Baseball-Related Program Activities

Longtime fans of Baseball-Related Program Activities may remember that, on August 30, 2004, Levi and I went to two baseball games in two cities in one day: White Sox vs. Phillies in Chicago, and then Brewers vs. Pirates in Milwaukee.

We finally had a chance to recreate that experience. Levi came to Los Angeles for business, and both the Dodgers and Angels were at home, and on May 9, the Dodgers were scheduled for an afternoon game, with the Angels playing at night.

The only thing that put a damper on the experience was Manny Ramirez being suspended for 50 games just three days before we were going to see him.

What Levi, I, and hanger-on Jason did end up seeing was the Dodgers defeating the Giants 8-0, followed by the Angels over the Royals, 1-0. Yes, we saw no visiting team runs. We also saw complete games by three pitchers -- Eric Stults of the Dodgers, Joe Saunders of the Angels, and Zack Greinke of the Royals. Greinke entered the game with a 0.40 ERA, which meant that his ERA went up after pitching a 1-run complete game, which is almost as rare of an event as the Dodgers and Angels both playing at home the same weekend. The Angels game finished in 2:07 -- not quite as short as the 1:56 Indians-White Sox game on our road trip, but impressive nonetheless.

(Special shout-outs to Maggie, Kimiko, and Kate for being hangers-on for the first game.)

There have already been plenty of Dodger Stadium and Angel Stadium pictures on this blog over the years, so all you get here is a picture of Greinke looking intense during his warmup:

Labels: angel stadium, angels, dodger stadium, dodgers, eric stults, game report, giants, joe saunders, Manny Ramirez, royals, zack greinke

Levi was in town on business, and so were the Angels, which meant it was time for the first official Baseball-Related Program Activities event since the 2004 road trip. The hangers-on were Jason, and Levi's co-worker Carrie.



When Edison International dropped their sponsorship of the stadium in Anaheim, their logos on the end of the seats were covered over -- but you can't stop people from scratching paint off, I guess.



Jim Leyland showed up himself to exchange lineup cards, but Mike Scoscia sent a lackey...



It had been announced earlier in the day that Anaheim would be hosting the 2010 All-Star Game...



My new camera is noticeably faster to actually take the picture once you press the shutter button than my old one was -- making it easier to get shots like this...



Early mound meeting, since Angels pitcher Joe Saunders had given up three runs in the first inning...



They kept having to reset this video display in order to fix this problem...



The Amtrak noise meter, because nothing is as noisy as a train...



The rally monkey was invoked a little late, and so the Angels lost 6-2...



The final line (not quite final at this point, but I was anticipating)...



And finally, a picture to replace the one that's been at the top of this blog since 2004, which I was sick of looking at...



No, the Angels didn't literally make me sick. There was a stomach bug involved. For you fans of Jim Ellwanger illnesses that coincide with baseball games, I also had a stomach bug right around the time I traveled to Chicago and attended Opening Day 1997 at Wrigley Field -- I spent an entire day lying on the floor of the dorm room of Levi's future wife.

Labels: angels, brpa, carrie adams, game report, jason kaifesh, tigers

Jason called at about 3:30 to see if I wanted to see the Dodgers play the Diamondbacks. I know from experience that last-minute invitations to baseball games should be accepted if at all possible. Plus, they were giving out Tommy Lasorda bobbleheads to commemorate his 80th birthday (which is actually on September 22nd, but the Dodgers are going to be out of town).

However, I didn't have a camera with me, so you're going to have to deal with a lack of photos. Also, since we weren't in the all-you-can-eat section, I had to deal with a lack of free hot dogs.

Labels: diamondbacks, dodgers, game report

I went to Dodger Stadium tonight with a big group from my office. Our seats were in the right field pavilion, which happens to be the all-you-can-eat section. What that means is that some of the food is free -- hot dogs, nachos, peanuts, popcorn, and Coke, as served by concession stands that have no lines unless someone is attempting to pay for the free food -- and then there are some other concession stands selling beer, ice cream, and candy.

(You may notice that the ticket stub above shows the group name; unfortunately, it was too late to get it changed from "Yahoo! Content Solutions" to "Smellosaurus Rex." Actually, if there was a point at which they showed the names of all the groups in attendance on the scoreboard, I missed it.)

The view from right field is pretty good...



It's a fine place to get some studying done...



Not particularly baseball related, but I notice that although Spanish for "high definition" is "alta definition," they're still abbreviating it "HD"...



In conclusion, it turns out that three Dodger Dogs, two Cokes, and an order of nachos is all I can eat.

Oh, yeah, Dodgers 6, Padres 3. The starting pitchers were Greg Maddux for the Padres and David Wells for the Dodgers, so I believe the total age of the starters was something like 119.

Labels: dodgers, game report, padres

Phil Rizzuto's death today comes just a couple of days after I (finally) listened to a Christmas present from my father: a 2-CD set containing the radio broadcast of the Yankees and Dodgers in Game 5 of the 1949 World Series (the deciding game). At one point during the game, Mel Allen points out that if you saw Scooter walking with the rest of the team, because of his small size, you might think he was the batboy.

It was a game with a lot of action (16 total runs), but I found the radio broadcast more interesting for things other than the game itself. Red Barber and Mel Allen were the announcers, with each responsible for the team they announced for during the regular season -- Mel was at the mike by himself in the half-innings when the Yankees were batting, with Red while the Dodgers were up. Occasionally, they would talk to each other between innings, mostly to do live commercials for Gillette (all of the commercials were for Gillette -- this was a "Gillette Cavalcade of Sports" broadcast).

At one point, Red Barber mentions that Jerry Coleman was moving Jackie Robinson's glove out of the way -- fielders used to leave their gloves at their position. And Mel Allen refers to the fact that the American League umpires were wearing their chest protectors on the outside, and the National League umpires were wearing them on the inside.

There's also a mention that this Sunday game started an hour late (2:00 instead of 1:00) due to "New York state law" and couldn't go past 7:00 for the same reason. Because of all the action, the game goes fairly long, and the umpires confer with commissioner Happy Chandler in the stands, with the results being that the lights are turned on for the first time during a World Series game.

And for a broadcasting geek like me -- I didn't realize the phrase "let's pause 10 seconds for station identification" was that old, but there it was, followed by a station identification for "WOR and WOR-FM, New York" and a suggestion to watch the game on WOR-TV, Channel 9. Yes, I did know WOR-FM and WOR-TV were that old.

Labels: dodgers, game report, mel allen, phil rizzuto, red barber, yankees

When I saw in hanger-on Dan's photos of the Mets' opening day that Shea Stadium's replacement was already under construction, I decided I'd better hurry up and see a game there. Fortunately, a cousin had a wedding in the Philadelphia area on a Friday of a weekend when the Mets were in town, which made it relatively easy for me to get across New Jersey for a Sunday afternoon game. Better yet, hanger-on Maura and non-hanger-on Maggie were able to join me for the game, as you can see below (Maura left, me center, Maggie right)...



Shea Stadium as seen from the Willets Point-Shea Stadium elevated station platform. That's the city parks department logo on the right. A boy behind me said, "The Mets are playing the Leaves today!"



Yes, the new Citi Field is further along than it was three months ago.



As it turned out after I'd taken the seat cushion all the way back to Philadelphia with me, it wouldn't fit in the luggage I was carrying back to L.A. with me, so it now belongs to my cousin. (No, not the one who just got married, although that would have been a great wedding gift. Especially since he's a Yankees fan.)



The view from our seats in the mezzanine level. Under cover, which was good, because it was raining off and on before the game, and then started raining again in the third inning.



The skyline atop the scoreboard, which either needs some light bulbs replaced, or they've got a nice effect going there.



