Games remaining: 0
September 18: Great American Ballpark -- Cincinnati, OH
Milwaukee 8
Cincinnati 1
(More on that point will follow in a more appropriate area of the blog.)
On 'The Games' page it is my intent to write about, yes, the games. But what if a particularly cloudy and cool Sunday afternoon on the banks of the Ohio River doesn't really provide much of a game to write about? Should I still bang out a couple of paragraphs about how the fans started heading for the exits in the third inning because the Reds never showed up? No. Instead, I'd like to share a portion of a post-game email exchange with Tim.
Tim and his girlfriend Joy were on their way home to Columbus from a vacation in Kentucky. Thankfully they decided to spend their Sunday with me and we joined up at a bar across from the stadium just as the game was starting. We didn't get to our seats until the third inning. By that time the game was already 7-0, Brewers on top and in control. We spent our time competitively drinking beer and fitting the most nachos possible into our mouths (jalapenos too). The game was a bore, but the company was not:
Steve to Tim:
Sometimes it all comes together in a flash. One flash. Like a PJ Harvey note. Sometimes there are multiple parts to the crazy shit. One composition though. Cuisinart Pyotr Ilich and Mr. Mojo Risin and what do you get? I propose you and Joy in Cincinnati, as the sun goes down, with lots of jenga and zen (zenga) swirling admist Kowalskian longings for a girl in San Francisco and a wish for semblance: survival mode. Of course this scene is, as Jim would like it, fueled by alcohol.
I can't really believe the summer I had. When I saw you two, I'm not sure I really knew what was going on (or where I was). I was pretty well steeped in it then. Interestingly, balling up and sliding down the side of the hill before looking back does a great deal of changing the way things can appear. It has for my trip anyway.
I'm looking back now. I'm really happy that I ran into you guys when I did. Looking at these pictures not only makes me smile, but reminds me of how perfectly you fit into the happenings. Our time was a summit among many, but it was a summit surely. Thank you.
Tim to Steve:
Earlier this week, Monday afternoon to be specific, I lamented the status of thank-you-letter-writing. It's a craft I'd like to actively cultivate over the years, and like an old set of bones that takes his weathered hands to the basement shop, so too do I want to turn letters on a lathe: slowly spinning them over and over until there is a steep smoothness, with no more flourish than functionality will permit. My lament was that it's difficult to practice at times when there isn't a supporting culture; a dearth of examples and exigencies leads to stagnant writing.
This is the best thank you letter I have received this year. It is, as the kids say, my speed.
At the risk of starting a vicious cycle, I want to say thanks for your thanks, as it meant a lot to me and Joy:
Mange Tak.
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| Tim and Joy |
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| The Tenth Inning (of a nine inning game) |
September 16: Kauffman Stadium -- Kansas City, MO
Chicago 6
Kansas City 7
Kansas City's Kauffman Stadium is truly one of baseball's forgotten treasures. When I say forgotten I mean that I never hear it mentioned as one of the great ballparks. Because of the nature of my trip, I frequently find myself in conversations about the best places to watch a baseball game. Fans from all three timezones invariably list the same few: Wrigley, Fenway, "that new Giants Park", Camden Yards, and PNC in Pittsburgh is even mentioned from time to time. Always, I am the one to bring up Kauffman. While responses to my mention of the stadium include "Huh?" and "Oh, the one with the water?", "I forgot about that one" is what I hear most.The Royals' palace isn't totally forgotten though. Following massive renovations, MLB has decided to hold their annual midsummer classic, the All-Star Game, there in 2012. For the first time since 1985 the rest of the baseball world will get to turn their collective focus towards Kansas City, if only for a couple of days. Back then it was because the upstart Royals, behind the dominant pitching of a 21 year-old named Bret Saberhagen and the artful swing of George Brett, took the American League by storm. Eventually they defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in the great Missouri showdown of '85, when Kauffman was only 12 years old and carpeted with astroturf like almost every other stadium of the time.
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| George Brett: The Greatest of the Royals |
Kauffman opened in 1973 and was the only stadium built during that decade (or the next) that was devoted entirely to the sport of baseball. Other cookie cutters (Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Cincinnati, Philadelphia), domes (Houston, Minnesota, Seattle) and stadiums (San Francisco, Oakland, Cleveland, Baltimore) were multi-sport, multi-purpose facilities. Kaffman and Dodger stadium remained the two baseball-only stadiums built from 1966 until Oriole Park at Camden Yards was built in Baltimore in 1992. It is high time for the baby blue and their 38 year-old jewel of a park to be back on center stage.
I've had the pleasure of making it to Kauffman twice now. A couple of years ago my friend Jack and I, rekindling the flames of past baseball road trips, visited Kansas City (along with St. Louis, Peoria and Chicago). We filled our bellies with barbeque and watched the cross-state Cardinals, in front of more redshirts than blue, smoke the Royals. It'd be easy to reflect and light the memory of that inter-Mizzou ass-whipping or the disgraceful outnumbering of St. Louis loyalists to Royals' rooters in their home park as the most memorable candles of recollection from that game. But I don't. What I remember best is the beautiful stadium. I was excited to see it again; to see if it's glaze still shined under a second scrutiny or if it cracked and cooled outside the kiln of my memory.
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| Approaching the stadium on foot |
My strongest recalled feeling from that previous game was that Jack and I were in a park -- an actual park, with green grass, rolling hills, trees, birds singing, and waterfalls. It just happened to be a park with a kick-ass baseball field and was the job site for professional ballplayers. Although the stadium can be seen from Interstate 70, I never noticed that a major highway was in such close proximity. Usually a hugely trafficked road generates a mental siffness in me. It's like I'm braced for the battle that is inevitably occurring minute after minute between drivers, regardless of my involvement. Strangely I felt only serenity. Genuinely I did, and by association that serenity naturally plays a role in my recollected feelings of being in a park.
Although I really like the futuristic shape and construction of the grandstands (the lightline slopes down and around while the roof juts out, encompassing the upper level so it looks like a giant pod out of 2001: A Space Odyssey), the outfield fountains are the most noticeable detail. They're a successfully unique ballpark aspect; colorful, tasteful, elegant, and calming. The sound of falling water is surely the most likely reason for my tranquil rememberances. I'm sure on a warm and windy night outfield goers are treated to frequent cool downs. I'd like to sit out there for one of those games, but would shy away on a night like the night I saw the Royals beat the White Sox.
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| The view (looking left) from HAL's seat |
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| The Royals take the field |
At this point in the season both Kansas City and Chicago are jockeying for position in the middle of the AL Central. Through the cold and mist, playing for pride (and a nicely sized paycheck), the hometown boys pulled out a thrilling walk-off victory. I witnessed three different games in one. I started in my $10 street-bought ticket down the left-field line. It wasn't a bad seat, but the rain forced me to move under the Kubrickian canopy in the second inning. I propped myself up in the Uecker seats behind home plate and it was from there that I watched the Royals, with good hitting from Mike Moustakas ("Moooose") and Jeff Francouer, build a strong lead. Then in the seventh inning I moved down to the first level at my own propulsion and stayed put, between home and third, only to see that lead disappear setting up an exciting finale. I enjoyed taking the game in from several perspectives and encountered different types of fans in each section.
