeling and later shared what he figured out on Taylor’s podcast, “The Perspective Project.”

“For me to get a sense of fulfillment, I need to feel like I’m making a difference in other people’s lives,” Rutschman concluded.

What he maybe didn’t realize at that moment was that he already was, just by being who he is.

Opening day for the Orioles this year—Rutschman’s first—was back in Boston, and he put together an epic, history-making performance in a 10-9 win that set the tone for the entire team and season. He homered (on his first swing) and went 5-for-5, the first major league player to do that since 1937. A week later, before the O’s home opener against the Yankees, Rutschman slowed at the I-95 toll plaza on his drive to Camden Yards. In a car next to him was a group of four fans, including one wearing Rutschman’s No. 35 jersey, who recognized him, waved enthusiastically, and smiled.

“It got me excited too,” he said.

This is the full breadth of the Adley Rutschman Experience. Fans embrace him. He embraces them right back and acknowledges the expectations they might have, but none are more important than his own.

On a Saturday morning in February, at a bowling alley near the campus of the University of Maryland, you would have seen this in action. There, at another stop on the team’s preseason tour, when he walked through the front door of the Bowlero as his name was announced, a female college student wearing his jersey loses her breath when he waves and points at her and her sister. From there, Rutschman visits each of the 40 lanes, poses for pictures with dozens of small groups, throws a few bowling balls, and shakes probably more than 100 hands. A grandma asks for a hug, and Rutschman obliges. A mom gives him her 1-year-old boy in a black Orioles T-shirt to hold for a picture. He hesitantly accepts. A gray-haired fan points toward an O’s pennant on the wall, showing the years of the club’s previous World Series championships, and he insists this team win one.

Rutschman smiles and replies: “We’ll see what we can do.”

Larry Lucchino grew up in the Greenfield section of Pittsburgh, the next neighborhood over from Schenley Park and Forbes Field. When the former Orioles president was a kid, he and his buddies only had to jump on a city bus to see Bill Mazeroski, Smoky Burgess, Dick Groat, and a glorious young outfielder named Roberto Clemente in the turn-of-the-century ballpark.

Built in 1909 with Pittsburgh’s finest steel, the elegant, Bouquet Street-situated Forbes Field possessed a wonderful repeating arch and window exterior, copper roof, asymmetrical dimensions, and a scoreboard embedded into the left field wall.

“It was a baseball field in a neighborhood park,” says Lucchino, who was 15 when Mazeroski smashed a walk-off home run over Forbes’ fence in the seventh game of the 1960 World Series. “Maybe the obsession with old ballparks began there. I also grew up going to football games at Pitt Stadium, which was a concrete doughnut,” he continues. “Two different concepts.”

In short, this is why Baltimore has Camden Yards.

Thirty years after the fact, we’ve forgotten that most Baltimoreans—yes, even Orioles fans—would’ve rejected building Camden Yards had it gone to ballot. Funding for renovating Memorial Stadium? Absolutely. Abandoning Memorial Stadium? No way. But all the debates and objections about public money going for a new stadium—recall the Marylanders for Sports Sanity lawsuit?—and about World Series memories and Waverly being left behind, were erased the moment Rick Sutcliffe’s called third strike clinched the O’s Opening Day shutout on April 6, 1992. (Irony: city planner Evans Paull, who lived near Memorial Stadium, had organized the local fan group “Save Our Stadium,” before going to work on, and falling in love with, Camden Yards.)

Of course, the full story behind The Ballpark That Changed Baseball Forever™—the Orioles trademarked the phrase in 2012—is more complicated than a reluctant fan base and the team president’s nostalgia. It involves a city jilted by a duplicitous Colts owner and his snowy night run out of town; an O’s team then-owned by a big-shot Washington lawyer; a stubborn Baltimore mayor on his way to the governor’s mansion; a Syracuse University student’s architectural thesis; and a 31-year-old woman with no baseball experience hired to oversee the entire Camden Yards project.

“It plays. That was my immediate thought after the last out on Opening Day,” says Janet Marie Smith, the sharp urban planner ultimately hired by Lucchino to manage the development of Camden Yards for the Orioles. “You test everything you can. We’d built a scale model to test the impact of the warehouse on the wind. You flush all the toilets at once. You run a vendor check. But you just don’t know until there is a ballgame, and so you hold your breath. Then, the game barely lasted two hours. It ended in the middle of rush hour [because of Opening Day’s late afternoon start], but no traffic jam materialized.”

The combination of parking, trains, and pedestrian access worked. “But no, I didn’t think of it as ‘a hit.’ We had the whole season in front of us.”

The Orioles shortstop that day, who would celebrate his own historic moment at the former train yard three years later, knew otherwise. “It feels like baseball has been played here before,” Cal Ripken Jr. said at the time.

Affectionately known as “The Old Grey Lady of 33rd Street,” Memorial Stadium reached the end of its natural lifespan at the worst of times. Baltimore was a ship taking on water in the economic tumult of the late 1970s and early 1980s. The steepest population decline in city history came in the decade leading to 1980, when 120,000 Baltimoreans, including our NBA team, left for subsidized suburban pastures. Mayor William Donald Schaefer famously responded by charting a bold course and remaking the Inner Harbor, but even as that effort succeeded beyond all hopes, the departures continued. Among others renting moving trucks, our beloved Colts rolled out, heading for a new, domed stadium in Indianapolis. That left the teetering Orioles, who had been sold in 1979 to high-profile Washington defense attorney Edward Bennett Williams. He soon began signing one-year leases at Memorial Stadium, while making his own demands for a new park.

Over the previous decade and a half, Astroturf concrete multipurpose stadiums had been built in St. Louis, Houston, Cincinnati, Philadelphia, Arlington, Seattle, Minneapolis—and, yes, Pittsburgh—many replacing historic urban parks. The Washington Senators had been lured to Texas after 1971, and Williams and others in the Orioles front office saw the opportunity to create a regional franchise. The concern in Baltimore was our championship Birds might migrate further south, and, in fact, six months after Williams bought the team, Schaefer said publicly he believed they were on their way to Howard County.

Against expectations, however, Williams assured Schaefer he’d leave his options open about keeping the Orioles in the city. Unlike the owner of the Colts, Williams kept his word to Schaefer, too, giving him time to act, as mayor and then later as governor. Shortly after the Colts left, Schaefer set up a local commission to study the twofold stadium issue—the goals at that point were to lure an NFL team back to Baltimore and renovate Memorial Stadium to keep the Orioles in their nest.

Meanwhile, the Maryland Stadium Authority was formed in 1986 and a new state commission that year recommended a 70,000-seat multi-purpose stadium in Lansdowne in Baltimore County. Their findings touted the beltway-adjacent site because it was equidistant from Baltimore City to Washington. City of Baltimore planners, including Paull, responded with their own study, however, which poked holes in the state’s findings, specifically calling out the wisdom of constructing a massive parking lot that would encircle the stadium, and proposed a bold idea: a brand new stadium in downtown Baltimore, namely Camden Yards. They cited the benefits: public transportation, which would include a new light rail, and nearby hotels, restaurants, bars, and tourist attractions already in place.

“We leaked it to the press,” Paull says proudly today. “It worked. Momentum turned back to a downtown park.”

The Camden Yards location—Port Covington had also been under consideration—had the O’s backing. It satisfied Lucchino’s desire for an urban park and Williams’ wish to move closer (than Memorial Stadium at least) to baseball fans in the D.C. area. Lucchino, all along, had remained adamant about building a baseball-only venue. He’d recognized the friendly confines of Wrigley Field and Fenway Park were the reason Chicagoans and Bostonians turned out even as the Cubs and Red Sox often put mediocre clubs on the field. Williams and Schaefer eventually came around to the idea, too. In 1987, just months after becoming governor, Schaefer pushed the General Assembly to approve the Camden Yards project and then blocked a referendum campaign to put the whole thing on the ’88 ballot—which polls had indicated would not have passed.

Lucchino, who had been hired by Williams to serve as the team’s vice president and general counsel, was promoted to team president in 1988. That off-season, he got a resumé from Janet Marie Smith, which she’d sent on her 31st birthday. She was from Mississippi, but she had studied the Inner Harbor in graduate school. She’d worked on a Battery Park makeover in Manhattan and a similar effort in Los Angeles, though never in baseball. Lucchino found her resumé in his HR director’s “thanks, but no thanks” file.

“This is a woman who is an architect with a master’s degree in urban planning,” Lucchino recalls saying to his HR head, explaining he had enough baseball men around him. “Don’t you think a person with this kind of experience is someone we ought to be talking to?”

Lucchino invited Smith in for an interview and promptly asked if she knew what league had the designated hitter. She rightly took offense and he responded by asking her to look at an early draft of the Camden Yards master plan in his office. She identified some shortcomings in the working design and impressed Lucchino with her mix of baseball knowledge, aesthetic eye, attention to detail, and confidence.

“The plan hadn’t yet come together,” Smith says, recalling the preliminary drawings didn’t fully capture Lucchino’s vision of an old-style ballpark, which took cues from its urban landscape. If he wanted someone who would offer the conventional sports response it wouldn’t have been the right fit, she says.

Little did Smith know her career was about to change forever. Not only did Lucchino hire her for the job, she would go on to oversee ballpark efforts in Atlanta, Boston, and L.A., where she now works for the Dodgers. Twenty years later, in 2009, she returned to supervise Camden Yards’ renovation.

With Smith in place to help carry out Lucchino’s vision, baseball was about to get its first retro ballpark—Lucchino fined staff members $5 whenever one of them used the word “stadium”—of the post-World War II multi-purpose era. But not until Smith and her team figured out what do with the eight-story, 1,116-foot warehouse, the longest brick building east of the Mississippi. The 1899-built B&O warehouse that many people thought was standing in the way of progress, and blocking a potential view of the harbor, instead became the key to its entire concept.

The man who saved the warehouse is largely forgotten today. But it was fifth-year Syracuse architectural student Eric Moss who made the first model of Camden Yards utilizing the neglected B&O building. A Phillies fan who grew up going to Veterans Stadium, Moss had an epiphany during a visit to Fenway. While casting around for a final project idea, he’d become aware of the Orioles’ relocation plans, and the image of the warehouse reminded him of Fenway’s Green Monster. He thought, what if they incorporated the warehouse into the right field fence? Among Moss’ thesis jurors was Syracuse alum Adam Gross of the Baltimore architecture firm Ayers Saint Gross, who hired the young man and brought him and his plans back in the hopes of winning the Camden Yards contract. The Ayers Saint Gross bid didn’t win, but Moss’ idea generated news and buzz.

That said, the back and forth over the warehouse continued for several years. Among the warehouse detractors, notably, was John Steadman, the longtime Evening Sun columnist. “That warehouse offers absolutely nothing, and it destroys the vista of downtown Baltimore,” Steadman wrote. “And if you buy the best seat in the house, next to the Baltimore dugout, you’re going to spend nine innings staring out at a brick wall that reminds me of the Maryland state penitentiary.”

Steadman was wrong, obviously. The warehouse brought in almost everything we value about Camden Yards, and probably now take for granted. For starters, the warehouse, like the train tracks out front, runs north and south. By coincidence, the ideal direction for a third-base line is north and south because it means the sun, crossing east to west, never shines directly in the eyes of batters or outfielders. That also meant that the warehouse could sit perpendicular to the first-base line, and its massive backdrop, as Moss imagined, would create a sense of authentic intimacy.

And it meant Eutaw Street, with the Bromo-Seltzer Tower in view to the north, could be gated at each end on game day, and left open on non-game days to further establish a genuine connection to its immediate environs.

“I’m not gonna say I had all the best ideas,” Moss told Bloomberg CityLab several years ago, “but I still think it would be fun to have the warehouse in play.”

“…BUT I STILL THINK IT WOULD BE FUN TO HAVE THE WAREHOUSE IN PLAY.”

In the end, the debate around keeping the warehouse came down to the cost of its renovation and whether or not it could be utilized, because the Maryland Stadium Authority didn’t intend to assume care of an empty building. Developer Bill Struever, who was doing groundbreaking adaptive re-use projects around the Inner Harbor, was brought in to provide his expertise and offered encouragement that the warehouse could be put to good use. Once there was a realization the building could house the Orioles’ and Maryland Stadium Authority’s offices, the park’s commissary kitchen, the Stadium Club, and the locker rooms for stadium workers, form and function came together.

“We thought of the warehouse as a natural feature, I said like a cliff or waterfall, that was my soundbite, but it’s true,” says Joe Spear, the lead architect of Camden Yards at what was then HOK Sport and is now Populous. “It was familiar to Baltimoreans and in terms of the city scape, its scale became an important element.” The warehouse remains the ultimate target for lefthanded sluggers. To date, Ken Griffey Jr. is the only batter to reach it, during the 1993 All-Star Home Run Derby.

Another key decision was sinking the field of play 18 feet, which dropped the outfield walls to street level and helped keep the ballpark from towering over nearby rowhouses in Otterbein, Ridgley’s Delight, and Pigtown. Fusing the warehouse with steel rather than concrete infrastructure was a creative choice, adding to the park’s throwback feel and appropriate size. The brick warehouse also served as the foundation of its classic visual composition.

“Once we had a decision to keep the warehouse, we knew the color palette of the warehouse would pretty much become the color palette of the ballpark,” Spear says. “A lot of time went into deciding the absolute best color for the brick.”

It was Smith, he says, noting her research into historic ballparks, who suggested the dark-green slatted seats, another traditional baseball look. The metal frames of the seats, stamped with the emblem of 1890s O’s star Wee Willie Keeler, furthered the pre-modern era vibe. The Oriole birds serving as weathervanes atop the scoreboard were another inspired touch. As was using the “H” and “E” in the block letters of advertisement for T-H-E S-U-N to signal a hit or error. That idea was borrowed directly from Ebbets Field’s legendary Schaefer beer sign.