Between innings, they showed my employer's stock price on a scoreboard, and everybody laughed.



Ramon Castro hit a home run. Maura said she's seen that apple-in-a-hat up close, and there's a very thick layer of dust on it.



With the Mets ahead 5-0 in the bottom of the 5th, and the rain intensifying, it was time for the swarm of the guys in blue shirts.



The guys in blue shirts all worked in unison to roll out the tarp, and to avoid running over any straggling Nationals.



You'd think the Mets would have a blue tarp, but it's white. Maybe the blue tarps are all (still) in the New Orleans area.



Maura, Maggie, and I walked around the stadium for a bit. They made a couple of announcements that the forecast was that the rain would continue for at least a couple more hours, but didn't announce anything specific.



We eventually left, and found out via text message (from Dan at MLB.com) that the game had indeed been called. Mets 5, Nationals 0, in four and a half innings. It's a complete game, so it counts, and I've now seen games at 18 of the 30 current MLB stadiums. Anyway, we ended up at a bar Maura knows in Manhattan. Actually, that's redundant, because Maura knows every bar in Manhattan, or so it seems.



(P.S.: These Mr. Met exit signs are awesome.)

Labels: game report, Mets, nationals

Jason and I went to see the Lake Elsinore Storm play the Stockton Ports yesterday. That's about a 90-minute drive from Los Angeles.

The folks from the 2004 trip who were in Davenport will note that the Swing of the Quad Cities isn't the only team that has problems with rabbits getting onto the field...



The Storm claims their "eyes" are the best-selling logo in minor league baseball. They're definitely one of the most creepy...



The Storm's mascot, Thunder, is suspiciously similar to the Phillie Phanatic, although he's supposed to be a dog and not an alien, or whatever the Phanatic is...



Final score...

Labels: game report, lake elsinore storm, stockton ports

First of all, here's a link to a baseball piece from Sunday's Los Angeles Times magazine: the writer and his son go to a Dodgers game with Arnold Hano, author of "A Day in the Bleachers." Among other things, he doesn't like the visual and audible cues to get the fans to make noise.

On Sunday, Jason and I went to the second-to-last game of the Golden Baseball League's short season, this one the Long Beach Armada versus the San Diego Surf Dawgs.

The Armada play at city-owned Blair Field, which has an analog clock on top of the scoreboard...



And there's a ship in the outfield -- unfortunately, it's just a cutout...



Even though the mascot should be a Spanish conquistador or maybe a pirate, the mascot is actually a bird named Arby I. Here he is "helping" with a between-innings water balloon toss for kids...



And here he is sitting two rows in front of us...



Meanwhile, Rik Currier was on the mound for the Armada, pitching what would be a complete game one-hit shutout...



In some places, they have metal rails for the "K" cards to fit into, but Long Beach is a Velcro kind of town...



The final line...



Yes, "Armada" does look a lot like "Ramada," especially at the lower left. A missed marketing opportunity!

Labels: baseball books, game report, jason kaifesh, long beach armada, los angeles times, san diego surf dawgs

Yes, I went to this game alone, because all my friends here in L.A. have jobs and are a lot less likely than Levi to take a half day off to go to a game. On this date in Dodger history, in 1963, Sandy Koufax pitched a no-hitter. No such luck for Derek Lowe today, although he was fairly effective; the real problem was some fielding mistakes by the Dodgers, notably an amusingly botched rundown. So the Dodgers' winning streak came to an end, and now they have to go to San Francisco and spend three games intentionally walking Barry Bonds.

Cheesesteaks are new at Dodger Stadium this year, courtesy of a local chain called South Street, to which I was introduced by hanger-on Jason. Their Dodger Stadium cheesesteaks are half the size and twice the price of the ones they serve in the restaurant -- but, still, it was pretty tasty, and a nice change of pace from a Dodger Dog.

For the first time, I brought my radio and listened to it during the game -- might as well get some use out of it, I figured, since I never use it at home, not even its NOAA weather radio-receiving functions. (It's just a cheap AM/FM/TV/weather portable radio, not a fancy radio that turns itself on whenever there's a thunderstorm watch in the middle of the night, like a certain other baseballrelated.com poster has in his bedroom.) Vin Scully gets simulcast on radio and TV for the first three innings, which is great, although he'll occasionally say something that sounds like a complete non sequitur when you're listening on the radio because it obviously relates to something not quite game-related that's being shown on TV at that moment. Today was school field trip day, and a couple of times, he was referring to what must have been shots of kids in the stands.

Anyway, for the fourth inning and on, Charley Steiner and Rick Monday come in to do the radio only. They're fine, except that they're not Vin Scully. Now, Rick Monday -- if you've got to be known solely for one thing, there are a lot worse things you could be known for than "keeping an American flag from being set on fire." And Charley Steiner -- well, when the Dodgers were down 4-2 and had the bases loaded for Kenny Lofton in the bottom of the ninth, he was excited enough that I was expecting him to blurt out "Follow me to freedom!" if Lofton got a hit. But he flew out to end the game.

Another advantage of listening to the radio -- they announced the attendance about a half-inning before "Guess the Attendance" was played in the stadium, thus allowing me to loudly and confidently yell out that it was choice "A" on the scoreboard. So, in conclusion, I'll probably bring my radio again if I'm going to a game by myself, or if I'm going to a game with someone I don't want to talk to.

I should mention that this was all prompted by my mother. She suggested a couple weeks ago that I go to a weekday afternoon baseball game before I start my new full-time job on the 17th. I said, in my Eric Cartman voice, "But, Maaaaaaahm, the Dodgers don't plaaaaaaay any weekday afternoon games." I looked at the schedule anyway, and saw this game, so there you go.

Relating to that job: I temporarily have a PC in my living room within view of my TV, and Levi now has Internet access at home. Way back at the beginning of the season, I suggested that the two of us should watch the same game simultaneously, instant-message each other during the game, and post the log here. However, we haven't yet been able to come up with a time that both of us are able to actually do this -- Levi's busy at work, as usual, and seems to have more of a life on the weekends than I do, and tends to attend a few Cubs games, especially when they're playing the Cardinals, and since he's just recently moved up to home Internet access, it's probably going to be a while until he has a Treo or Blackberry and can use the Internet from the Wrigley Field stands. (To be fair, there's been a couple of games when Levi was available but I wasn't.) And now I'm not 100% sure how busy I'll be at my new job, but I am certain that it will preclude us from scheduling this for one of those weeknight ESPN games that starts at 7:00 Eastern -- I'll still be at work at 4:00 Pacific. It also doesn't help that we're limited by the baseball schedules of ESPN/ESPN 2, WGN, and TBS, since those are the only networks that we can both watch together, and neither of us is too excited about doing this during a Braves game on TBS.

All of this is to say that there will probably be an IM transcript posted here when you least expect it.

Labels: astros, dodger stadium, dodgers, game report, vin scully

Yes, Dodger Stadium has new seats this season, in lovely pastel colors which really do look like they're from 1962. They also renumbered the seats, so that instead of having aisle numbers, with seats starting at "1" on one side and "101" on the other side, the reserved level now has section numbers like a normal stadium. (Things were even weirder on the field and loge levels, with one row letter covering two rows, one with seat numbers increasing and the other with seat numbers decreasing -- presumably, that situation has been dealt with as well.)



Yes, quite a few Chicagoites will show up at Dodger Stadium when the Cubs are in town, wearing the world's cutest baseball cap...



Someone near us had a radio, so I know that Vin Scully described 6-foot-7 Cubs pitcher Sean Marshall as "a tall drink of water"...



This game had something for everyone, from bone-jarring collisions to wildly errant throws. Best of all, though, is the fact that the Dodger Stadium music selection committee has provided the world with a new, particularly appropriate song to play for bases on balls: Tegan and Sara's "Walking with a Ghost," in the form of the White Stripes' cover version. Why is it particularly appropriate? Because walks haunt.