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| A between inning view from up top |
Up top were both die hards and families. Both groups usually pay attention to the Royals on television and in the newspapers, making it out to the games once in a while. Although Kansas City's tickets are relatively affordable, a lot of fans still have to watch the pocketbook and can't afford the more expensive seats down low. This is true in every stadium, but that doesn't prevent the good folks in the nosebleeds from cheering runs scored, big outs, defensive gems and a strong pitching effort. The Royals' upper-deckers have a lot to say, not always to each other, but to the general mass of fans sequestered within earshot. I'm happy to report that they announce the good with more energy than they boo the bad. Perhaps they are respectful fans. Perhaps they are beaten down by years and years of losing seasons. Regardless of their emotional state, I enjoyed watching working class families and dyed-in-the-baby-blue-wool Royals followers having fun and cheering on their new heroes: Eric Hosmer, Mike Moustakas and Alex Gordon.
Down low were the die hards were intermingled with the listless. This is where you find the season-ticket holders and families with money. Although these seats are closer to the action, I found that many people here tended to pay less attention to the game. At first I thought it was just because I had chosen to hang out in the lower level towards the end of the game causing the children's attention spans were shot. But it was nail biter! Everybody (many were) should have been on the edge of their seats. Why were these families more concerned with the inflatable balls dancing on top of the crowd from surprised/irritated fan to another?
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| Paul Konerko and the White Sox threaten |
Well, if that's true it didn't work for long. Ignited by an Alex Gordon leadoff single, the Royals mounted a rally in the bottom of the ninth. And with all the fans on their feet, Eric Hosmer delivered a double that scored Gordon from second base, winning the game for Kansas City. The team mobbed the rookie in the middle of the field for his game-winning heroics. Those fans who stayed through the cold, wet weather were rewarded with a fantastic finish to a damn good game. This was one of the best finishes to one of the best games I've seen in one of the best ballparks. I won't soon forget it.
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| Everybody (but the White Sox) celebrates |
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| Hosmer gets mobbed |
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| Hosmer's post-game interview on the big board |
Cleveland 4 Cleveland 1
Texas 10 Texas 9
It ironically occurs to me that the only other time I saw Texas play was back in July when they were shut out 1-0 by Jered Weaver of the L.A. Angels. Here I am talking about how the Rangers are a team of fantastic hitters, when I haven't even seen them score a run. A baseball truth is that good pitching always beats good hitting. Jered Weaver is an incredibly talented pitcher and it is only a pitcher that is in possession of such talent that could blank this Texas lineup. The Rangers were welcoming the scuffling Cleveland Indians to town and this season the tribe hasn't a pitcher that falls into the category of incredibly talented. But the Indians can hit the ball pretty well too, so I was excited to drink some beers with my old friend Josh, sit back and watch some offense.
Before I could sit back, however, I had to get my panoramic picture from the top of the stadium, behind home plate. I started doing this because that's the exact spot my dad and I sat for the all-star game and I thought it would be a good idea to get a picture of all 30 parks from that same perspective. Along with taking a pregame lap around the parks and through their concourses, this has become a ritual for me and at every park I look forward to racing up the stairs (I always take the stairs because exercise has been hard to come by, but hot dogs and beer haven't), finding my spot and snapping the photo.
Texas, you see, has a different way of doing things. I think we all know our own version of the Texas mentality and how you ain't supposed to mess with it. I've always wondered what happens if one does, in fact, mess with Texas and I'd always assumed that it would involve guns. My trip to the top of the Ballpark in Arlington saw shots fired on two occasions. The first round were just verbal and came in an exchange between yours truly and several ballpark ambassadors, or as I'll refer to them, hall monitors. Like I do in every park, I breezed around the concourse seeking a set of stairs to climb to the upper level of the stadium. Unable to find any actual stairs I resorted to the next best thing and charged up the escalator. Deep in the heart of Texas, this bastion of rugged individualism where guns must be pried from cold dead hands and governmental regulation is an evil last resort, I was told by two people whose job it is to sit in a chair and look at the escalator to "please refrain from moving while on the escalator." "You've got to be kidding me. Right?" "Nope, please don't walk and face forward." "Like it's a goddamn rollercoaster? I can see reprimanding a child, but I'm an adult. Do you treat all adults like children? Why the hell can't I walk on the escalator? Its just moving stairs." "Sir, please do as your told." I was shocked. Seriously. I know its no big deal, but I couldn't believe it. I wanted to pontificate about Texas obesity rates, but I also didn't want to mess around with Texas. I had a picture to take and baseball to watch.
The second shots were fired as soon as I snapped my top of the stadium photo. David Murphy had launched a bomb to right field and in celebration the Ranger organization launched a few bombs of their own high above center field. That picture, bombs and all, can be seen at the top of this post.
I made it back to the seats without any further incidents and settled in with Josh and his friends to watch the rest of the game. One of his friends was attending his first ballgame ever. I've had the opportunity to take in a couple games with a first timer. It's an experience I enjoy. It allows me to see the game fresh. I wonder what the whole experience looks like to a pair of new eyes and I like the thoughts this wonderment provokes. Because of this I've decided that after my tour, when I rank all of the ballparks from 1 to 30, my criteria will be: which park would I want to take somebody that knows nothing of baseball and has never seen a game?
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| Josh (middle with the Texas hat) and friends |
Texas' stadium will be in the upper half of that list. It's a beautiful field and (besides the zealous escalator enforcement) stays true to the spirit of the lonestar state. Often times between innings I found myself marking the contrasts to other ballparks like Yankee stadium. While bulging bellies belied brass belt buckles to boast about stars at night being big and bright (clap, clap, clap, clap), I noted that New York really doesn't have everything. Sure they may have the tradition of twenty-seven championships on their side, but can they whistle?
It was in this relaxed and playful state of mind that I watched the Rangers beat the pants off the Indians, 10-4. I knew they had a good offense and I wasn't disappointed. Much to my delight -- and the delight of every lonestar Linda and shit-grinned Shelby -- Texas cracked four total home runs. They were a fun team to watch. I enjoyed seeing runners constantly circling the bases, long balls launched left and right, and the fans rejoicing. The evening was so enjoyable that I went back for more the next night, expecting to see another offensive explosion.
The problem with this plan was that we got to the park too late and the Rangers weren't waiting around. I hadn't seen Josh in a few years, you see. We shared memorable experiences, working together by day and taking over Crested Butte at night, and in revisiting those days over enchiladas and margaritas we fell a little behind schedule. By the time we got to the stadium the Rangers were already ahead 4-0. Josh and I made our way to the upper level (without taking the escalator), purchased a couple beers, and ducked into the john. While expelling some margaritas, Josh and I heard the crowd roar and the radio broadcast pumped into the bathroom told us that Josh Hamilton had just hit a grand slam. As our asses touched the seats the score was Texas 8 and Cleveland 0. Well, might as well drink a few more beers, eh? The final score ended up being 9-1. We knew it was over when we sat down, but it didn't matter. Being at a ballpark on a nice summer night with good company is mostly what going to a game is all about anyway.
The stars at night are big and bright (clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The prairie sky is wide and high
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| With the Ryan Express |
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The sage in bloom is like perfume
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
Reminds me of the one I love
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The coyotes wail along the trail
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The rabbits rush around the brush
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The cowboys cry, "Ki-yip-pee-yi"
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
The doggies bawl and bawl and bawl
(clap, clap, clap, clap),
Deep in the heart of Texas.