When the editor of Architect asked if she could take a tour, Spear began to believe they were on to something special. They spent two hours walking around Camden Yards before he finally asked, “What do you think?” She said, “Oh, this place is totally hot. This is going to be a huge story.” He also recalls Herb Belgrad, then the Maryland Stadium Authority chairman, asking how long it would last. “I told him if we do our jobs well, fans will fall in love with it,” Spear recalls. “If the community cherishes it, then they will maintain it and that means it can last ‘indefinitely,’ like Wrigley Field and Fenway Park.”

Inspired by the success of Camden Yards, which drew 3.5 million fans in 1992, including 1.6 million out-of-town visitors who accounted for a 12 percent increase in downtown tourism, retro parks exploded across the U.S. “It put us on the map,” Spear says with a laugh, noting subsequent HOK Sports projects in Cleveland and Denver in 1994 and 1995. The gaudy attendance numbers here largely put to rest questions about the propriety of using state lottery money and state bonds for its construction. (Though not permanently. Earlier this year, the Maryland Stadium Authority told the state legislature they are seeking $1.2 billion for combined upgrades for Camden Yards and M&T Bank Stadium. The Orioles’ current lease expires in two years.)

The literal chef’s kiss was the opening of former star Boog Powell’s BBQ stand—another hit since Opening Day in 1992. Powell had the idea to do it at Memorial Stadium, but it wasn’t viable until Eutaw Street created a cozy corridor behind the right-field wall.

“We’ve had everyone from astronauts to politicians,” Powell told Baltimore a few years ago. “[William] Donald Schaefer stopped by when he was governor, and we shook hands. That was memorable for me. I was a big Donald Schaefer fan.”

The Eutaw Street utilization was critical, not just for delicious barbecue, but for everything else. It enabled home plate to be placed at the site’s south end—an unconventional distance from the park’s main entrances, by creating outfield vistas for fans as they entered, as well as the picnic area. It was while wrestling with some of the dimensions of the field that Murphy recalls receiving an unexpected letter from an older Baltimore baseball fan.

“You could tell an elderly person had written the address,” Murphy recalls. “I opened it and it was a letter from a gentleman that said Babe Ruth’s father’s saloon had been just behind second base in the outfield. We started to research it, you know, and wow, sure enough, he’s right. The building was gone, but at one point, it was there. So that added a little bit more to the sacred-ground aspects of the ballpark. You got goose bumps on your arm.

“That was kind of magical. That was kind of a cool discovery I’ll never forget.”

Or, like Camden Yards, a rediscovery.

“For the life of me, I could not run to get it,” future Hall of Famer John McGraw recalled of his first fielding chance as a minor leaguer. “It seemed like an age before I could get the ball in my hands and then, as I looked over to first, it seemed like the longest throw I ever had to make. The first baseman was the tallest in the league, but I threw the ball far over his head.” Errors ensued in seven of his next nine chances that afternoon.

Released six games after that debacle, the young McGraw could not face returning home to his Irish immigrant father, a railroad worker and Civil War veteran who’d told him to take up a regular job. Instead, the scrappy McGraw resolved to catch on with another club and make it as a professional ballplayer by any means necessary, which is exactly how he did it. The profane, pugnacious, undeterrable, break-all-the-rules third baseman—all of 5-feet-7 and 155 pounds—became the backbone of the first great team in modern baseball history, the equally uncompromising and hardscrabble 1890s Baltimore Orioles.

One of the most storied teams in the history of the game, the original O’s were a collection of motley characters, whose lineup reads more like a gang of Boston Irish mafia than a ball club, with “Dirty” Jack Doyle at first and the aforementioned “Mugsy” McGraw at third. “Boileryard” Clarke and Wilbert “Robbie” Robinson divvied up the catching duties. “Handsome” Joe Kelley, said to have kept a comb and small mirror in the back pocket of his uniform pants, and “Wee” Willie Keeler, the skilled batsman whose motto was “hit ’em where they ain’t,” manned the outfield. “Duke” Esper, “Kid” Gleason, “Doc” Pond, and “Sadie” McMahon, who actually did run with an Irish gang as a youth and was once tried for murder, worked on the mound, with the entire crew managed by “Foxy” Ned Hanlon.

These feisty O’s literally invented “small” ball—the sacrifice bunt, the hit-and-run, the double-steal, and the “Baltimore Chop,” the practice of bashing a pitch into the dirt in front of home plate so hard that it caroms too high for the fielder to throw out a quick runner sprinting toward first.

They threw body blocks on the base paths and slid into baseball lore with sharpened cleats while Ty Cobb was still a schoolboy. “We hear much of the glories and durability of the old Orioles, but the truth about this team seldom has been told,” 1890s umpire John Heydler recounted decades later in the 1950 book, The Baseball Story. “They were mean, vicious, ready at any time to maim a rival player or an umpire, if it helped their cause. The things they would say to an umpire were unbelievably vile, and they broke the spirits of some fine men. I feel the lot of the umpire never was worse than in the years when the Orioles were flying high.”

At least not until Earl Weaver came along.

Robinson, Kelley, Hanlon, and McGraw, who went on to a legendary managing career with the New York Giants, are all enshrined in Cooperstown. They are also buried together at West Baltimore’s New Cathedral Cemetery, which holds the distinction of being the final resting place of more Hall of Famers than any other funeral grounds, and has become something of a pilgrimage site for fans of old-time baseball. During their playing days, McGraw and Robinson put their earnings into a popular Howard Street saloon and pool hall, known as The Diamond, where, best as anyone can tell, they also invented duckpin bowling over cigars and beer.

McGraw, whose wife was from Baltimore, died from kidney failure two years after he retired from managing at 60. Robinson, meanwhile, had become manager and president of the minor-league Atlanta Crackers. Toward the end of the 1934 season, he slipped in his hotel room, breaking his arm and hitting his head on the bathtub.

Although he didn’t realize it, Robinson had also suffered a brain hemorrhage. He died a few days later, on August 8, 1934, with his wife at his bedside. It was less than six months after the death of McGraw. The two former teammates are buried not far from each other.

At the hotel, while being administered to after his fall, Robinson uttered his most enduring line. “Don’t worry about it, fellas,” he told those attending him. “I’m an old Oriole. I’m too tough to die.”

Trey Mancini was still woozy from the anesthesia, and when he woke up in the doctor’s office in Florida, his girlfriend, Sara, was squeezing his hand.

Then the doctor began to speak, matter-of-factly—as the 27-year-old Mancini describes it in a first-person essay he published in The Players’ Tribune this week— about the results of the emergency colonoscopy he’d just undergone.

He started by eliminating all the possible things it could have been…Before he even said the word cancer I was thinking to myself, there’s no way that he’s about to say what I think he’s about to say.

And then he said it: They had found a malignant tumor in my colon. My dad’s an OB-GYN. I’m familiar with the way doctors talk. I knew immediately that this was real.

That doesn’t mean it wasn’t shocking.

This was in February, just weeks after Mancini—the Orioles most established player and biggest fan-favorite on the current roster—arrived in Sarasota seemingly healthy for his seventh spring training with the team. He was coming off the best year of his pro career.

Stage three cancer? In his 20s? He had felt a bit more sluggish than usual during practices in Florida, but didn’t think anything was seriously wrong. He had already chalked his tiredness up to old(er) age, though he was excited, too.

Even the doctors, before the colonoscopy, paired with an endoscopy—where they thread a tiny camera down your throat and into your intestines—said they were expecting to most likely confirm that he had celiac disease, based on a pair of blood tests that showed he had low iron levels.

And less than a month before all that, Mancini was enjoying the last bit of the off-season in Miami with friends for Super Bowl week in late January. We spoke with him then, for a story in the April issue of Baltimore, and talked mostly about the ins and outs of the O’s data-driven organizational overhaul.

But, as we finished, we chatted casually about non-baseball matters, too. Health was not one of them. Was the O’s first baseman and outfielder actually going to the big game? “No, no,” he said, almost stunned at the suggestion. “I think the cheapest ticket is like five grand. I like watching on TV anyway, so I think I’m just going to do that.”

The response was typical, humble, and down-to-earth Mancini. He probably wanted to see the commercials as much as the game itself. The $5 million per year deal he signed in January—a huge upgrade from a $575,000 per year salary in 2019—clearly hadn’t changed his outlook on life.

And, without any hyperbole or exaggeration, cancer still hasn’t warped his view. “I want everybody to know I’m O.K.,” he said in his essay.

A week after the colonoscopy, Mancini had surgery to remove the tumor. He then started receiving chemotherapy treatments on April 13, and will do so every two weeks for six months at a Baltimore hospital. “I would say I’ve been handling the chemo pretty well so far, so hopefully it stays that way,” he told us in a text on Thursday, after we shared a message of support.

But even if baseball were to return in 2020—if the COVID-19 pandemic eases in the weeks and months ahead, and large public gatherings are allowed again—Mancini says he would probably still miss the entire season. What’s more, during the social-distancing era, he can’t have any visitors in the room with him during treatments.

As he wrote:

I know reading everything and seeing that I had a malignant tumor removed from my colon, it’s a lot to absorb—believe me, I know.

I’m not really big on social media, but I posted a video on Instagram after my surgery because I wanted people to see that I looked like myself and I was in good spirits. And I have no doubt that, even when I’m doing chemo, I can work out and do some things. So, whenever the time comes for me to come back to baseball, I’ll be ready.

But I just want to make sure that I am physically fine before I go out there and start trying to perform again at a major league level. Don’t get me wrong—I have bad days. I ask, “Why me? Why now?” And that’s when Sara’s been really good about kicking me in the rear. But she doesn’t have to do that too often, because I truly know how blessed I really am.

Mostly, Mancini is thankful. He was already appreciative to the team that drafted him out of Notre Dame before all this. He’s repeatedly pledged his commitment to the Orioles’ rebuilding project over the last few seasons, even as he was paid close to the Major League Baseball minimum salary after finishing third in American League Rookie of the Year voting in 2017.

As the organization has transitioned from a veteran-heavy Buck Showalter-guided playoff contender to Baby Bird-flavored rebuild under new leadership of manager Brandon Hyde and general manager Mike Elias—no player, in fact, has been as publicly loyal to the franchise as Mancini has.

He was finally rewarded in January, with the more than $4 million raise, and says he still wants to be around for the long-haul.

“Of course, of course,” he said in January, when we had asked if he was happy to be with the team, in the wake of other valuable players like Jonathan Villar and Dylan Bundy getting traded in the offseason. “I’ve always, always loved my time in Baltimore and even in the minor league system from the second they drafted me, I’ve always loved it.”

And, practically speaking, without a routine pre-season physical ordered by the O’s, including blood tests, the cancer would have been even worse if discovered anytime soon at all. “There was really no indication that anything was wrong other than me just feeling a little more tired than normal,” he wrote in The Players Tribune. “Everything that comes up when you Google colon cancer? I didn’t have any of it.”

For that reason, Mancini—of course, with the perspective that he had—is already talking about becoming a spokesperson for for things just as simple as getting regular physicals. First, though, he has treatments of his own.

“I’ve got other things to worry about right now,” he says. “I know that. But still, every once in a while I catch myself thinking ahead—to when chemo is over, to when they remove my port, to when I can start going full-speed again.”

EDITOR’S NOTE 3/16: Maryland Governor Larry Hogan has ordered the closing of all bars, movie theaters, restaurants and gyms across the state until further notice, effective 5 p.m. Monday. Drive-thru, takeout, and food deliveries will be available. Additionally, in keeping with the latest Center for Disease Control guidelines, he has also prohibited gatherings of more than 50 people.

“We have never seen anything like this before,” Hogan said in a press conference announcing the changes. “By these actions, we’re going to stop the spread and we’re going to save lives.”

The butterfly effect surrounding the rising cases of coronavirus across the state of Maryland and the United States has been far-reaching. Among the first public institutions that made the decisions to close earlier this week were local colleges and universities. At the University of Baltimore, students are being prepped to take online classes from their instructors, as they will not return to campus after spring break as a precaution—a measure that will likely be in place for all universities in the Maryland state system.

“It’s become a new reality,” says Darlene Smith, the executive vice president and provost of the University of Baltimore. “We’re planning for an extended period of this, and we’re reaching out to students to make sure that they’re prepared. Our teams come into work every day, even before we get to the office, wondering what’s next and what’s changing.”

Indeed, the developments and updates surrounding COVID-19 are coming minute by minute, prompting many of the city’s public institutions to act in an effort to inhibit patrons’ exposure. In some cases, spaces around the city are closed altogether. Here is a running list of gathering spaces whose operations have been impacted by the virus:

MUSEUMS

Earlier this week, member organizations of the Greater Baltimore Historical Alliance met to discuss best practices in the wake of the coronavirus. Many museums in the city are remaining open, instituting double cleaning measures to ensure a safe environment for guests. However, large events and public exhibitions at the Baltimore Museum of Art, the Walters Art Museum, and the JHU Museums have been cancelled until April 12.

On its website, the Baltimore Museum of Industry posted a statement detailing its close-monitoring of the situation, reiterating its commitment to hygiene.

Port Discovery Children’s Museum is temporarily closed to the public. A reopen date has not been announced.

The Walters Art Museum has announced its closure from March 14 through March 31.

The Baltimore Museum of Art will be closed until April 12.

The National Aquarium announced in a statement that will be closed from March 14 through at least March 27. All employees will be paid during this closure.

“The aquarium believes it is their ethical responsibility to adhere to the scientific community’s recommendation to limit large social gatherings at this time,” the statement reads.

SPORTS

March marks what is supposed to be the beginning of the Orioles season, as spring training nears its end and Opening Day approaches. But Major League Baseball has cancelled the remainder of spring training games, as well as the first two weeks of its regular season. At this point, it is unclear when the season will begin. The news also means the cancellation of the Orioles’ planned exhibition game against the New York Mets at the Naval Academy in Annapolis.