Labels: cubs, dodger stadium, dodgers, game report, music, walks haunt

The usual Los Angeles-based Northwestern alumni suspects and I headed to Malibu to see our beloved Wildcats play the Pepperdine Waves in the final game of a 3-game series. The 'Cats had lost the first two, but perhaps today would be different.

Why not Eddy D. Field Field?



Sorry, even if your pet really likes baseball, it can't come in...



The Pacific Ocean is in this picture, although it's doing a good job of blending in with the sky...



Pepperdine has quite the baseball tradition...



There was a range of Northwestern fans in the stands, from little to not quite as little...



Northwestern starting pitcher Julio Siberio held the Waves to 2 runs in 6 innings...



Northwestern outfielder Antonio Mule takes a cut...



In the top of the 9th, the Waves stood in front of their dugout and tried to put some mojo on the Northwestern hitters. It didn't work; the 'Cats tied the game at 2.



However, in the bottom of the 9th, Pepperdine DH Justin Tellam hit a walk-off home run and got mobbed by the rest of the team for his effort. Pepperdine 4, Northwestern 2...



Well, at least someone enjoyed his Fritos...



The scoreboard at the end of the game. It had begun to act up in the top of the 9th, just as Northwestern was threatening -- but you'll notice that Pepperdine got the short end of the stick. (Their scoring line was 100 001 002.)



One more note: although the start time of the game was supposed to be noon, when we arrived at 11:55, the second inning had just gotten under way. The same thing happened when Jason and I went to see Northwestern play Cal State Northridge last year. This is either some bizarre NCAA policy, or everyone's so sick of Northwestern showing up in California and demanding to play baseball, they just want to get the games over with as soon as possible.

Labels: college baseball, game report, jason kaifesh, jenn carney, northwestern, todd carney

Time to paint the chalk lines and water the infield dirt...



Time to exchange those lineup cards...



Even if you have to park in two or three handicapped spots, get out to the stadium, because it's time for baseball!



Having been to baseball games in Anaheim and (Rancho) Cucamonga, only Azusa remained to complete the Jack Benny Baseball Trilogy, and Jason and I remedied that situation tonight. The Azusa Pacific University Cougars were at home against the Whittier College Poets. As one might expect at a school with a cross in its logo, the game started with a prayer, which was followed by Whitney Houston performing the national anthem at Super Bowl XXV, through the magic of recorded sound.

Here's an unidentified Poet, perhaps the late Allen Ginsberg, batting against Azusa Pacific...



And here's Cougar first baseman Stephen Vogt batting against Whittier...



This is not exactly big-time college athletics. APU isn't even an NCAA school; they're affiliated with the NAIA. There was no admission charged, but then, there weren't exactly many stadium amenities. I didn't take a picture of the scoreboard because we couldn't see it from where we were; it's in the far right-field corner, and the main bleachers are on the first-base side of home plate, with the home "clubhouse" and rooftop press box farther down towards first, thus blocking the view of the scoreboard. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that we lost track of what inning it was, not only because the P.A. announcer wasn't consistently announcing it at the end of each half-inning, but also because they didn't do a seventh-inning stretch, perhaps because neither peanuts nor Cracker Jack were available. One could have walked half a block to Jack in the Box and brought food back to the stadium, but Jason and I held off on dinner until after the game, when we drove to Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles in Pasadena, and you'll never guess what we ate.

Azusa Pacific won 8-2 to improve their record to 3-1. It was 5-1 at the end of the first inning, but things settled down somewhat for the rest of the game.

Labels: college baseball, game report, jason kaifesh

Jason and I drove from L.A. to the greater Phoenix area after work on Friday (roughly a 6-hour drive) and went to two sporting events on Saturday. The first one is of more relevance to baseballrelated.com...



Yes, we got to see the Diamondbacks come back from a 5-1 deficit to win 6-5, largely because Tony Clark hit a home run from each side of the plate. Bank One Ballpark is nowhere near as depressing as Tropicana Field, perhaps because it has some actual windows to let sunlight in during day games, and because the home team has actually been fairly successful during their tenure in Major League Baseball. Also, there were over 20,000 people there, as opposed to under 10,000.

At least in the lower deck, there was an usher at the top of each aisle with a "Please Wait Here" sign -- great. However, when I was returning to my seat after a bathroom break (the "bottomless glass of soda" at Alice Cooperstown led to way too much Dr Pepper for my poor bladder to handle), the usher for our aisle dropped his sign and motioned me forward the instant contact was made with the ball, as opposed to, you know, making sure I wouldn't be interfering with anyone's view of the actual play.



Many more pictures available on flickr.com. As for the other sporting event Jason and I saw -- and the one we had a definite rooting interest in -- the less said about it, the better...



...although I note that the Arizona Republic has a sports columnist named "Paola."

Labels: diamondbacks, game report, jason kaifesh, rockies

(This "ticket" is a printout, courtesy of a season-ticket holder who didn't want to see this classic battle of good vs. evil represented by the Angels and the Devil Rays, although I can't imagine why someone would turn down the chance to see the Devil Rays!)



Let's get this anecdote out of the way first: as I was walking through the concourse of Angel Stadium on my way to the concession stand, proudly wearing my Devil Rays cap and Rocco Baldelli T-shirt, an Angels fan pointed at me and yelled, "Holy crap! They do exist!" I said nothing; unfortunately, it wasn't until much later that I realized my comeback should have been, "There are dozens of us! Dozens!" That has the advantage of being a reference to "Arrested Development."

Yes, at my suggestion, Jason, Rachel, Chris, and I went to Angel Stadium because my beloved Devil Rays were in town.



We were early enough to see the tail end of batting practice...



And they were showing the White Sox-Mariners game live on the giant screen...



At Angel Stadium, you can sometimes spot cameramen in their natural mountain environment...



Exchanging lineup cards; Lou Piniella looked like he was in a good mood...



Angels starting pitcher Chris Bootcheck, which I believe is also the name of a Windows XP utility...



Carl Crawford at the plate...



Devil Rays starting pitcher Mark Hendrickson, who is 6'9", but doesn't look quite as intimidating as Randy Johnson from way up here in the "view" level...



Why, these "view" level seats are high enough up that we can see Arrowhead Pond, home of the Los Angeles Mighty Ducks of Anaheim...



On the scoreboard, Jose Molina has to be "J.Molina," but Bengie Molina gets to be just plain "Molina"...



Say, here's something stupid and distracting: cell phone text messages on the scoreboard...



While we're at it, note that the Dodgers are "LAD" on the scoreboard here in Anaheim...



The Devil Rays somehow manage to light up Bootcheck, but as evening turns to night at Angel Stadium...



...the Angels have the bases loaded in the bottom of the 6th...



However, the Angels only put 3 runs across in the 6th, and so the Devil Rays are ahead 6-4 going into the bottom of the 9th with Danys Baez on the mound. After some anxious moments, Danys Baez has to call time because he's broken his belt; he has to walk over to get a new one...



And then both the umpire and catcher Toby Hall get to watch him closely as he puts the new belt on...



The "broken belt" ploy works, and, holy crap, the Devil Rays win...



Happy Rays...



Happy Jim...



After the game, we wait in the parking lot for the traffic to clear. Rachel and Jason leaning on Jason's car...



Chris and Jason...



Poor Angels, now tied with the A's for the American League West lead...

Labels: angels, chris lee, devil rays, game report, jason kaifesh, rachel morris

If it's Saturday, it must be minor league baseball. Sorry, Golden Baseball League, but Jason and I drove to Rancho Cucamonga for a California League game: the Quakes versus the Lancaster Jethawks.

