Another spring training memory from the Orioles beat

The regular season for the Orioles should be four games old. A home series against the Yankees completed and the middle game pending in a home series against the Red Sox.

The first trip to St. Louis since 2003 was supposed to happen over the weekend, followed by a four-game series in the Bronx.

Instead, the coronavirus pandemic has left us wondering if there will be a 2020 season and whether the Orioles will return to Sarasota for a second version of spring training.

The Ed Smith Stadium complex is the jewel of the Grapefruit League and having access to such a large number of practice fields - including artificial turf, Camden Yards replica and half fields - and all those mounds have become a luxury for an organization that had to play all 33 of its exhibition games on the road in 1991 before relocating to St. Petersburg the following year.

An organization that couldn't get a new stadium built in Fort Lauderdale or expand a facility that didn't have space for the minor leaguers, who were housed more than 200 miles away in Sarasota.

I've heard a few people with the Orioles refer to the inconvenience of a 20-minute drive from Ed Smith Stadium to Twin Lakes Park. They don't know how good they have it.

The facility is completely closed these days. The players who remain in Sarasota are interacting offsite and one-on-one with the athletic trainers.

The shutdown and orders to stay home keep me traveling down memory lane. Perhaps I'll be able to board a flight before the end of the summer.

One of my favorite spring training exchanges happened between two players in the clubhouse in Fort Lauderdale. A veteran pitcher and the young infielder who tried to assist him while also showing the proper respect.

The infielder was Howie Clark, who made his major league debut with the Orioles in 2002 and served as assistant hitting coach in 2017-19. The White Sox hired him over the winter to serve as hitting coach at Triple-A Charlotte.

The pitcher, who shall remain nameless, couldn't get the toaster to work and Clark talked him through it - creating a comedic moment that I couldn't wait to share with my colleagues.

Clark overheard the pitcher complaining about the toaster and suggested first that he plug it into an electrical outlet. Still no heat. Clark then pointed to a button on the side that would supply power.

"It works," the pitcher said. "Good job, Howie. You must be a carpenter in the offseason."

I couldn't choose which part of the exchange brought me the most joy. How Clark had to show the pitcher, without insulting him, the proper way to operate a toaster, or that the veteran compared Clark to a carpenter.

The image of the veteran placing his pitching hand on top of the toaster to test the heat also will linger.

The Lauderdale complex didn't offer privacy to its players except for the shower area. Pretty much everything happened in the middle of the clubhouse. I'd never get the chance to witness this moment in Sarasota.

Players would soak in a whirlpool within view of the media, which seems outrageous today. The weight room was so small, the team set up a tent in the parking lot with exercise equipment.

I signed up for a six-week membership at a local Gold's Gym and saw players working out there.

One of them, second baseman Jerry Hairston, taught me a valuable lesson in spring training that has stayed with me through the years.

I made the mistake of sitting at Hairston's locker while interviewing one of his teammates. Hairston, who was eating breakfast at a clubhouse table, asked whether he could get me anything. In a loud voice to punctuate his point.

Hairston was one of my favorites, a really nice guy who enjoyed his interactions with the beat crew. And he was right.

I'll still decline a player's offer to sit at a teammate's locker while I'm conducting an interview. And I'll cringe whenever I see someone else doing it.

Times have changed. It used to be an unwritten rule that media shouldn't walk through the couch area in the clubhouse at Camden Yards. Players called it a "no-fly zone."

Those couches were gone years later. I doubt that anyone on the current team would care if a reporter walked in front of him, though I'd still go around him out of habit.