The Duck Commander Family Part 18

My involvement in Buck Commander has allowed me to do some pretty cool things. I go to baseball stadiums across the country to see my buddies play. I even held the finish line in the sausage race at Miller Park in Milwaukee. Earlier this year, I threw out the first pitch at a Louisiana-Monroe baseball game, which was cool to get to do at my alma mater. I was also invited to throw out the first pitch for the Mississippi Braves in Jackson, Mississippi, by my buddy Phillip Wellman, who managed them at the time. Wellman had the most cla.s.sic confrontation with an umpire ever, when he crawled around the field and threw fake grenades. I pick at him all the time about that, as I'm sure all his other buddies do. He's an awesome guy.

I got to take batting practice with the San Angelo Colts in San Angelo, Texas. It's a small independent team that Tombo was pitching for when he was trying to get himself back in shape to make another run at the majors. I thought I was going to die at that game because it was 112 degrees. I realized how hard those ball players work and what good shape they are in. I had fun though, and I chased the mascot down at the end of the game. I remember thinking, "I hope this is not a girl under the costume."

The Atlanta Braves have called me a couple of times. I thought I was going to get to throw out the first pitch at one of their games, which is something I've always wanted to do. But the marketing guy asked me to sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" during the seventh-inning stretch. When he said that, I could feel the blood rushing out of my body, and I panicked. The guy kept talking to me, and I finally said, "Wait a second, did you just say sing?"

Korie told me, "Oh, you can do it. You sing all the time."

"Not to forty thousand people!" I told her.

It was "Field and Reels Outdoorsman Night" at Turner Field, so I seemed like the right choice to sing, I guess. I must have done okay because they asked me back again the next year. After the song was over, I danced on the dugout while they played "Thank G.o.d I'm a Country Boy."

The Braves brought me back the next year to sing again, and right before the opening pitch, I partic.i.p.ated in a closest-to-the-pin golf contest with first baseman Ryan Klesko and infielder Brooks Conrad. Conrad hit his ball within about twelve feet, and Klesko hit his to about fifteen feet from the pin. I stood over my ball and could feel the blood leaving my body. I started thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. I had a vision of shanking the ball right into the dugout and knocking Braves pitcher Tim Hudson out for the season. Before I started to swing, I told myself, "Whatever you do, don't miss this ball!" Of course, my hips flew too fast and I pulled the ball. I crushed it to where the Arizona Diamondbacks were warming up-which was nowhere near the pin-and catcher Miguel Montero caught it. That was a little embarra.s.sing, but I thought it could have been a lot worse.

I STARTED THINKING ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG.

One time, I was meeting with my friend Lacey Biles with the National Rifle a.s.sociation in Washington, DC, and Adam was playing for the Arizona Diamondbacks. I went to the game with him and was on the field for batting practice. Stephen Strasburg was pitching for the Nationals, and I couldn't wait to see Adam hit against him. I jumped the fence right before the game and was sitting in a section of seats right behind home plate. An usher told me I couldn't sit there because I didn't have a ticket. While I was arguing with the usher and trying to explain that my friend Lacey from the NRA was not there yet and had my ticket, Adam took Strasburg deep for a home run. I only saw the ball in the air. I wanted to knock that usher's teeth out. He told me I had to stand up until my ticket arrived and to not eat the food that came with the ticket. I took some joy in knowing I had already eaten three times. A few innings later, troops of soldiers came to where I was standing. They were going out on the field to be honored. Someone recognized me and invited me to stand with them, which was a huge honor. Adam told me later he looked up and saw me on a JumboTron standing with our troops.

Conversely, when I was at a Philadelphia Phillies game one time, they threw my face on the JumboTron. I covered my face with a hat when I saw it, thinking it would be funny. Of course, the fans in Philadelphia booed me. "Show your face, you blankedy-blank!" they yelled at me. You gotta love the Philly fans; they booed Santa Claus and they booed me.

In 2008, I went to St. Paul, Minnesota, to meet with Kyle Tengwall from Federal Premium Ammunition. Kyle called me and told me they couldn't find me a hotel room because the convention was in town. "What convention?" I asked him. He told me it was the Republican National Convention.

"Let's go," I told Kyle.

"Willie, you can't just go," he said. "You have to be a delegate."

"Give me an hour," I told him.

