The Post-Gazette's Dan Majors will be working and writing about his experience as a volunteer at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center -- the site of the All-Star FanFest.

		Dan Majors can be reached at dmajors@post-gazette.com and 412-263-1456.

Game Day: One heckuva home stand (7/11/06)

The last day of FanFest. I decide it might be a good idea to shadow Linda Barletto, the volunteer manager for the event. She's the person that I first came to for my stint as volunteer/journalist. And she's the person everyone else seems to go to when they have questions or problems.

Ms. Barletto and her husband, Jim, run a company called Academy Enterprises out of their home in Norfolk, Va. They are private contractors who do event consulting. In addition to working Major League Baseball's All-Star FanFests since 1997 in Cleveland, she has been involved with similar functions with the National Hockey League and the National Basketball Association for the past five years.

Standing near the FanFest entrance in the black polo shirt that indicates that she is a person of authority here, she monitors the volunteers throughout the FanFest. It might be the last day, but there's still work to be done.

"It's business as usual," she says. "Every event is open, every attraction is open, all of our volunteers are here. We run just like we do every day.

"Behind the scenes, of course, we're getting ready for the end of the show. But as far as the people see, up until 6:59 and 56 seconds, we are open and running."

The radio receiver she wears in her ear distracts her for a moment as we start to stroll around the first level.

"I've got a radio earpiece, so I can listen to all the walkie-talkie conversations, and I have eyes in the back of my head," she said.

Ms. Barletto, 48, is from Montour and graduated from Montour High School before going off to Mansfield University in Mansfield, Pa., where she earned a degree in business administration. She still has family here, however, and returns often.

"I'll always be a Pittsburgher," she says.

Although her parents visited FanFest, Ms. Barletto didn't get to spend much time with them. But she and her husband will be back next month for a true family vacation.

On the floor of the FanFest, visitors are still browsing the exhibits, taking part in the interactive events and standing in lines for autographs.

"It's amazing how few people complain about the lines," she says. "Everybody has been patient. We do everything possible to move things along. But you have to stand in some lines. There are some people in front of you."

I ask her if she expects the the end of FanFest to be frantic. I'd hate to see someone snap because he didn't get a turn in the batting cages.

"People want to make sure that they get to do everything," she says. "But we also find that because of the parade, and people want to make sure they get home in front of their TVs for the game tonight, our last couple of hours actually start to taper off."

Frankly, I tell her, I'm surprised at home many Pittsburghers stepped forward to volunteer. Hundreds of people, helping out the event. Sure they were each rewarded with a couple of free tickets, a red polo shirt, a baseball cap, a baseball, a fanny pack and a water bottle. But the work was ... work. And they kept showing up to do it.

"We had very little [volunteer attrition] in this town, which is wonderful," she says. "We were thrilled. But [attrition] happens. People think they can do five shifts - that's a lot - and they end up doing three. We generall advise them to do only three shifts. That's plenty. That's a lot of giving of their time."

Next year's All-Star Game, and the FanFest that goes with it, will be held in San Francisco. And while it's too early to start planning for the event, I ask if there might be some lessons learned here that could come in handy next July.

"I live every day of my life as if every day's a school day. If I don't learn something, then I'm not paying attention," she says. "There's always something to be learned.

Everything you can do a little better next time."

But isn't there anything from here that will be of use there?

"Can we take all the Pittsburgh volunteers to San Fran with us?" she asks.

"Actually, we've had 77 people sign up for information about helping us in San Francisco next year."

She tells me there were only 40 such requests last year in Detroit.

"A lot of people have told me, 'It's a great excuse for a trip to the West Coast.'"

Right this minute, the radio is quiet. We have no lost children and no emergencies, so Ms. Barletto is able to relax and reflect on the FanFest.

"This is a wonderful building," she says of the David L. Lawrence Convention Center. "I think because of the openness of the building, it just allows the show to lay out so wide. It's so huge. The sight lines, you can see from one end of the room to the other on this level. That really helps people not get separated. We've had very, very few lost children.

In some cities we've had 20 lost children a day. Here, it was two or three."

While we are talking, a woman - one of the volunteers - comes up and taps her on the shoulder.

"I know I'll never see you again, but I just wanted to tell you what a wonderful time I've had," she tells Ms. Barletto.

The volunteer manager thanks her.

"It's a surprisingly small world," she says. "We could meet again. I've met many volunteers again over the years.

"People who volunteer are people who get out and travel and do things."

The volunteer walks off with a wave, and Ms. Barletto turns back to me, her eyes actually moist with emotion.

"I hate the last day of camp," she says. "I really do."

Day 4: Three's a charm (7/10/06)

One of the second round Ortiz balls fell within with striking distance of Capt. Larry and me, riding our raft from Ohiopyle-based White Water Adventure-ers in the midst of a bevy of kayaks. It triggered a piranha-like frenzy of arms and nets swinging and clutching for the ball. It was finally grabbed by Nate Biro, 27, of Elizabeth Township.

"People were thrashing for it, and I kind of stayed back," said Mr. Biro, who was floating on an air mattress. "And suddenly it popped up and hit me in the armpit."

As for us, we rocked the raft going for it, and I had to save Larry by a belt buckle.

Had the Captain gone overboard he would have been easy to spot -- the organizers of the event set up four spotlights atop scaffolding to illuminate the river and the pursuit of balls therein.

That worked pretty well for one couple. Daniel Bellavance, 23, of Elizabeth Township and his girlfriend, Kristin Grace, 20 of McKeesport came in a canoe and got two balls -- one a piece.

"We were gonna stay dry in the canoe, but then I saw everybody jump in for the first ball and I said 'Babe, I gotta get in the water.'"

And he did.

So did she. The couples second ball splashed down right by Ms. Grace.

"I was thrashing around for it and I saw it bobbing up and down next to her and she got it," Mr. Bellavance said adding that they weren't done.

"We're trying to get three -- we're going for the trifecta!"

To watch a video of fans scrambling for baseballs in the river, click here.

Day 4: Got it! (7/10/06)

Between 9:16 and 9:27, Red Sox slugger David Ortiz smacked five into the water in the Home Run Derby's first round.

One of them was retrieved by Mike Hnat, 18, of Peters, who fell into the water from his tiny inflatable one-man raft.