“The Orioles organization is fully supportive of Major League Baseball’s decision to suspend Spring Training games and to delay the start of the 2020 regular season by at least two weeks,” the team said in a statement. “The health and safety of our players, fans, staff, and partners will always be our top priority.”

The Babe Ruth Birthplace and Museum will remain open. According to executive director Shawn Herne, the museum is also instituting double cleaning measures and being vigilant about maintenance. The museum has an outdoor event planned around Orioles Opening Day, which will be postponed until the season officially begins.

RECREATION AND PARKS

Baltimore County Executive Johnny Olszewski announced Thursday that while Baltimore County parks will remain open, events managed by the county’s Recreation and Parks Department will be cancelled.

Baltimore Recreation and Parks has suspended all recreational programs, rentals, permitted events, and recreational facility services from March 16 through March 27. Additionally, with the exception of the Frederick, Dorothy I. Height, Cahill at Edgewood Elementary, Walter P. Carter at Guilford Elementary, and Ft. Worthington centers, food will be served from 2-7 p.m.

SCHOOLS

At a press conference Thursday afternoon, Maryland Superintendent Karen B. Salmon announced that all public schools will be closed for two weeks starting Monday, March 16th until March 27.

PUBLIC GATHERINGS

On Friday, The Guinness Open Gate Brewery announced that it will be closed until further notice. The Baltimore St. Patrick’s Day Parade has also been postponed, as has the Under Armour Kelly St. Patrick’s Day Shamrock 5K. Maryland Governor Larry Hogan announced at the same Thursday press conference that all gatherings of 250 people or more are banned until further notice.

Additionally, the Sole of the City originally set for April 11 has been postponed until July 25.

The Theater at MGM National Harbor has cancelled its scheduled shows through March, and a Michael Ray and Carly Pearce Show at Hollywood Casino at Charles Town Races has been postponed until October 17. Tickets will be valid for this rescheduled date.

Fells Point spots Max’s Taphouse, Kooper’s Tavern, Slainte Irish Pub and Restaurant, Woody’s Cantina, Poppy & Stella, The Admiral’s Cup, The Horse You Came In On Saloon, and DogWatch Tavern have all voluntarily closed until further notice. The Admiral’s Cup’s sister property, Bookmaker’s Cocktail Club in Federal Hill will also be closed.

A number of Little Italy restaurants are also voluntarily closing, but are offering curbside and delivery options.

Hersh’s in Federal Hill has closed temporarily, and Golden West Cafe in Hampden is switching to delivery and pick-up only until further notice.

Governor Hogan has ordered the closing of all casinos, racetracks and off-track betting facilities for a to-be-determined timeframe.

Metro Gallery has postponed its weekend shows as well as a scheduled show next Friday.

The Parkway Theatre is closing from March 13 through March 26.

VOLO Baltimore, which hosts recreational sporting and bar leagues, has postponed all scheduled events through March 30.

The Archdiocese of Baltimore announced all public Masses are cancelled until further notice.

The Episcopal Diocese of Maryland has cancelled public worship services beginning March 15 until at least March 27.

The Maryland Zoo is closed until further notice.

PUBLIC LIBRARIES AND BOOKSTORES

In a message posted to Facebook, Enoch Pratt Free Library CEO Heidi Daniel announced the cancellation of all public programs until March 31. City libraries will remain open in the meantime. Daniel added that cleaning materials and hand sanitizer have been provided to Pratt staff to have on hand.

“We feel this is in the best interest of keeping both our staff and customers safe,” Daniel said.

Elsewhere, local bookstore Greedy Reeds announced on Instagram that it is temporarily closing its stores. The shops are offering same-day delivery orders of $25 or more for those within 10 miles of its Fells Point store. Staff from both shops will be on call during business hours to answer questions and accept orders by phone or email.

Hampden’s Atomic Books is taking a similar approach, closing to the public until the end of March and shutting down all events until mid-April. Employees will still be at the store for those with any questions or requests and to fulfill online orders. The shop is also offering deliveries for those living within two miles.

The Ivy Bookshop and Bird in Hand will remain open, and are taking a fluid approach to upcoming events, urging those interested to check their calendar.

PERFORMANCE SPACES

The Hippodrome Theatre at the France-Merrick Performing Arts Center has responded to questions surrounding coronavirus with a statement as of March 12: “We intend to stay the course with our programming schedule. Extra precautions like sanitation stations, extensive cleaning and disinfecting protocols are in place. We will remain vigilant and are prepared to make decisions based on current needs, as well as in response to changing conditions.”

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (BSO) announced that it is calling off all public events until March 21. Its ticket office will contact patrons who planned to attend these events for further instructions: “Given the seriousness of this evolving situation and concern for the health and well-being of our audiences, musicians and staff, the organization has cancelled these public events as the best course of action for our local and global community, as the institution does its part to minimize the spread of this virus,” the statement reads.

The Reginald F. Lewis Museum, Baltimore Improv Group, The Strand, Arena Players, Vagabond Players, Chesapeake Shakespeare Company, Rams Head Live!, Fells Point Corner Theatre, and Creative Alliance have issued similar statements.

Additionally, Creative Alliance has put a new full refund/exchange policy in place during the month of March, delayed the Baltimore Old Time Music Festival—likely until the summer—and fully cancelled the March 21 performance by the Marja Mortensson Trio. Everyman Theatre has waived ticket exchange fees and upgrade charges for the remainder of its New Voices Festival. Charm City Players has halted pre-show activities, but performances will continue as scheduled.

In a Facebook post, Ottobar announced that all events until April have been postponed.

“This was not an easy decision but felt to be the correct one,” the post reads. “The threat that COVID-19 poses is much greater than anticipated, we cannot in good conscience put the public, bands, and our staff in harm’s way.”

This post will be updated with further developments.

A few weeks ago, Orioles manager Brandon Hyde spoke to us by phone from his home in Illinois (where he used to work for the Chicago Cubs) and—especially considering the snow falling outside his door—he said he was already picturing the images of spring training.

Ah, sunny Florida. Baseball all day on beautifully manicured fields. The crack of wooden bats. Technology like motion-capture video cameras capturing pitchers’ every throw. And, generally speaking, all of the things that will go into year two of the Orioles’ ballyhooed rebuilding project.

“After the first of the year, your mind always starts racing,” said Hyde, 46, who has been coaching in major league organizations since 2005 and is now in his second season as O’s manager. “You start thinking about spring training and the season a lot. So I’m definitely ready.”

There’s a lot to think about this year, as hope springs anew.

A generous group of 66 players has been invited to the team’s preseason facility in Sarasota this year. The new front-office regime, led by former Houston Astros scouting director Mike Elias and director of decision sciences (real job title) Sig Mejdal, now have a full season behind them—one with 108 losses. They’re just now really putting their stamp on the organization.

The big picture includes stocking the Orioles’ minor league rosters with talent. Catcher Adley Rutschman, last year’s No. 1 overall draft pick, is the most notable.

And it means building for the future, like when this offseason Elias traded second baseman Jonathan Villar and pitcher Dylan Bundy, who had been one of the longest-tenured O’s, for pitching prospects.

Rebuilding also means figuring out what to do with the second overall pick in this summer’s draft, as well as investing in an analytics operation and international scouting efforts in places like Venezuela—which were behind the times under previous front-office leadership.

And doing all that while, hopefully, putting a respectable team together on the field in the present.

“We’re looking at this season through a player development lens,” Elias said during a recent interview for a story slated for an upcoming issue of Baltimore, “but we also want to have a good atmosphere at the major league level.”

In the meantime, before we start thinking about deep playoff runs and reliving the glory days of 2014, there’s a lot of games to be played. To be precise, 162 a season plus nearly two months of spring training games and practices—which are just kicking off. Pitchers and catchers, and a few other position players like the team’s most established and visible figure, Trey Mancini, arrived in Sarasota this week.

Other names are likely off the casual fans’ radar, but some may crack the lineup at some point this season—particularly infielder Ryan Mountcastle, left-handed pitcher Keegan Akin, and California native pitcher Dean Kremer, who was part of the trade that sent Manny Machado to the Los Angeles Dodgers in 2018.

“I think you’re going to start seeing some of our farm guys break through to the big leagues,” Hyde said.

And there’s others who got seasoning at the top level last year and are back for more, like outfielders Austin Hays, Anthony Santander (subject of the U.K. Boy Scouts’ fan club), and infielder Hanser Alberto.

There’s plenty of big questions, too. Most notably, who will be the team’s starting catcher, how will the O’s pitching hold up, and what does Chris Davis look like this year? (Please don’t boo him on Opening Day, people.)

As for the highest-profile of prospects, that’s Rutschman, who this time last year was in college at Oregon State. But he’s already becoming a visible face of the O’s rebuild. In roughly a month last summer, the O’s promoted him twice up the minor league system, and he impressed with the Aberdeen IronBirds and Delmarva Shorebirds. Over the last week, he was part of the O’s preseason caravan across the Baltimore area, engaging with fans and even serving drinks, to the best of his ability…

Rutschman recently got the TMZ treatment (he looked slightly peeved, do these guys even introduce themselves?) at Reagan Airport in Washington, D.C., and told the paparazzi he wants to play in Camden Yards as soon as possible. Elias said he’s been very impressed with Rutschman, and is looking forward to having him at spring training.

“I think it will be nice for the big league staff to get a look at him, but also it will be good experience for a young guy like him,” Elias said. “He still has the entire minor league career ahead of him. There’s ups and downs and every pick is different, but we’re excited to have him. He’s got a great head on his shoulders.”

Elias has done this before, being part of build-by-numbers and scouting projects with Houston and the St. Louis Cardinals. His previous employer, the Astros, of course, have become the subject of scrutiny and attention—even beyond baseball—for a sign-stealing scandal during their 2017 World Series-winning season and the early part of 2018.

Elias and Mejdal were both part of the organization at the time. But as we reported a few weeks ago, neither were mentioned in major league baseball’s report that punished the Astros’ general manager, Jeff Luhnow, and manager A.J. Hinch, and set off a media firestorm that seems to only be intensifying as the preseason begins.

Asked if he knew about the situation when he was in Houston, Elias told us, “My work and focus was with the Astros’ was the minor leagues, the international scouting department, the domestic scouting department, and I’ll leave it at that,” he said. “It’s an issue that I’m glad baseball is rectifying.”

In the wake of the news of Kobe Bryant’s tragic death in a helicopter crash that also took the life of his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna, as well as seven other passengers Sunday, shock and sadness have reverberated throughout the sports world and beyond. As the nation grieves the legendary Los Angeles Laker and his aspiring WNBA star daughter, “GiGi,” people are undoubtedly hugging their loved ones a bit tighter, and reexamining what it means to truly live life to the fullest.

Many have taken to social media to mourn the devastating loss, including several athletes, celebrities, and community leaders from Maryland. Here are some of their reactions:

I idolize Kobe. I always looked up to him. He was the reason I was a Lakers fan. And just knowing that we lost that type of legend and that type of leadership in this community, in this world, it hurts a lot.” —University of Maryland Terrapins forward Jalen Smith to 247 Sports.

This is one of those 24-hour news cycle, pop-culture scandals in which you hope you don’t know anyone involved. People are getting fired. Reputations are being tarnished. Dubious labels have been ascribed to those implicated, and it’s all trending on Google.

Meanwhile—ho hum here in Baltimore. Despite our circumstantial connections to the ordeal, we’re just sitting back and watching it all happen.

The news broke in the sports world Monday and started to go mainstream, because since when has the public not enjoyed a juicy scandal? The Houston Astros—a team we’ve become familiar with given that the Orioles poached ex-Astros executives Mike Elias and Sig Mejdal to run the O’s front-office at the end of 2018—used an elaborate, technology-driven, and illegal sign-stealing scheme to gain an advantage during their 2017 World Series-winning season.

In a nine-page report released to the public, Major League Baseball commissioner Rob Manfred outlined the circumstances and shared the details. After interviewing 68 witnesses and 23 current and former Astros players, as well as chasing down team email, text, and Slack communications, Manfred said the league determined that the scheme—which involved a dugout television, team video employees, and hitting a garbage can with a bat—was “player-driven.” And yet, he handed out punishment to everyone but those who take the field because they knew, but did nothing to stop it.

The Astros were fined $5 million and will lose multiple draft picks over the next two years. Jeffrey Luhnow, the team’s general manager (aka the guy who picks the players), and manager A.J. Hinch were suspended for one season each. The team’s owner went another step further and fired both later on Monday.

We read the details of the MLB report closely since Elias, hired as Orioles general manager in November 2018, and his top aide, former NASA engineer Mejdal, worked closely with Luhnow and Hinch for years with the Astros – before arriving in Baltimore with plans to turn around our dear franchise with their analytics-driven approach.

From the “no news is good news” department, neither Elias or Mejdal’s names—nor those of the several other ex-Astros employees now with the Orioles—were mentioned in the ominous, single-spaced, Times New Roman, size- 12 “Statement from the Commissioner” report, which you can read in its entirety here.

It makes sense. Elias and Mejdal with the Astros were primarily focused on scouting, player selection (the draft), and development. They weren’t necessarily involved in the everyday pitches and strikes operations of the team during the season, though they could have seen trends in on-field performance and had been wondering what was going on.

But they certainly weren’t in the Astros dugout at Minute Maid Park during games, where and when this all went down. In fact, Mejdal was on the bench of the Astros minor league teams during the 2017 season. But the ex-Astros closeness to the situation does have some O’s fans on edge. They’re wondering, in the words of those talking-head lawyers on TV: Who knew what and when?

Manfred reportedly has told teams not to discuss the story publicly. But in November, after the allegations of cheating were levied by former Astros pitcher Mike Fiers in a story for sports website The Athletic, Elias defended the Astros organization in comments made at the league’s winter meetings.

