In the late-1980s, Toronto Blue Jays' manager John Gibbons was a catcher in the Mets' minor-league system. He bumped an umpire, and was suspended for two games. He spent them in a box with three-time Cy Young-winner Tom Seaver, who was working as a roving instructor.
"I was a little bit in awe," Gibbons said. Seaver broke the action down while Gibbons sat there quietly. "I got a very different perspective on the game. Very cerebral."
He doesn't remember a whole lot about it. He had things besides the bucolic splendour of the national pastime on his mind.
Nearly 30 years later, he enjoyed his second involuntary baseball vacation on Tuesday. Gibbons was suspended for a single game after weekend shenanigans with the Kansas City Royals.
This felt a little different.
Per major-league rules, Gibbons was not allowed in the Jays' clubhouse during the game. He watched from Suite 332 at the Rogers Centre, behind and just a bit to the right of home plate.
The first thing that struck him as he sat down: memories of going to games with his dad.
Gibbons was raised in Texas. The pair would go to see the Astros when they lived in Houston, and occasionally drive four hours to see them play the Rangers in Arlington. Those were his first big-league road trips.
When he was a teenager in San Antonio, Gibbons would go by himself to the watch local Double-A team – a Dodgers farm club. He can still list off the future stars he saw come through there – Fernando Valenzuela, Steve Howe, Mike Scioscia, Orel Hershiser.
The second thing that hit him up in the plush seats on Tuesday – the vantage.
"I guarantee you the game gets easier the farther away you get from the field. That is a fact," Gibbons said. "Up there, you see the whole field. You see where guys are positioned."
A couple of foul balls ended up in his vicinity. Sitting in his office a day later, Gibbons wondered if he could've caught one. He might've even kept it.
He was watching along with a few veteran Jays' hands – travel co-ordinator Mike Shaw and team advisor Herb Solway.
Did he resist the urge to critique?
"We threw a few things around," Gibbons said. "There's no pressure up there. I don't have to worry about screwing up any decisions."
There wasn't much need for second-guessing. His team played a largely error-free game, and never looked like losing. So Gibbons got to play the fan.
For a long time now, that luxury has been reserved for October: "When I go home at the end of the season, I'll turn on the playoffs and watch."
Are you a screamer?
"Oh, no. I'm pretty quiet."
Occasionally, one of his sons will ask what he would've done in this or that situation.
"I suppose I'm a typical coach. I'll think, 'I might've done this different there. Second-guess them a little bit.' And then I'll think, 'Maybe I shouldn't be questioning a guy who got into the playoffs.'"
And then he winks.
Another thing Gibbons doesn't often think about that hit him was the crowd. The dugout muffles noise, and acts as architectural blinder focusing all your attention on the field. Suddenly, everyone else in the Rogers Centre just sort of appeared, turning Gibbons even more philosophical than usual.
"You see all the people working behind the scenes, taking care of the customers," he said. "Then you see the crowd itself. Some of them may not go to a lot of games, so it's a big deal for them. We take so much for granted in this job. It's another day at the office for us. It's a lot more than that for everyone else.
"You can't see the balls and strikes. You start to understand how fans can get so worked up when they think the home plate umpire's missed a call. Because it's really hard to tell. The farther you are away, the more perspective you have, and a maybe a little bit the other way, if you know what I mean.
"Up there, with some distance between yourself and the field, you can appreciate the beauty of the game. It's very cool. Every one of us should have to do it once in a while."
Whenever Gibbons is trying to put his corner of the baseball world in perspective, he'll tell you that while he knows he has an important job, it's still just a job. Some day, he won't get the chance to do it any more. He's one of the very few you believe when he says he's okay with that idea.
More than most, he enjoys the moment (which is to say – not that much).
One of the nice ancillaries in the job is a chance to expose his kids to the big leagues, in a very different way than his own father was able to. They are frequently in and around the clubhouse.
His youngest son Kyle is occasionally out on the field in a practice uniform, taking ground balls before the pros come out to stretch.
"The players have been great to him over the years," Gibbons said. "They've given him signed balls. Some guys have given him gloves and shoes. He'll get a picture with someone and fire it out on … whatsit? … Instagram. All his friends back home go nuts.
"I think, 'He's got no idea how lucky he's got it.' It's not a big thing to him. Some day he'll understand it.
"That's a more extreme example than mine. But sitting up there last night, I got a real appreciation for my profession. For how lucky I am."