September 12: Minute Maid Park -- Houston, TX
Philadelphia 1
Houston 5
Over the course of the last six games I had seen the home team win them all. I knew that streak was in serious jeopardy in Houston. Apart from that bit of meaningless anticipation was the return of former Astros Roy Oswalt and Hunter Pence. These guys are great players that, in one of major league baseball's strange aspects of doing business, were traded away from the struggling Astros to the dominating Phillies. Adding humidity to the heat was that the starting pitcher for the Astros was Brett Myers, a former Phillie pitcher. Close that roof, crank the air conditioning, and play some "let's prove we're trade worthy" baseball!
The Phillies, as expected took the early lead in the second inning after Raul Ibanez doubled and then scored on a Pete Orr single. Surely there was more to come. Everyone in the stadium seemed to sense it. Most of the fans were there to see their former favorite players now playing for the league's bully. Watching Philadelphia stake Oswalt to an early lead surprised nobody.
The surprise came later and drew itself out for the remainder of the game. Brett Myers silenced the dangerous Phillies' bats. After the second inning there were no more Phillies' runs to be had. While shutting the door on the Phillies' offense, the Astros finally got to Oswalt in the fourth inning -- scoring a couple and taking a 2-1 lead. The next inning El Caballo (Carlos Lee) smoked a two-run home run and the Astros ended up winning 5-1. I enjoyed watching the Phillies go down at the hands of the lowly Astros, but what I enjoyed most was how it was accomplished.
Brett Myers and Carlos Lee are players that have seen success over their time in the bigs. I'm impressed by anybody that can make a career out of playing in the majors, and all those that do are damn good baseball players. Myers and Lee are very talented, damn good ballplayers. But their talent is not what impressed me tonight. I liked their style. The game didn't really mean anything in the grand scheme of the Astros' waning season, but they still brought their best to the park -- showing all the paying fans that they are still capable of winning ballgames. It's no question that Myers and Lee are on the tail end of their playing days, but they are still good enough to defeat the best team in the game on a given day and put on a hell of a good show.
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| Victorious Astros congratulating one another |
September 11: New Busch Stadium -- St. Louis, MO
Atlanta 3
St. Louis 6
At first glance the stadium's red seats jump out at you. I liked the color and it matched well with every person that passed through the gates into the stadium. St. Louis is die hard for its Cardinals. I'm pretty sure that every kid is born into a redbirds' towel or blanket. They come out in droves to cheer their beloved Cardinals and its hard to imagine a city more supportive of its major league baseball team.
This rabid loyalty also lends itself to opportunities for swelled hope. Although they are not officially eliminated from the hunt, St. Louis is not going to the playoffs this year. By looking and listening to the fans in the stadium it'd be hard to tell. They were adorable the way they clung to post-season hopes, watching and rooting for their team. While they carefully observed the happenings on the field with one eye, they kept their other eye on the out of town scoreboard, jeering the Milwaukee Brewers. I'm sorry to break you the bad news St. Louis, but not this year.
The razor-thin chance of making it into October baseball didn't seem to affect the Cardinal players too much. Atlanta's ace pitcher, Tim Hudson, was on the mound and it didn't matter. Hitters like Yadier Molina and John Jay had very good days at the plate, staking the Cardinals to a five-run lead in the third inning. Atlanta will be going to the playoffs, but this weekend it was St. Louis that was the better team as they swept the Braves to keep hope alive.
I liked the stadium and I'm sure if you ask any baseball fan in St. Louis they'll tell you its the best in the bigs. I don't agree with that, but it is a nice, large stadium. There is a lot of brickwork throughout and adds to the feeling of enormity. St. Louis is well-deserving of a shrine to the game. A game that they've played so well over the years. But if you take away the red seats it'd remind me a lot of Detroit's Comerica Park. One of the major differences being that in Detroit they designed a huge outfield which allows for many triples and outstanding opportunities to show off outfield defense. St. Louis' dimensions are very normal and nothing unique really jumps out at you. I understand that understated charm of no gimmicks, but I like the outfield irregularities that distinguishes one park from the next.
Overall I had a very nice time on the 10th Anniversary of 9/11, watching Albert Pujols catch the ceremonial first pitch from a woman that was in the towers when they were struck and managed to survive. I also enjoyed the choirs of school children that sang "God Bless America", "The Star Spangled Banner", and "Take Me Out To The Ballgame." Another nice touch was how the fans showed more support for our soldiers than anything the Cardinals did on the field that day.
September 9: Comerica Park -- Detroit, MI
Minnesota 4
Detroit 8
Jay helped put it all together and bought tickets for the others: Jason, Tyler, Brandon, Ryan, Cory, Adam, Lane, Chase, and my dad. It looked like we might not be able to watch some baseball at first. The area had been soaking in the remnants of Tropical Storm Lee for five or six days and as my Aunt Robin, my dad and I finished our dinner we realized that the rain was falling faster than the Boston Red Sox's standing in the A.L. East. My dad and I took our time arriving and met the group just outside the park, just as the rains were letting up. It sure was nice to see everyone.
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| Larry and Robin at dinner |
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| Jason waits to order a drink |
The tarp still covered the field as we ascended the escalator to the top level. We ducked into the bar, it was probably called the Tiger Den (what else would you call it), but I can't say for sure. Before Brandon had even placed a drink in my hand the stories and laughs had started. The newly married Jason and my dad talked about how to have a successful marriage. I recall one piece of advice being to own at least two television sets. Jay, married last year to the beautiful Holly, let me know that the two lovebirds were expecting a child. Brandon talked to Tyler and I about how Adam was givin him shit for a mass email that he wrote preceding the game. I mentioned to them that I had enjoyed it and suggested that I put in on the blog which was met with enthusiasm. So,without any further explanation I give you the words of the biggest Tigers' fan I know:
Dear Slut Bungs,
I will most likely be driving there myself as I do not care to be seen on public roads with any of you flea-ridden Mary Jane Rotten Crotches. I will be in full Minnesota Twins regalia while wearing my authentic Jim Thome beer gut (sux he got traded), and will distance myself from you the entire game. I will only make exception to this while berating and heckling you as megastar Trevor Plouffe crushes Tiger pitching and Jose Mijares makes the vastly overrated Miguel Cabrera wear the golden sombrero.
Begrudgingly yours,
Reginald Theobald Bursley IV, Esq.
The groundscrew steadily made the infield suitable for play and we made our way to our seats. I sat in between my dad and Jason for most of the game. Dad and I talked about happenings on the field while a variety of other topics floated around the top of Section 338. Notable among these topics: "If you were a ballplayer, what music would you want played as you went to the plate?"; Matt Kemp vs. Ryan Braun for NL MVP; and "What's the deal with this girl Kowalski?".
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| Renergized by Jason, Tyler, and Brandon |
The Tigers came roaring back after Brad Penny's bad start and even Penny himself ended up playinng pretty well. This team can hit the hell out of the ball and up and down the batting order they appeared hardly able contain themselves waiting to get a shot at Minnesota pitcher Kevin Slowey. Even the outs came from huge, Ruthian swings. It was the first time on my trip where nobody seemed worried, the players or the fans, that the home team was facing a large defecit. By the end of the fourth inning the lead was theirs 6-4.