“I hate to see those accomplishments and those people disparaged just by association with a couple of weird episodes,” Elias told the Baltimore Sun in November. (He declined comment to the paper on Monday.) “We’ll see how it all shakes out, but there are a lot of positives—the people who run that place and the operation as a whole that just unfortunately is being overshadowed by some negativity right now…We’ll see where the league takes it. But I hope for the best.”

So do we. Since then, everyone named by the commissioners’ office in its public report is now unemployed, even those who had left to go to other teams, like former Astros bench coach and Red Sox manager Alex Cora and former Astros player Carlos Beltrán—allegedly the player brain behind the operation. He was hired as the New York Mets manager in November for his first pro coaching job, but was let go on Thursday before even managing one game.

Luhnow, Elias, and Mejdal go way back. The now former Astros GM gave Elias his start in pro baseball, hiring the 24-year-old former Yale pitcher to be a scout with the St. Louis Cardinals in 2007. Luhnow had also hired Mejdal for his first job in 2005.

In any case, the fallout hasn’t reached the Orioles, an organization that’s put its faith in a potentially long rebuild and organizational overhaul just starting with a few former Astro minds at the control. In addition to Elias and Mejdal, there’s Orioles director of pitching Chris Holt and director of baseball development Eve Rosenbaum, hired in mid-November as the highest-ranking female front-office official in baseball, who were also with the Astros in 2017.

As for the saucy details of “sign-stealing,” much of what we do know is what Major League Baseball has shared — and the operation is almost comical as it is illegal. Also, importantly and lost in the headlines of the story, it resembles a centerfield-camera involved process commonly thought to be used by as many as six teams as late as the 2018 season, according to veteran baseball writer and broadcaster Tom Verducci.

During home games throughout the 2017 season, Astros players observed the game live using a television monitor in the hallway of their dugout. Specifically, they used a centerfield camera view from behind the pitcher, which is used primarily for player development (legal then, not now), to figure out an opposing catcher’s signs—the gestures made with his hands indicating fastball, slider, curve, whatever. Certain players, and Astros video employees, then matched up the catcher signal they saw on TV with the pitch that was ultimately thrown on the field.

Once their opponents’ signs were “decoded,” according to MLB findings, one or more players watched the live view of the catcher during the game. And in the dugout, “a player would bang a nearby trash can with a bat to communicate the upcoming pitch type to the batter…Generally, one or two bangs corresponded to certain offspeed pitches, while no bang corresponded to a fastball.”

Manfred’s report said witnesses presumed that anyone near the dugout could hear the banging of a trash can—and that Astros video employees were also running a similar cheating scheme that relayed pitch information to a runner on second base, who could then share it to their teammate standing in the batter’s box so he knew what type of pitch was coming. There’s also a conspiracy theory involving a “buzzer” system.

The funny thing is, sign-stealing is within the rules in pro baseball. But using electronic equipment during games to do so, isn’t. We can easily imagine Beltrán, the former Astro and now fired-before-coaching-a-game Mets manager said to have conceived the idea of using the live TV feed, rationalizing that the technology is available to every team, and that people have always stolen signs. And indeed, during the same 2017 season, the Red Sox and Yankees were fined for similar methods.

(Related, Beltrán’s ability to similarly use video—between games, totally legal—to pick up on opposing pitch-selection tendencies were actually previously revealed in detail in Ben Reiter’s book Astroball, which chronicled the rise of the franchise’s analytics-driven approach and the 2017 World Series winning season. It’s very interesting reading now, in hindsight.)

The truth is, when reporting on this situation, words need to be chosen carefully. Saying anyone was “spared” or “avoided” punishment from the ongoing scandal, as we first considered, implies that there was guilt along the line and people got away with it. That’s not what we want to suggest.

We’re just thankful all’s quiet on the Birdland front.

The bird is finally the word at the National Mascot Hall of Fame.

Last week, an announcement that, frankly, seems long overdue, revealed that The Oriole Bird is one of four mascots that will be inducted into the National Mascot Hall of Fame [MHOF] in 2020. Other honorees include the Montreal Canadiens’ Youppi, the Indiana Pacers’ Boomer, and the Indianapolis Colts’ Blue.

The process by which The Oriole Bird became a Hall of Famer is quite rigorous. The Bird was one of 19 nominees, and those 19 were whittled down to 10 finalists based on voting from more than 125,000 ballots coming from all 50 states and 58 countries. After two rounds of voting from the public, MHOF members, and the executive committee, The Oriole Bird earned its enshrinement.

The bird has long been a favorite in the Baltimore community, interacting with fans and spreading good cheer wherever it goes ever since it was hatched out of a giant egg in the middle of Memorial Stadium in 1979. Because of this, iIt’s no surprise that Baltimoreans would go to bat for their favorite bird.

“The Oriole Bird is one of the most recognizable figures in our team’s history,” says Jennifer Grondahl, the Orioles’ senior vice president of community development & communications. “We’re thrilled that The Bird is being recognized by the National Mascot Hall of Fame, which allows us to spread the magic of Orioles baseball on an even bigger stage.”

The Oriole Bird will be inducted at a ceremony from June 12-14 next year at The Mascot Hall of Fame, a 25,000 square-foot interactive children’s museum in Whiting, Indiana, dedicated to all things mascot. There are two floors of different exhibits dedicated to mascot history and terminology, games, and a Build-a-Bear workshop. The Bird and the other three inductees will mark a round number of 25 total honorees at the museum.

That same weekend, the Orioles are in Tampa to face off against the Rays. While their mascot Raymond, is treasured in his own right, he doesn’t carry our beloved bird’s distinction of being called a Hall of Famer.

Sitting across from us at a two-person table in the typically busy Stone Mill Bakery on a recent Friday morning, former Orioles prospect Steve Bumbry—looking as trim and healthy as a 31-year-old former baseball player-turned-yoga instructor should—acknowledges the obvious about the topic of our conversation.

“It’s a buzzword now,” he says of CBD, or cannabidiol, perhaps America’s most popular, and most Googled, extract that—if it were derived from anything other than marijuana plants—would probably be as uncommonly known as any term you’ve forgotten from a middle-school science class.

But hear him out. The fashionable acronym is just part of the story.

Bumbry, son of Orioles Hall-of-Famer, Al, is a familiar local name. He starred as a fast and strong high school outfielder at Dulaney, where he was named Baltimore County Player of the Year as a senior. He later went on to play the outfield for Virginia Tech and was selected by his hometown O’s in the 12th round of the 2009 Major League Baseball draft.

But as he pursued dreams of being part of a big league clubhouse—like the ones in Camden Yards and Fenway Park in Boston, where his father also played and where a young Bumbry hung around in as a kid—many injures piled up, and never made it out of the unglamorous minor leagues.

Today, Bumbry and his wife, Janice Ingson, live in Baltimore and are the owners of a burgeoning local health and wellness business that includes Bee Balanced Therapies, a hands-on yoga, massage and mindfulness training company, and Bee Well Living, a line of hemp-based CBD products such as muscle balms, capsules and water-soluble formulas that Jim Palmer endorses.

Bumbry credits these methods and products with “saving his life” after his baseball career came to a painful end—and he has now turned his attention to spreading the word about them. “I’ve been piecing together this all-encompassing wellness business based around those things that I’ve used personally,” he says.

This all started in earnest in 2014. The Orioles had already released Bumbry, a decision made easier by a herniated disk in his lumbar spine, when he suffered his fourth baseball-related concussion while playing with the independent York Revolution. He took a knee to the face that knocked him out while sliding into second base, attempting to break up a double play.

That incident, paired with a concussion during his college days when he woke up on a baseball field to teammates looking down at him, understandably rattled him. “My brain was already sensitive from having three previous concussions, and I was still in my mid-20s,” Bumbry says now. “I needed to re-evaluate the way I was taking care of myself.”

He decamped to his family’s winter home in Arizona to recover physically and mentally.

Playing the game he’d been part of since he could hold a tiny bat—he remembers watching his dad play basketball with Orioles teammates at Cal Ripken Jr.’s house, getting a phone call from former Red Sox star Manny Ramirez on his birthday, and receiving a custom glove from Yankees pitcher C.C. Sabathia as a gift—was now no longer an option. He was suffering from post-concussion syndrome symptoms, including sensitivity to light, and found it difficult to be outside.

And, off the field, the structure of the baseball schedule and routine, as well as the familiarity and comfort with teammates, was gone. “I was struggling,” Bumbry says. “That time was all a blur. I didn’t know what was going on. I had lost a lot of friends.”

Bumbry saw doctors and specialists and was prescribed drugs for mood, pain, muscle spasms, as well as attention deficit disorder. But he slowly found more satisfaction in natural remedies, and gravitated toward things like yoga, meditation, and self-message of his tight feet and legs.

“I just started to piece things back together,” he says, “But it started with repairing my body. Every day I started to feel a little bit better and then I realized those tools were something that I could not only help me, but help other people.”

In other words, out of an unwanted ending, came an unexpected beginning.

Bumbry decided to become a yoga instructor, then a licensed massage therapist, and he and his wife, who has taught yoga privately for a decade, started building a business highlighting what they use. In the last two years, that’s included CBD products, which seemingly overnight have gone from unknown and outlawed to available at gas stations and online from websites like Bee Well’s.

Bumbry said his father, now in his 70s, and his longtime friends and former teammates—like Palmer and golfing buddies Ken Singleton and Ross Grimsley—are among the users of his products. They’ve been known to rub some CBD on their achy parts before a round.

And beyond treating physical pain, some studies have shown the potential benefits of CBD—a nonpsychoactive component of marijuana (as opposed to THC)—to alleviate symptoms of nervous system-related conditions like seizures and anxiety. Plus, regulations have loosened. The production of hemp, which Bee Well’s and many CBD products are created from, was legalized by Congress in 2018 under the “Farm Bill.”

Still, as fashionable as the three letters are, there’s a lot of confusion and uncertainty about the legitimacy and effectiveness of CBD-related products. Bumbry can tell his story with confidence, but he recommends doing your research and talking to your primary care doctor or any specialists you see before trying anything on your own.

“It’s safe if you find someone who has a reliable product and system,” Bumbry says. “And it can help people in many, many ways. We’ve helped people with Alzheimer’s, cancer, multiple sclerosis, Parkinson’s. I want to be very, very, explicit…We’re not curing any of these things, but we’re helping clients manage symptoms, and chronic conditions.”

He’s even helping himself.

Unless he knows something about Fort McHenry’s future that we don’t, John Angelos—the Orioles top executive and son of Peter, the team’s principal owner—appeared to put all of the rumors of Baltimore’s beloved baseball team moving out of town someday soon to bed last week.

“No, no,” Angelos—the Baltimore native, a trial lawyer like his father, who is in charge of the Orioles day-to-day business—went on record saying from a big comfy chair during a panel discussion at Visit Baltimore’s annual meeting at M&T Bank Stadium. It was as good a time as any to refute the speculation.

“As long as Fort McHenry is watching over the harbor, the Orioles will be in Baltimore,” Angelos said in his first public comments since last month’s buzz that the team was either looking to relocate (and even had a likely new home in Nashville or Las Vegas) or would be for sale (which, reading closely, wasn’t ruled out in Angelos’ wonderful anthropomorphic statement.)

The questions stem from a confluence of uncertainties including 90-year-old Peter Angelos’ reported declining health and an unknown (at least publicly) ownership succession plan; the rebuilding state of the club; the ongoing legal dispute over television rights fees with the Washington Nationals; and, most prominently, the fact that the Orioles haven’t yet signed an agreement to play at Camden Yards after their current lease runs out in two years.

Those still scarred from the Colts’ middle-of-the-night move to the Midwest more than 30 years ago might say they’ve heard a claim like Angelos’ before, only to experience the opposite.

“I have not any intentions of moving the goddamn team,” the Colts’ then-owner Robert Irsay said during an infamous press conference, standing alongside former mayor William Donald Schaefer in January 1984 at BWI Airport. “If I did, I will tell you about it, but I’m staying here.” Two months later, fearing state seizure of the team, the Mayflower trucks packed with Colts gear and office equipment rolled out of town amid snowflakes, leaving the city sensitive to relocation rumors.

But the present circumstances are different and not as immediately concerning. Both the Colts and Orioles were seeking a new, joint stadium back then—the O’s already have a beautiful, fully capable home now, which ultimately arose from those talks—though the future, again, is uncomfortably unknown.

The Orioles’ lease with the Maryland Stadium Authority states the team can’t move from Baltimore until the current 30-year term ends in 2021, and the team has a five-year renewal option. But negotiations on a new agreement have been held up, according to a letter Governor Larry Hogan sent to Major League Baseball last year, due to the O’s never-ending multi-million dollar legal battle with the Nationals over the rightful owner of a years’ worth of MASN revenue.

Despite the money and politics involved, many fans are optimistic. It’s hard to imagine anything other than baseball happening at Oriole Park at Camden Yards, aside from a few concerts. And color me skeptical that general manager Mike Elias and assistant GM and former NASA engineer Sig Mejdal would have taken jobs here if they knew they’d be moving anytime soon. Their aptitude for gauging probabilities and risk-reward ratios is too good for that.

In any event, and thankfully, season one of this nascent, ballyhooed build-by-numbers revival is now finished. The O’s long baseball year ended on Sunday with a 5-4 loss to the Red Sox in Boston. Fifty-four wins. One hundred and eight losses. The team would have ghosted into the offseason, had it not been for this Steve Wilkerson spectacular catch, navigating one of Fenway Park’s sharp old-timey features while taking away a home run in centerfield. “Greatest HR robbery ever,” dude.

The play speaks to one major takeaway from this year: We can’t say the 2019 edition of the Orioles quit, even if players sometimes felt like they wanted to.

