Gabby Hartnett, Baseball Player

This dream is an odd one. I remember bits and pieces, but I don't recall the exact order. All the small pieces of the dream seem related, though.

There I am, Gabby Hartnett, outfielder for the Oakland Athletics. Nevermind that the real Gabby Hartnett played catcher for the Cubs (a fact I just found out this morning). We seem to be losing quite a bit of late, though according to the standings we're still in first place. The gap is tight. A teammate of mine is having a conversation with me where he basically tells me he tries to do everything opposite of the way I do it. He tells me my technique is all wrong, but he does mention that it works for me. I'm a bit confused by that, but I let it roll off. Now we're having a meeting with the commissioner of baseball. He talks about an expansion they did a few years back, adding some new team to the league, but that now they have to contract. There's a team that is going to get eliminated. The thought going through my head is that the Washington Senators are going to be contracted. It's never clear in the dream which team it is. This, of course, is bad for all the players because fewer teams means fewer players. So there's going to be some players leaving the majors. I'm worried about this not because I'm a bad player, but because I'm not a very popular player. For some reason all the players are reallocated across the teams, rather than just reallocating the players from the contracted team. My name never appears on any team so it's clear I've been cut.

Now I'm in school. It appears I'm much younger, though I believe I'm still Gabby Hartnett from the Oakland Athletics who got cut. Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. But the impression about the class is that I'm a very good student and tend to get A's especially in math class. This class is a Physics class. On this day, the teacher is passing back a test we took previously. My memory of taking the test is pretty clear. It was an open book exam and consisted of about 7 questions. The questions did not seem physics related, however. When I get my test back, I'm at first pleased because I think I did well, but then it becomes apparent that I scored a 32 on it. The test says "See me" in German, I believe. I have no idea why my teacher would be grading a physics test in German, but that appears to be the case. Well I'm very displeased by this. I find myself examining the test deeply and when I look up from it, I notice the class is gone. Where did everyone go? My thought is that they must have gone to the theater for some special event, but I'm not exactly sure. Now I'm worried because I'm missing something important because I was dwelling on my poor test grade. The next day I ask the teacher for assistance. He says he's very busy and can't help today. I ask about tomorrow. He says he's still busy. I ask about the next day. He become irritable. I ask about the next day and the next. He becomes irate and it's obvious he has no intention of helping me out at all. We get into a shouting match in class where he eventually tells me to go to the Principal's office. I tell him I'm going there on my own accord, not because he's telling me. The class cheers at this. On my way to the Principal's office it's clear the whole school know about what happened. I get people patting me on the back, cheering me on. When I arrive at the Principal's office he's teaching a class. I find this odd, but I take a seat on a stool next to him. I start to say something, but I decide to wait until he's done teaching. There's some sort of fractal drawn on the board and discussion in the class seems to be centering around that. After a discussion goes on for awhile, one of the students raises his hand and suggests to the Principal that he hears what I have to say. I explain the situation to the Principal. While I'm explaining the situation, I'm thinking that I really should be taking care of things myself rather than whining to the Principal about it and I almost expect the Principal to respond in the same way. He tells me that I should go back to class. I shouldn't have been sent to him. Well that is a victory for me. Or is it? When I get back to class I explain to the teacher that the Principal sent me back. He didn't see any reason for me to be there. The class senses my victory over the teacher, but the teacher is unfazed. He responds by telling me that the Principal may not want me to see him again, but that he runs the class. My grade depends on what he thinks about my performance, not what the Principal says. So, in fact, he is in control. I realize he's exactly right and a sense of hopelessness surrounds me.

Now we're outside. The teacher has been spending his spare time building an archery range near the school. Somehow the Principal gets wind of this. Whether I told him or the Principal found out on his own, I don't know. The teacher is sure it was me. The Principal tells the teacher that he is not spending his time well and Archery is not a part of the physics curriculum. The teacher tries to explain how important archery is, but the Principal will hear no part of it. Then the techer mentions that this is the burial site of one of his relative and therefore his to build as he wants. The Principal orders students to start ripping gravestones out of the ground so he can build a small schoolhouse for the teacher to teach in. Under protest, I assist. I'm very uneasy about pulling people's gravestones out of the ground for this purpose. I mention knowing some of the people whose graves I'm pulling out. The Principal is unconcerned. Then a schoolhouse is placed in, crushing the gravestone of the teacher's kin. The teacher looks horrified.

Now I'm on my way home. I'm thinking about how everything would be different if I wasn't so poor. When I arrive, I find all the doors are locked and there's this woman inside who won't let me in. She is the girlfriend of a relative, perhaps? I don't really know. She claims that the house is hers now. I bang on the door a bit and try going in the side. The door is blocked by some laundry baskets, but I push hard enough and break in. She tells me to get out and that this is her place now. I tell her she's crazy and it's not her place. Eventually she calms down and it becomes clear that she needs me for something. We end up taking a trip somewhere and end up in a bar. We both head to the restroom and she knocks on a bathroom stall. There she gets herself a fake id. Apparently it's some sort of felony id which indicates that she was previously in jail. She doesn't care, though, because the id claims she is 21 and that's all she cares about. I'm not really sure the purpose of the id, but we end up at a baseball type place. Apparently she is somebody of importance in the baseball world and the team is willing to allow both her and I to stay with them. My job is to do with ballpark maintenance. My thought is that I will be able to impress the team with my playing skills so they'll want me on the team. The team I'm working for is the Philadelphia Phillies. I know this because the ballpark I'm working at is Veterans Stadium. I'm sorry I didn't bring my camera along because it's nice to see Veterans Stadium again (I visited there as a kid). I remember that I have my Treo with me. I take a few pictures. It's clear that I'm in a time period where digital cameras have not yet been invented. The person I'm walking with is amazed by the technology. I don't make a big deal about it and put the phone away. On the field they need me to clean up the dirt. It's not very smooth and the pitcher's mound is in disarray. I try to find a rake to use, but the ones they have are not going to work on the mound dirt. They just make lines in the dirt rather than smoothing it out. As we're walking to the mound, the guy I'm with gives me some new shoes to wear. They are rubbery tennis shoes. A very odd design, but they seem to fit. I notice some boots laying on the ground labled "Gabby Hartnett". I question whether I'll be doing mascot work, but the guy assures me I won't be. I look around for something to use so I can cover the mound and make it easier for the pitcher to get a grip on the surface. I find this matt and pull it over to the mound. It is a nice surface and I think it will work nicely. The pitcher comes over and wonders what the heck I've done to the mound. I tell him to give it a try. He does and is very impressed. For some reason I think this discovery will help my chances of joining the team. I spend the game over by the foul line and the Philles have a successful game. That's about all I remember from this dream. The question still remains whether I played again.