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| Left to right: Brandon, my dad, Tyler, Jay, Jason, Me, Ryan, Cory, Adam (photo by Lane, Chase not pictured) |
The guys and I kicked back to enjoy the rest of the game. We even had friends from the west coast join in, commenting on pictures that had been posted to facebook. One of those jokers was Blue Derkin whom I stayed with in L.A. and took in a Dodgers' game. Another topic surfaced, the changes in our day-to-day lives thanks to technology. It was during this stream of conversation that I Jay and Jason started taking panoramic shots of the stadium using an application that links multiple pictures together.
Much to the amusement of Adam's stepsons, the seventh-inning stretch came and fired up the fans enough to get the wave going. Tigers' fans were confident in their team's ability to close out the last place Twins. The wave went round and round only ceasing because of a good play by Brandon Inge at third base.
It was nearing the end of the game now and the Minnesota was running out of outs. My dad and I continued to chat now moving on to the subject of purity and how it's not all it's cracked up to be. As Jose Valverde, Papa Grande, rumbled, kicked, and danced his way to the mound we even found time to discuss the romantic nature of nostalgia and Woody Allen movies.
Valverde closed it out and the Tigers were victorious for the seventh straight time. They went on to win five more in a row and are poised to take on the beasts of the east, New York and Boston, for the right to represent the American League in the World Series. I hope they make it. It'd be fun to see the Tigers and Justin Verlander taking on the best team from the National League. I'd also like knowing that my friends are there, rooting them on and maybe, like with me, keeping each other from getting too tired to enjoy it. Thanks boys, I had a hell of a good time.
September 8: U.S. Cellular Field -- Chicago, IL
Cleveland 1
Chicago 8
I gobbled a buffalo chicken burrito at Union Station, dashed down Jackson to State Street and boarded the red line southbound for the ballpark. I arrived just about the same time Gavin Floyd delivered the first pitch to Cleveland's Grady Sizemore. From my understanding it was a strike. I was occupied meeting my old friend Kevin at the Bacardi bar attached to the outside of the stadium after I stepped off the train. He handed me a beer and a ticket and in contrast to the southside weather we exchanged a warm, dry greeting.
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| From the L platform |
The game was tight and extremely competitive for the first six and a half innings. Then , in the bottom of the seventh inning the White Sox struck for seven runs on two home runs. The first was a three run homer by Brent Morel off of fragile Frankie Hermann, Morel's second homerun of the game. Four batters later the amazing Paul Konerko connected for the first grand slam of the tour, prompting me to lean in to Kevin and say that if Konerko was a Yankee he'd be a superstar. It's true. He would be a pinstriped legend, but he plays for the White Sox and people that don't really follow baseball ahve never heard of him. Kevin, the former Cleveland resident didn't seem to care too much as he took off his 20 year old Indians' cap to smooth his hair before placing the hat atop his head again. Or maybe it was how I, with arms raised and attempting to be heard over the explosions of fireworks shooting from the centerfield scoreboard, bellowed "Graaand Slaam!!!" over and over that kept my friend from remarking.
Thanks to Kevin my ticket to the game, two beers, a hot dog and some nachos were paid for. We watched most of the game, eating our food and drinking our beers, sheltered from the rains near the top rows of the upper deck. Even though the game turned out to be a lopsided contest we had a good time catching up, reliving old stories, telling new ones and just sitting at the ballpark.
September 7: Target Field -- Minneapolis, MN
Chicago 4
Minnesota 5
My friend Jack and I had made a baseball pilgrmage about ten years ago to Wrigley Field, Iowa's Field of Dream (it really exists and Jack hit one in the corn), and the home of the Minnesota Twins at that time: The Metrodome. We ate pizza topped with potato chips, stayed near "the clinic", got sick on Hardees, bought STP albums and watched baseball. Last summer was this first season for Minnesota's Target Field. It was also last summer that this new field sparked an interest in me that proved to be the genesis for this whole tour of mine. We talked about revisiting our trip to the upper midwest and that's where I got the idea to do it by train. Although that summer's trip never panned out for us the seed was planted, though I didn't recognize it but subconciously. I say that because I didn't really remember those plans until I was on the train in Wisconsin making my way to the new ballpark.I arrived in Minnesota missing my friend, excited to be doing something I've wanted to do for over a year, and fully prepared to root for the Twins. It's no secret to baseball lovers that the Twins have had a hard season. These perpetual underdogs have made a history for themselves over the past 20 years defying odds and expectations by competing with the big money franchises like the Yankees and Red Sox. Somehow, year after year the Twins are a team to be reckoned with. Well, every year but this year. Their superstar players, Joe Mauer and Justin Morneau, have been injured for much of the season, and excepting for a run great run in the middle of the season, have performed far below the level fans have come to expect from them.
So it came as a very pleasant surprise to me to see a full Target Field. It was September after all and most teams that are in last place have stopped drawing fans to the park months ago. I saw a game in July in Oakland and only a few people were there. Recently my mom and I took in a Florida Marlins' game where I'm pretty sure we could've counted the number of spectators. This was not the case in Minneapolis. Every section was filled with pinstriped Mauer jerseys and red-billed ballcaps fronted by the traditional "T" overlapping an oblong "C" representing the "twin cities."
It was a wonderful night for a ballgame: warm, slightly breezy, indigo. I had dinner outside with my Aunt Margo and Uncle Charlie at the Green Mill beforehand. I enjoyed my walleye (evidently Al Franken orders it there every Friday), the comfortable surroundings and the conversation so much that I had to be reminded that we were going to a baseball game. I strolled into Target Field next to Margo in this same state of mind and under the same conditions: warm, slightly breezy, indigo.
We took the game in from three mid-level seats directly behind home plate. I love watching a game from up there and I loved watching it even more with my Aunt Margo right by my side. The Twins got out to an early 5-0 lead and she was in full support of their efforts. I remember when Twins rookie Chris Parmelee, playing in only his second major league game, doubled over the head of White Sox centerfielder Alex Rios scoring two runs for the Twins in the bottom of the third. Margo grabbed my arm the second he made contact and didn't let go until he strided safely into second base, yelling the whole time. I loved it.
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| That'd be myself, Margo and Chuck |
Unlike the third inning, the rest of the game was not so dominant for the Twins. The White Sox had runners on base and were licking their second place chops every tedious inning. The Twins just continued to pull pitchers from their bullpen to put out the fires. Finally, in the ninth inning and with Chicago only one run away, the Twins veteran closer Joe Nathan was able to extinguish the flames once and for all despite the fact that he went to a 3-0 count with what seemed to be every White Sox batter.
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| The Twins congratulate each other on a victory |
Compared to many of the other stadiums, Target Field is right up there. I can't say that it is better than Fenway or Wrigley or even PNC, but it is a very nice field. What makes it even better is the support of the fans. I remember being appalled by the lack of fans in the stands for a first place team back when Jack and I visited the Metrodome. Minnesota fans redeemed themselves by showing up to nearly fill every seat to watch a team in last place. I'm guessing that the stadium must be the difference. Well done Twins.