The Quakes' ballpark is called The Epicenter, and it's the home of the happy aisles...



No, seriously, here's the view from my seat...



The Epicenter is new enough to have a fancy-schmancy scoreboard...



And another scoreboard with the team name in lights...



There's a mall nearby -- featuring JCPenney, Robinsons-May, and an Apple store -- that Jason swears was not even under construction yet the last time he was here for a game...



Before the game, these folks threw junk to the crowd...



No, seriously, they hopped off the truck onto the dugout roofs and started dancing. Then there were some cheerleader types who also danced...



Later, Jason asked if I noticed that the cheerleaders seemed unusually voluptuous, albeit not with those exact words. Anyway, Tremor the mascot bothered the umpires for a while...



Then he was joined by the other mascot, Aftershock, and if I recall correctly, they did some dancing...



And then some Cub Scouts danced -- no, I mean they tried to keep the flag off the ground during a solo saxophone performance of the National Anthem...



Jason alertly pointed out that you don't often see minor-league players with their names on the backs of their uniforms. Since the Quakes are affiliated with the Angels, it's entirely possible that they're doing this solely to embarrass the Dodgers ("Ha ha, even our Class A team uniforms have names on the back").



A conference on the mound about the mound...



Which led to the landscapers performing emergency mound surgery...



The final line...



And after the game it was time for fireworks...



Yes, everyone loves fireworks...



For Levi, we've saved the best two pictures for last. Waukegan isn't the only place where there's a statue of Jack Benny (although unlike in Waukegan, here in Rancho Cucamonga, the statue is not located in the public way; instead, it's just inside the main stadium entrance gate)...



And, in fact, Rancho Cucamonga has done Waukegan one better. This is the street the stadium is located on...



So now that I've been to baseball games in both Anaheim and Cucamonga, Jason, does Azusa Pacific University have a baseball team?

Labels: game report, jason kaifesh, lancaster jethawks, rancho cucamonga quakes

I get a lot of e-mails offering to hook me up with various items and people, from Russian mail-order brides to university degrees. But on Friday, I got one that was a little different: it was from Fullerton Flyers general manager Ed Hart, thanking me for this baseballrelated.com post, personally inviting me to future games and offering to hook me up with tickets.

What he didn't know is that Jason and I were already planning a trip to Saturday night's game; Jason was attracted by a giveaway of bobbleheads in the image of Coal Train, the coyote mascot. Jason managed to get a couple of other people to join us -- Errol, who he knows from a web site/message board he frequents, as well as Jason's and my friend Rachel, who was more or less filling in for Levi, since she's from a small town in southern Illinois (Clay City) and likes the Cardinals, although she has a full head of hair, eats meat, and doesn't take her shoes off that often. Anyway, I spoke to Ed briefly on the phone, he asked me how to spell my last name, and there were tickets waiting for me at the will-call window, although there were a few moments of confusion when I thought the guy behind the window was asking me for my name, but he was actually asking me for the name of the person who left the tickets for me, which I should have remembered is the more important concept at minor-league will-call windows.

The Flyers were playing the Chico Outlaws again, although since the Outlaws were wearing gray shirts instead of black, it was like we were watching a completely different team. And this time, the Outlaws had a couple of big innings and won 8-2. After the game, Ed Hart was standing by the exit gate, so I introduced myself and we chatted a little bit; turns out he'd just been Googling for mentions of the Flyers and happened to run across baseballrelated.com.

Not too many pictures this time; I posted the "no frowns" portion of the sign at the gate last time, and here are more Golden Baseball League rules...



And here's Coal Train with my other bobbleheads (Fernando Valenzuela, Kirk Gibson, and a hidden Tim Salmon)...



Incidentally, something that made Rachel laugh a lot: the Flyers' catcher was Drew York, and I suggested that when he came to bat with the Flyers needing a hit, or a run, or whatever, that the crowd should sing "It's up to you, Drew York, Drew York!"

Thanks again for the tickets, Ed!

Labels: chico outlaws, fullerton flyers, game report, jason kaifesh, rachel morris

Last Friday -- I'm only just now posting this because I was waiting for my DSL to be active before uploading the photos -- Jason and I went to see the Fullerton Flyers play the Chico Outlaws. This is the Golden Baseball League, a brand-new independent league with four teams in California, three teams in Arizona, and one team that doesn't have a home. So we braved Fourth of July weekend traffic on our way to the campus of Cal State University Fullerton (yes, we're in the car pool lane, but it was still slow going)...



We liked it right from the get-go, because while we were in the ticket line, we heard the people in line behind us discussing the fact that you could get 2-for-1 tickets if you showed a Vons or Pavilions club card. Jason did so, and so we got two tickets for $8. (The offer on the web site says you're supposed to have a club card and a receipt, but they didn't ask him for a receipt.) They also handed out free full-color programs including rosters and scorecards -- nothing too elaborate, 12 pages, 5-1/2 by 8-1/2.

The name "Fullerton Flyers" is railroad-related, because Fullerton is a railroad town (they even have an event called Fullerton Railroad Days every year). And the theme extended to the front gate...



Incidentally, here's a close-up of the poster at the gate. Notice what's at the bottom of the list of prohibited items. I'm not sure how they enforce it...



And the concessions trailer has railroad heralds stuck to it, seemingly at random (neither the Rio Grande nor the Pennsylvania Railroad ever served Fullerton)...



And the mascot's name is Coal Train, who is apparently a coyote wearing engineer's overalls. I'm not sure what a coyote has to do with railroading, except that there were a few Road Runner cartoons in which Wile E. Coyote got run over by trains...



Because of the train and the coyote, they have two sound effects, the "train whistle" and the "coyote howl," that are played incessantly over the P.A. system. In fact, "Charge" isn't da-da-da-da-da-da, "Charge!", it's da-da-da-da-da-da, howl.

The Cal State Fullerton Titans baseball team has a weird set of retired numbers in right center. Oh, wait, those aren't retired numbers, those are the years they won the national championship...



The Flyers pitch to the Outlaws...



The Flyers' Garry Templeton II -- son of Flyers manager Garry Templeton -- attempts a bunt...



Jason bought the "medium" size of Kettle Korn, so named because the bag could feed a medium-sized European country...



The size of the Kettle Korn is probably why Coal Train was doing exercises with some kids on the field at one point...



It was Wacky Hat Night, but I didn't manage to get any pictures of the truly wacky hats, just this patriotic attempt in front of us...



And this, which isn't so much wacky as it is a souvenir of the Billy Goat Tavern...



Don't you hate people who talk on their cell phones at baseball games?



The Flyers won 3-2 (I couldn't get a good picture of the scoreboard through the netting to prove this), with the difference being a home run by Fullerton catcher Casey Clary; the attendance was announced as 758. The level of play was similar to Class A in the "official" minor leagues, I'd estimate. One plus of the Golden Baseball League: their "competition," the California League, uses the designated hitter; the GBL doesn't.

Labels: chico outlaws, fullerton flyers, game report, jason kaifesh

For Memorial Day today, Jason and I made a trip up to Lancaster to see the Lancaster Jethawks play the High Desert Mavericks. Because Jason was unsuccessfully trying to round up more people to go, we got a late start and didn't get there until the middle of the 4th inning. We didn't miss any runs, however; the Jethawks scored their first two runs in the bottom of the 4th, two more in the 6th, and three more in the 7th. So it was 7-0 going into the top of the 9th, and the Mavericks managed to mount a rally, getting three runs with 2 outs, then having the bases loaded -- but it was not to be, and the final score was 7-3.

