More memories from the Orioles beat

The baseball shutdown keeps plowing through the month of May, as we knew it would, and the people who cover the sport are digging through a mountain of memories.

I've been fortunate to attend some historic moments in a working capacity, including the 1999 All-Star Game at Fenway Park, when players surrounded Hall of Famer Ted Williams during an emotional tribute in the infield - and I got stuck in the elevator afterward - the 2000 Subway Series that shifted between Yankee Stadium and Shea Stadium, and Derek Jeter's final game in the Bronx.

(I also got stuck in an elevator after an exhibition game against the Mets in Port St. Lucie and had to ask the PR director to delay the manager interview.)

The Orioles have provided an abundance of memories, including 2,130 and 2,131, Cal Ripken Jr.'s final game and umpire Richie Garcia's blown call in Game 1 of the 1996 American League Championship Series that made a hero out 12-year-old Jeffrey Maier.

Maier did not catch Jeter's fly ball while Tony Tarasco camped under it. The incident has been reported falsely for years. He deflected the ball into the stands and someone handed it to him.

The kid couldn't even do that right. But I digress ...

Division clinchers and playoff games are bound to stay with you, but I also cling to the smaller stuff. What happens behind the scenes, whether tickling the funny bone or tugging at the emotions.

Spring training is a great setting for it. Like the time that former infielder Mark Reynolds was quizzed on the names of the beat writers, blanked on mine and called me "muscle guy."

One of my colleagues joked that anyone else would be offended, but I took it as a compliment.

The Orioles hung media photos with our names underneath them in a hallway outside the spring clubhouse for players to more easily identify us. Unfortunately, they didn't come with a pronunciation guide.

Reliever Pat Neshek, referencing an earlier interview with me while meeting with reporters at his locker, said, "As I was telling Roch ..." Except he had no idea that my name sounds like "Rock." It came out as "RoCH."

I received a call from an industry source, as we call them in the business, informing me that the Orioles were making a late adjustment to their 2015 opening day roster by purchasing catcher Ryan Lavarnway's contract, after he had been reassigned earlier in the day, and attempting to place reliever Ryan Webb on the injured list. But I needed to get confirmation from someone with the club.

As I paced outside my hotel during our conversation, I saw Lavarnway and his dog walking past me. The catcher smiled and nodded his head. The dog ignored me. And I had my confirmation.

Webb hadn't pitched for two weeks after injuring his left knee while playing catch. He noticed that the swelling increased after he iced it, which led to an explanation that we never forgot.

According to Webb, he was told that he developed an allergic reaction to the ice. Apparently, that's a thing.

It would absolutely ruin Happy Hour for me.

Webb made 51 relief appearances in 2014, but his finest contribution was the day at Camden Yards that he saw a member of the media wearing a fuzzy baby blue sweater in the clubhouse and yelled, "You killed Sully!"

A "Monsters, Inc." reference that was most unexpected and quite hilarious.

I'll admit that I miss former first base coach Wayne Kirby reading the blog and disputing that I actually had "leftovers for breakfast."

"You had Muscle Milk," he'd say, within earshot of everyone. Not that Kirby knew how to lower the volume.

While the Orioles celebrated their wild card win in Texas in 2012, reliever Brian Matusz approached me with a bucket of ice water and emptied it over my head. Two years later, after they clinched the division title at Camden Yards, Matusz spotted me on the field, raised his bottle of beer and said, "Come on, Roch, it's a tradition."

I took it like a man.

Before the party moved outdoors, reliever Zack Britton handed me a beer in the clubhouse and held up his own. As I started to explain that I'm not allowed to drink while on duty, he said, "This is for Monica."

Monica Barlow had passed away in spring training. The team dedicated the season to her. And Britton, knowing of our close friendship, wanted to toast her.

I thanked him and took the fastest sip in recorded history before leaving the bottle on a table. And I'll never forget it.

Outfielder Nate McLouth had interesting musical tastes for a ballplayer. He was the king of pop, using Mr. Mister's "Kyrie" as his walkup song and obsessing over Journey's "Separate Ways."

I heard the latter song one afternoon while driving to the ballpark. I told McLouth about it as he was passing me in the hallway, and he said, in all sincerity, "This is going to be a good day for you."

I don't recall whether it was, in fact, a good day, but his reaction amused me.

Former outfielder and team executive Brady Anderson spotted me outside the ballpark one day as I began my walk to Sliders Bar and offered to give me a ride. His girlfriend at the time, a model who used to show up at spring training in Fort Lauderdale and provide a nice distraction, moved to the backseat despite me insisting that she stay in her spot.

Anderson tried to get me closer to the bar, but the one way streets wouldn't permit it. We kept circling and getting nowhere.

He finally gave up and I made the walk - which became a bit longer because he actually took me further away from my destination. It made for a funny story upon my arrival. And I worked up quite a thirst.

The model girlfriend returned to the front seat and they headed back to Brady's apartment, where she'd watch a Monty Python movie for the first time at his urging.

I'm pretty sure it was "Life of Brian," but I was preoccupied with the life of Brady.

Note: Please join me in wishing Baltimore broadcasting legend Vince Bagli a Happy 93rd Birthday.

Bagli is attached to so many of my childhood sports memories. The good, including his work on Baltimore Colts radio broadcasts alongside Chuck Thompson. And the bad, like the night that he fought back tears on television while reporting on the team's relocation to Indianapolis.

The Mayflower trucks at the Owings Mills complex during a snowstorm. The heartbreak that never really goes away.

Bagli was right there with us.

He's one of the kindest and most generous men you'll ever meet. I hope you get the privilege one day.