September 5: PNC Park -- Pittsburgh, PA
Houston 1
Pittsburgh 3
Based on my experiences during the trip so far I was pretty sure the game wasn't going to be played, which bummed me out. There were many parks that I'd been looking forward to seeing since I conceived of this idea back in April. Among those, there were a select few that I was most excited to experience. PNC was one of those. That's why, even though my spirits were down, I trudged through the city and across the Allegheny River hoping for a break in the weather.
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| View from Sixth Street Bridge |
Believe it or not, it came. The sun never popped out and it never truly stopped precipitating, but the rain slowed enough for all nine innings to be played. When I found my way inside the stadium at 1:20 the tarp was still covering the field. By 2:00 the grounds crew was out making the field ready for play and the game began an hour behind schedule.
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| The grounds crew readies the field |
Through a steady drizzle Pirates' pitcher James McDonald kept the Astro hitters befuddled. His only hiccup came when he walked his mound-stalking adversary, the opposing team's Henry Sosa on four straight balls. Sosa ended up scoring the Astros only run when Pirates' rightfielder, Jose Tabata, misplayed a deep fly ball hit by Houston's Jose Altuve which turned into a run scoring triple. Other than that McDonald was masterful. Granted it was the Houston Astros, a team that George Plimpton could probably beat. But that shouldn't take away from McDonald's awesome performance. He found the strike zone, worked quickly, and earned his team a home field victory.
The Pirates' home field seats around 38,000 fans. I like this. I like small stadiums. I like big ones too (Yankee Stadium comes immediately to mind), but I usually prefer the smaller ones. PNC Park is cozy, intimate, situated snuggly against the Allegheny River, and I don't think there's a bad seat in the place. The view of downtown out over right field is one of the best I've seen. Even the most casual of observers will notice the Sixth Street Bridge and the fascinating architecture of buildings like PPG Place and the Byham Theater. Adding to these charms is the easy accessibility of all parts of the stadium, the friendly atmosphere created by die hard Pirate fans, good cheap foods, humorous music selections (Mr. Sandman was played when the grounds crew was called out to throw dry dirt on the mound), and the affection naturally generated by a perennial underdog.
September 2: Yankee Stadium -- Bronx, NY
Toronto 2
NY Yankees 3
Holly and I arrived on the scene fully prepared to make up for the rain out we experienced just 3 weeks earlier. It was a Friday night in New York City so we smuggled some booze through the gates and took a pre-game lap of the stadium. I don't know what I was expecting, I don't believe I had really given it much thought, but when I walked through the concourse to look at the field I was shocked. Yankee Stadium is gorgeous. There was a lot of talk about how New York shouldn't have torn down a classic and I'm not going to enter into that debate here. But rest assured, they have built a majestic baseball cathedral in its place. After I regained my powers of speech Holly and I decided to make our way to our seats in what is traditionally one of the rowdiest places in all of baseball to watch a game: the Yankee Stadium bleachers.
There was a major problem though and it wasn't the fans. We settled in to find that our seats had an obstructed view. Because of a very poor outfield seating design, people sitting in sections 238 and 239 can only see half of the field. Right field is completely blocked from view by a sports bar. The dumbasses. At the same time I was noticing this flaw a whole little league, cleats and all, rushed down into our section. Coupled with the obstructed view, the wave of descending kids quickly helped Holly and I to seek another location. However, because our total party was going to number five and the Yankees draw a lot of fans to the park this was not very easy. We had to move two more times before eventually finding a good spot that we wouldn't be kicked out of.
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| View from the good bleacher seats |
The other members of the party were Stephanie, Kim, and Stacy. Party is the appropriate word to useto describe this group of young ladies. Rip-roaring and ready to go, these lovely New Yorkers added an obvious element that has been missing from most of my previous games. I felt like the luckiest guy in the city. Or maybe that's just because I kept winning "pass the hat".
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| The ladies: Stephanie, Stacy, Holly and Kim |
Pass the hat is a game that I was introduced to at Wrigley Field years ago. The way it works is simple. Any number of people can play, although I think it works best with five or six. Everybody starts by putting in a dollar. The person who goes first (order can be decided in a number of ways, we used odds and evens) holds the hat in his or her hands or lap while rooting strongly for the batter at the plate to get a hit. If he does then the hat holder wins all of the money in the hat. If he doesn't then a dollar is put it and the hat is passed on to the next player. A push occurs when the batter walks, is hit by a pitch, or sacrifices and no money is lost or gained before the hat moves on. Holly and I were the big winners today.
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| Waiting to collect |
We were big winners much like my friend Jack and I were back in 2003 when we were prevented from leaving Chicago because of lack of money. Jack was due to receive a direct deposit into his checking account in a day or two, so we crashed on some couches and spent our last dollars on tickets to a White Sox game. Loaned a couple clams to start, we played pass the hat and sure enough Jack won almost every time, if not every time, and we had enough money to eat and drink until the deposit went through. I'm not sure why I didn't have any money at this point, but I didn't. I think I blew it all in Fargo on chicken wings.
An over-indulgence in chicken wings didn't happen tonight though and we watched the Yankees squeak out a victory thanks to some outstanding defensive outfielding. I enjoyed telling Holly how Andruw Jones, the Yankee right fielder is a former Gold Glove center fielder that has now been shifted to right to make room for the amazing Curtis Granderson. Jones, although not as great as he used to be in Atlanta, still patrols the outfield very well and flashed his fielding chops throughout the night making a great leaping catch against the wall in the fourth and later a sliding grab. He wasn't to be outdone by the other outfielders however. Granderson and left fielder Brett Gardner also made several exceptional plays. On back-to-back occasions Gardner dove to his right at full speed to make a catch, the second of which was the first out of a double play. He also added a big two-run home run to tie the game in the third.
One of the more exciting moments for me, on a night filled with many, came before and during the ninth inning. Watching the incomprable Mariano Rivera enter the field from the bullpen, take the mound as easily as he took care of Blue Jay batters, and notch his 596th career save in 1-2-3 fashion was really very special. It's hard to believe that Rivera is still, at the age of 41, as good, if not better, than he has been his entire career.
Other highlights of the night include: watching four or five Blue Jays' fans ejected from the stadium to a chorus of jeerings and boos; a subway ride away from the park where I briefly morphed into "Stephtue Kowalski, the crazy Polish soccer player"; a finger-snap-filled version of Take Me Out To The Ballgame; photographing my blog card in some in-ter-es-ting places; a Brooklyn rooftop at 3am; and a little bit of Curtis Mayfield on the jukebox.
September 1: Camden Yards -- Baltimore, MD
Toronto 8
Baltimore 6
I arrived in Baltimore on The Crescent at 11 in the morning. The game was scheduled for 7:05. I had some time to kill so I got a coffee at the station and sat down to write a couple of blog updates and emails. After writing I spent an hour at the Amtrak ticket window with Ms. Wilson. She is a very friendly and funny woman that helped me book the tickets for the rest of my trip. Thanks to our patience the process only lasted about an hour.
So there I was, 2 o'clock in the afternoon, waiting. I was hungry so I decided to venture out of the station and into the city. I found a bar that looked just about right. Not too dark, seedy and smelly, but not overly sized, well-lit and gimicky either. I took a menu, ordered a Yuengling and settled in to watch the game.