The former Lancaster Municipal Stadium, popularly known as "The Hangar," has succumbed to the naming rights game, and it's now Clear Channel Stadium. It's obvious that Clear Channel needs to associate itself with something good and pure like minor league baseball more than minor league baseball needs to associate itself with Clear Channel.

Labels: game report, high desert mavericks, jason kaifesh, lancaster jethawks

Since I posted a couple of weeks ago, the Nationals had fallen a couple of games out of first place in the NL East, but the Dodgers were still atop the NL West.

There have been a few changes at Dodger Stadium since last season -- other than three-fourths of the players on the field -- and perhaps the most dramatic one is one I didn't get a picture of: tickets are now being scanned at the gate instead of torn.

The blue seats up front are new...



This new LCD ribbon board goes all the way across the front of the loge (second) level, displaying all the latest in advertising, and probably some scores, if you can find them...



And there are smaller LCD displays next to the field for more advertising, replacing those old-fashioned "roller" displays...



And there was a new logo on the scoreboard...



The advertisement is for a special "Dodgers vs. Nationals inaugural game" T-shirt that was being sold for $30. Hey, they've got to pay for the new LCD displays somehow. What wasn't new was the "ANA" designation for a team that everyone else is abbreviating "LAA"...



What I didn't get a picture of, because there was nothing to see, is the fact that the Dodgers are saving 10 cents a letter by not putting players' names on the backs of their uniforms. Also, I was distracted by the advertising on the new ribbon board. So I guess there was a game at some point, and here's the final scoreboard...

Original comments...

thatbob: Look look look! As of today, 5/6/05, the White Sox have a .750 record! And the Yanks are tied with the Wuss Wusses for last place in their division! Incredible!

Labels: dodger stadium, dodgers, game report, nationals

If it's March, it's obviously time for baseball. So Jason and I went to our first game of the year today: our alma mater versus the Matadors of California State University Northridge. Despite all indications having been that the game started at 1:00 (e.g., that's what was printed on the tickets), when Jason and I arrived at Matador Field at about 1:05, it was well into the fourth inning, with CSUN up by quite a few runs. And Northwestern had already put a handful of errors on the scoreboard.

Somehow, most of these people were aware that the actual start time of the game was well before 1:00...



CSUN batting...



Northwestern batting...



The dugouts at Matador Field aren't actually dug out...



At one point, a formation of five old-timey airplanes flew over. I couldn't get my camera out of the bag and ready as fast as I would have liked, so this is the only good shot I got...



Want a job where you can wear shorts and flip-flops? How about working the radar gun at college baseball games?



Northwestern tried to claw their way back by scoring five runs in the top of the 9th, including an inside-the-park home run (actually, it may have been a triple and an error -- didn't see the scoring). Congratulations to the batter...



But it was too little, too late, and the final score was 11-8. But as you may be able to see from the pictures, it was a beautiful day for baseball. And afterwards, because I was with Jason and not Levi, we had a late lunch/early dinner at a barbecue place.

Original comments...

Dan: Go Cats!

Labels: college baseball, game report, jason kaifesh, northwestern

I'm over 6 feet tall, I have a full head of hair, I have a cat who doesn't get up on the kitchen counter, and also...



Jason and Todd got tickets through a contact at their job, so there we were in the top deck of Dodger Stadium for Game 4 of the National League Division Series, the Dodgers needing a win against the Cardinals to stay alive.

Jason invited me, and Todd invited his wife Jenn, of course. So here she is eating pizza...



This was the first time I had sat in the top deck at Dodger Stadium. It was not bad. I'm pretty sure I was closer to the field than when I had sat in the upper deck in San Diego in May, and I was definitely closer to the field than I was in the upper deck in Philadelphia in August. And these seats are only $6.00 general admission during the regular season. (They were jacked up to $12.00 reserved for this first round of the playoffs.)



It must be the playoffs, because there's the bunting...



And a special logo painted on the field...



And a blimp...



And what seems like hundreds of umpires...



So many umpires, in fact, that they don't display them at the bottom of the scoreboard because there's only space for four of them (it's not really visible in this photo, but trust me, they'd normally be at the bottom)...



And they handed out everyone's favorite loud and annoying item, Thunderstix...



So let's all think blue! Or think 76 or 980, if you'd rather think about numbers than colors...



Odalis Perez pitching in the top of the first...



And then some stuff happened that I didn't take pictures of because I was trying to follow the game, but night fell with the Dodgers behind 6-2...



It was time to summon the giant floating heads of Eric Gagne...



He did pretty well against the Cardinals, but the damage had already been done...



Noted Kenny G fan Ray King got into the game and was effective against the Dodgers...



Perhaps he and Mike Metheney were humming "Songbird" during their meeting on the mound...



Since this auxiliary scoreboard wasn't needed for its usual purpose of displaying out-of-town scores, it was instead pressed into service for additional statistic display duty...



See the taillights in the parking lot? Yep, people are leaving in the 8th inning, despite the number of come-from-behind wins the Dodgers have had this season...



It's the bottom of the 9th, the Dodgers are down by four runs, the fans are being exhorted to show their blue (not "show they're blue"), and this is all seeming familiar to Jason and me, as if it happened just a week and a half ago...



Speaking of which, the note about Alex Cora that was displayed as he was batting in the bottom of the 9th seemed very familiar...



But on September 28th, the Dodgers were facing the Rockies' bullpen. The Cardinals' bullpen, and Jason Isringhausen in particular, is a somewhat different story. So, long story short, some happy Cardinals...



The Dodgers wish them well in the NLCS, especially if they're going to be playing the Braves...



And even though the Dodgers lost, it was a great and highly improbable season, so the stadium crew thinks it deserves a playing of "I Love L.A."...



Oh, and by the way, this game set a new Dodger Stadium attendance record...



Go Cards.

Original comments...

Levi: Ah, that was a fun series. And I feel really good about Round 2, whomever we face. I'm rooting for tonight's Braves/Astros game to go 22 innings.

And I loved seeing the hugs and handshakes. It made me really happy, and it seemed a better send-off for the Dodgers than just retreating to the clubhouse would have been.

Labels: Cardinals, dodgers, game report, jason kaifesh, jenn carney, photos, todd carney

In my last entry, I said something about drama in the baseball playoffs starting next week. Perhaps I should have mentioned possible drama in the games being played in this, the last week of the season.



I thought that Angels game last week was going to be my last baseball game of the season. But then my birthday happened, and I got two tickets to Tuesday night's Dodger game. I gave one of the tickets to Jason. We drove to the game separately because I usually get off work hours before he does, and I wanted to arrive early to a Dodger game for once. So I'm on my way...



I ignored this sign (there used to be a Dodger Stadium entry gate straight down this street, but you can still get near the stadium this way)...



Remember where you parked at Dodger Stadium; it's on a giant baseball...



Many people over the years have ignored the crucial "no beachballs" rule on this sign...



If this sign hasn't been in the parking lot since 1962, it should have been...



"Think blue"? Whatever you say, Mr. Sign!



Before the game, pitcher Elmer Dessens was having his picture taken, in a bunch of different poses. For use on baseball cards, maybe?...



Somebody being interviewed before the game...



The score at the upper right is the one to keep an eye on. The Dodgers went into this game with a magic number of 4 to win the National League West, with the Giants nipping at their heels...



Why weren't there more people at a pivotal game in the last week of the season? The Dodgers kept the right-field pavilion closed...



Jason noticed a (presumably coincidental) circle of people wearing white in the stands opposite us (in the middle of the below photograph)...



The Rockies get one early run, and then not much happens for quite a while, except for a smoggy moonrise in right field...



Milton Bradley was charged with a 2-run error in the eighth inning, causing the Rockies to lead 3-0. A fan threw a plastic bottle at him. Bradley didn't like this, and approached the stands. To make a long story short, here's Bradley walking off the field after being ejected, having ripped off his uniform shirt, which didn't exactly endear him to the crowd...