A gold ball, which benefits charity, was scooped up by Ken Schultz, 37, of Verona as it bobbed by his craft. Mr. Schultz was in a kayak he bought just last month.

"I'm going to put it in a case and put it on a shelf," he said of the home run ball. "It's very cool, and I didn't have to swim for it. I just scooped it up."

Brien Hast, 23, of Peters and his friend Jason Makrinos, 22, of Peters, in a two-man kayak grabbed another one of Ortiz' balls. Mr. Hast jumped into the water with his baseball mitt -- or rather, Mr. Makrinos' baseball mitt.

"This is so great. I didn't think I was going to get one."

Day 4: Guiding Lights (7/10/06)

At 8:45 p.m. the Coast Guard patrolling the water announced over loudspeakers that any kayakers without lights on their boats would have to get out of the river before dark.

But the Coast Guard showed its sporting side when a representative emerged on the River Walk and tossed light sticks to the kayakers who had none.

Day 4: Afloat with the Home Run Derby fleet (7/10/06)

	Martha Rial, Post-Gazette Kayakers join the crowd at PNC Park in singing "The Star Spangled Banner" before the All-Star Home Run Derby. Click photo for larger image.

When Capt. Lawrence Walsh, Post-Gazette consumer columnist and rafter extraordinaire, and deckhand Dan "Dan the Fan" Majors embarked in a big gray raft around 7 p.m. from the Mon Wharf, the occasional showers had mostly broken up and the danger of getting struck by lightning while trying to shag balls in the aquatic division of the Home Run Derby seemed diminished.

Also setting off from the wharf was Russell Tague, 49, of Brookline, and his sons, Jeremy, 23, and Matthew, 22.

"We're going to shag some balls," Mr. Tague said as they put their three kayaks into the Monongahela River just after 7 p.m.

Mr. Tague is a kayaking instructor with the Butler Outdoor Club and a maintenance supervisor for Kuhn's supermarkets. "This was my sons' idea, and I love this idea. Any chance I can spend on the water with these guys is a good thing."

As the starting time of 8 p.m. approached, there were 40 to 50 kayackers on the water, a dozen canoeists, a couple of jet skiiers, and dozens of motor boats on the Allegheny River outside PNC Park.

	Martha Rial, Post-Gazette Dan McClain, of Turtle Creek, and his brother John McClain, of Clifton, New Jersey, wait for the All-Star Home Run Derby batting practice to begin. The pair said they hope to snag a ball blasted out of PNC Park and into the Allegheny River. Click photo for larger image.

There also were three young men floating on two air mattresses: Derek Bush, 17, his brother Doug, 16, and their friend, Tim Shaffer, 17, all of Ford City.

"This will be the advantage of being on an air mattress -- we'll be the fastest ones to the balls," said Derek. "Those other guys are in boats. We're quicker, and we can maneuver."

The water is chilly, Tim Shaffer said, his teeth chattering.

We found we could see the PNC Park scoreboard and hear the announcer. No need to worry about figuring who hit a ball we'd be chasing -- or rather, chasing the one of the boaters who got the ball.

Mike Peters, 28, and his wife, Jennifer, 30, moved to the North Hills from Boston six months ago and are big Red Sox fans.

"We came to see Big Papi David Ortiz hit one into the river. He's one of only two left-handed batters [taking part in the Home Run Derby]. As soon as we see him on the scoreboard, we're going to get the ball."

The Peters spent $10 an hour to rent their yellow kayaks from Kayak Pittsburgh.

We hooked up with two guys who got a ball during batting practice.

	Martha Rial, Post-Gazette Matt Kline and Dan Foust, both of Lawrenceville, nabbed a practice ball hit into the Allegheny River before the All-Star Home Run Derby. Click photo for larger image.

Matt Kline, 21, of Lawrenceville and his friend Sam Foust, 22, of Lawrenceville, were in their canoe at 5:30 p.m. relaxing on the river when Houston Astros All-Star Lance Berkman hit ball out of the ball park batting practice that bounced off of river walk and into the river. It was one of only two balls that were hit into the river during batting practice.

Mr. Kline said he looked and said "Oh my God there's a ball in the water," and dove in, flipping their canoe and dumping out everything they brought with them.

"My radio sunk to the bottom of the river, but I don't care -- we got the ball," said Mr. Kline.

Mr. Foust rowed for four years for Central Catholic High School. He now attends Saint Bonaventure University, and Mr. Kline attends Xavier University.

Brad Ryan, 39, of the West End, is in his kayak with his long-haired chihuahua Ozzie, 4 years old. He used to work for a whitewater rafting company in Ohiopyle. Ozzie is wearing his own life jacket that says "Outward hound."

"I didn't anticipate this kind of crowd here, but Ozzie's OK. Ozzie's been rafting more than most people."

	Curt Chandler, Post-Gazette Mike Peters, of the North Hills, surfaces with a ball hit into the Allegheny River by Lance Berkman. Click photo for larger image.

The first ball to get wet in the Derby was also by Lance Berkman, the second hitter up.

Mike Peters snagged it.

He didn't use the fishing net on front of his kayak.

"The ball was 10 feet in front of me. I just had to jump in."

He said security -- which was tight along the River Walk -- didn't go after him when he got out of the water. "The media got to me before security," he said.

"I never got a ball before. Not a foul ball or a home run. And I used to go to Fenway all the time."

Day 4: Throngs impress the volunteers (7/10/06)

In my three days as a FanFest volunteer, I've gotten to know my way around pretty good. I'm familiar with the exhibits and the activity areas, and I'm recognizing people that I've met and worked with.

So I thought I'd start Day 4 back at the Information Desk inside the main entrance. Now, when people ask me where something is, I won't have to refer to the floor map.

Or so I thought. It doesn't take long for me to realize that there are still things going on at FanFest that are unfamiliar to me.

Where do they make the bats? Where can we buy All-Star Game programs? Where is Sharon Robinson - the widow of baseball great Jackie Robinson - going to be signing autographs?

Also, I have to admit that I thought FanFest would die down a little after the weekend, but today's turnout was really impressive.

That, of course, also presents a downside. A lot of the lines are longer than people expect. And I'm afraid that there's been some attrition in the ranks of the volunteers.