Sure, there was the Chris Davis mid-game blowup in the dugout (after a fielding gaffe, of all things). Davis would have done something he’d later regret to first-year manager Brandon Hyde had big Mark Trumbo and hitting coach Don Long not intervened. “That was really kind of the breaking point,” Davis said later, and frankly, we don’t blame him. His season started with a chorus of boos, a historic hitting slump, and ended with 139 strikeouts, a .179 batting average, 12 homers, and continued talk about his albatross of a contract, which has three years, $51 million (and $42 million in deferred payments in the 15 years following) still to go.

There were also the MLB-record 305 home runs that the Orioles pitching staff allowed, a number that demolished the previous mark of 258 (and a rate of almost two per game.) The Yankees’ Glayber Torres hit 13 of them, and the Astros’ Carlos Correa hit the longest homer tracked in Camden Yards history, 474 feet to centerfield.

The Baby Birds’ weekly transaction report resembled a yo-yo of players to and from Baltimore and the minor league affiliates in Norfolk, Bowie, Frederick, wherever. The O’s used 38 pitchers this season. In the statistics that most non-analytics folk are familiar with, only John Means finished with a winning record (12-11) and a close-to-respectable earned run average (3.60). Wilkerson threw five innings, and he was not the only position player to take the mound. Which is to say, the O’s are still looking for help at the game’s most important spot.

But—and this might be the optimists’ view—wasn’t this season not as bad as you thought?

The Orioles somehow won 54 games. That was anywhere from one to five less than the Las Vegas sportsbooks’ preseason predictions, but the overall record was better than last year’s brutal, franchise-worst 47-115 number. And that team had expectations of another potential Buck Showalter-led playoff run.

There’s some more good news: One of the few holdovers from the Buck era, first baseman Trey Mancini, is still with us. So is second baseman Jonathan Villar, the only Oriole to play in all 162 games. Means was a surprise all-star. Stories and possible parts of the rebuild emerged like outfielders Austin Hays and Anthony Santander (San. Tan. Dare.), who famously entertained a group of about 4,000 kids from the United Kingdom in leftfield in the dog days of summer. The Brits are apparently more grateful for a free ball than us. (Speaking of that, good for the O’s for extending foul-ball netting into the outfield.)

There’s hope you can believe in, too, namely in catcher Adley Rutschman, who the O’s drafted first overall out of Oregon State University in June. His highlights in the minor leagues made this summer somewhat bearable as the big club’s losses piled up, but also embodied the idea that this Oriole-ball project is going to take time.

Only recently did Elias begin to make sweeping front office personnel changes, as expected, firing 14 people last month (including Showalter’s son, Nathan, who was somehow still on staff as a scout), and hiring his own people like new director of player development Matt Blood. “I anticipate many more hires and additions to our baseball operations department as we proceed into the offseason,” Elias said.

Mancini, the most defined of the O’s puzzle pieces, told us something last year that continues to ring true. “It’s a process,” he said of the rebuild. “It’s not going to happen overnight. You have to get some of the right guys, people have to click, and unfortunately, it might take a couple years. That’s usually the case.”

Unfortunately, is right. Losing more than a hundred games a year, no matter how much you’re paid to play, coach, or watch a kids’ game, isn’t easy on anyone’s health. Take one night a few weeks ago, the O’s fourth to last home game of the year. It was around 10:30 p.m., and at the start of the bottom of the ninth inning, the Orioles led the Toronto Blue Jays by four runs. Maybe a thousand fans were left in the stadium. It felt almost like an open practice.

With the game’s outcome seemingly decided and a newborn baby at home, I left the press box, and headed down the stairs to get to the team’s clubhouse a little early. The Oriole Bird had the same idea. The mascot soon emerged from a nearby staging room in the bowels of Camden Yards with a big black-and-orange flag that he or she waves after wins, and the feathered animal of joy jogged down a hallway toward the field.

But soon, as I watched on a small television with a few team employees and stadium security guards, relief pitcher Miguel Castro had walked the bases loaded. One run scored first. Then, someone named Randal Grichuk hit a crushing, two-out grand slam into the mostly empty left-field stands that put the Blue Jays ahead 10-9.

In a sad yet terribly appropriate and telling image, the Bird came running back down the hall. The O’s ended up losing by 11-10 in a game that took more than four hours to finish. It was as demoralizing a defeat as we’ve ever seen, and a reminder of how much time there might be before the O’s consistently win again.

It has been a long, strange, and often unfortunate season full of anomalies for the Baltimore Orioles, so perhaps it makes sense for this team to be the ones to break a crack in baseball’s history books. Prior to Thursday night’s 10-8, 16-inning win, no position player had ever recorded a save in Major League Baseball history. But when outfielder Stevie Wilkerson took the mound early Friday morning, he became the first position player to do so since the save became an official baseball statistic in 1969.

“I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around it yet,” Wilkerson said after the game, according to the Baltimore Sun. “What a wild game. That was just crazy. I’m glad I could go out there and be part of getting us a win.”

This was the third time Wilkerson has pitched in relief for the team this season. Position players taking the mound is one of baseball’s delightful quirks—rare enough to be notable when it does happen, raising social media sirens on accounts devoted to cataloguing the eccentricities of baseball.

Here was someone being tasked to do something they don’t normally do. In Wilkerson’s case Thursday night, that meant tossing 50-plus mph pitches, and doing it well enough to get his team a win. And if that wasn’t enough, he also made an impact with his bat, knocking in a tying run with an RBI double in the eighth inning. It was, of course, his only hit in seven at-bats.

The events that led to Wilkerson’s save were just as unique. After five scoreless extra innings, the Orioles sprung for three runs in the top of the 15th, but the Angels fired back and tied the game back up in the bottom of the inning. The Orioles scored two more in the top of the 16th, setting the stage for Wilkerson, who etched his name in the history books. It’s only fitting, too, that the win was the Orioles’ first trailing after seven innings in 63 tries.

“I think that was the best day of the year for all of us,” summed up shortstop Jonathan Villar.

The gesture was small in the grand scheme of things, and a ceremonial and promotional stunt all wrapped into one: Lamar Jackson throwing out the first pitch at an Orioles game, on the eve of the start of Ravens’ training camp. But the mash-up did what it was supposed to do, and caused us to wonder about Baltimore’s 22-year-old quarterback of the present and future.

Maybe it was because of the charm of Jackson’s boyish mannerisms as he bounced around Camden Yards on his first trip to the stadium, wearing an Orioles jersey with his—and Cal’s, of course—number eight (“Legendary,” Jackson said in respect), while doing stuff like eating a Boog’s turkey sandwich and meeting guys like Trey Mancini and Chris Davis in the Orioles clubhouse.

Or maybe it was how Jackson, like a good student, appeared to quickly pick up the whole pitching concept. He took instructions from outfielder Dwight Smith, Jr. (lower your shoulder, this isn’t football; but use the threads on a baseball for grip like laces on a pigskin), and practiced a few throws in the batting cage beneath the stands while waiting out a 90-minute pregame rain delay on Wednesday night.

Finally, after the skies cleared around 8:30 p.m., Jackson, now the guy, trotted out toward the pitcher’s mound, and waved his arms to excite those of the announced 20,786 paying fans still in attendance. When it was time to throw, he pretended to shake off a few signs from Smith, his stand-in catcher, then cocked his right arm, and tossed a hard, fast strike. It was just what everyone, we presume, wanted to see.

Jackson flexed and smiled as he walked from the field. “I loved it,” he said. “I had to show up and show out.” The outcome was exactly what he wanted, too, which was to not embarrass himself throwing a baseball—like rapper 50 Cent once did. (Just a bit outside!)

Cue the jokes about the Orioles needing a pitcher. . .

But O’s manager Brandon Hyde said he’d first try out Jackson somewhere else, like centerfield, shortstop, or second base given his speed and baseball teams’ premium on strength at those “up the middle” positions.

Jackson agreed. “Probably,” he said about playing centerfield, when he met with the media before the O’s played the Nationals, “but I’m a Ravens quarterback right now, so I’m good.”

Yes, he is. That might be the biggest takeaway of this week’s football-baseball crossover act. In just his second pro season, Jackson begins the year as the undisputed starting quarterback of his Ravens—the first time in a decade that anybody besides Joe Flacco can say that.

That’s why this Ravens QB—one who’s endearing, yet still maturing (aren’t we all?) and is as relatively unproven as a pro quarterback (yes, despite his 6-2 record as a rookie starter) as his skills are unconventional—was asked to come to Camden Yards in the first place thanks to our two pro sports teams getting along. And it’s why he stood in front of reporters and answered questions, covering a variety of topics and touching on his development as a billboard-status face of the franchise.

He addressed his disappointment with his Madden video game rating, 24th-best among NFL quarterbacks, and low on passing ability. But his speed and agility? No. 1. “I don’t make Madden,” he said. “It’s them.” He talked about how he’s spent the offseason (he worked out some, throwing footballs with Ravens backup quarterback Robert Griffin III and wide receivers like Willie Snead, which should be a positive signal to fans who want to see improvement there). On the Baltimore summer heat, he said being a Florida native is no solace. “I’m one of those people complaining I was sweating a lot,” he said. And he even discussed how he prefers to top his hot dog.

Because in addition to Jackson’s pregame appearance reminding us that Ravens training camp starts next week, National Hot Dog Day was observed at Orioles Park on this night, too. In a season of many fantastic fan giveaways, the O’s had one of their best, offering ketchup, mustard, and relish t-shirts—a creative nod to the famous and kid-friendly between-innings hot dog scoreboard race.

“I don’t really eat mustard,” Jackson said about his preference, “so ketchup and relish. I go from there. Pretty standard.” Like we said, charming.

Out of a nearly empty Camden Yards and into the familiar humidity of a Baltimore summer night stepped Manny Machado, conqueror of his former home, in pursuit of a pre-planned victory feast: a pile of crabs from L.P. Steamers. Can’t leave here without them, he said earlier, “so we’ll be having some of that tonight.”

He came, we saw, and—in the San Diego Padres’ 8-3 win over the Orioles, a game that marked Machado’s first visit since being traded away nearly a year ago—he homered, a 455-footer to centerfield, the longest of any of the 100 he’s now launched into the stands here. “Was it?” he said in the visitor’s clubhouse afterward, when told of the record distance. “I guess it’s good to be back in Baltimore, hitting in this park.”

How do you put words to it? A heartbreaking homecoming might be appropriate. None of the announced 21,644 in attendance, most of whom gave Machado—the closest thing the Orioles have had to a Hall-of-Famer in two decades—a standing-ovation before his first at-bat, wanted to see him ever acknowledge the crowd wearing No. 13 in a road gray uniform. (At least he’s not a Yankee.)

And nobody knows how last year’s trade deadline move—engineered, we were told, because the O’s weren’t able to afford the type of monster contract that Machado eventually signed in free agency ($300 million for 10 years)—will look in hindsight. But, for now, none of the prospects the O’s received from the Los Angeles Dodgers in exchange for Machado, the former franchise cornerstone—a four-time All-Star, two-time Gold Glove winner at third base who will turn 27 next week—are in the majors.

Before the game, occasionally flashing a smile, Machado entertained reporters with a trip down memory lane—saying names like Adam, Schoop, Markakis, Davis, Hardy, and Buck, and recalling the excitement of the Orioles’ 2014 playoff run. He explained the “weird” nervousness he was feeling being back where it all happened.

“It’s just different,” he said, speaking in the same room behind home plate where he was introduced to the media nine years ago as an 18-year-old shortstop. “It was always coming into that same clubhouse, walking into that same door, parking in that same parking spot, taking the same route to the baseball field every day. It was just all different today.”

And he talked briefly about his frustration with how things ended with the Orioles, being kept “out of the loop,” he said, as the trade with the Dodgers was finalized by the previous front office regime before the All-Star Game break last July.

“I didn’t make the choice. It was made for me,” he said. “When you’re here for so long in a place you call home, you see the same faces every day, the same people, it grows on you. To leave like that halfway through the year kind of sucks.”

He later signed a few autographs down the third-base line, but not many. Then, shortly after 7 p.m. on a steamy 88-degree night, he stepped toward home plate, waving to the fans, some still wearing his old orange-and-black jersey, as they cheered for nearly 40 seconds and a video montage on the centerfield scoreboard showed highlights of Machado’s seven-year O’s career. He touched his right hand to the bill of his navy blue Padres batting helmet to say thanks.

It didn’t quite match the theatrics and adoration of Adam Jones’ sendoff, but “it was awesome,” Machado said. “The fans, like always, didn’t disappoint. I’ve seen it for many, many years, how they’ve gone above and beyond for us, and they did it today. The whole experience playing here brings back a lot of good memories. It’s special and something I’ll never forget.”

The O’s stadium staff even played video of The Play—Delmon’s Young bases-clearing double against the Tigers in the 2014 playoffs—as the Padres took the field for the sixth inning, and Machado put his arm around San Diego star rookie shortstop Fernando Tatis Jr., and pointed to the scene, like he were saying “This is what it could be like.”

Nostalgia, though, eventually met reality. In the third inning, Machado smacked his massive home run on the first pitch he saw from O’s starter Jimmy Yacabonis. And in the bottom of the third, Machado came the closest he did to flashing signs of that Brooks Robinson-like defensive brilliance, tagging out an audacious Dwight Smith Jr. when he overran third base following a hit down the right field line. Machado added an RBI single in the fourth, finishing 2-for-4 at the plate.

His skills, of course, nor his sometimes boorish behavior were never questioned. The business of baseball ultimately sent him away, an unfortunate truth in a modern-day professional sports era where money is usually valued more than loyalty, and change is a constant.

Case in point: As Machado exited his pre-game press conference, exasperated by the 15 minutes it took and the expected queries, he asked a Padres public relations staffer, “Do I even have time to get in the cage?”