Remember Elmer Dessens from before the game? He pitched the top of the 9th, keeping the score as it was at the end of the 8th, 4-0 (also, notice that a lot of people have already left)...



Bottom of the 9th, and Rockies pitcher Shawn Chacon walks four Dodgers in a row to make the score 4-1.

Tim Harikkala relieves him, and promptly gives up a double to Jayson Werth to make the score 4-3.

Then he gives up a single to Steve Finley. Two runs score. Dodgers celebrate...



I'm not sure if I believe it, but there's the final score...



Hero Steve Finley being interviewed...



Another powerful argument for not leaving a baseball game early. The Giants also won, in less dramatic fashion, so the Dodgers' magic number is now 3. I'm very, very happy this turned out to be my last game of the season. (I certainly won't turn down Dodgers playoff tickets! That's postseason.)

Original comments...

thatbob: If the Dodgers have a post season, I hope they incorporate the good luck tradition of the Rally Ejection. Milton Bradley can take off a different article of clothing in every 8th inning in which the Dodgers are behind.

Labels: dodger stadium, dodgers, elmer dessens, game report, jason kaifesh, milton bradley, photos, rockies, steve finley

While we're waiting for Levi to regale us with tales of cute, furry kittens insinuating his dreams, here are some pictures from the two baseball games I went to over the past few days. Jason had some Dodgers vouchers to use up before the end of the season, so he, Cathryn, and I went to the Dodgers-Padres game last Thursday...



The colored seats at Dodger Stadium, a picture taken because who knows when they're going to decide to put in new chairs?...



This is the right-field pavilion, which I guess we could have bought all the seats in, but didn't think of it before the beginning of the season the way some people did...



Jason had a big bowl of nachos and a big drink...



The final line (the Dodgers didn't do much)...



Slightly less blurry, the final score...



An artistic shot of the Los Angeles skyline on the way out...



Sunset Boulevard: not just a movie starring Gloria Swanson, it's also a Dodger Stadium parking lot exit...






Three days later, Jason and I went to Angel Stadium of Anaheim, or whatever it's really called now, to see the Angels play the Rangers.



Jason wanted to say hi to the mummified body of Gene Autry...



Then he had another big bowl of nachos (I assume that's sour cream on top and not icing)...



And a soda in a magical color-changing plastic cup (red, or at least pink, when full; clear when empty)...





During the game, a train stopped at the Anaheim station, across the parking lot. Unfortunately, the Amtrak schedule is not well-suited for taking train trips to Angels games...



Not only can you see trains from the stadium, you can also see the Matterhorn at Disneyland, which I've pointed out with the red arrow in this picture...



Yes, the Angels have some retired numbers...



They also have some fake rocks and real water...



The end of the rows of seats have an Angels logo on a raised baseball-diamond shape. They're covering what's actually molded into the seats: an Edison International logo on a baseball diamond...



Now that they're not owned by Disney anymore, the Angels are free to get some other family entertainment spots as their sponsors...



And other family-oriented sponsors...



They still make some of the ushers go out on the field for the seventh-inning stretch, but now they have to take off their straw hats for "God Bless America"...



And put their hats back on for "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" (which, at this game, was sung by the same woman who had just done "God Bless America," I guess because they figured as long as she was on the field with a microphone, she might as well)...



Meanwhile, during most of this, Rangers rookie pitcher Chris Young was on the mound being tall...



Which means it was time to break out, yes, the Rally Monkey!...



Didn't work, and what is probably my last game of the season ends just as my first game of the season did, with a win by the visiting Texas Rangers...

Original comments...

Jon Solomon: Chris Young is a friend of mine from when he played basketball (and baseball) at Princeton. I got to go to Fenway as a member of "the media" a few weeks ago to cover his first MLB win. They let me go on the field, in the locker room and everything. What were the Red Sox thinking? I've got an interview with Chris from after the game up on princetonbasketball.com. If you want a password to listen, just let me know.

Jason: I suggested stopping by the Hooters of Anaheim after the game. However, Jim declined, since he was TiVo-ing the Bucs-Seahawks game and didn't want to know the score.

But when I got home, I did drink a quart of Jack Daniels.

Jim: Hmm, what a coincidence. But in my case, I needed it to help me forget the Bucs-Seahawks game.

Labels: angel stadium, angels, cathryn humphris, dodger stadium, game report, jason kaifesh, padres, photos, rally monkey, rangers

I apologize for being late with this--work (along with my upcoming weekend trip to Montreal) has kept me busy this week.

But here you go: some thoughts on Monday afternoon's Expos/Marlins game, such as they are.

1) Luke and I met at 12:45, because MLB.com said the game was to begin at 1:35. Alas, the game began at 1:05, which meant that many fans were already there ahead of us and we were reduced to sitting on the sixth row, behind the on-deck circle. We were so far away I almost couldn't count the crows feet around Jeff "The Original Marlin" Conine's eyes.

2) Our estimates of the crowd size, apparently, were wildly inaccurate. The upper decks were closed completely (In fact, there were some construction--or, I suppose in this case, destruction--guys ripping out a section of seats in the upper deck in left. Not like the Sox have another ten home games or anything.), and the lower deck, though more full than I would have guessed, wasn't anywhere near capacity. I guessed 900 or so, Luke dithered between 800 and 1200. Attendance wasn't announced during the game, but it was later listed at 4,003.

3) Luke and I had both expected the fans to be rooting for the Expos, hoping for a Marlins defeat that would push Florida farther behind the Cubs in the Wild Card race. There's nothing like a little North Side blindness, which we all fall prey to sometimes. Turns out about half the audience was composed of Sox fans rooting for a Marlins rout, a Sosa suspension, and more concrete cave-ins at Wrigley. One funny side effect of the general admission seating was that people chose sections like at a high school game: the Expos fans sat on the Expos dugout side, the Marlins fans did the same with the Marlins dugout.

4) The Marlins brought their hometown PA announcer and graphics package, which included the obligatory scoreboard races, a gratuitous shot of Steve Bartman, and a lot of "your Florida Marlins." One of the scoreboard races was an exotic Florida-type race: fan boats, being raced by several different Billy the Marlin. Bill was also in attendance, as was Marlins owner (and Expos destroyer) Jeffrey Loria. The only thing missing was local traffic information to help us get home to South Beach after the game.

5) The atmosphere at the game, Luke and I agreed, was one of the most pleasant of any game we've been to. No one (except the players) had much invested in the game's outcome, so the cheering was genial, and people seemed to be really enjoying being part of a weird occurrence on a beautiful late summer day. It felt a lot like attending a minor-league game with major-league players--until the Expos made four errors in the 8th inning, at which point it seemed like, well, maybe a T-Ball game.

6) Not wanting to miss an opportunity, I made the day into a doubleheader, hurrying home after the game to get some dinner, then turning around and heading to Wrigley Field for the Cubs/Pirates game. Greg Maddux, given an early lead, did what he nearly always does, and a fine day of baseball came to a pleasant end.

7) And one unrelated note: let's take a moment to congratulate the Big Unit, who last night fanned Vinny Castilla to move into third all-time on the strikeout list. He might even eventually catch Clemens for second, since he shows no signs of aging.

Original comments...

Jim: You wanted local traffic information for Miami?

"I-95 north is backed up due to slow-moving Cadillacs with turn signals on in all lanes. The Turnpike south is temporarily closed due to alligators crossing the roadway. A1A is flooded due to this week's hurricane."

