From 2003-2005, Matthew Ceryes was a security guard at Pac Bell Park (now SBC Park). He had a bird’ s-eye view of the inside goings-on at the home and visiting clubhouses.
Ceryes never let a Giant open the clubhouse door himself, which was a personal policy. Sometimes, the more exuberant of the team “exploded” the double doors outward on the way to the field. Guys were re-entering all the time, needing anything from a soda to a rubdown, and he didn’t want our starting pitcher to go on the DL (called IL, now) because his right hand got blown up, reaching for the handle.
But there was a more insidious threat — spikes on concrete.
Pac Bell uses scarce waterfront and wastes nothing, leaving incomparable views. But it also caused unintended safety problems. One was corrected when foul territory bullpen bumps were moved out behind centerfield. The team also corrected the otherwise desirable problem of fans too close to the field with netted-in safety barriers.
Here’s another. The underground clubhouses share perpendicular egress with the service tunnel to accommodate the aforementioned lack of real estate. This cold, narrow concrete artery simultaneously carries superstars and super-loads of supplies. For safety, the Giants installed padded black floor runners to get players from the locker room, down the steps, and up to the field. These runners were the only thing keeping Major League million-dollar ballplayers in metal spikes from serious injury.
Matthew Ceryes: Noah Lowry was the first guy I saw slip. He was reaching out to someone when he left the runners and hit black ice, locking up his legs and hips and raising his arms halfway with a “Whoa! He slid 14 inches before coming to a precarious stop. Everyone had a smile, and he gingerly stiff-legged it back to safety. We developed a yell of “MIND YOUR SPIKES!” and weren’t shy about using it. We never wanted to see our guys get hurt by something so mundane. I yelled it for visiting teams, as well. Twice, it wasn’t enough.
When L.A. came to town, everyone was on high alert. In July 2004, Giants outfielder Michael Tucker went after Dodgers starting pitcher Jeff Weaver only to challenge closer Eric Gagne the very next day. One day, Michael came screaming around the dugout corner below with at least four uniformed Giants in hot pursuit. He intended to sprint to the Dodgers’ side of the stadium and give Mr. Weaver and Mr. Gagne the ol’-what-for! However, this line of attack had major problems. First, the service tunnel is a quarter-mile long. Secondly, two big guys in Giants’ security gear are at the Dodgers’ door. Finally, the ice-like concrete would bust him down hard the second he came off the pad.
Those circumstances led to what happened next. Michael vaulted up the stairs three at a time, and the pursuing posse kept pace. It happened so fast that Ceryes threw up his hands in the universal stop sign, “MIND YOUR SPIKES!” just as the whole human, vertical dog pile reached our level. Incredibly, Michael’s teammates collared him at the exact instant his metal-shorn shoes hit the pavement…just as he lost his feet, they had his arms. They lovingly had their teammate and talked him down off the cliff.
Brett Tomko of the San Francisco Giants pitches during a game with the Los Angeles Dodgers at Dodger Stadium on July 16, 2005 (photo Jeff Gross, Getty Images)
Then there was the time Brett Tomko went down. He was alone at the Giants clubhouse in-game, the starting pitcher that day. He got caught going to the bathroom during a rare 1-2-3 inning against our guys that went maybe seven pitches. Late for his turn to throw, he came flying out the secret door trainers use, with his pants unbuttoned and unbelted. Ceryes was about to chuckle when he realized things weren’t right. He never got to say the entire “MIND….” before Tomko’s spikes hit the glass-like surface. Compounding the accident, Brett’s hands were busy reassembling the lower half of his uniform. Unable to counterbalance, Brett’s 6-foot-4 frame launched four feet into the air. He came down as hard as any man ever did from any fall anywhere.
Ceryes tried to reach him, but Tomko’s pride and athleticism had him instantly back on his feet before he could help. Tomko waved off Ceryes and gingerly slid along until he reached the safety of the runners. There, he buckled his pants and pointed himself downstairs. He awkwardly straightened up and let out the smallest of groans. Two minutes later, he saw him pitching on my monitor.
He pitched normally that day and didn’t show any ill effects again. Or did he? You be the judge. He was 73-58 as a major leaguer before the fall and 27-45 after.
Lesson: “Mind Your Spikes!“
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Matt Sieger, now retired sports reporter/columnist who worked for New York State and California newspapers, did his undergraduate work at Cornell University and received a master’s in journalism from Syracuse University. He is the author of The God Squad: The Born-Again San Francisco Giants of 1978. This article first appeared in The Vacaville Reporter on August 31, 2020.