Within one hour, I had a floor pa.s.s to the Republican National Convention, thanks to my good friend Rodney Alexander, my district's congressman. While I was on the floor, several people took pictures of me, and I was starting to think I'd become a pretty big deal. What I didn't realize was that I was standing next to Mitt Romney, who was the governor of Ma.s.sachusetts at the time. A few hours later my mom called me. "Willie, am I watching you on Fox News standing with Megyn Kelly?" she asked.

"Yep, who else looks like I do?" I told her.

She and Dad didn't even know I was at the convention. Kyle and I, along with Anthony Acitelli, or Ace as we call him, have had some cla.s.sic trips. We've played golf at Pebble Beach in California, attended the Masters golf tournament, and even played golf with PGA Tour pro Boo Weekley and Larry the Cable Guy. We were at the Masters, and my friend David Toms came over. Toms has hunted with us before, and we talked for like five minutes while he was playing the Masters! Kyle and I were cracking up at everybody's face looking at us. Right after Toms left, a guy ran up to me and asked, "Are you Gregg Allman [of the Allman Brothers Band]?" You can't make this stuff up.

Of all the crazy experiences, though, the one that really sticks out happened south of Nashville in a Walmart parking lot. My buddy Carter Smith and I took an RV to a hunting show. Carter dropped me off at Starbucks and went to Walmart for supplies. We planned to meet back at the RV. Now, if you've seen our RV, you know it has our pictures all over the side of it. I had a bag of stuff I'd bought and a cup of coffee. But when I got back to the RV, I realized Carter locked it and I was going to have to wait until he came back. I sat on the curb and waited. A guy pulled up to me and said, "Hey, man, you okay?"

"Yes, I'm good," I said, though I was a little confused.

"You need anything? Food or anything?" he asked.

Finally, I realized he thought I was homeless or just down-and-out. I'm sure my long, scraggly hair and beard were his clues. I just started smiling, and he finally looked over at our RV.

"Is that your picture on that RV?" he asked.

"Yep, I'm waiting on my driver," I said.

"I guess you are all right then," he replied.

I took no offense at his thinking I was homeless. He was a nice, kindhearted guy who thought I might be in a bad spot.

I guess no matter how big-time you think you are, there's always someone there to remind you that you're not too far off from looking like a homeless person, or maybe even one of the Allman brothers!

HE WAS A NICE, KINDHEARTED GUY WHO THOUGHT I MIGHT BE IN A BAD SPOT.

I've told you these stories not to say, "Look what I've done," but to say, "Look what G.o.d's done." I give Him all the glory. From being a kid who was on free lunches to today, a lot of good things have happened in my life. I've had a few tough times as well, but mostly I'm just happy to be here. I look around and think, "Wow, I'm eating the back strap off a monster deer that I killed in Kansas hunting with my best buddies." Life is good!

FRIED BACK STRAPS

This one is a simple one. Hard part is getting the meat, but that's also the most fun part. Back straps, for all you yuppies, are the back meat on the deer right along the spine. When cleaning a deer, it's the easiest part to cut off, so go ahead and do this the same day you harvest your deer. When my children find out I got a deer, they know I will be frying that night, no matter what time it is. If the deer is old or mature, you can add a step to make it very tender. 1 back strap

milk (enough to cover the meat)

a few shakes of Worcestershire or any meat marinade (we have our own)

2 eggs, beaten

2 cups flour

peanut oil (enough for 4 inches in the pot; make sure meat is covered)

Phil Robertson's Seasoning to taste 1. Cut back strap into thin steaks the width of your pinkie.

2. Mix milk and marinade and put in a plastic bag or bowl with back strap.

3. Put in fridge for an hour or two. (I shake up the bag during the process.)

4. Pull pieces out of bag or bowl and pat dry with paper towel.

5. Wash in egg.

6. Dip in flour.

7. Place in hot peanut oil; fry until brown.

8. Season with Phil Robertson's Cajun Style Seasoning as soon as it comes out of the grease

9. Taste. If it's good and tender, make your sauce (recipe follows), dip, and go ahead and eat. If tough, then do this: Stack in big black skillet with onion, mushrooms, garlic, and sausage if you're feeling sa.s.sy.

Put in oven at 300 for around 45 minutes. Should be very tender. My super-special, super-simple back strap sauce: 1 cup of mayonnaise

2 squirts of mustard

1 shake of Worcestershire

1 teaspoon of horseradish (or more if you want it spicy)

Simply mix these ingredients together to make the sauce.