Courtesy of Featherheads.com − A look back on Richardson's Saturday night of April 18, 2009

I can see you
Your brown skin shinin' in the sun
I see you walkin' real slow and you're smilin' at everyone
I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone

Uptempo dance music blared throughout the University of Florida's auditorium.  The disco ball was in full effect along with a spattering of multicolor lights.  

Nearby the auditorium stage, a lady spoke enthusiastically into a microphone.  "And sold!  Sold for 250 to the lady in the back of the room in the emerald dress!"

Loud cheers and whistle cries reverberated throughout the auditorium.  Meanwhile the lady in the emerald dress high-fived her friends in jubilance.

"Florida Gator girls, now do we have a treat for you!  We're only in April, but this next eligible bachelor is definitely one of the boys of summer!  Next up we have a Virgo!  He's 25 years old!  He stands at an even 6 feet!  He swings a mean bat!  The ladies dig his moustache!  He is Mr. Florida Baseball!  He is none other than Mark Richardson of the Florida Featherheads!"

Rather than being true to his nickname of "Ice Cold", Richardson meekly walked out from behind the curtain to appear in front of the crowd.  Richardson's ensemble fully represented the Florida Featherheads' team colors.  His tuxedo was in a retro light blue with matching bowtie.  His cufflinks were red-colored in the shape of the Featherhead logo.

Normally cool and confident, Richardson's forehead and palms perspired profusely.  The last time Richardson was this uncomfortable must have been when he faced Dean O'Monahan's screwball with an 0-2 count.

Although extremely nervous, Richardson was still able to pick out faces from the crowd.  His eyes stared down at the front of the crowd in the direction of none other than fellow Florida Featherhead Miguel Soto.  Now true to his nickname, Richardson delivered a menacing cold stare to Soto.  Soto winked and gave two thumbs up in return.

"This is all your fault," the angered Richardson whispered inaudibly in the direction of Miguel Soto.

With two ladies draped all over him, Soto pointed to his ears and shook his head.  "You go get 'em, tiger!" Soto shouted back with a pump fist.  His attention quickly reverted back to the two ladies on each of his arms.  The sight of the joyful Soto mingling amongst the crowd only drove Richardson to deeper disdain.

Back in front of the stage, the auctioneer continued to psyche up the crowd for the pending bid of Mark Richardson.

"Now folks, as you know this is going for a great cause!  Tonight's charity date auction is to help raise funds for Feeding America!  That's right Gators!  All proceeds will be donated to help end hunger!"

"Whooooo!" the crowd cheered.

"So ladies, let's put in your bids for Mark Richardson!  Mr. Richardson was so kind enough to volunteer himself to this great cause!"

Volunteer was far from the right word of choice.  This was Miguel Soto's idea all along.  A ladies' man, Soto wanted to spread the love to his new teammates.  Apparently, Soto's best idea of meeting women for the single Richardson is through a dating auction.  Well, at least this was going for a good cause.

"He even missed last night's game just to prep himself for this event!" the auctioneer boasted.  "He even has to catch a flight later to fly to New Orleans, but yet he is here late tonight in Gainesville for charity!  What a guy!"

"So do I hear 100?  100!  Do I hear 200?  200 dollars to the lady in the black dress!  Do I hear 300?!  300 dollars!  400?  Do we have 400?  We have 400 from the lady in the blue dress!"

"700 dollars!" a lady in the back of the auditorium screamed.

"We have 700 dollars! We have 700 dollars going once… going tw…"

"1,000 dollars!" the same lady in the blue dress offered.

"We have 1,000 dollars!  The biggest bid of the night so far!  Do we have 1,100?  We have 1,000 going once… going…"

"1,600!" yelled the lady in the back.

"Do we have 1,700?" the auctioneer clamored while staring at the blue dress lady in anticipation of a bid.

Apparently at her limit, the lady in blue dejectedly placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.

"1,600!  We have 1,600 in the back!  Going once!  Going twice!  Sold!  Sold to the lady in back!  Come on down and claim your prize!"

The crowd veered their heads toward the back of room trying to catch a glimpse of the winner.  To their surprise, a lady past her 50s meandered her way to the stage.

Soto was the first to catch a glimpse of the winning bidder.  Soto's mouth immediately dropped to the floor in either shock or disgust.  Or perhaps it was both.  The mere visual image sent chills to Soto's spine and down his arm.  Spitting out his drink, Soto's numbed hands dropped his glass cup, shattering it onto the floor.

Amazingly enough, the shattering sound of glass did nothing to draw the crowd's bewildered attention away from the lady.  She made her way onto the stage and grabbed the mic away from the auctioneer.

"This is even better than bingo night!" the old lady exclaimed with excitement.  She stared at Richardson and pinched his cheeks.  "You're coming home with me, sonny!"

Speechless.  Simply speechless.  Rather than any word, Richardson's face told the whole story.  He looked like he just saw a ghost.  He was more shocked than the time Aurora teammates saw Naoaki Kichida belted a homerun into the bleachers.

Richardson's facial expression was worth more than any word could describe.  It was worth at least a thousand words − if not more.

Featherheads.com