Jack Hammer

For the playoff run with the Boston Red Sox in 2013, I was the inactive 26th man traveling with the team in case of injuries. I did everything with the team like I was active; took batting practice, went to all the scouting meetings, and dressed out for games… I just couldn’t play unless someone got hurt. One of my college friends sent me a text after one of the playoff games and said I was “nailing it as a bench player in a sweatshirt, with a beard, cheering!”

But this story is about a team meeting we had before the playoffs began. The media frenzy was taking place on the warning track around the field. Literally, hundreds of media members, their crews, camera set-ups, and microphones are all looking for sound bites and footage. There were even a few helicopters circling above the stadium getting footage of the team during practice. After our last practice before our first playoff game, we all gathered in the upstairs weight room in the clubhouse at Fenway Park.

I didn’t know who had called the meeting, I think we all assumed it was the coaches. But as the last of the players filed in and found a place to sit, the coaches also filed in and sat down. Last to come in the door walked someone I had never met. And other than wearing sneakers, a jockstrap, and holding a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand, he was completely naked.

He introduced himself to us. “Hey, boys! My name is Jack Hammer. I just parachuted down from one of those helicopters out there. And I’m here to talk about what’s gonna make the difference and how we’re gonna bring home that World Series trophy this year!”

He had everyone’s attention. He took a giant swig of whiskey, and as he turned around to put the bottle down on the ground… his naked butt was right in our center fielder’s face. Everyone started dying laughing.

“The three F’s gentleman. That is what’s going to make all the difference. First “F”, Fundamentals. We’re gonna do them right. The other teams not so much. Second “F”, Foul tips. We’re gonna catch ‘em, the other teams aren’t. Salty (he calls out our starting catcher) you know what I’m talking about!”

“Third ‘F’!”

At this point he lets us guess for a minute. ‘What in the world could the third “F” be?’ I know my head was trying to predict where this was going. There are a million baseball terms… but how many of them start with “F” that would be applicable to us winning the World Series? Foul Ball. Fair ball. First pitch. First base. Fly ball. I had no idea.

As tension and excitement build in the room he again bends over to grab the whiskey. Again his butt is right in Jacoby’s face. Again the crowd bursts out laughing. “Third ‘F’! The third ‘F’ stands for Four Run Homers. And THAT is what’s gonna bring us to the promised land.”

And wouldn’t you know it, in game 2 of the ALCS when we were down one game to none, and down 5-1 with only 4 outs left in game 2, David Ortiz hit one of the most clutch, come-from-behind, momentum-shifting, game-tying, iconic grand slams of all time! Tori Hunter flipped over the wall and his legs were captured in a photo at the identical angle as the bullpen police officer’s ecstatically raised arms.

Grand Slam. That is what you call a home run that drives in four RBI. But not that team. Not in that moment. Not after Jack Hammer had told us that this was the final key to victory.
“Four Run Homer!”

That’s what everyone in the dugout was screaming at each other over the roar of 37,000+ Bostonians in the crowd. The game was tied. We were still down 1-0 in the series against a stacked Detroit Tigers team. But we knew we were going to win. There was no doubt.

And then it happened again. In what turned out to be a deciding game 6 to win the pennant, and move on to the World Series.

Shane Victorino, the Flyin’ Hawaiian. Who was a switch hitter for the first 11 years of his career was battling an injury and decided to hit only right-handed for the playoffs. Other teams probably saw that as a weakness, but it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. He had not seen breaking balls that broke away from him in over a decade. He was hitting .087 on breaking balls during the playoffs until that point. Didn’t matter. With bases loaded, Detroit pitcher Jose Veras threw him 3 curveballs. And the third one went over the Green Monster.
Four Run Homer.

I haven’t seen Jack Hammer since we left that one inspirational meeting, but I know everyone on that team will never forget him. If I did ever see him again I’d thank him for showing me true leadership. For understanding what we needed to hear and when we needed to hear it. And for giving me a memory that will last forever.

I don’t know what happened to Jack Hammer. Maybe he disappeared. Maybe we all imagined him in a group delusion. Or maybe it’s as simple as Jack Hammer just being the alter-ego of one of the leaders on our team, and I only met him just that one time.

We may never know.