"The game! What the f***?!" I ran the four feet from my table to the bar and asked the man standing behind it if what was currently on the television was a repeat of last night. He said that it wasn't. That it was today's game and the Orioles had moved it up to a noon start time because of the Baltimore Grand Prix that weekend. "But it's the bottom of the 5th?!" I hollered at nobody in particular. I swear the bartender sneered and replied, "You supposed to play in it or something? They could probably use you." I considered saying that they already have a pretty good centerfielder, but I was distressed. I blurted out what it was that I was doing and pleaded for information regarding the fastest possible way to get to the stadium. The bartender laughed. The waitress, a cute little brunette that had brought me my beer had been listening the whole time. At this point she walked over to me and started pushing me towards the door. The whole time we were shuffling away I kept trying to hand her money for the beer I had taken one sip of. "No, no, no. You keep it. You've got to get there! Now, you've gotta take the light rail. What you need to do is take a right out of here and find Maryland Street. Then, ..."
Only because of her thoughtful direction was I able to find the light rail station quickly and easily. I boarded the slowest train I've ever been on and learned that due to race preparations it wouldn't take me all the way to the stop I needed. I asked a man next to me what to do and he was happy to tell me. Because the train was so slow and seemed to stopped twice a block, we engaged in a conversation about the poor Orioles and how it was such a shame to have a pitiful team playing in such a beautiful ballpark. We diverged on Howard Street and he wished me luck on the rest of my journey.
It was the bottom of the 7th when I arrived on the scene. The scalper - yes there was a scalper still there - offered me a ticket for $15. I told I'd give him $5. He said, "You're killing me. I've gotta make money." I said, "Then make five bucks." I gave him a five, he gave me the ticket and I marched in entering at the centerfield gate.
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| The corridor beyond the centerfield gate |
I loved it immediately. There is this long, wide outdoor corridor running beyond right field with a fence that fans can watch the game through. This fence separates the walkway from the seats. The entire other side of the corridor, the side furthest from the field, is the western facing exterior wall from an enormous old warehouse. The doors of team gear shops, bars, and history museums pepper the side of the wall. It's the same wall that Ken Griffey Jr. smoked with a batted ball during the 1993 home run derby. At 465 feet from home plate, this is the farthest a ball has ever been hit at Camden Yards and a tiny baseball-sized plaque memorializes the event. As I entered in the bottom of the seventh the walkway was empty, except for lazy employees and quiet merchandise hawkers, presumably tired from another slow day at the park.
I took a seat in the right field stands to watch the end of the inning. I saw the ageless Vladimir Guerrero ground out to shortstop, scoring a run to tie the game at six. Maybe I'd get to see extra innings and my tardiness wouldn't matter?
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| The view from right-center |
At the end of the seventh I hightailed it towards foul territory and seats closer to the action. I stopped to get one of the better hotdogs I've had in any park. It was covered in a special sweet chili sauce and fried onions. The dog was really quite delicious and I finished it from the comforts of a seat in the front row of the second level of first base side box seats. It was from this seat that I watched the Blue Jays' incredible rookie third baseman Brett Lawrie hit a homerun far over the left field wall to give Toronto the lead back.
I finished the game in one of my favorite places to watch a ballgame: top level and right behind home plate. I discovered the beauty of these seats a couple of years ago with my friend Nate. We were interested in getting some cheap seats for a Rockies' game in Denver. Upper levels and bleacher seats are always the cheapest tickets to buy. But if you can grab some nosebleeds right behind home the elegance of the game is in full effect: an infield in choreographed motion for the wheel play, a perfectly executed hit and run where the ball dribbles through the temporary hole between first and second which was vacated by the second baseman running to cover the base the runner was seemingly attempting to steal, the dramatic build-up to a runner at third tagging and racing the outfielder's bullet to home, or seeing the exact moment a runner decides to try and stretch a double into a triple. All of these things can usually be seen from anywhere in the park, but it's with the bird's eye view that for me, all of them take on the aesthetic of elegance. I think it has something to do with having all nine defensive players, the whole field, the scoreboard, all the fans, the pigeons in center field, the hot dog and peanut vendors, lefties and righties warming up double-barrelled in the bullpens, and the buildings and world beyond the stadium all available for the eyes to choose from; and having a strong enough understanding of the game to know precisely where to look for what.
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| The catcher has something to say |
I'm glad I made it to Camden Yards, even if for just three innings. It was a familiar place somehow and I would very much like to go back again someday. Next time I'll arrive with the ushers, in time to watch batting practice from the front row of the left field seats, with my glove. And I'll catch a ball off the bat of some over-paid slugger. A man that gets to do for a living what I still, at age 34, use visions of to put me to sleep on restless nights. You see, many of these daydreams occur in the old Tiger Stadium and I found that Camden Yards is the closest reminder to that grand place.
August 30: Turner Field -- Atlanta, GA
Washington 9
Atlanta 2
Ross Detwiler felt the pressure early on. It wasn't the pressure of having the bases loaded with nobody out in the bottom of the ninth. Nor am I speaking of an abnormally high barometer reading or a Billy Joel song. The pressure was coming from three rows deep. He's a pitcher for the Nationals and was watching the game from the front step of the dugout. Doug pointed out to me that "Detwiler" was a great name to yell. So we immediately tested it. "Detwiler! Can we get a ball up here?" It sounded good so we kept at it.
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| Doug and me with Detwiler blocked from view by Doug's right arm |
In between innings Doug would walk up to the dugout and ask him for a ball to give to his son. One of the funnier exchanges came when Detwiler told Doug that he didn't have any balls. Instead of taking the obvious joke Doug laughed and then mentioned to the baseball player that he was standing in a major league baseball dugout and that there was sure to be a ball somewhere nearby if he'd only put in a little bit of effort.
So we had his attention. We also had the support of the whole section and couldn't go away empty handed now. All we had to do was bring it home. That's where google came in. I whipped out the iphone and discovered that Detwiler played his college ball for the Missouri State Bears. Doug loudly mentioned this fact in the direcion of the dugout causing a small ripple of chuckles among the other National's players, but nothing more than a smile came from Detwiler. We had to go deeper. We learned that he was born in St. Louis. Picking just the right moment, Doug waited for a hush in the crowd and then he uncorked the money line, "Hey Ross! You still a Cardinals fan?" The dugout reaction was priceless. Detwiler himself laughed, shook his head and then turned around and to look at Doug. It was a look that can be best described as a "you sons-a-bitches" look, the friendly interpretation. The teammate standing immediately left of Detwiler patted his teammates' back and the two laughed together. Then, the player we'd been pestering for five innings stepped back into the dugout and out of sight. He returned carrying a baseball. During the seventh inning stretch he tossed Doug the ball.
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| Doug shows off his ball and the grip for his favorite pitch: the circle change |
As a contest this game wasn't much of one. The Braves' Jair Jurgens has been one of the league's top pitcher's this season, but not this night. Michael Morse and the Nationals beat him up pretty good while the Braves offense couldn't ever mount a substantial rally to climb back into the game. It didn't matter. I've never been that close to the field before and rarely have I had that much debauched fun. Thanks Doug. I had a really great time.
