Mo Sanford--1990
MO SANFORD --- PART ONE
For over 19 years I have thought about Mo
Sanford almost daily. Now is the time to write
about him.
It was roughly two decades ago when I
relented to my wife's desire to own a dog.
Growing up in a "cat household" the thought
of taking on the responsibilities of a dog---
the walks, the cleaning up after him with
plastic bags, all the hair around the house---
it was unappealing; however, I signed on.
In the back cages of the SPCA we were
introduced to a roomful of yapping dogs.
The noise was deafening. Tucked away in
the corner of a cage was a quiet young dog
with big paws and even bigger sad brown
eyes. As the Cincinnati Reds Assistant Farm
Director at the time, he looked allot like a
canine version of Mo Sanford. The pooch
melted my wife's heart.
For over 19 years I have thought about Mo
Sanford almost daily. Now is the time to write
about him.
It was roughly two decades ago when I
relented to my wife's desire to own a dog.
Growing up in a "cat household" the thought
of taking on the responsibilities of a dog---
the walks, the cleaning up after him with
plastic bags, all the hair around the house---
it was unappealing; however, I signed on.
In the back cages of the SPCA we were
introduced to a roomful of yapping dogs.
The noise was deafening. Tucked away in
the corner of a cage was a quiet young dog
with big paws and even bigger sad brown
eyes. As the Cincinnati Reds Assistant Farm
Director at the time, he looked allot like a
canine version of Mo Sanford. The pooch
melted my wife's heart.
I was leery, since the SPCA could not give us much details on the dog's breed.
Apparently he was a pure-bred mutt. The big paws led me to envision a huge dog
romping through our house, though I was asking for a smaller sized dog.
Yet it was the big sad eyes looking up at us that was his ticket out of the pen. We named
him Mo.
As it turned out, Mo was an awesome dog. I'll always remember him jumping off the bed in
the middle of the night to go upstairs and lie down next to both of my daughter's beds. Mo
kept my wife company while I was on the road. He was at my feet during the winter days in
my home office.
However, with failing kidneys and two hind legs that stopped walking the last couple of
weeks, he needed to take the big sleep the other day.
It's only been a couple of days, but the house seems a bit empty. Life seems a bit empty.
And I think back to the big paws. Little did I know that the only thing that would be big with
Mo was the effect he had on our family.
Goodbye bud-dy..... we miss you!
Apparently he was a pure-bred mutt. The big paws led me to envision a huge dog
romping through our house, though I was asking for a smaller sized dog.
Yet it was the big sad eyes looking up at us that was his ticket out of the pen. We named
him Mo.
As it turned out, Mo was an awesome dog. I'll always remember him jumping off the bed in
the middle of the night to go upstairs and lie down next to both of my daughter's beds. Mo
kept my wife company while I was on the road. He was at my feet during the winter days in
my home office.
However, with failing kidneys and two hind legs that stopped walking the last couple of
weeks, he needed to take the big sleep the other day.
It's only been a couple of days, but the house seems a bit empty. Life seems a bit empty.
And I think back to the big paws. Little did I know that the only thing that would be big with
Mo was the effect he had on our family.
Goodbye bud-dy..... we miss you!
PART TWO
Looking back at my time as the Cincinnati Reds Assistant Farm Director during the late 1980s, I can not help but
smile when gazing at the Mo Sanford card.
It was Spring Training 1990 and the Reds minor leaguers were in full swing with their workouts in Plant City,
Florida. The daily routine would be breakfast at the team hotel, the then-Holiday Inn, followed by morning
workouts. There would be a lunch break served at the complex of soup, sandwiches and fruit. The afternoons
would be filled with games, which was followed by dinner back at the hotel and hanging out in the evening.
Far from glamorous, but the players were there to work and make a ball club; not think of it as the Plant City Club
Med vacation plan.