Still, the many who are here today are still as cheerful and eager to help as they've been since the event started.

After a while, I head once again for the Home Run Derby, where they always need some help shagging fly balls off the bats of the fans in the batting cages. And it's something I enjoy.

So there I am, running around with my baseball mitt, trying to catch long, towering pop-ups, laser-beam line drives and sharply hit grounders that scoot along the carpeted floor like angry ferrets. Dressed in my bright red volunteer shirt, I soon realize that I'm being watched by some of the people waiting in line for their turn in the batting cages. Every once in a while I make a nice catch and I'll detect a faint murmur of applause and maybe a clap or two.

But more often than not, I miss the ball or I get smacked by one ball while I'm bent over trying to pick up another. I chase a ball into a net and get tangled up like a bad guy in a Spider-Man movie. I tumble to the turf trying to avoid a ball that barely misses my ear.

I can't help but hear the laughter of the people in line, and I realize that I'm doing a lot more than just fielding the balls and returning them to the pitchers.

I'm also a rodeo clown.

One of the plastic balls goes sailing over my head into the netting and I peer in to the cage to see who the hitter might be. To my surprise, it's a strapping young man in a military flight suit, casually flicking the aluminum bat and sending shots over the home run wall.

His name is Ryan Sherbondy, 32, of Greensburg, and he's here with his family - wife, Tawnya, 32; children, Breanne, 9; Sadie, 5; and Bryce, 3; sister-in-law, Araine Nativio, 30, and nephew, Sebastian Nativio, 10. They've been here for a couple of hours.

Mr. Sherbondy, who also goes by the nicknames "Boomer" and "Ace," is a flier with the Pennsylvania Air National Guard. He will be one of the four pilots "doing a fly-by" in A-10 Warthogs over PNC Park just before the start of tomorrow night's All-Star Game.

"We time it so we come in over the park just at the end of the national anthem," he says.

Mr.Sherbondy, a graduate of Hempfield High School, tells me that the pilots will take off from Pittsburgh International Airport and hang out in a holding pattern over Mount Washington until they get the signal for the fly-by, which they perform in "fingertip formation, with our wingtips only about 10 feet away from each other."

This amazes me. I don't like it when I'm driving my car within 10 feet of another car. I can't imagine combat jets that close to each other.

"Then we return to the airport, and I race back to the ballpark for the game," he says.

Volunteer Mike Wyne, 68, of Seattle, is one of those Fest Heads they talk about, traveling all across the country every summer to work at the All-Star Game FanFests. He started in Dallas in 1995 and hasn't missed a season since.

"So this is my 12th in a row, making it almost the longest streak among the Fest Heads," the retired reporter and editor of The Seattle Times tells me. "There's a guy named Bob who probably has me by a year or two."

Today, Mr. Wyne is working in front of the Legends of the Game area, where fans line up to get autographs from some of baseball's greats. Former Pirates third baseman Bill Madlock and Cubs pitcher Ferguson Jenkins are at the table now.

"The crowds are really cooperative here," Mr. Wyne says. "There are some other cities where the people get real cranky. They hear that the lines are an hour and a half long and they lose their patience with me, like it's my fault.

"Here, everybody's being so nice. And the line right now is like three hours long."

Three hours in a line for a baseball player's autograph. Wow.

Mr. Wyne says he's already looking forward to next year's FanFest, which will be held in San Francisco. "That way I won't have to take a red-eye flight to get there," the Seattle resident says.

"But this has been one of the better ones," he adds. "And the crowds have been big. I think that's because this is one of the old, classic baseball cities. Everybody's familiar with their baseball history. The kids as well as the older folks.

"Milwaukee and Seattle just don't have that tradition."

I ask him why he's such a dedicated volunteer and I find that he doesn't have to think too hard for an answer.

"There's an old saying," he responds. "What you do for others lives on. What you do for yourself dies with you."

After another stint in front of the life-size photo of the 2006 Pirates, I head back upstairs to the volunteer room. Linda Barletto, volunteer manager for the FanFest, is looking out of one of the convention center's big windows, watching the stream of Pittsburghers walk into the building.

"The crowds here have been just fantastic," she says. "And I think we've made about 99.5 percent of the people happy. Which is just about the best we can do."

She looks up to the sky, where storm clouds have rolled over the city's skyscrapers, threatening to wash out tonight's Home Run Derby at PNC Park. Ms. Barletto is worried, not only about that but also the All-Star Game tomorrow night.

"I hope it blows over," she says. "And I hope they have the field covered."

Fortunately, the rain shouldn't affect the goings-on within the convention center. And Ms. Barletto is ready to keep on keepin' on.

"The show must go on," she says.

Day 2: Pittsburghers can't find the strike zone? (7/8/06)

I return to the second floor after my break and join the crew at the Steal Home Challenge, an area where as many as three runners at a time get to sprint the 90 feet from third base to home plate.

This is hugely popular for a number of reasons. First, they have a sensor in the home plates so your speed - to the hundredth of a second - is shown on the scoreboard. (Anything under 4.00 is pretty impressive.)

	John Beale, Post-Gazette The Pirate Parrot mascot wins a heat of the Steal Home Challenge against a pair of youngsters Saturday. . Click photo for larger image.

Second, it moves along quickly. Even though there's a line, it's fun to watch the participants try to outrun each other.

And third, it's a race. Who doesn't love races, the purest of all athletic contests. Buddy against buddy, father against son, sister against sister.

Josh Wirt, 21, of Indiana, Pa., is the attraction manager. He tells me that things have been going great, the only bug being the attempt to award prizes.

"We were giving some baseballs away, but some people started to get frustrated," he says. "So we changed it to just make it random. If your time ends in a 9 - Mazeroski's number - you get a prize."

Ron Munn Jr., 27, of Erie, has a degree in computers, so he's running the computer scoreboard while his father, Ron Sr., ushers competitors up to the starting bases. I decide I'm going to try to interview some of the competitors.

The first guy I try to speak with is Joe McMahon, who puts up a time of 3.94 seconds. He's very fast. He's so fast, that he's gone before I can catch up to interview him.

The runners are so fun to watch. Not just the fast ones, but all of them. Mothers carrying infants, fathers running slow so their little boys can keep up.

