Superstitious Shenandoah: Handshakes, ugly shorts and stinky clothes keep Hornets relaxed in postseason play

By Jeremy Stafford -- jstafford@nvdaily.com

WINCHESTER -- Don't blink or you could miss it.

The handshake between Shenandoah outfielder Kevin Brashears and pitcher Matt Davis, a blur of one set of fingers slithering its way through the nooks and crannies of the other lasts only a moment, but it's a moment the two believe can provide the Hornets with a hint of magic for an entire inning.

Davis will go through about 10 handshakes, each with a different player, before the start of each game. But the blazing fast conglomeration of hands and fingers between he and Brashears occurs each time Brashears trots into the dugout from the field.

And while the players certainly understand that the plethora of handshakes has no real bearing on the outcome of a game, there's no denying that the routine provides some level of comfort and familiarity within the team.

"It's just like you've been there before," pitcher Gage Levac said. "We played yesterday, we did the exact same thing; you know you're going to go there today, you'll do the exact same thing, so nothing's changed.

"It just carries over and it eases the tension."

Tension could cripple a team during postseason play, but the Shenandoah Hornets, who will play Farmingdale State College in the opening round of the Division 3 World Series in Appleton, Wis., today, seem to have settled into a set of routines that could make even the most foreign of places feel like home.

In Salisbury, Md., as Shenandoah tore its way through the South Regional tournament last week, the Hornets made sure they ate at the same restaurant -- a local Italian place called Roma's -- went to bed at the same time, changed into their practice gear at same time, and wore the same clothes during warmups, clean or not.

"I didn't wash my stuff the entire time," catcher Scott Lambert said of his time in Salisbury. "I washed my uniform and my pants, but my underwear, my socks, my stirrups and my undershirt, I didn't wash that the entire time."

And when Hornets coach Kevin Anderson, so intent on making sure his team keeps up with its laundry, asked Lambert if he was going to wash his clothes, the catcher simply replied, "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna wash it."

He promptly threw his grimy clothes into his bag, which he hid in the undercarriage of the team's bus.

"No one wanted to change a thing," Lambert said. "We weren't doing anything different the entire time."

There's no latent magic hidden under that staunch aroma of Lambert's clothes, to be sure. But just in case there is, Lambert didn't want to be the one who washed it all away in some coin laundry, thus threatening the Hornets' unprecedented postseason run.

And in similar fashion, the rest of the Hornets keep the magic flowing in their own way, satiating their own superstitions and playing out their own routines.

Pitcher Josh Simons goes through the same stretches before each start, wears his unwashed socks on the same feet, and always warms up with assistant coach Taylor DuFrene.

Brashears keeps his same morning grooves intact during winning streaks, eating in the same way and at the same time, and often listening to the same song over and over again until the streak finally dies.

And pitcher Greg Van Sickler, who is so superstitious that he has to knock on wood each time he mentions Shenandoah's winning season, wears the same $2 shorts he bought at a local dollar store.

Van Sickler calls them his lucky shorts, a haggard concoction of glistening blue material with orange sails streaming up each leg, which he wears under his baseball pants during games and practices.

"I'm pretty superstitious, I hate to admit it but I am," Van Sickler said. "When I've got my shorts on and whatnot, and I've got everything I feel comfortable in, it just takes my mind off it a little bit and I play a little better."

And so, under the luminescent lights of Fox Cities Stadium in Appleton, robed in their rancid raiments and blurring their hands and fingers with those of their teammates, the Hornets will sit back in the dugout, breathe in the atmosphere of their home away from home, and let that magic that they know isn't there take over.

"There's so much failure in baseball you kind of have to think there's something else going on besides just your abilities," outfielder Jasen Eberz said. "So you have to believe in something that's a little bit bigger."