A long time ago -- more than 20 years now -- I drove up to Montreal to interview some major leaguers for a story. It wasn't the easiest process. Only somewhat familiar with the city and Stade olympique, I didn't know any of the players, other than their names and vaguely what they looked like. I didn't know where I could find them or their routines either. So, as I wandered around the locker room and clubhouse as players and coaches went about their business, I searched in vain for someone who would be good to talk to about my topic. Someone told me that one player who might help was veteran infielder Royce Clayton. I happened to spot him walking through the locker room with a bat in his hand and asked him if he had a minute to talk. He turned to me hurriedly and said, "I've gotta go work," and vanished. That annoyed me. And it continued to annoy me for almost 20 years. First of all, I needed maybe two minutes of his time, five at the most, to ask...
Up all hours talking baseball, cardboard & collecting