C.J. Ecalono, 20, of Coraopolis, is one of the volunteers, but he's on break, so he's allowed to participate in FanFest - as long as he's not wearing his official FanFest polo shirt or ballcap.

Mr. Ecalono and a couple of his friends flash through the dash. His time is 3.96. When I interview him, I find out why. It turns out that he's on the track and field team at Robert Morris University.

I ask him why he's volunteering.

"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," he says. "Besides, it will look good on my resume. I'm majoring in sports management."

Maurice Jackson, 40, of Penn Hills, is next, racing against his nephew, who is 16. Mr. Jackson is complaining about his aching knee and how tired and old he is. But something in his eye tells me that this is going to be a race worth watching.

A few seconds later - 4.08 seconds, to be exact - Mr. Jackson is stepping on home plate. His nephew comes in at 4.10.

"It's timing," the "old" man says. "You got to have just the right timing to hit the plate in stride."

For a guy with a bum knee, he's strutting pretty good as he walks away.

Fielding practice is next. There are five areas - short pop-up, soft ground ball, short fly ball, hard grounder, and the long fly ball.

A volunteer stands at each area and loads a semisoft plastic baseball into a mechanical launcher. The participants - wielding gloves provided by Wilson Sporting Goods - do their best to catch them.

My job is to pick up the balls after the fielders have discarded them. This involves a lot of running and a lot of bending over. (The volunteers who have the job of dropping baseballs into a launcher don't know how good they've got it.)

C.J. Atkison, 11, of Moon, has come with his dad, Craig, and some friends. C.J. plays Little League - "third base and outfield," he says - so he's not worried about his fielding talents. This stuff is routine to him.

He even brought his own baseball glove - made by Rawlings, "the same guys who sponsor the Gold Gloves," he tells me.

He does pretty good, too, catching all three of the fly balls and easily scooping up the soft grounder. Only the sharp grounder bounces off his trusty Rawlings.

"But that doesn't really count," he says. "I was distracted."

Personally, I'm thinking that I have a big advantage here. The fans stand in line and only get to field five balls. The volunteer ball-catchers, like me, get to run around grabbing all kinds of balls thrown to them by the fielders.

It's so much fun, I can't wait to move on to my next area.

And here it is - the Fanfest Bullpen. Here, participants get to fire fastballs past video projections of major-league batters who are flailing away. And you get to pick your opponent from a list of 20 hitters.

The machine records whether your pitch is a ball or a strike and it even tells you the speed at which your pitch traveled. You get to throw until the batter either walks or strikes out.

Kevin Duffy, 13, of Mt. Lebanon, waited in line to face Lance Berkman of the Houston Astros. He sets Berkman down on three strikes.

I learn several things during my brief stint as a volunteer here: Pittsburghers like to pitch to Barry Bonds. Pittsburghers like to take big windups. And Pittsburghers have trouble finding the strike zone.

Most frustrating, however, is that the video displays are very temperamental.

There are five booths. But, at various times, a couple of them just lock up. Also, sometimes the machine will register a pitch having been thrown while the pitcher is still preparing to throw.

Nothing breaks your heart like a kid who has Bonds facing a full count suddenly lose him as the darn machine declares Bonds has been given a free pass. I tell you, it hurts to see it.

It's getting late in the day, and one of the supervisors taps me on the shoulder. I am needed.

Apparently, some of the volunteers have skulked off the job a little before their shifts were up. Would I mind heading back over to the Home Run Derby?

Sure, I guess. I mean, I did come to volunteer.

And I want to help the FanFest organizers. They've been incredibly organized, patient and cooperative - especially in the face of mechanical breakdowns and some people who get a little cranky when it's dinner time and they're standing in a line.

The FanFest staff is working long hours and every lost child is described as "wearing a black and gold Pirates shirt." Except, it seems, when the grandsons of Roberto Clemente are missing. (Fortunately, the kids were found very quickly.)

I grab a glove to shag balls hit into the outfield by batters in cages. There are five cages and you have to stay on your toes - which isn't easy when you've been on your feet for eight hours.

I make some nice grabs, but I also take a line drive off the leg. It stings, but I don't rub it. (You don't let the opponent think he hurt you.)

After a while, though, I charley-horse my way off the field. I give my supervisor some half-baked excuse - "Uh, I have to go write my log for the Post-Gazette Web site." - and, baby, I am out of there.

But I'll be back tomorrow. Because there's still more to do and see.

Day 2: Physical challenges (7/8/06)

Today, I'm taking this volunteering thing to a whole new level.

The second floor of the FanFest is a lot more vibrant than the first floor. Whereas the ground level, where I worked yesterday, had more exhibits and places to have your photo taken, the upper level has more of the interactive activities.

Some people want to read the stories of the great hitters. But others want to step into the batter's box and take their own swings.

I begin my FanFest day at the Batting Practice area, under the tutelage of Laura Silverman, 21, of Miami. My fellow volunteers include Tom Zunic, 57, of North Hills, whom I met yesterday, and John Zunic, 58, of Belle Vernon. (They are not related and they're greatly amused at the coincidence of meeting. They commiserate about life at the bottom of the alphabet.)

Mr. Zunic - uh, Tom - worked the batting cages yesterday. This is John's first day.

Ms. Silverman spells out our duties. Lead the people to the three batting cages, where they'll have the chance to swing at 10 pitches of fast, medium or slow speeds.

The balls are plastic, dimpled and orange, and I'll be darned if I can tell the fast-pitch from the medium.

We're told that we have to make sure all the batters put on batting helmets before picking out the aluminum bats that suit them. They also have to sign a waiver that no one really reads, but since the event involves projectiles, legal bases must be touched.

FanFest hasn't opened yet, so the volunteers get to take some cuts of their own. (Volunteering has its perks.)

I manage to foul the first pitch off my big toe, which reminds me that I never actually signed the waiver myself. After that, I hit a few week grounders before finally getting hold of a pitch or two.

Before long, the families start to arrive. One of the first is the Bachinskys - Nancy, 31, and her husband, Michael, 42, of Wexford, with their three children, Juliana, 10, Justin, 9, and Josh, 6.

This is a group of serious baseball fans. Not only are they among the first to arrive at FanFest today, but they're Pirates season-ticket holders. The kids, who all play organized ball, take their turns in the batting cages and rooting each other on. Mr. Bachinsky snaps photos from the side.