August 24: Sun Life Stadium -- Miami, FL
Cincinnati 5
Florida 6
Cincinnati 3
Florida 2
There was NOBODY there. I thought the game I saw in Oakland was sparsely attended, but that seemed congested by comparison. It felt like we were watching a little league game and it was awesome. You could hear everything, like the ball bouncing on the infield and the chatter coming from the dugouts. The pop of the catcher's mitt echoed loudly off of the hot orange seats and the crack of Joey Votto's bat sounded like a clap of thunder.
My mom and I were worried about the heat and humidity being a problem. After all it was Miami in August. Due to the limited number of fans in the stadium we were able to walk around, talk to some ushers, and choose some nice seats close to the field that were also in the shade. It worked out perfectly. The strong winds that announced the presence of a very large storm's approach circled down through the empty stadium giving us a constant breeze. I couldn't have been happier or more content sitting there with my mom, drinking beer, comfortably watching a major league baseball game with the intimacy of a neighborhood charity event.
Even though the Reds' Joey Votto (the reigning NL MVP) reached base three times and stung the ball for a homer, the Marlins won the first game 6-5. Thanks in large part to Jose Lopez's blast OVER the 435 ft. sign in left-center. Votto continued his hot hitting in game two, homering again and going 3 for 4. Cincinnati won the second game 3-2.
Although I enjoyed the baseball immensly my favorite part was watching my mom dance to all of the latin and cuban music that they played over the loud speaker. She couldn't sit still.
Another highlight was seeing 84 year-old Marlins' manager Jack McKeon arguing a check swing call and being ejected from the game.
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| McKeon heading back after arguing |
August 23: Tropicana Field -- St. Petersburg, FL
Detroit 2
Tampa Bay 1
Grandma Dot sat right next to me and we chatted the whole game, mostly about baseball. She was born in Michigan, studied at the University of Michigan, and lived most of her adult life in Detroit, pulling for the Tigers. Because she now lives in St. Pete and watches the Rays' games everyday I thought she might be conflicted about who to root for. Nope. For her it was the Rays all the way. She knows an awful lot about the team. Not only was she able to tell me a bunch of interesting little details, but she also had great insight, "Look at David. He's afraid of Miguel and doesn't want to throw him a pitch in the strike zone." Whether we were talking baseball, sharing jalepenos, discussing potential ladyfriends or zipping through the concourse didn't matter. I had a lot of fun with her.
Other mentionables:
- Fans get to play scorecard bingo. Mom really enjoyed this. Every fan receives a preprinted bingo card upon entering the stadium. On the card are a variety of plays written as they're scored (6-3 - Shortstop to First, F8 - Fly out to center, K - strikeout). The first 50 winners get a gift of some kind. Nobody in our group won. However, it was a fun way to get everybody to not only to be very interested in the game, but teach how to score at the same time.
- I've never been a fan of domes. I remember taking in a game with my friend Jack at the Metrodome in Minneapolis once. The game seemed so artificial that we spent most of our time in the concourse talking to a guy that tried out for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers once. We watched a grand total of three innings and didn't even care about missing the Blue Jays hitting back to back to back homeruns. The Trop does not escape this judgment, although it's about as good as you can hope for from a dome. The concourses are very nice, the food is excellent (pulled pork nachos), and the climate control is a huge relief from the oppressively humid Florida summer.
- The Tigers and Rays are two good baseball teams and they played a great game. Even though the score was 2-1 we saw a bunch of hits, which made for ample scoring opportunities. Coupled with the close score these opportunities provided plenty of drama. The pitching and defense in these situations was fantastic. The best of all was Evan Longoria's throw home to cut down Tiger baserunner Delmon Young at the plate. In the top of the seventh inning, with Tampa Bay leading 1-0, the Tigers had runners on first and third with no outs. Victor Martinez, one of the league's leading batters, came to the plate against David Price. Price, a strong pitcher that hadn't yet allowed a run was able to get two strikes on Martinez before he ripped a groundball down the third base line. Longoria, the Rays' outstanding third baseman, reacted impressively. Quickly and deftly he stepped to his right and then caught the grounder in his mitt while falling to the ground. From his knees, behind the bag and along the line, Longoria fired a strike to his catcher Kelly Shopach beating Young's dash to home. Seeing that he was not arriving in time, Young attempted to bull over the catcher, but Shoppach was ready and tagged the aggressive runner while avoiding a serious collision. Longoria's play might be the best I've seen on the trip so far.
August 21: Nationals Park -- Washington D.C.
Philadelphia 4
Washington 5
At the beginning of August I was in Denver and watched the Phillies win in extra innings after hitting a two-run homer with two strikes and two outs in the ninth inning. I enjoyed the drama but I disliked the result. What added to the bad taste in my mouth was the huge amount of Philadelphia fans in attendence. In Washington the scene was similar. In fact, the stadium was filled by so many Phillies' fans that attendance records were being set at the four year old Nationals Park. I was delighted to watch the tables turn on the National League's best team.
The Phillies scored what looked to be the game winning run in the top of the ninth. With a 4-3 lead the Phillies inserted Antonio Bastardo to close the game. Normally that's a job for Ryan Madsen but Philadelphia manager Charlie Manuel must have thought he needed some rest (leading the division by nine games affords such a decision). Bastardo got the first two Nationals out with no problem. Then he quickly got two strikes on Ian Desmond. I was interested in leading the end-of-the-game exodus to the Metro (subway) station, so I was standing with my backpack on and one foot pointed towards the exit as Desmond ripped a line drive down the left field line for a game-tying home run. One would expect that a stadium would erupt with joy at such a happening. Not here. But it was just as pleasurable for me to watch all of the Philadelphia fans grumble and moan.
Another interesting thing occurred on this day. A rain delay. I guess there is nothing incredibly exciting about a game being stopped while waiting for precipitation to cease. However, this game marked the fifth straight game that I'd seen rain and the third straight delay that I had to endure. It was getting old.
Also, Roy Halladay was the pitcher for the Phillies. Roy is arguably the best pitcher in the game today. The Nationals were able to get to him early (which is often a team's best chance to score on a great pitcher) and score two runs. While Halladay found his groove the Phillies took the lead. It looked like it was all over because Washington would have too much trouble trying to score against Doc. But the rains came and caused a long enough delay for the Phillies' starter to tighten up and risk injury by coming back out to pitch. So Philadelphia replaced him with Michael Schwimer.
Schwimer, you see, had never pitched in a major league baseball game before. Making his debut even better was that the 25 year old was born in Fairfax, VA which is about a half an hour's drive west of D.C. I imagined the rookie talking to all of his friends and family before the game about his slim chances (Halladay usually needs no relief) to actually throw some pitches, but for them to come and cheer him on just in case. Well, just in case is sometimes just the case.
The first batter Schwimer faced was free swinging, 24 year old second baseman Danny Espinoza. The home town hero missed on his first pitch. Ball one, but more importantly the first pitch of his major league career had been thrown. It was a ball, so what. Now he could get down to business and focus. I figure the kid had visions of striking out the side on nine pitches and being lifted off the field by his new teammates. While in reality he was probably going through his mechanics in his head, "Find your target, push off, hit your slot, follow through, breathe, never mind your sweaty palms, tips on the seams..."