Yes, he did. In fact, he had to wait. At almost that very moment, a 21-year-old kid by the name of Adley Rutschman, a switch-hitting catcher picked No. 1 overall by the Orioles in the MLB Draft three weeks ago, was on display in a special batting practice session organized by the team as part of his introduction to Baltimore.

The coveted prospect, wide-eyed and widely considered the Orioles best since Machado, took his first smooth swings. And on the third soft-toss pitch he saw, Rutschman sent that tiny white ball onto Eutaw Street, as if to say as one narrative was ending, another was beginning.

If Adley Rutschman is as wise and humble as his grandfather (“When are we going crabbing?” the old man asked his 21-year-old grandson after the Orioles drafted him with the coveted No. 1 overall draft pick on Monday night), we’re in for some good times for the next decade or so. If all goes according to plan.

On first impression, speaking as the main attraction at a press conference in a land far, far away in Corvallis, Oregon, where Rutschman made a name for himself playing at Oregon State University, the kid sure sounds mature beyond his time spent living, and three years attending college.

That’s good news when his fresh, rosy-cheeked face is the new image of the Orioles rebuild.

“I always pride myself on how I carry myself every day, the things that I can control,” he said. “My grandfather likes to say, ‘Control the controllables.’” We’ve heard a sports psychologist or two say the same exact thing as grandpa, who is Ad Rutschman, 86, a legendary football coach back home in Oregon.

“That’s exactly what you need to do as a baseball player,” said Rutschman (pronounced Rutch-man). “There’s so many things that are out of our control. For me, I play hard every day. I’m going to give my best effort. Maybe I’m not doing it offensively one day, but that doesn’t mean I still can’t help the team win defensively. That’s how I view it.”

Get to know the name, and the person, O’s fans. Yes, help is on the way. “It’s a true honor to be selected No. 1 overall,” he said. “It’s one of those things you dream about.”

Even with skipping his senior year of college (he’s been drafted as a junior), Rutschman might not take the field at Camden Yards for a couple years. That’s the expectation even for a guy who has a ton of baseball potential, a 6-foot-2, 215-pound switch-hitting catcher who is a front-runner to be named college baseball’s top player after hitting .411 this season. He’ll start somewhere in the Orioles minor league system.

But, who knows? With how practically everyone is talking about him, he might arrive at the major leagues sooner. In addition to the seemingly uncanny composure, he sure has the skills and the pedigree. His father, Randy, was a college catcher and is now is considered one of the foremost youth teachers of the position in the Pacific Northwest. Rutschman feels like a baseball purebred.

“The perfect prospect,” former MLB general manager Steve Phillips said of him this week, one of the highest compliments of many good things said. Baseball America, the leading scouting publication of the sport, has called him the best prospect since Bryce Harper.

Rutschman is the type—chosen with the 1-1, as baseball insiders like to say, first pick of the first round of a draft in which more than 1,000 other players were selected this week—who could one day be a household name around these parts, much like Manny Machado or Adam Jones. Depending on who you ask, he could develop into a better player than either of them.

He’s proven his wares in college and improved over time, helped by a summer stint in the Cape Cod league (Think Freddie Prinze Jr. in Summer Catch) after a freshman year in which he hit .234. The next season, in 2018, Rutschman batted .408 and helped the Beavers to a College World Series title, as the series’ most outstanding player with 17 hits. They called him “Clutchman.” Then he starred for Team USA last summer, where he hit with a pro-style wood bat, compared to the metal ones they use in college.

To give you an idea of his athleticism, he was even a kicker on the Oregon State football team as a freshman, and set the Oregon state record with a 63-yard field goal in a high school game. Can we schedule a friendly competition with Justin Tucker right now, please? Rutschman may end up playing some first base for the Orioles, too. The only knock on him is his speed.

Just last week, while he played again in the NCAA tournament, the opposing team, leading by three runs, decided to walk him with the bases loaded and allow a score, instead of taking the risk of Rutschman belting a hit or home run and scoring more. That’s an absolutely unheard of thing to see your opponent do, an ultimate sign of respect. “It is pretty surreal,” he said.

And, aside from his skills on the field, he seems like someone who would be great to take home to mom and dad. His Instagram page appears to show a well-rounded, respectable guy doing regular things, like quoting lines from Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation. In a nice coincidence, he won’t even need to get familiar with new colors, as Oregon State wore orange and black.

“Adley is a future fixture for this organization,” new Orioles general manager Mike Elias said. “The amount of work that’s goes into what he’s done and becoming the number-one pick is not something that’s ordinary. I met Adley this winter and was immediately struck by him and impressed by his maturity and leadership. We’re very excited about what this is going to do for our future.”

Rutschman is the first pick made by Elias, who likely will have another No. 1 overall pick to work with next season, based on the way this year’s going. The ability to pick the best prospects from across the baseball landscape is a key part of the Birds’ plan, and what made this leadership regime successful in previous stops like Houston, which won a World Series, and St. Louis, which did too. This is the business of winning, after all.

Which brings us back to grandpa, who had a bit of advice for the kid who may sound mature beyond his time, but who still can’t hold a stick to 66 more years of experience. “The first thing you do is bury the first million bucks in the backyard,” was the message for when he signs a lucrative contract.

Before all that, though, Rutschman has got finals at Oregon State to finish next week. “I’ve still got some school to do,” he said. “That’s going to be rough.” Then we’ll be happy to give him a warm welcome to Baltimore.

The great men in our lives deserve more than one day of celebration, but if we are limited to a single holiday to honor them, we better make the most of it. Whether your dad is a beer connoisseur, a die-hard O’s fan, an avid golfer, or a vintage car enthusiast, here are our suggestions to make this Father’s Day one of the best yet.

SPORTS

Father’s Day Catch on the Field: Put on your O’s jersey and head to Camden Yards early for some pre-game fun with your dad. Register for one of three sessions for the rare opportunity to play catch on the field. After your 25-minute session, find your seats to watch the Orioles take on the Red Sox while devouring Birdland nachos, boardwalk-inspired fries, and Camden Frank hot dogs. Plus, the first 20,000 fans will receive a free fedora upon entering the ballpark. Packages include a charitable donation to prostate cancer research. 333 W. Camden St., 10:45 a.m.-12:05 p.m., $250-300

Bulle Rock: Hit the links this holiday weekend at one of Maryland’s top-ranked public golf courses. After 18 holes, enjoy a relaxing dinner inside the Gourmet Pub & Grill—which will be featuring classic, local seafood dishes paired with craft beer. Amidst conversation, admire the manicured fairways or watch the O’s game right from your table. 320 Blenheim Ln., $75-99

GBMC Father’s Day 5K: Lace up your running shoes and pin on your bib number for the 31st annual 5K run or one-mile walk around Greater Baltimore Medical Center’s Towson campus. Before and after the race, enjoy music and food at the Wellness Village. Awards will be given to the top runners of various age groups and the fastest father-son and father-daughter teams. Proceeds from the race benefit the hospital’s neonatal intensive care unit. 6545 N. Charles St., 8-11 a.m., $30-40

MUSIC

Baltimore Jazz Fest: If your Pops is a jazz fan, take him to this annual festival at St. John’s Episcopal Church to hear performances by six bands, including the Baltimore School for the Arts Big Band. In between dancing to the music, munch on some local food and sip wine and beer. 3009 Greenmount Ave., 1-7 p.m., Free

The Everly Brothers Tribute Father’s Day Show: Does your dad jam to the rock giants in his car, nostalgic for his teen years? If so, he’ll love this tribute to the folk singers, who influenced the likes of The Beach Boys and The Beatles. Father-daughter duo Jon and Laura Bannon will perform the brothers’ hits such as “Cathy’s Clown” and “Bird Dog” at Germano’s this Sunday. 300 S. High St., 12 p.m., $15-17

DINING OUT

Chez Hugo Bistro: Celebrate summer’s arrival and your favorite man with Chef Steve Monnier’s delicious burgers (the restaurant is named for his son, after all). The chef’s cuisine fuses his native French culture with locally sourced ingredients. Pair your burgers with $5 draft beers, but save room for desserts including a fancy banana split with Neapolitan ice cream flavors, grilled banana, cherries, and whipped cream. The kid-friendly restaurant will also offer smaller portions of mac and cheese, burgers, and desserts for your tiny tots. 206 E. Redwood St., 11 a.m.-2 p.m., 443-438-3002

Guinness Grills for Dad: Treat your dad to a day off the grill. At Guiness, he will be the man of the hour with specials like a 10-oz. grilled New York strip dinner paired with a locally brewed Guinness Blonde. Non-alcoholic options will also available. 5001 Washington Blvd., 12 p.m.-7 p.m., $30

Father’s Day Beer and Brunch: For those beer-obsessed fathers who also love brunch, B.C. Brewery in Hunt Valley is offering an exclusive, mid-morning meal of chicken and waffles followed by dessert in its taproom. Of course, the brewery’s signature self-serve drafts will also be available for purchase throughout the afternoon. 10950 Gilroy Road, Suite F, 12-5 p.m., $30

FUN & GAMES

Father’s Day Axes and Ales: Whether you’re newly 21 or have been drinking with dad for decades, an afternoon at Urban Axes is sure to make this Father’s Day one to remember. This Sunday, cheers your beers and aim for the bullseye. The price of admission includes an hour of axe-throwing with coaching and your first beer. 1 N. Haven St., 11 a.m.-4 p.m., $25

Father’s Day “Pop Up” Car Show: Prepare to talk shop with dad as you join fellow car enthusiasts on the hunt for Maryland’s “Best in Show.” Admire the classic cars parked along Broadway Square and hailing from all over the Old Line State—and vote on your favorites. 1632 Aliceanna St., 12-5 p.m., Free

Lunar New Year Festival
Jan. 29. The Walters Art Museum, 600 N. Charles St. 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Free. 410-547-9000. While the Gregorian calendar’s New Year might have come and gone, the Chinese Lunar New Year is once again upon us. At The Walters Art Museum, celebrate the Year of the Rooster with a special focus on traditional Chinese and Korean dance. Several groups will perform, including the Baltimore Chinese School, Johns Hopkins’ Yong Han Lion Dance Troupe, and the Korean Sang Hee Ju Traditional Dance Company. With fun for the whole family, partake in arts and crafts and take group selfies in the Pixilated photo booth to ring in the new year.

Mamma Mia!
Jan. 13-15. Hippodrome Theatre at the France-Merrick Performing Arts Center, 12 N. Eutaw St. Fri. 8 p.m., Sat. 2 & 8 p.m., Sun. 1 & 6:30 p.m. $48-142. 410-837-7400. For one weekend only, this smash-hit Broadway musical is making its way to Baltimore. The Tony-nominated crowd pleaser follows a mother and daughter through love, laughter, and family drama in a comedic coming-of-age story set in the Greek islands. Best of all, it features Swedish pop supergroup ABBA’s greatest hits.

Baltimore Restaurant Week
Jan. 13-22. Locations vary. $20-35. Charm City might be best known for crab cakes and Berger cookies, but it’s so much more than that. For nine days this month, fulfill your foodie-on-a-budget dream, and choose from more than 100 of Baltimore’s best restaurants offering discounted meals for dinner and lunch—including the newly rebranded Bar Vasquez, classic Prime Rib, and more casual Rowhouse Grille.

Orioles FanFest
Jan. 28. Baltimore Convention Center, 1 W. Pratt St. 11 a.m.-6 p.m. $6-12. 888-848-BIRD. Bring friends or the whole family to this daylong celebration of Orioles baseball, where you can shake hands and rub elbows with players, coaches, and super fans. Catch the hilarious kids’ press conference, snap a selfie with the Bird, and grab an autograph from Buck Showalter. Sorry guys, no Adam Jones pie-throwing this year.

Dancing With The Stars: Live!
Jan. 15. Modell Performing Arts Center at the Lyric, 140 W. Mount Royal Ave. 8 p.m. $34-595.50. 410-900-1150. As a part of a 43-city North American tour, the ABC hit series Dancing With the Stars is making its way out of the television and into a theater near you. During this live performance, get a front row seat to all the glitter and glamor of the show, with top-notch dance numbers and celebrity contestants, including recent DWTS and Olympic champion Laurie Hernandez and her partner, Val Chmerkovskiy.

Ina Garten
Jan. 17. Hippodrome Theatre at the France-Merrick Performing Arts Center, 12 N. Eutaw St. Fri. 7:30 p.m. $69-97. 410-837-7400.
Over the years, Ina Garten has encouraged countless people to cook with her bestselling books, and has garnered a huge fan following thanks to her Barefoot Contessa show on the Food Network. But it’s her husband, Jeffrey (also a Johns Hopkins alum), who has been her greatest admirer, inspiring her 10th and latest tome, Cooking For Jeffrey, which she’ll be talking about this month. “It’s a little bit of a love letter to my husband, who has been unbelievably supportive,” says Garten. “Jeffrey always told me, ‘If you love something, you’ll be good at it’—and that was really good advice.”—Jane Marion

LaxCon
Jan. 20-22. Baltimore Convention Center, 1 W. Pratt St. Fri. 7 a.m.-8 p.m., Sat. 7 a.m.-5 p.m., Sun. 9 a.m.-12 p.m. $10-160. 410-235-6882. In the midst of football season, celebrate Maryland’s state team sport at the US Lacrosse Convention. Back in Baltimore with hopes to be bigger and better than ever, the convention will feature all lax everything, with dozens of speakers, educational clinics, on-field demonstrations, gear, swag, and the nation’s best coaches and athletes. Grab autographs from Team USA players and catch keynote speaker John O’Sullivan, founder and CEO of the Changing the Game Project.

Kareem Abdul-Jabaar
Jan. 26. Weinberg Center for the Arts, 20 W. Patrick St., Frederick. 7:30 p.m. $50-65. 301-600-2828. Don’t miss all-time leading NBA scorer and recent Presidential Medal of Freedom recipient Kareem Abdul-Jabbar as he brings his life lessons to Frederick. Both on the court and off, the U.S. cultural ambassador, black activist, and CML Leukemia survivor has served as an inspiration. For one night, he shares personal experiences and his new book, Writings on the Wall.