The line moves along briskly, giving some of the more-frustrated youngsters a second chance in the cage. But soon enough, FanFest starts filling up.

Volunteer Matt Huha, 22, of North Huntingdon, has one of the more interesting gigs. He mans the plastic chain that keeps people from wandering onto the Century 21 Diamond, the playing field that dominates the middle of the massive room. The carpet is laid out with an infield, foul lines, batter's boxes and bases. The blue outfield wall stretches between two towering yellow foul poles. Beyond the wall and behind the bench areas are bleachers for the fans.

Earlier in the day, this is where the dog and Frisbee show was held. Later, some of the coaches in attendance will conduct fielding clinics for the youngsters.

But right now, it's the site of the Mascot Home Run Derby, in which the costumed mascots from more than a dozen Major League Baseball teams compete - if you can call it that. The warm-ups are more pratfalls than practice, as everyone from Wally the Green Monster (from Boston) to Junction Jack (a giant rabbit representing Houston) entertains the fans with his antics.

	Matt Freed, Post-Gazette Junction Jack, of the Houston Astros, jokes with T.C., of the Minnesota Twins, during a Major League Baseball Mascot home run derby Saturday at FanFest. Click photo for larger image.

"I spend most of my time fending off little kids trying to go out on the field," Mr. Huha says at his post at the base of the left-field foul pole.

It doesn't get boring. Especially when the mascots start blasting balls from a tee. A group of eight youngsters, ages 10 through 12, from the Crafton-Ingram-Thornburg Baseball and Softball Association have the honor of chasing the balls around the outfield and returning them to home plate.

"It's OK," says Dan Shuster, 11. "We all wanted to catch fly balls at the Home Run Derby [Monday at PNC Park]. For real."

But this will do.

The mascot competition comes down to the Pirate Parrot, the hometown hero, versus defending mascot champion T.C., a bear representing the Minnesota Twins.

Mr. Huha leans over to me and, with a conspiratorial whisper, informs me that he has some inside information from one of the mascots.

"The guys inside the bear and the rabbit costumes actually have decent [baseball] skills," he says.

A moment later, the Parrot lines a smash down the left-field line, barely missing the head of Mr. Huha. But it is not enough as T.C. clobbers the baseballs - and the Parrot - to retain his title.

"The Pirates ought to sign him up," Mr. Huha says.

The video batting cages are different from the other video-less batting cages. These have videos.

Everything else is the same. You sign a waiver, you stand in line, you put on a helmet, you pick out a bat.

But then you step into the cage and face a videotaped image of a major-league pitcher projected on a screen in front of you. The baseball that comes at you is launched through a hole in the screen, right at the pitcher's release point. It's amazingly realistic.

This is very popular with kids of all ages, so there are five cages. Right now, however, only four are working.

Volunteer Tom Very, 49, of Mt. Lebanon, helps the batters pick a pitcher - the choice of a dozen or so includes Tim Wakefield, Randy Johnson and the Phillie Phanatic. The most popular, he tells me, is Roger Clemens.

"It's funny," he says. "You see all these dads with their sons. The kids get in there and the dads coach them, telling them to choke up or stand closer. Then the dad gets in there and doesn't hit squat."

Dave Barnes, 48, of Harrisburg, Va., steps up in his Detroit cap. Naturally, he says he wants to bat against the video image of Tigers pitcher Jeremy Bonderman.

He faces six pitches. He takes six swings. He hits nothing, not so much as a foul ball.

Two strikeouts in one at-bat.

"It's hard to pick up the ball," he says with a good-natured shrug. "But it was fun."

I'd stay longer, but another worker needs to shut it down for a minute. It's the first time I've ever seen a green plastic computer disc used to make a pitching change.

The last area before my break will be the Home Run Derby area. Again, fans with bats and helmets. This time, however, instead of swinging in a cage, they're blasting away in a moderately wide open space.

Volunteers here have all kinds of duties ranging from crowd control to loading the pitching machine to fielding the hits. And the music played in this area is much better.

Jeff Wiggins, 23, of Upper St. Clair, is the attraction manager. He tells me that they've made a few minor modifications since yesterday, moving the machines a little closer to the hitters and slowing down the pitches. Apparently, we had some frustrated batters yesterday.

Anthony Liberatore, 24, of Pleasant Hills, stands behind a protective screen, feeding balls into one of the pitching machines. Each batter gets 10 pitches he tells me as he lets me give it a try.

"Stay away from the hole," he warns me. Evidently, a lot of the hitters blast the pitches right back at the screen. Mr. Liberatore says he's been hit a couple of times.

"It doesn't really hurt," he says, but the balls are flying past me like I was on a firing range and I'm dancing and ducking to avoid them.

There are no prizes for the best hitters. Just bragging rights, Mr. Liberatore says.

I ask him why he volunteered.

"It's baseball," he says. "I'm having more fun out here working than I would if I was just attending. And I don't have to wait in line."

Wrapping up Day One (7/7/06)

I'm heading home. My last stop on the first floor is the Minor League Baseball Shop, right near the entrance, where fans can peruse and purchase all sorts of licensed sports apparel from all the farm teams. There are caps, bobble heads and uniforms.

Jason Scheets, 28, of Milford, Conn., is running this area, his seventh FanFest in a row. There are a couple of volunteers, but they don't work the cash registers. They just answer people's questions.

He says business has been brisk.

"You can usually tell how the week is going to go by how the Friday goes," he says. "It's been a good Friday."

I'd have to agree.

Tomorrow, I'll be back volunteering. I hear they have some outrageous stuff up on the second floor.

Familiar faces, busy volunteers (7/7/06)

It's always nice to see familiar faces -- and there's no shortage of them at my next station: the Pirates Team Photo area.

	John Beale, Post-Gazette Aleksey Rasz, 5, of Wellsburg, W.Va, gets his picture taken while sitting amidst life-size cutouts of players and coaches from the 2006 Pirates team photo Saturday at the All-Star FanFest. . Click photo for larger image.

Hey, I know these guys. Bay, Sanchez, Tracy, Casey and a couple of Wilsons. There are some Hernandezes, too, but I'm not sure exactly which ones they are. And I ought to know the coaches, but I don't.

