I have a love-hate relationship with Halloween. I’ve never been one for the scary aspect or classic Halloween movies, rather I’ve come to relish radio classics like Suspense and Lights out. I’ve also been more into the treats than the tricks. I can pull off pranks anytime I want, but for the most part getting ridiculous amounts of candy wasn’t an everyday occurrence growing up.

As a kid *until college* it was all about amassing the most candy possible without having to embarrass myself in some goofy/cliched costume. As I became a little more comfortable in my skin, my willingness to not take my self seriously morphed into some entertaining DIY costumes. While subbing with K-4 the past 8 years, I became Halloween MacGyver. Give me some Gorilla tape and I’m a Jack O’Lantern, find a construction helmet and crossing guard gear and I’m Bob the Builder.

Until I started covering the Arizona Fall League 20 years ago, I wasn’t aware of the connection between baseball and Halloween. I wasn’t as aware that it coincides with turning the clocks back because Arizona doesn’t and yet I still had to or I’d be an hour off when I got back home.

For the first seven or eight years I was in Arizona all six teams allowed their players to dress up for batting and infield practice. Over the years, these mostly twenty-something’s behaved and dressed like 10-year-old boys (without adult supervision). There were some terrific, if puerile costumes and I loved the relaxed atmosphere. For some reason, a couple of the teams cut back and wouldn’t allow their players to dress up on the field no matter that they were going to go out after the game in costume. I know my photog friends have their Halloween favorites, and some of the costumes were more memorable than their ML careers.

One year I got in the spirit and brought my DIY costume with me and with the help of a guest service agent at Casa Bob, I hit a party at a Tempe bar. And is often the case, I was years ahead of myself and went as one of the Brewers racing sausages, the Italian. At the time, nobody in the Valley had any idea who the racing sausages were.

Now that the Brewers are World Series champions, more Valley residents might recognize the Italian and not look at me askance.