Polar Bear Plunge
Jan. 26-28. Sandy Point State Park, 1100 E. College Pkwy., Annapolis. $75. Take a dunk in the Chesapeake Bay this month as the Polar Bear Plunge celebrates 21 years of freezing our tails off for a good cause. With a pledge of $75 or more and a frigid few seconds in our ice-cold state estuary, you can help support the 7,311 athletes of Special Olympics Maryland.

When the Crowd Didn’t Roar

Kevin Cowherd (University of Nebraska Press)

In exquisite detail, Kevin Cowherd writes about the historical—and surreal—baseball game between the Orioles and the White Sox inside an empty Camden Yards, closed to fans as a result of the Uprising that had ravaged the city days earlier. No crowds yelling “O!” during the national anthem, no autographs, hot dog vendors, or Kiss Cam—just the sounds of the ball hitting bat and glove, the hollow thump of a foot on first base, the less dramatic “strike” uttered by the ump. It’s a fascinating read on a bizarre game, but the book is essentially about Baltimore as a whole and the deep unrest that permeated every corner of the city, including the ballpark.

Snowballs for Severance

Richie Frieman (The Omnibus Publishing)

Were it simply about a 9-year-old boy who changed a nearly century-old law in his hometown to allow snowball fights, this picture book would be great fun for readers of any age. But this story is even more remarkable because it’s true. Through research and interviews with pint-sized hero Dane Best and his family, local author Richie Frieman wrote and illustrated this quirky tale, complete with direct quotes and cartoonish versions of the characters who make up Severance, Colorado. He includes a short questionnaire with Dane and photos at the end, though Dane is written so true to character, by that point, we feel like we already know him.

See our full interview with Richie Frieman.

Mercy! The Orioles have given up so many home runs this season—105 and counting—that even the typically ebullient Gary Thorne, who is supposed to tell us what’s going on, was left speechless the other night.

“I . . . I don’t know,” the play-by-play voice of the Orioles on MASN said live on the air Wednesday when the Yankees’ Gleyber Torres hit another out of Camden Yards—his ninth homer against the O’s this season. Then Thorne delivered a demoralized, monotone version of his signature call, “Goodbye! Home run!” He’d seen enough.

Then it happened again. Two innings later, when Torres hit another dinger off reliever Gabriel Ynoa, Thorne’s reaction was correctly identified below as “dies inside.” It was Harry Doyle-esque.

So it goes for the Orioles, and even the 70-year-old, Emmy Award-winning Thorne, a 33-year baseball broadcast veteran who, as good broadcasters do, has endeared himself to much of the fanbase in 13 seasons working O’s telecasts.

We were afraid something like this might happen, in the first full season of a much-ballyhooed, publicly-stated franchise rebuild.

The O’s not only seem to be Torres favorite team to hit against (he only has two home runs against any other this year), but everyone’s.

On Monday, in the first of a four-game homestand against the division-leading Yankees (again?!), starting pitcher David Hess — who has allowed a major-league worst 17 home runs alone — gave up the team’s 100th, as the O’s pitching staff became the quickest in major league baseball history to achieve the undesirable feat.

It’s still May, there’s four months to go in the season, and the O’s unfortunately are on pace to obliterate an infamous low-water single-season record of 258 home runs allowed by the Cincinnati Reds in 2016.

To hear first-year manager Brandon Hyde describe the situation, some of it might be avoidable.

“There’s definitely a pitching plan [and] it’s definitely not throw the ball in the middle part of the plate, and we just continue to do it,” he said the other night. “That’s inexcusable at this level.”

But some of it may not. When a team decides to overhaul the roster from top to bottom and plan for the future while sacrificing the present, without a bonafide ace, and sends pitchers to and from the minors as if day-trading stocks, this is what happens. It’s hard. Even Gary gets exhausted.

Other than players and coaches, there are few people associated with a professional baseball team who see more pitches, hits, and outs than its local television play-by-play announcer.

And in our case, we’re blessed to have Thorne, a former lawyer—in his younger years, he was assistant district attorney in his native Maine—who has called national games and many sports in addition to baseball for the last five decades. (As a kid, I remember hearing him do hockey games on ESPN and locally for the New Jersey Devils.)

He and analyst and Hall-of-Fame pitcher Jim Palmer are one of the best local broadcast teams in any pro sport. In fact, right now Thorne is teaching a remote class on broadcasting for Arizona State’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication.

It’s a craft, and dedicated fans here know Thorne’s quirks, character, ties, and sometimes irreverent commentary. Some might even know his drink preferences: a glass of GTS cabernet sauvignon, or a finger of bourbon over a single ice cube. And his favorite book: The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.

“I read it at least once a year because it’s such a concise, yet total picture of human life; battling the elements, winning, and then suffering the loss and surviving both,” he told fans earlier this year.

In addition to his signature in-game phrases like “mercy,” following a notable play, Thorne signs off a broadcast by bidding us “adieu, adieu,” for a win, or just one “adieu” for a loss.

About a third of the way into the season, so far the O’s have a baseball-worst 15 wins and 35 losses, a last-place status many observers expected. But how it’s happening is nonetheless painful. The home runs? We knew it was possible, but it hurts to see so many balls flying into the hunter green seats at Camden Yards, off the bats of the other team.

Thorne, as good voices do, spoke for a lot of the fans.

It took seven years of determination, three different surgeries, and a journey littered with doubt, but Branden Kline, hometown baseball hero, finally made it to the majors two weeks ago. The often smiling, freckle-faced, Frederick native was called up from the minors on April 20 as the Orioles’ 26th man—they needed extra pitching help—for a day-night home doubleheader against the Minnesota Twins. And he threw two innings, one perfect, and one not, when he allowed two solo home runs in the nightcap, his big league debut.

While watching from the crowd, Kline’s mother, Linda, spoke in an emotional in-game interview with MASN about her son’s long road to this moment—from the “nosebleed” seats in the upper left-field deck at Camden Yards, where he sat as a boy with her, to throwing from the pitcher’s mound, now the center of attention, while wearing a black and orange Baltimore uniform with No. 52 and the family name on his back.

Kline, now 27, the Orioles second-round draft pick in 2012 (almost a generation ago in baseball terms) spoke earnestly in the locker room that day about his at times painful, and now cathartic tale. There was the constant stream of surgeries: in 2013, to repair a broken right fibula; in 2015, a Tommy John procedure to replace his right elbow ligament, and a platelet-rich plasma injection too; and in 2017 two more arthroscopic procedures on his throwing elbow.

He shared how he cried for probably 30 minutes after Gary Kendall, the manager of the Orioles’ Triple-A team in Norfolk, Virginia, told him last month the Orioles were calling him up. And how he got emotional again when sharing the news—finally good news!—with his wife, Sarah, and their 1-year-old daughter. (And he shared this amazing heartfelt Instagram post about the entire thing.)

It was storybook stuff. A local boy, a graduate from Thomas Johnson High School in Frederick, makes the roster of a pro team he grew up watching, and after much adversity. But the big-league stay was temporary. Kline was sent back to the minors after his debut, not even long enough to make a weekend of all the fun.

Fortunately for him, in this nascent stage of the Orioles’ rebuilding project, it didn’t take long for a recall. That happened seven days later, and in even shorter time, Kline was back on mound Wednesday night in Chicago, in another doubleheader.

This time he earned his first major league win in relief, by way of being the O’s pitcher of record when they went ahead 5-4 in the eighth inning on an RBI hits from outfielder Dwight Smith Jr. and second baseman Jonathan Villar.

Kline was great in the performance, throwing a 96 miles-per-hour fastball, allowing just one hit in two innings, and helping the O’s end a four-game losing streak.

In one of the replies to this tweet, a middle-school teacher from back home told Kline he was sharing his story with students as inspiration “that hard work and perseverance can help people achieve their dreams.” To which Kline responded, “Thank you Mr. Schill. Trying my best to set a good example.”

Kline’s story is, really, what this O’s season is all about. The Birds’ record is what it is: 11-21, which is probably better than a lot of prognosticators anticipated. The playoff hopes are what they are: slim to none. The roster makeup is what it is, too: a mostly young in baseball years patchwork group, with some out-of-place parts like Chris Davis (who, by the way, has hit .300 since busting his historic hitless slump on April 13), all playing under a first-year manager.

But the guy who grew up 45 minutes from Baltimore, and even pitched for the Orioles minor league in affiliate in Frederick last year during his first healthy season in four years, could care less about the circumstances. Same goes for the 20 or so friends and family that showed up to his big league debut, and the many more that are tracking every move of his tale.

“I’ve been through a lot,” Kline said prior to the season at Orioles FanFest. “A lot of ups, a lot of downs, but that’s life. It’s not really about what you’re going through. It’s how you respond.”

Give him credit. Chris Davis, the once proud slugger and now overpaid fallen hero, stood at his locker after the Orioles’ home opener and answered the inevitable questions.

Of course the media, the conduit to the fans, wanted to know what the player formerly known as Crush thought about the fact that a good number of the announced 44,000-plus in attendance at Camden Yards booed him—loud, uncomfortably, and repeatedly—during the O’s 8-4 loss to the hated Yankees. The foul sounds started in pregame introductions, as Davis trotted down the traditional orange carpet from centerfield to a mix of cheers and boos. And the jeers intensified after each of his three strikeouts in the first, fourth, and sixth innings.

Then things reached a pointed crescendo in the bottom of the eighth inning. Little-known utility infielder Hanser Alberto, playing in his fourth game in an O’s uniform, pinch hit for Davis, the 33-year-old former MVP candidate who’s in his ninth season here. A thunderous, positive roar erupted from those still watching.

“I mean, it’s not something that I was really expecting,” Davis said afterward, with a throng of cameras and reporters surrounding him. “At the same time, I heard it a lot last year, and rightfully so. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I understand the frustration. Nobody’s more frustrated than I am.”

How has it come to this? Well, it’s been a few seasons in the making, and the unravel has been fascinating.

Davis led the majors in home runs in 2013, when he finished third in American League MVP voting. He was the home run king again in 2015, albeit while also leading the league in strikeouts.

Three years later, last season, he recorded one of the worst hitting seasons in baseball history, hitting a career-worst .168, and he’s now a bad 0-for-17 with 11 strikeouts to start 2019. At times, he seems as far away from hitting a baseball as one could imagine.

This is not what anyone wants to see from someone in the middle of a seven-year, $161 million contract to do exactly that. And, in the past, some, like the O’s beloved Hall-of-Fame broadcaster Jim Palmer, have questioned his desire to put in the work to change.

But, man, the public shaming of Davis yesterday was tough to watch and hear. For boos to rain down on the guy the way they did after every at-bat of the home opener, with still 150-plus games to go this season? I’ve never been one to say that a paying fan can’t voice frustration with any player or vent anger for whatever reason occasionally, but it certainly doesn’t do anyone on the field any good. It seems almost like a more New York or Philadelphia thing to do.

Davis has been relatively open about his struggles at the plate—last year he talked with MASN’s Roch Kubatko about hitting into shifts, trying to bunt, his apparent 20/10 vision, and whether his ADHD diagnosis and treatment has anything to do with his hitting problems. He addressed the problems again at FanFest in January, and he seems to genuinely want to turn things around. You can only guess what thoughts are racing in his head as he tries to square the bat on a ball headed his way at 90-plus miles per hour, much less while he’s surrounded by a cacophony of anti-support.

“It’s very easy to shame or boo people from an outside perspective,” the Orioles young leader, Trey Mancini, said after Thursday’s game, shortly after he patted Davis on the back with encouragement after his media session. “But you never really know until you go through it. . . . [Chris] is in there every day working on things. He’s a professional. Look at the back of his baseball card and what he’s done in his career. He’s an incredible hitter and still is. I still believe that.”

“To feel that in front of your home fans, I mean, I can’t even imagine,” said yesterday’s starting pitcher Alex Cobb. “I get all sides of it. Chris works really hard. He’s a great guy. He’s one of the better teammates that I’ve had in my time in the big leagues, and I know he cares so much. I do feel for him. [But] I understand the fans’ frustration as well.”

Sure, had O’s ownership not given Davis the monster contract in January 2016 after he led the majors with 47 home runs, he’d probably have been traded long ago with Manny, Britton, and the rest of the Buck Showalter-era stars. Had he performed a bit better the last few years, maybe the O’s would have won more games. But it’s hard to pin all the faults of a team on one player, though Davis even alluded to the idea that he was a buzzkill on Thursday. “Especially a day like today,” Davis said, “the kind of game that we were having. Really had them on their heels the whole game and it was a frustrating day for me personally and the team collectively.”

The Orioles went ahead early on the second pitch of the game via a Jonathan Villar home run to right field, then scored two more runs on a bases-loaded balk and a wild pitch from Yankees’ starting pitcher James Paxton in the top of the first inning, which ended with Davis striking out swinging. The O’s eventually led the Yankees 4-2 behind a strong start from Cobb, before reliever Mike Wright threw a two-out, two-strike pitch to the Yankees’ Glayber Torres, who crushed it for a three-run home run. Luke Voit hit another three-run homer in the ninth for the final margin.

The Baby Birds are now 4-3 on the young season, good for second place in the A.L. East standings, and they play the second in a three-game series with the Yankees on Saturday night.

Perhaps the reception Davis got is more a signal that many fans have embraced the Orioles rebuild plans, and want the beleaguered slugger out of the way. That’s ultimately a good sign for new general manager Mike Elias and company. If things keep going like this, the O’s could conceivably just cut Davis, but, considering the contractual commitment involved, it’s in the team’s best interest to get the most from the player they can, to see if the new analytics-minded regime can do anything to revive his career.