Still, it's a kick to see this life-sized cutout of the team photo. And the fans get to walk up and join them. You can sit down in front or sneak into the second row, looming over the shoulder of one of the coaches.

You need a camera. (I can't emphasize that enough. If you're coming to FanFest, bring a camera.)

You don't even need someone with you. One of the volunteers will be happy to take your picture.

Fred Matthews, 66, of Ross, and Lenny Garlicki, 72, of Lawrenceville, are working this area with Teri Hodgson, 45, of Mount Oliver, and Bob Devlin, 57, of Franklin Park. Frankly, I think as I walk up to help, four volunteers seems like plenty. But the truth is that there's always something that needs to be done.

"It's been smooth as silk," Mr. Matthews says. "And a lot of fun. I don't even mind holding the ladies' purses. They start to get their picture taken with their purses in their hands and I tell them, 'You don't see any of the ballplayers with a purse.'"

It might be weak when you read it on the computer, but when he says it, that line has them rolling in the aisles.

Mr. Matthews is working crowd control, trying to keep the kids from clamoring all over the players. He and the other volunteers also try to corral the families in some semblance of a line while keeping passers-by from passing between the photographers and their subjects.

He wants no part of taking any pictures, though.

"I'm too old for that technology," he says. "All these cameras are different."

Mr. Garlicki is more daring, taking the photos whenever he's asked. Most of these cameras nowadays are digital anyway, so if his thumb gets in front of the lens, he can just take another shot.

"I love being around people, and I like to volunteer," he says. "When I leave here tonight, I'm going to volunteer at my parish festival."

Some people take this volunteerism thing to unheard-of levels.

Ms. Hodgson is positioning some kids amid the grinning images of the players. Everybody, including the children, is wearing a Pirates cap.

"It's like a 'Where's Waldo?' moment," she jokes as she snaps a photo. "Personally, I think the pictures are better when the kids sit in front of the team. But they all want to climb back into the middle."

Mr. Garlicki is struggling to keep people from surging to the front.

"It's OK now," he says, "but wait till the weekend. This place is going to be packed."

My next station is the Wheaties cereal box, right next door. Walk right up and get your picture taken -- this time by professional photographers -- and they use modern computerized technology to produce a picture of your face on The Breakfast of Champions. They even have shirts, gloves and a bat that you can pose with.

	Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette Paul and Millie Cavanaugh, of Penn-Trafford, pose to get their picture put onto a Wheaties box Saturday at the All-Star FanFest in the David L. Lawrence Convention Center. Click photo for larger image.

The volunteers here are Dawn Walker, 48, of Swissvale, and Michele McClung, 27, of Wilkinsburg. Their jobs are easy. People walk up and ask how long the wait it. They tell them that it's between a half-hour and 45 minutes. Some people wander away, some get in line.

"A lot of people ask how much it costs," Ms. Walker says. "They're happy when we tell them that it's free with their admission. But then they get bummed a little when they find out how long the wait is."

Mike Gigliotti, 44, and his wife, Heather, 28, came all the way from Punxsutawney to be a part of FanFest. Mr. Gigliotti's Wheaties box has him with a bat over his shoulder and a baseball mitt on his hand. Oh, and his 6-week-old daughter, Jacinda, cradled in the crook of his arm.

It's such a sweet photo, you'd think it was for sugar-frosted Wheaties.

"She's not going to remember it, obviously," he says. "But I'll be able to show it to her later and tell her that she was there at FanFest."

More photos are being taken over at the Game-Saving Catch area. (See, I wasn't kidding about those cameras.)

Actually, this is another area where the pictures are supposed to be taken by professionals. But the professional cameras aren't working today. So, step right up and have your picture taken with your own camera.

"It's BYOC today," says volunteer Patty Pelino, 43, of Irwin.

It's so easy. You step up onto these wooden pegs extending from a life-size photo of a blue outfield wall. The distance, according to the number painted on it, is 389 feet. There are fans cheering from the other side.

Then you reach up over the wall with the baseball glove they provide you. The ball is already attached, snow cone-like in the webbing.

Ms. Pelino's job is to make sure that the climbing up and down from the wooden pegs proceeds without and pratfalls. So far, she says, so good -- until some pain of a reporter starts interviewing her and a fan teeters, but doesn't tumble.

"It's fun to be part of the excitement of the All-Star week," she says after helping the fan down. "It seems like the kids are having a great time. There's smiles on everybody's faces."

Yeah, I tell her. I noticed that.

The people standing in the mammoth line at the Legends area are waiting to get former Pirates All-Star Dave Parker's autograph. Not everyone here is smiling.

That's where Lorelei comes in. Lorelei is a four-woman singing group from Detroit. They performed there at last year's FanFest and were invited to come to Pittsburgh, where they belt out all sorts of songs -- gospel, Motown, some original stuff -- to entertain folks in the longest of lines. They've even thrown in some baseball songs.

Jo Serrapere, Tracy Kash Thomas, Chris McCall and Maggie McCabe. They finish a number and the crowd responds with a nice round of applause.

"This has been a lot of fun," Ms. Serrapere says. "We're a little tired, because we just drove into town this morning. But we're looking forward to the weekend."

There is a downside, they say. Some of the mascots who are circulating through the convention center get a little fresh. But they're harmless.

Living Legends and Offering Directions (7/7/06)

My next stint is at the main information booth just inside the first-floor entrance. I'm teamed with Harry Zabetakis, 56, and his son, Zack, 20, both of Kilbuck. (They say that it's just coincidence that the FanFest organizers put them together to work in the booth, but I'm not buying it. From what I've seen of FanFest so far, these people are way too organized to let anything happen by coincidence.)

The information booth gig isn't bad at all --- even if you barely know more than the people who walk up to you with questions. Zack offers some tips: Have a map handy and politely help the people find whatever it is they're looking for. They appreciate your help, even if it takes a minute or two, and the next time someone asks you the same question, you'll already know the answer.

The most frequently asked question, however, is not for the bathrooms or an ATM. It's for directions to the second floor of FanFest fun. And why not? That's where most of the interactive areas are. Most of the collectibles and memorabilia are up there, too. So, chances are, if someone has a kid in tow, that's the area he or she is trying to find.

