Plain Dealer sportswriter Bill Nichols, a baseball coach on the sandlots of Lakewood, recently put on the uniform of the Batavia Trojans to be a coach of the Indians' lowest minor league team and chronicle the experiences of the youngsters getting their first taste of the professional sport. This is the third of his reports.

THE LONG, BORING BUS TRIP and post-game meals of hot dogs, hamburgers

by Bill Nichols

When you travel with the Batavia Trojans, you take orders from the manager, coaches, trainer and even the bus driver.

And not necessarily in that order.

The Trojans, who play in the New York Penn League, baseball's rookie circuit, travel by bus. Oh do they travel by bus. They will cover 4, 046 miles this summer, playing 74 games in 75 nights, and never leave western New York State.

If you traveled 4,036 miles due west from New York City, you would end up somewhere between California and Hawaii in the Pacific Ocean.

On the trips, which are long as 350 miles and as short as 150 miles, some players sleep, others read, some play backgammon, others sit silently with their thoughts. But what they do not do is call the driver "Bussie."

"Don't call me Bussie. You don't call me Bussie and I won't call you Ballie. My name is Holley-H-O-L-L-E-Y," lectures one of the Trojans' regular drivers. he was so stern and set in his way., not even 6-6, 235 pound pitcher Monte Holland dared utter "Bussie."

Holley once got lost in Geneva, N.Y., population 10,000. Another driver, Willie, invited a young lady on the bus, resulting in an argument with Trojans Manager Rick Colzie. A third driver did not identify himself, perhaps for good reason: He must hold the land speed record on the New York Thruway.

I traveled 1,050 miles with the Trojans. I slept, talked and ate hamburgers and hot dogs. Our first trip was to Jamestown 120 miles away. On the trip there, coach Jack Cassini regaled me with baseball yarns. Colzie, who has the front seat on every trip, worked on his lineup, rested his eyes and read his Bible. Luis Isaac, the pitching coach, scanned the "Baseball Bible," the Sporting News.

The ballpark in Jamestown, a city of approximately 40,000, is similar to Dwyer Stadium in Batavia, brick and concrete. It is attractive, but again, like Dwyer, advertising signs cover the outfield walls.

This was opening night, and during the pre-game ceremonies, Jamestown Manager Pat Gallagher introduced his players. Then Colzie was invited to the microphone to introduce his team. It was an unexpected invitation, and forced him to ad-lib. Of the starting nine players, only third baseman Andy Alvis was announced with his correct hometown--Chico, California.

Darold Ellison, a third baseman from Portland, Ore., cracked, "It's funny. I always wanted to be from California and the Skip made it happen."

Naturally, Colzie was unfazed, but his faux pas broke the tension...at least momentarily.

The first three ground balls hit to Trojan infielders were bobbled as the case of nerves became an epidemic. The Trojans dropped the opener, 6-5, despite a ninth inning rally.

The evening's highlight, however, came in the sixth when the trainer, Dennis Brogna, called the closest McDonalds and placed an order for the postgame meal. This was to become a ritual.

While the Trojans were dressing after the game, a couple players were caught sipping beer at the concession stand. Cassini blew his top. Colzie did, too. The players were threatened with a fine if caught again. Not another beer was consumed during my 12 days with the team.

The ride home from Jamestown was long. We arrived in Batavia at 1:20 a.m.; the players were in bed by 2. Brogna didn't finish washing uniforms until after 3. And everyone had to be back on the field at Dwyer by 10 a.m. for a three-hour practice.

Batavia opened its home season that night against Jamestown and won, 16-10. Then it was 120 miles back to Jamestown the next day for game No. 3 of the series.

That was when Holley set his ground rules.

Looking back at Cassini and pointing to Colzie, he asked, "Is he the coach?"

Cassini replied, "He's the manager. If you call him coach, he'll call you Bussie."

The Trojans lost again at Jamestown, stopped at McDonalds to pick up the postgame meal, then headed home. Everyone remained in uniform both to and from the game. It was all becoming routine.

Cassini wore all-red former Indians uniform. When the bus arrived in Batavia, Cassini asked to get off at the Thruway exit to return to his motel from there. Holley complied, leaving Cassini, red uniformed and all, jogging up the street. A voice from the bus yelled, "Anywhere else, a man in a red suit running at 1:30 in the morning would be arrested."

For the trips to Jamestown, each players receives $4.25 in meal money. On overnight trips, such as our four-day journey to Utica, the players receive $8.50 a day.

We left on the Utica trip at 9:45 a.m., having returned from Jamestown after 1:30 a.m. the night before. Brogna didn't finish washing the uniforms until 4 a.m. He spent the night, or what was left of it, sleeping on the training table.

Willie drove the bus to Utica 155 miles away. Utica is a Toronto Blue Jays affiliate. Of the 26 players on the roster, 13 are Latins and know little or no English. When the Jays hold infield practice, all the players whistle. It sounds like a bird sanctuary.

We split the four games against the Blue Jays, which included a doubleheader loss.

Postgame meals this trip were at the concession stand.

On Sunday, getaway day, 288 fans stormed Murnane Field. I asked theconcessionaire how business was going. "Slow now, but it will pick up when your team comes over after the game."

The players stayed in one motel in Utica, three to a room except two cases when five slept in the same room.

"I stayed in at night so I didn't have to sleep on a cot," said pitcher Tommy Burns. I made two other trips, both to Geneva. On the first, Holley got lost coming out of the ballpark and kept mumbling to himself, "I can't believe it. I lost the damn town and I lived here seven years."

The Jamestown club had a bit more excitement on one trip when the bus hit a deer, shaking everyone.

Bus trips are synonymous with minor league baseball. It's part of the lifestyle-a necessary evil, if you will.

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