With a small food budget at my disposal from Marge Schott; the focus was to give the players a good dinner,
while breakfast would be a lighter fare. There were cereals, breads, fruits (headlined by the local favorite---
strawberries) and daily scrambled eggs.
Notice that there was no meat served at breakfast. While we (the trainers and I) justified the "no meat" decision
as part of a healthy breakfast; quite honestly there wasn't money in the budget for daily bacon or sausage for
100 players for 20 odd days.
The players dinning area was an elevated area next to the main dining room of the Holiday Inn. A big curtain was
drawn to separate the players from the guests.
Well, I remember part-way through camp on a Sunday morning, the players were taking in the usual breakfast
fare, while the guests below were feasting on a buffet. On my daily pass through the dining area to supervise, I
noticed that Sanford had a pile of bacon on his plate.
Being the boss, I sauntered over to question and reprimand the hard-throwing, bacon-swiping young
right-hander.
All Mo could do was look up and say, "Mr. Brad, I'm sorry, but I just can't eat eggs every day without bacon."
It was hard not to laugh, as the table of Trevor Hoffman, Scott Pose and I think Tim Pugh watched. I didn't take
the bacon away; only giving Mo a soft scolding never to cross to the other side of the curtain as a warning that if
he did, he would fall off into an abyss.
I can say this, Sanford had a big arm with a good change up and we wouldn't have released him over the "bacon
stealing episode," as he went on to an impressive 1-2, 3.86 mark in 1991 with Reds before arm woes derailed his
once-promising career.
Occasionally this story comes to mind when I stare down at my bacon and eggs-- how they really do go together,
especially with Mo Sanford.
(11/30/09)
Looking back at my time as the Cincinnati Reds Assistant Farm Director during the late 1980s, I can not help but
smile when gazing at the Mo Sanford card.
It was Spring Training 1990 and the Reds minor leaguers were in full swing with their workouts in Plant City,
Florida. The daily routine would be breakfast at the team hotel, the then-Holiday Inn, followed by morning
workouts. There would be a lunch break served at the complex of soup, sandwiches and fruit. The afternoons
would be filled with games, which was followed by dinner back at the hotel and hanging out in the evening.
Far from glamorous, but the players were there to work and make a ball club; not think of it as the Plant City Club
Med vacation plan.
With a small food budget at my disposal from Marge Schott; the focus was to give the players a good dinner,
while breakfast would be a lighter fare. There were cereals, breads, fruits (headlined by the local favorite---
strawberries) and daily scrambled eggs.
Notice that there was no meat served at breakfast. While we (the trainers and I) justified the "no meat" decision
as part of a healthy breakfast; quite honestly there wasn't money in the budget for daily bacon or sausage for
100 players for 20 odd days.
The players dinning area was an elevated area next to the main dining room of the Holiday Inn. A big curtain was
drawn to separate the players from the guests.
Well, I remember part-way through camp on a Sunday morning, the players were taking in the usual breakfast
fare, while the guests below were feasting on a buffet. On my daily pass through the dining area to supervise, I
noticed that Sanford had a pile of bacon on his plate.
Being the boss, I sauntered over to question and reprimand the hard-throwing, bacon-swiping young
right-hander.
All Mo could do was look up and say, "Mr. Brad, I'm sorry, but I just can't eat eggs every day without bacon."
It was hard not to laugh, as the table of Trevor Hoffman, Scott Pose and I think Tim Pugh watched. I didn't take
the bacon away; only giving Mo a soft scolding never to cross to the other side of the curtain as a warning that if
he did, he would fall off into an abyss.
I can say this, Sanford had a big arm with a good change up and we wouldn't have released him over the "bacon
stealing episode," as he went on to an impressive 1-2, 3.86 mark in 1991 with Reds before arm woes derailed his
once-promising career.
Occasionally this story comes to mind when I stare down at my bacon and eggs-- how they really do go together,
especially with Mo Sanford.
(11/30/09)