Other top questions: Where can I buy a camera? Where's the Todd McFarland area? What baseball players are going to be at the autograph area and when?

Working at the information booth has plenty of perks. You get to sit in a chair. At a counter. You actually start to feel like a person of authority and responsibility.

Plus, you get to meet all kinds of people. And you get a good feeling from helping them. It's almost as if it were rewarding on some kind of weird cosmic level.

Right alongside the information booth is the Negro Leagues exhibit, where Bob Weismann, 61, of Gibsonia, and Rod Cunningham, 51, of Friendship, are working. Like all the volunteers I've met so far, they're friendly and enthusiastic.

"It's great promoting the city of Pittsburgh, the FanFest and the All-Star Game," Mr. Cunningham says. "We talk to people as they come in. There was one guy here who said he saw Josh Gibson play ball."

"People are telling us things that are amazing," Mr. Weismann says. "But the kids aren't into it very much."

As soon as I walk into the area, I realize what he means. While so much of FanFest is fun and filled with the noise of laughter and excited chatter, the Negro Leagues exhibit is very different. There's a near-reverence to it.

	Alyssa Cwanger, Post-Gazette Grace Benham, 3, sleeps in a stroller, as her parents, Roy and Nancy Benham, look at Negro League uniforms in a display at the All-Star FanFest Saturday. Click photo for larger image.

Visitors don't ask many questions. They just walk in and leisurely look at the photographs and the stories they tell. Conversations are hushed, as if the participants were in a museum.

I see an older gentleman -- a white man -- pausing to read one of the plaques beneath a photograph of black baseball players from decades ago. He's studying the faces, the uniforms, the equipment, even the dirt on the field. All the while, a pair of youngsters at his side restlessly shift from foot to foot. Eventually, the trio moves along.

Another older man enters the area. This fellow -- a black man -- is much older and he is accompanied by an entourage. He wears a special pass around his neck.

I ask someone in the entourage who the older man is.

"That's James Tillman," he answers. "Would you like to meet him?"

Mr. Tillman, 86, has a bright smile and a strong handshake. He ought to. He was a catcher with the Homestead Grays in 1941. He now lives in Maryland.

His entourage is tugging at his elbow because it's lunchtime and they're hungry, so we don't really get the chance to chat. But I got to meet him.

And that was cool.

Melissa Rompesky is one of the attraction managers. She steps up and guides me to my next volunteer spot -- the Legends area, where fans line up to get autographs.

Jeff Osheka and his wife, Karen, of Coraopolis, have been standing in line for more than an hour and 15 minutes with their children, Morgan, 11, Rachel, 9, and Dylan, 7. The children are remarkably well-behaved, considering how long they've been winding through a serpentine stretch of adults clutching balls, photos and figurines to be signed by former Pirates Manager Chuck Tanner and onetime pitcher and broadcaster Jim Rooker.

"He's the last manager to get us to the World Series," Mr. Osheka says.

I guess that makes him special. I know he's special to the Zissis family of Cecil. Ellen and Frank have brought their two sons, Hayden, 2, and Tanner, 4. Tanner is named after old Chuck.

They've met him before, they tell me. Back when little Tanner was only 7 months old. They had breakfast together, actually. And they've seen him at some Pirates games.

Little Tanner is wearing a Pirates shirt with his name on the back. Chuck Tanner is wearing a wrinkled fishing hat.

As they walk up the stairs to the autograph table, little Tanner starts bouncing back and forth, excitedly clapping. My fellow volunteers are all smiling.

	John Beale, Post-Gazette Scott Myers of York, left, chats with former Pirates manager Chuck Tanner Saturday at the All-Star FanFest in the David L. Lawrence Convention Center, Downtown. Click photo for larger image.

Chuck Tanner is smiling as he wraps his arms around both boys and poses for pictures. The flashes go off and then he signs little Tanner's shirt and a couple of other items, all the while talking to the kids.

Everyone is happy as they move along to where Jim Rooker is seated. He offers to autograph little Tanner's shirt, but the boy resists. He only wanted Chuck's.

A moment later, Tanner's mother admonishes him for hurting Rooker's feelings. But I suspect that Rooker took it in stride.

Everyone in the Legends line seems perfectly patient. They know how long the wait will be and, to them, it's worth it.

Just in case, however, we FanFest volunteers have been given some baseball cards to pass out. You know -- for the kids.

Brian Kearns, 32, of Philadelphia, is the manager for the Legends area. It's his 10th year with the FanFest and he's already spotted familiar faces in the long line.

"It's like a family reunion, seeing everybody," he says. "The same people getting autographs, year after year, going through the line again and again."

Tom Cloherty, 45, of Murrysville, is one of them. A certified financial officer, he took the day off to come to FanFest. He's in line for the third time already -- and he's got a wait of more than an hour and a half ahead of him.

But that's exactly how he's planned it. He already has acquired the signatures of Tanner and Rooker -- as well as former Pirates Steve Blass and Manny Sanguillen before them. Now, with an eye on the clock, he knows that by the time he gets to the front of the line again, Tanner and Rooker will have moved on and been replaced by Hall-of-Fame pitcher Phil Niekro and former player Neil Walker at 2 p.m.

"I've been collecting autographs since 1968, when I got Roberto Clemente," he says. "I was 8 years old, and I used to stand outside Forbes Field. Back when they used to let you do that."

He says he has an impressive collection of autographs at home, including Clemente's on a baseball and another on a photo. And, in a little while, he's going to have a couple more.

The World's Largest Baseball (7/7/06)

It was kind of weird coming into work FanFest this morning. I was the only one on the trolley wearing shorts and tennis shoes. Apparently, a lot of the people in the city were still going through the motions of their daily routines. Work and whatnot.

I guess they're not going to FanFest until the weekend.

Upon arrival at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center, the volunteers are ushered to a third-floor ballroom for a few last-minute tips from FanFest organizers. This also is where we get our badges, name tags and the red ballcaps and polo shirts that distinguish us for the fans.

Then we wait for our instructions.

At the table where I am sitting, we pass the time by talking baseball. The Pirates, Michael Keaton, and the various ballparks and stadiums throughout the leagues. Tom Zunic, 57, of McCandless, tells us how he's been to all the major league ballparks in operation, as well as 18 that are no longer there.