Luke, hanger-on: One of the Florida papers on Tuesday -- sorry, I forget which one -- said it was the Marlins who wanted the later start Monday, but MLB nixed it. And it said Loria was annoyed at Bartman's visage -- A regular feature after fan interference at Sox Park? The story made it sound like it was. -- and made an enraged call to the scoreboard operator to get it yanked. Apparently he's a bit defensive vis-a-vis the idea that anyone but the Marlins had anything to do with Florida's unlikely championship.

In addition to the absence of "You suck!" heckles and "Yo, four beers!" bellowing, there was another pleasantness to the game that I'm surprised that Levi didn't mention: very few children. It was a weekday, so they must have all been in school or jail, where they belong. There were just enough there -- youngsters too young for school or out on parole -- so that just about every foul ball seemed to get passed on to a nearby child, an indicator of the genial, generous mood that the crowd was in.

Luke: Found that story. (Login: bugmenot2; pass: whatever .)

Luke: And it wasn't Loria, but Marlins President David Samson.

Jason: Did they have any south Florida items at the concession stands, like oranges or cocaine?

maura: (we weren't really sure of what time monday's game was going to start until about five minutes before it actually did. so much confusion.)

Labels: chicago, expos, game report, marlins, u.s. cellular field

Stacey, illegally driving the rental car, met us at the Garfield stop on the Red Line, and within minutes, we were bound for Milwaukee. We had about two-and-a-half hours to make a one-and-a-half-hour drive, and, as they had been all along, the driving fates were with us, as we made Miller Park in plenty of time, navigating through the alluring commingled scents of sausage, beer, and cheese that are the City that Schlitz Made Famous.

To a one, the baseball fans I know--the low-rent, lovers of the run-down and worn that they are--loved Milwaukee’s former ballpark, County Stadium. It was, compared to the new Miller Park, small and homey, and the corrugated iron sheeting that composed its facade gave it a seemingly appropriate resemblance to a factory. Miller Park, on the other hand, is a new-style ballpark through and through. Wide concourses, lots of different stands selling lots of types of sausage, giant parking lots a marathon away from the gate, countless thousands of luxury boxes, and a tower where Bud Selig can sit and stroke his white Persian while sniggering and contemplating whether he should have his contract extended another decade. Even Bernie Brewer moved to a new, upscale home in Miller Park--against his will, I like to assume--his chateau with its front-door slide into the beer stein replaced by a high-end condo and a slide onto . . . a platform. Meanwhile, thee vegetarian food selections at Miller Park, are, as anyone with a passing knowledge of non-Madison Wisconsin would expect, not particularly distinguished or diverse. I had pizza, only discovering as we left that the Gorman Thomas stand would have sold me a Soy Dog, on which I could have put the famous--and mysterious--Stadium Sauce.

At least the sausage race continues, the Brewers still have the feel of a small-town team trying--and, usually, failing--to make good, and with the roof open, I have to admit that Miller Park isn’t that bad. We had great seats on the 8th row down the right field line, from which we had a wonderful view of plays on the infield, and a not-so-wonderful view of Craig Wilson’s shimmering golden locks in the outfield.

But, as Bart Giammatti said, though not meaning it quite so literally as it, sadly, turned out for him, the game is designed to break your heart, and the Brewers--with the able help of Daryle Ward--set about breaking ours with an efficiency any beer factory would envy. Their rookie starter, Ben Hendrickson, threw a good game, but a long home run by Daryle Ward in the second, and a second, longer home run by Ward in the seventh off a reliever gave the Pirates a 5-0 lead that the Brewers’ sadly slumbering offense couldn’t even begin to overcome. In the ninth, the Brewers scored a run off Jose Mesa, the Rungiver, on a triple and a sacrifice fly. The crowd erupted in joy, causing all four of us to look again at the scoreboard to reinforce our suspicions that, yes, that run did leave the Brewers still four back. But no one has ever said Wisconsinites don’t know how to celebrate the finer things in life, and a run is a run is a run, I suppose. I’d have raised it in solidarity, but there wasn’t time, as the Pirates quickly rang down the curtain on BRPA 2004’s winning streak.

But in this life, one savors the little victories, right? So as we drove back to our beloved Chicago, nearly running out of gas on the way, I thought of the ten games we did win, and of the exchange I overheard in the row in front of us. With one out in the Brewer ninth, a man who was at the game with another man and the other man’s ten-year-old son, said to his friend, “You want to go ahead and head out?” The friend replied, “Sure. It doesn’t matter to me.” “What about him?” asked the first man, indicating the child. “I’ll ask him.” Ask he did, and the boy said, “I’d like to stay. But do you want to go?” The man, seeing that he had raised his child in the ways of righteousness, said, “No, let’s stay.”

And stay they did. As I remember once hearing someone say, “See--everything in the world’s not made of toilet.” A fine game and a fine trip, surpassing all expectations. Thanks to everyone who came along, rooted with us, read the blog, or invented baseball all those years ago. And thanks especially to Jim, whose hard work and good company made the whole flawless trip possible. I recommend anyone who is considering any trip anywhere hire him. He’s worth the hefty price I’m sure he’d command.

Original comments...

thatbob: Last year when we went up to Miller Park, the traditional 7th inning stretch version of Beer Barrel Polka was replaced with a vote-by-applause version of some Usher or Nelly song that I couldn't fathom because I'm some kind of old man. But this year, happily, Beer Barrel Polka was back, and I think overall the blaring, rocking stadium sound system was a little better behaved. (Of course we had spent the day being aurally assaulted at Comiskey, so my perceptions may have been skewed.)

The Brittish Rounders Society: You bloody Yanks didn't invent anything. You stole the game from us!

The Native American Battagaway Society: You one to talk, paleface with bad teeth.

Jim: By the way, if it had been solely up to me, I would have chosen to root for the Pirates (because of my brief Pittsburgh-area residency). But I was just one out of four attendees at this game, and I didn't want to press the issue.

Labels: bob conrad, brewers, brpa, game report, miller park, milwaukee, pirates, road trip, stacey shintani

After Sunday’s game, we truly entered the home stretch of our trip, getting back to the Rocketship in time for the late dinner Stacey had waiting for us Sunday night. In exchange, we offered her the last of the Hostess Baseballs, a treat she declined. Bob at it later, to no one’s surprise.

Monday morning dawned cloudy and gray, but who cares? We had survived eight nights in hotel beds without getting scabies or being devoured by bedbugs. We had survived nine days of road food without getting scurvy. Jim even ate all the vegetables that were put in front of him, which I hope will reassure his mother. So who cared that it looked rainy? Like Team USA Basketball, we were sure of our powers. Our luck would hold. Unlike Team USA Basketball, we were right, for the most part.

Needing to run 20 miles to keep up with my marathon training, I decided to run the sixteen miles to my office, plus a bit, then shower at the gym, go through my email for an hour, then head back north to Comiskey Park. Jim, demonstrating yet again that he’s by far the most sensible member of BRPA 2004, slept in, then he and Bob met me at the ballpark.

I suppose I should describe Comiskey Park. I’m guessing most of our legion of fans have been there, but a few words are in order in case. Those words are: sterile, boring, styleless, loud, and a right impressive ripping-off of the taxpayer. But for all that, I do think Comiskey is a bit better than the terrible reputation it has. The vertigo-inducing upper-deck seats are a bit better these days, as the team in the offseason replaced the top rows of them with a roof, and when there are 50,000 people in the park and the Sox are soul-destroyingly bad, it can be a fun place to see a ballgame or, apparently, attack a base coach.

Mondays at Comiskey Park are half-price days, and every Illinois resident should go to a couple a year, as they’re paying for them, via a shady deal the Sox signed when Illinois built the new ballpark for them whereby they only pay rent if they draw X large number of fans at full price in a season. Only about 5,000 of them decided to exercise that option Monday. Maybe they knew what Bob, Jim, and I didn’t: that the baseball on Monday would be of about half-price quality, too.