As Davis even said at his locker, wearing a gray T-shirt that read “Courage” on the front in red block letters, “I’m going to be here for the foreseeable future.” He’s got four years left on his deal and you’ll hear his name long after that, since Davis is due to receive New York Mets/Bobby Bonilla-like deferred annual payments until the year 2037. (He’ll be 51 years old by then.)

“I’m going to continue to play him, and I’m going to continue to support him and find the right match-ups for him,” first-year manager Brandon Hyde said, and he was also surprised the response to Davis’ strikeouts. “I haven’t been around here, so I wasn’t aware of fan reaction. I’m not really concerned about it. I’m going to support the guys on the club. It is what it is. I’m going to continue to stay positive with him.” Hyde also correctly pointed out the hitting woes haven’t seemed to affect Davis’ defense at first base.

But Davis certainly understood what the fans were getting across.

“I don’t think anybody’s feeling sorry for me right now,” he said. “I think people are ready to see me turn it around, and I’m ready to turn it around.”

Last year was last year. This season marks the beginning of a new era of Orioles baseball, one defined by exciting young players and a front office on the analytical vanguard. Though expectations may be tempered, excitement still abounds for the Orioles’ April 4 home opener against the notorious New York Yankees. And while nothing quite compares to sitting in the outfield bleachers, nursing a drink from the newly minted Flying Dog Taphouse in Camden Yards, and thanking God for making you a country boy, these food and drink specials are the next best thing.

101 Baltimore
The battle between Baltimore and New York will not solely be contained to the baseball field. This Fed Hill hangout is staging a hot dog faceoff between iconic New York hot doggery Nathan’s Famous Hotdogs, which you might recognize as the fourth best food option at any given Six Flags or highway rest stop, and our very own Polock Johnny’s. Wash down all of the eats with $5 Union drafts and $15 buckets of Boh. Before you know it, it’ll be time for another dog. 1118 S Charles St. #101, 443-682-9480

Banditos
Mere blocks from the iconic B&O Warehouse, this lively Mexican cantina is the perfect place to root, root, root for the home team. The beer will be cheap and plenty ($5 32oz big beers, $15 buckets of Natty Boh), and nothing pairs better with a triumphant victory—or is more palliative to a post-loss broken heart—than a plate of tacos. 1118 S Charles St., 443-835-1517

BMore Around Town
Dying to drink in a parking lot? If so, you’re in luck. Tailgating pros BMore Around Town are hosting a traditional tailgate in the Camden Yards lot, with an open bar, boozy snowballs, an open buffet, and freshly shucked oysters. Tickets range from $50 to $125. 152 W Ostend St., 443-865-5935

Don’t Know Tavern
This neighborhood sports bar is known to get pretty lively for O’s games. Sip on their drink specials ($5 22 oz. Miller Lite Drafts, $ 15 Miller Lite or Coors Light Buckets, $3 Blue Moons), grab a barstool next to one of the regulars, and admire the majesty of a well-framed pitch, a quickly-turned double play, and the other minor beauties of America’s past-time. 1453 Light St., 410-539-0231

Flying Dog Pregame at the Hilton Baltimore
An annual staple, this pre-game celebration will prove that the best part of waking up is a full beer in your cup. Organized by Flying Dog Brewery, the festivities begin at 10 a.m., when you can get an early start by sampling an array of the area’s finest craft beers with hundreds of new friends. 401 W Pratt St., 443-573-8700

Gameday Firehouse
While the bar’s proprietors may be firefighters by day, this Pigtown bar-cum-firehouse is aflame with O’s pride. Baltimore’s bravest will be serving up $5 Absolut Vodka crushes, $3 16-oz. domestic cans, and $2 Budweiser and Bud Light drafts. To wit, a power hour will be held from 10 a.m.-11 a.m.—let’s hope Chris Davis can learn a thing or two. 1202 Ridgely St., 410-234-0734

Jimmy’s Seafood
Although this Dundalk institution is more known for their Ravens events, their opening day bash is equally impressive, boasting an open bar, a full buffet, and three hours of live music. Tickets start at $25 for kids and go up to $180 for a full VIP experience. 6526 Holabird Ave., 410-633-4040

Max’s Taphouse
This Fells Point drinking hole’s party is the most fun you can with orange and black clothes on. More than 15 specialty beers will be on tap, complemented by a menu of ballpark favorites. Be warned, the pregame will quickly transition to the post-game, as the revelry is an all-day affair. If you can withstand the full day, even Cal Ripken, Jr. would be impressed. 737 S Broadway, 410-675-6297

Nando’s
Don’t chicken out on Baltimore’s unofficial holiday. Instead, head to this downtown temple of poultry, order a $3 foamer, and go to town on 24 wings, a towering plate of fries, or hummus, covered in their world-renowned Peri-Peri sauce. 421 West Baltimore St., 443-681 3675

Pep Rally in the Plaza
From noon to 2 p.m., Downtown Partnership will turn Center Plaza into the capital of Birdland, replete with lawn games, food trucks, and free beer courtesy of iHeartRadio while supplies last (don’t fret, this will be supplemented by another bar with wine and beer, since the free beer will invariably be drank dry). 120 W Fayette St., 410-244-1030

Pickles Pub
Surprisingly this is one of two places that you can drink during a 6 a.m. breakfast buffet on Thursday. Spitting distance from the Brooks Robinson statue, Pickles will feature free food until 8 a.m., and $3 Deep Eddy cocktails and Orange Crushes until 9 a.m. 520 Washington Blvd., 410-752-1784

Red Star
Located in the shadow of the Homewood Campus in Charles Village, this recently opened bistro presents a more mellow option, away from the hoi polloi. You’re an adult, after all, and drinking before the sun comes up would require months of preparation to steel your body for battle. Instead, swill $3 pints of Guinness Blonde and $5 orange and grapefruit crushes in relative tranquility. 3224 St Paul St., 443-948-5539

Sliders
For the 27th consecutive year, Baltimoreans will rouse themselves from the warm embrace of sleep and make the pre-dawn pilgrimage to 771 feet away from Camden Yards to start the day off right. Drink specials (be sure to try the new Fancy Clancy Pilsner!) will be served at all 10 of the bars on location. Food is free from 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. and ante-meridiem drink specials abound. 504 Washington Blvd., 410-547-8891

Wayward Smokehouse
Barbecue, baseball, and beer are the holy trinity of spring. Luckily, this Federal Hill hotspot has all three in spades. Come join the Orioles faithful for $5 Miller Light and Coors Lights pounders, $5 Union Craft Brewing drafts, and $6 specialty Oriole bombs. 1117 S Charles St., 410-223-2269

The first impression of this Orioles season was the stunned silence from the crowd at Yankee Stadium during player introductions of our dear visiting team. So many new names, they didn’t know who anyone was. Or maybe it was simply apathy. Only Chris Davis’ name and likeness elicited a few boos.

At the same time, first-year manager Brandon Hyde felt a little bit differently, as he stood on the third-base line and started to soak in the reality of the situation. It’s the start of, well, everything new compared to last year’s edition of the Orioles. Most of the players; there were seven new starters, and 11 of the 25 in uniform made their first Opening Day roster. All of the coaches. The general approach to baseball. The expectations. “When they say your name,” during introductions, Hyde said afterward, “that kind of hits you a little bit.”

It was an appropriate welcome to the Orioles’ 2019 baseball season, and came ahead of an expected result: A loss, 7-2, in New York to the talent-laden Yankees, one of this year’s World Series favorites, as usual.

The Baby Birds, meanwhile, at the start of an ambitious rebuild plan under the leadership of a new data-driven front office regime, are the longest of long shots to win the title (it sounds silly even to write that phrase, “win the title”). Odds are as big as 2,000-to-1 at last check of the Las Vegas sports books. A few free-wheeling, or desperate, souls have placed that wild bet.

Back here in reality, here’s three big takeaways from the O’s season-opener:

Say it with us, the theme for 2019! “We’re trying to elevate the talent level of the organization.”

The mantra for this season is not exactly something you’d print and put on the back of a t-shirt for a Little League team, much less a Major League one. But is it the truth. New Orioles general manager Mike Elias said the words once again, during a second-inning appearance in the MASN broadcast booth.

Translation: This year is not about winning. This season is about the next three or four seasons as much as it is 2019.

This can be a hard concept for a fan to accept the day after the first game of a six-month, 162-game schedule. But Elias and the O’s leadership have and will continue to preach patience in their long-term vision for sustained success, of building a strong minor league system, developing players, making a hard run at international scouting, and hitting on draft picks (hopefully high ones).

We still think Adam Jones was worth having around—he hit a home run yesterday, by the way, for Arizona—but “we don’t want to be a one-year wonder,” Elias says (and poof, images of the 2014 Orioles, and Nelson Cruz belting 40 home runs then leaving in free agency that offseason, come to mind). That’s a blueprint that’s worked in his previous stops in Houston and St. Louis, both teams that won World Series championships while he and numbers wizard, O’s assistant GM Sig Mejdal worked there.

Time will tell exactly how hard the games are to watch this season. Given the “talent level of the organization” relative to the rest of pro baseball right now, after the dismantling of last year’s core amid a historically bad year, there might be 100-plus losses again.

Thursday’s start, which included a 428-foot three-run homer in the bottom of the first inning by Luke Voit, one of the cartoonish mammoth Yankees (sunflower seeds, much?), off the bearded Andrew Cashner, was not a great sign. But as best you can manage, keep the long term in mind.

The Bright Spots

There were a few.

Trey Mancini, three years removed from being a rookie and now the grizzled veteran of this team, looked like it. In the lineup as designated hitter and batting fourth, he went 3-for-4, scored the Orioles first run and knocked in their second.

Third baseman Rio Ruiz, a 24-year-old, drove home Mancini for that first score in the top of the fourth inning and in the bottom half made a nice defensive play, stopping a line drive.

Shortstop Richie Martin, who last season played 118 games in the minors for the Oakland A’s affiliate in Midland, Texas, and was one of two O’s making his major league debut, helped turn a double play. Reliever David Hess was effective.

The highlight of the day was probably Joey Rickard’s diving catch in right field. Overall, the O’s defense looked pretty good.

Chris Davis, um . . .

He picked up where he left off. The strikeouts continue. Three of them. Already.

Davis batted seventh in the O’s order, a move Hyde made for a reason, and was pinch hit for in the ninth inning. “I’m going to try to do everything I can to take pressure off him,” the manager said of the guy with $92 million and four years left on his contract, coming off one of the all-time worst hitting seasons in baseball history. (Right. No pressure.)

Davis’ story is fascinating. One day we’ll really find out how Crush’s stroke and confidence completely unraveled, but for now, he’s a representative part of what might be the real O’s theme for 2019: Hope.

Davis is our primary emotional connection on the current roster to recent glory days. (Remember, Jimmy’s Seafood offered Davis, his children, and grandchildren free crab cakes for life for a reason.) We hope he can find some kind of respectable form to stave off the internet memes and comments that began instantly upon his first strikeout yesterday.

And, for the next six months, we hope the O’s do the best they can, give us some fun and enough reasons to watch, while we believe in the promise of a better future.

You know when certain genius ideas come along and you wonder, “How did nobody think of this sooner?” Well brewing a beer for the king of all Orioles beer sales is definitely one of those ideas.

Clancy Haskett, or Fancy Clancy as he’s lovingly called, has been a Baltimore Orioles vendor for the past 45 years—starting out selling sodas at Memorial Stadium when he was just 15. Now he’s best known for slinging suds in his first-base section and has befriended a lot of his customers.

One of them is Art Major, who’s been a partial-season ticket holder for the past decade and makes the trip up from Winchester, Virginia, to Camden Yards nearly 30 times a season. He also happens to own Escutcheon Brewing.

“Clancy isn’t just your beer vendor, he’s also your friend,” Major says. “Sliders is my favorite place in the world and we were all there one night when I thought why don’t we brew a beer for him. I can make it, they can sell it, and Clancy can be on it. Who wouldn’t want to drink that?”

Haskett, who often frequents Sliders Bar & Grille since co-owner Mark Sheubrooks is an old classmate of his from Lansdowne High School, remembers it a little differently.

“I was saying, ‘Man, nobody is gonna buy my beer,’” he says with a laugh. “People know me on the first-base side, but I don’t know how many people care about me beyond that point. But when we brought the idea to Mark and [his daughter] Rachel, they were like, ‘Hell yes, let’s try it.’”

For the past year, Major has been tinkering with the recipe, as well as working with Miami-based design firm the Alison Group on the perfect tap handle.

“I had a very, very specific idea of what I wanted the tap handles to look like,” Major says. “I wanted Clancy with his beer tray, sleeveless shirt, his arms bulging out. We gave him a little more muscle.” (Haskett says he’s very appreciative and should probably “hit the gym a little extra” before the season starts.)

As for the beer style, Major knew he wanted to play off what is most commonly drank at sports games, the American pilsner, and felt that something more crafty like an IPA just wouldn’t work as well. Haskett agreed.

“Nowadays, the IPA types of beer are real popular and I sell a lot of those,” he says. “But the best is when you get that beer right in the middle—not too heavy, not too light. I tasted this one a couple of weeks ago and it’s a really good beer.”

Fancy Clancy Pilsner will be released at a party on March 30 at Slider’s during the Orioles away game against the Yankees. Of course, you can also try it down at Escutcheon Brewing.

“This is going to be something pretty epic,” says Slider’s owner Rachel. “Clancy is so popular, so kind, and obviously has a great work ethic. He’s just the kind of character that loves to brand himself.”

With that in mind, Haskett has big plans for the Fancy Clancy Pilsner. He’d like to see it end up in cans at the stadium, a real full-circle moment for the long-time vendor.

“As you get older, you think about what you’ve done in the past,” Haskett says. “After 45 years, this makes you feel appreciated—people are really giving me a little respect. If this beer takes off, hey look out.”