Family, friends, coaches, rabid Philly fanatics and dosile Nationals' supporters leaned to the edge of their seats to see what the rookie had out there. Could he get a major league batter out? Would he be able to throw a strike? How fast can the kid throw? Does he have a curve ball? Standing high atop the mound - the highest point on the whole field, a crowned field that slopes away from the pitcher's domain - must feel like straddling Kilamanjaro. All alone, with the chatter of the stands an unrecognizable muffle hushed by both focus and distance, the only voice a pitcher usually can hear is his own. It is a running inner-dialogue encouraging, critiquing, reinforcing, and helping the pitcher make his way through an opposing lineup of the top baseball players in the world. To know what this voice is saying is to know a pitcher's secrets; to know the secret of pitching. That's why I'm dying to know what it was saying as he watched Espinoza recognize the pitch as a strike, ready his hands, bite down on his tongue, stride towards the ball, swivel his hips, swing the polished piece of ash in his hand, and connect for a home run over the right field fence.
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| The great Halladay warms up before the game |
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| The Capitol in the distance |
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| The Nationals' Ryan Zimmerman crosses home for the winning run |
August 19: Citi Field -- Queens, NY
Milwaukee 6
NY Mets 1
1) Going to the game with me was my sister Holly. We grew up together in northwest Ohio sharing bunk beds when we were younger and sharing laughs and friends as we got older. Now we live over 2,000 miles apart. I was looking forward to spending some time with her.
2) Seeing the Mets. They're like the "regular" people's team in New York. The Yankees have this elitism that comes with their history, traditional success, and $1000 seats. The Mets, on the other hand, seem to represent the rest of us that are more grounded and cater to those fans by continually struggling and keeping ticket prices reasonable.
3) Checking out Citi Field. The Mets old Shea Stadium was kind of a dump, which gave it a New Yorker style charm, but it was still a dump. I've heard many good things about the new stadium (completed in 2009) and was excited to report back about it to smart, pretty people.
4) Watching the Brewers. Milwaukee has built a strong team around Ryan Braun and Prince Fielder that seems to hit the ball out of the ballpark as frequently as they crack jokes. This year they added Zack Grienke to help their pitching and it has paid off. The Brewers came into the game the hottest team in the league losing only two games in the twenty-one.
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| Holly waiting out the rain with me |
The game was on a Friday night and we had a blast. Early on the rains came and delayed the start for two hours. This marked the fourth straight game with rain (Yankees/cancelled, Red Sox/played through, Phillies/delay). Holly and I found a sheltered picnic table, bought some beer and sat down to wait it out. I enjoyed sitting there talking to her. It's not too often that I get to do that anymore. Holly has grown into an interesting and lovely young woman with the ability to captivate anybody within earshot (or eyeshot). At times I could hardly believe that I was sitting across from my little sister from Ohio.
We had bought tickets for the 500 level. After the delay we decided to try our luck getting some primo seats closer to the action. Holly and I walked around as I tried to sweettalk different ushers into letting me get some good pictures for my blog, but I wasn't getting anywhere. Eventually I saw an usher talking to a supervisor. I made a beeline for the them and asked if they were letting people without lower level tickets into the good seats on account of the rain delay. The supervisor said no, but then took a look at Holly and politely offered us two tickets from his pocket. They were some pretty sweet seats.
The game itself was not much of a competetion. The Mets didn't play too well while the Brewers did what they do best, score. They got out to a 6 run lead and never turned back. One got the feeling that they would've scored more if the Mets ever really threatened. Highlights of the game included: Ryan Braun being ejected for arguing balls and strikes, the Met fan behind us leaving because the Brewer fans irritated him so much ("Why the hell are there Brewers fans here? How the f*** does that happen? Shut the hell up!"), and when an inside fastball to Prince Fielder caused a bench clearing "meeting" on the field.
August 18: Citizens Bank Ballpark -- Philadelphia, PA
Arizona 1
Philadelphia 4
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| The Nothing looms |
"Miller Lite! Mmmmmmmiller Lite I say heah!" The vendors enjoy a good rain delay. I've often wondered about how they carry those tubs of beer and ice around for three hours. In the case of the rain delay they don't have to. They just plopped themselves in the concourse and let their calls, as individual as the parks themselves, ring out amongst the huddled mass of Ryan Howard and Chase Utley jerseys seeking shelter from the rain. And amongst this mass there was no shortage of takers. As the beer tub emptied, the compressed inner-stadium air filled with a cacophony of monosyllabic taunts and meaningless tirades audibly rising over the constant din of rain on stadium. The Nothing passed, but the rain continued, and my hopes of seeing a full nine innings eroded with each drop.
I don't even know what the score of the game was. I had to look it up for this post. When the rains came it was 3-0 Philadelphia in the middle of 4th. Wilson Valdez had doubled home Raul Ibanez in the second. Then John Mayberry, the same John Mayberry that hit the game-tying home run with two outs in the ninth at Coors Field, hit a two-run shot in the third. The runs came off Diamondbacks starter Ian Kennedy who was an astonishing 15-3 before the game. My guess is that he hasn't started too many games against the Phillies. That was all I saw before the game was delayed. The delay lasted over two hours and my window to see some baseball this night was short. My NY bound train was due to depart soon, so begrudgingly, but not quite as begrudgingly as I expected, I left.
August 16: Fenway Park -- Boston, MA
Tampa Bay 1
Boston 3
Just walking up to the stadium I had a blast. You can say what you want about sports spectatorship and allegiances to teams and players that ultimately care about your dollars, not your feelings. However, when fanmanship is as electric as it is at a place like Fenway, it takes on more than just team allegiance. It's an intricate culture of its own with a particular, peculiar way of speaking, dressing, eating and behaving. I liked being given a sneak peak into this other world.
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| Outside on Yawkey Avenue |
At every park I'm trying to get a picture from directly behind home plate, as high as I can go. At Fenway it was impossible for me to be directly behind the plate because of the press boxes. It was nearly impossible for me to get the top level, right next to the press boxes for a picture. Only people with tickets for the top are allowed access into the special elevator that takes fans up top. I had to go on a mission.
I asked an usher, "Excuse me, I'm on a tour of all the major league ballparks. Part of my thing is that I want a picture of every stadium from the top level, right behind home plate. Here I am at Fenway, the greatest park of them all (smile, wink) and I can't seem to get up there. Can you help me out?" He was a kind man and pointed me in the direction of another usher who'd been working at the stadium for 40 years. I went to him and gave the same appeal. Soon I was coaxing the Fenway ambassadors at guest services to just let me up for a quick picture. They told me to come back between the 4th and 7th innings. The password was Yastremski. Not really, there was no password, but it felt like something out of Mission Impossible the way we were escorted up to the top finally by not one, but two ambassadors. One was gregarious and full of smiles while the other one never said a word. When we made it to the top I picked my spot a snapped a couple of photos. At that point I was approached by another usher, this one old and grumpy, that told me I wasn't allowed to stand and take pictures in that particular spot. A little stunned I said okay and moved. The friendly escort smiled and said, "Don't worry. You didn't do anything wrong. That dude's just tired of being 80."
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| The secret mission picture |
August 14: Yankee Stadium -- Bronx, NY
Rained out. Booooo. I'm going to try and make it back the labor day weekend between the Orioles and Pirates games.
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| The Optimists |
August 12: Rogers Centre -- Toronto, ON
LA Angels 5
Toronto 1