Mr. Zunic was a volunteer at the 1994 FanFest, which didn't have nearly as many people helping out. He started out working some of the exhibits, but by the end of the five-day event he had served as a memorabilia watchdog and worked security for San Diego Padres All-Star Tony Gwynn.

"I love it," he says. "I'm hooked on baseball."

That appears to be true of everyone in the room. But, of course, this is Pittsburgh, so it isn't long before the conversation turns to football and the Steelers.

Linda Barletto, FanFest's volunteer manager, steps to the front of the room to make some announcements. She reminds the volunteers that there are three questions that they'll hear from FanFest visitors all day long.

Where are the restrooms? Where are the ATMs? Who's going to be signing autographs today?

"And remember to smile," she says. "Greet everybody with a smile. We're going to help them have fun."

My first task is with about a dozen other volunteers stuffing metal buttons and paper site maps into plastic bags that each fan will get upon entering FanFest. It's kind of tedious and it offers no interaction with fans, but it has to be done. Bestides, the maps are sponsored in part by the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

I strike up a conversation with Monique Luck, 44, of South Fayette. She's a paralegal, but she took today off because she's also an avid baseball fan. Her son works at PNC Park.

Ms. Luck is still upbeat and enthusiastic, even while stuffing plastic bags. She's smiling, even though it isn't 9 a.m. yet and the fans are still lined up outside, waiting for the show to begin.

I knew volunteerism involved work. But I'm struck by how it involves being cheerful. This might be more of a challenge than I anticipated.

Once we'd stuffed our fair share of bags, we're ushered to the main doors of the convention center, where we will serve as greeters. Some volunteers will be handing out the bags. Others will be standing by to give fans directions as they enter.

I'm assigned duty alongside The World's Largest Baseball with John Dedig, 52, of the North Hills, and Phil Boatright, 44, of North Huntingdon.

The giant baseball rests outside the main convention center, just as you prepare to enter. It's a popular feature at all the FanFests and bears the FanFest logo as well as the autographs of some of the sport's superstars - Roger Clemens, Hank Aaron, Phil Niekro, Bill Mazeroski, Jason Bay. Even Ted Williams, who died a few years ago.

Each year, the players drop by FanFest and sign their names on the giant ball. Then, baseball officials put a fresh coat of paint on the ball and start over the next year. (They don't paint over some of the bigger names, such as Clemens and Williams. But you can pretty much bet that Mayor Bob O'Connor's signature will be visible for a limited time only.)

FanFest begins with a flurry of ceremony and excitement. Some upbeat music, some quick speeches, and then a drumroll as Maz cuts the ribbon.

	Lake Fong, Post-Gazette Pirates outfielder Jason Bay adds his autograph to the world's largest baseball during a ceremony to promote the All-Star FanFest outside of PNC Park in June. Click photo for larger image.

The first fans to hustle through the doors are a couple of young men who don't intend to break stride to talk to any of the media. They're on a mission.

I leave my post alongside the giant baseball just long enough to see where they're off to in such a hurry. Aaaah. They want to be the first ones in line at the Major League Baseball Legends area, where Hall of Famers and heroes from the past will be offering free autographs.

These guys must be serious collectors. Nuts to them. I'm here to interact with true baseball fans, not entrepreneurs solely interested in stocking their trophy cases.

I go back to the giant baseball.

This is nice. When you come to FanFest, I encourage you to bring your camera. Especially if you have kids.

The giant baseball is hugely popular. Mr. Dedig, Mr. Boatright and I take up positions around it, the instructions of our volunteer supervisor fresh in our minds.

No one touches the giant baseball, as tempting as that is. (I touched it, and I can tell you that you aren't missing anything.) No one signs the giant baseball. (Nothing spoils a giant baseball like someone scrawling "Kilroy was here.") And help with photos. Offer to take pictures of people standing in front of the giant baseball.

Oh, and smile. We have to smile. The people in the photos have to smile. Everyone at FanFest smiles.

But the smiles come easy. Heather Sachs and her mother, Kathy Sachs, came from Baltimore, sporting full Oriole regalia. That means they are wearing Orioles shirts, bright orange and black socks and pants, and two of the most outrageous, pin-covered ballcaps you've ever seen.

They're also wearing two huge smiles.

"We love FanFest," Heather says. "We've been coming to them every year since the one in Denver."

"That one wasn't very good," says Kathy, who will be celebrating her birthday Tuesday - the day of the All-Star Game. "But they get better every year. We wouldn't miss it."

Even though they see many of the same exhibits every year, they're excited to get inside the convention center. While some of the fans rush through the doors like children bursting down the steps on Christmas morning, the Sachses walk in more deliberately, letting the panorama of baseball wash over them. They seem to savor that first glimpse of it all.

There's so much to see, Kathy says. There's also a lot to do, but the Sachses will pass on the interactive exhibits.

"We leave that for the little kids," Kathy says.

Inside the magic (7/6/06)

"You know, I never got to bat in the major leagues. I would have liked to have had that chance. Just once. To stare down a big-league pitcher. To stare him down, and just as he goes into his windup -- wink. Make him think you know something he doesn't. That's what I wish for.

That's my wish. And is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?"

The answer to Moonlight Graham's question in the movie "Field of Dreams" is yes. It's here this weekend in Pittsburgh at All-Star FanFest, where fans of all ages get the chance to step into the batter's box to face life-size video images of Major League Baseball pitchers.

Or maybe you'd rather test your own pitching ability. Or perhaps you'd like to try to steal home. Or make a game-saving catch at the wall.

These are just a few of the interactive, hands-on experiences you can have at the FanFest, open at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center today through July 11.

It's baseball heaven. And that's just the leadoff spot.

There is memorabilia to see and buy. Instructions from real pros, autographs from real legends. Fantasy broadcasts and photographs. Even hot dogs.

The Post-Gazette is covering every aspect of All-Star Week here in Pittsburgh -- from the fans, to the All-Stars, to the volunteers who are going to pitch in to make it all happen.

That's where I'll be. Elbow-to-elbow with the Pittsburghers who are giving up their own time to help make sure others have a good time.

In the coming days, we'll be using this spot to share with you what it's like, from the outside AND the inside of FanFest. Look for updates from different fans at different attractions all through the days to come.

Now, where's that pine tar?