Entering this game, the White Sox were 7 for 67 with 20 strikeouts in 18 scoreless innings. Today, they fell behind early, made a couple of errors, ran the bases in extravagantly bad fashion, and just looked like a team that was determined to break BRPA 2004’s perfect rooting record. But then Joe Borchard hit a 504-foot home run, the longest in the history of New Comiskey (Bob, Jim, and I didn’t think it was that long, but we don’t have the official How-far-did-it-fly calculator, so what do we know?), the Phillies, taking their defensive cues from the Pale Hose, botched a rundown and had their pitcher and catcher trip over one another while failing to field a bunt, and suddenly, the Sox were leading 9-6. It was about the most lackadaisical and sloppy 9-6 attainment of a 9-6 lead that you’ll ever see, but a lead’s a lead.

Fan favorite Shingo Takatsu entered the game in the 9th, to the joy of the 5,000 faithful and the five camera operators, who got a chance to put their finding Asian fans in the stands skills to the test. He promptly surrendered a 2-run homer to Jim Thome, but homers by Thome are like cat barf: you never want them around, but once a while, there they are, and you just hope they don’t ruin anything. Takatsu buckled down and finished out a 9-8 Sox win, and suddenly, we were 10-0.

Labels: bob conrad, brpa, chicago, game report, joe borchard, phillies, road trip, u.s. cellular field, white sox

Sunday morning dawned gray and muggy, and it looked like maybe our luck would finally run out and leave us rain-delayed on getaway day. Maura used the Internet to find an hour-by-hour forecast for Cleveland, and it didn’t look good, alternating between storms, showers, and drizzle all day.

Undeterred, we crossed the bridge, left Pittsburgh, and made our way in the direction of America’s poorest city, Cleveland, where we met Cleveland residents Dan and Dianne. The two MLB employees in our party could get two others of us into the game free, but that left one unaccounted for, so we headed to the ticket window. But our good fortune continued, as a man who was heading a group of 37 people but had 40 tickets gave us ticket 38, gratis.

Jacobs Field, right in downtown Cleveland, is a definite improvement on Municipal Stadium. I liked Municipal the one time I was there, for a fireworks night in 1993, because it was huge and squareish and old, but the odd configuration of the stands, built for multiple sports, meant the sight lines ranged from okay to crick-in-the-neck lousy. The Jake, one of the earliest of the throwback stadiums, is similar to all the new parks we have been to: huge concourses, lots of food stands, comfy seats. But it’s got cozy dimensions, a high left-field wall, and, even for a meaningless game in August, a good, attentive crowd. The field itself seemed extra-pretty and green, though it might have just appeared that way in contrast to the threatening skies.

My search for vegetarian food today took me to the garlic fries booth (The garlic fries were good, but not quite as good as San Francisco’s.), then to a burrito place, where I asked if I could get a burrito without meat. The concessionaire a) looked at me as if he had never heard that question, b) looked at me as if he couldn’t imagine why anyone would ask that question, c) looked at me as if maybe the burritos were just meat wrapped in a tortilla, and he was imagining a tortilla full of air, then d) said he guessed I could. I decided to press on, and press on I did, until I found a sushi booth. The vegetarian sushi combo was better and consisted of more, and more varied, pieces than the one at Skydome. But perhaps I should have kept searching, because later, Maura returned to our seats from a food run with a chocolate-ice-cream-covered crepe that, as Dan said, made everyone around her stare as if she’d just walked by topless.

Having decided, due to our Clevelandite hangers-on, to root for the Indians and reserve our Sox rooting for tomorrow’s game, we settled down in our seats along the first-base line to await what we expected would be a high-scoring affair. Neither the Indians starter, Scott Elarton, nor Jon Garland for the White Sox has been particularly distinguished this season, but apparently the full confidence of the BRPA 2004 team had a powerful effect on Elarton, who pitched brilliantly. He gave up a walk in the third,and a scratch hit on the infield in the fourth, but due to double plays, he faced the minimum all the way through the first eight innings.

Meanwhile, Jon Garland was giving up home run after home run after home run, as the Indians put up nine unanswered runs despite hitting into the best double play we’d ever seen. In the secondd inning,with Ben Broussard at second base, Ronnie Belliard grounded a ball back to Garland on the mound. He whirled and threw to shortstop Jose Valentin, catching Broussard too far off second. Broussard, knowing they had him dead to rights, headed for third, his only thought being to keep in the rundown long enough for Belliard to sneak up to second base safely. But third baseman Joe Crede forced Broussard back towards second, and, seeing that he had to stay alive a moment longer, Broussard headed that way; Crede hesitated a bit too long with the ball, and it looked as if Broussard might just make it back to second.

It was at that point that everyone in the stands and on the field realized that something extremely unusual might be about to happen. Broussard was sliding back into second, while Ronnie Belliard, running at top speed was dropping into his slide on the other side of second base. Shortstop Valentin, crouching on the third-base side of second, took the throw, slapped down a tag on Broussard, then swung his glove around and laid a tag on Belliard. The umpire, appearing to be as surprised as the rest of us, pointed to the left side of the bag and threw up a thumb, then pointed to the right side and threw it up again. The crowd erupted in a mix of surprise, awe, and laughter.

But it didn’t matter. Elarton just kept cruising along in the best start of his career. In the ninth, having faced the minimum, he hit a batter intentionally as payback for a beaning of Ben Broussard the previous inning, then gave up a sharp single, the second hit of the game for the Sox, but then he shut the door. His final line: 9 innings pitched, 2 hits, 1 walk, 1 hit batsman, 0 runs, 6 strikeouts, 101 pitches. And it was all over in 1:56, the fastest game I think I’ve ever seen, and too fast for the promised storms ever to make an appearance.

Oh, and the Cleveland scoreboard needs a quick mention. Between innings early in the game, it showed the shell game with a ball and caps, but rather than show an animated version like at most ballparks, the Indians sent an employee into the stands to play with a kid and real caps and ball. All that was lacking was a shill to lay down $20 and show the kid how easy the game was. Later, they featured a Slurpee-drinking contest among three young girls, each slurping a different flavor. The winner, drinking the red Slurpee, bleary-eyed and staggered from her sudden ice-cream headache, walked away with a DVD set of the Kubrick Collection, or something like that. It was hard to see from far away.

Now we’re on the road back home, about to hit I-94, the first doubling back of the trip. Tomorrow, we put our 9-0 record to the test, first at Comiskey, then at Milwaukee.

Original comments...

Dan: You forgot to mention the seventh-inning vocal chord stretch featuring William Hung.

Levi: And I forgot to mention the scabrous mascot of the Indians, some pink fuzzy nasty thing that looked like it had crawled out of the Cuyahoga back in its fiery days.

Labels: brpa, cleveland, Dan Rivkin, dianne ketler, game report, indians, jacobs field, maura johnston, road trip, scott elarton, white sox

The day began inauspiciously, with the Waffle House that had been used as bait to get Maura out of bed at 6:15 turning out to be a boarded-up derelict. But after that, everything looked up. We reset our breakfast sights on an Eat 'n Park, a Pennsylvania favorite, then hit the road for Pittsburgh.

Pittsburgh is a beautiful city these days, at the confluence of three rivers and surrounded by high hills. We rolled into the swank Hilton--with wireless Internet in all rooms!--and within minutes, rain was pouring down. But our luck held out, the rain cleared off, and we had another beautiful, sunny day for a ballgame. We met up with Maura’s friend Alison from work, who besides being a Cardinals fan is good company. She had flown out for the series and was staying at our hotel, which seemed to be about half full of Cardinals fans. Being with two MLB employees meant that we got great seats without the hassle of pulling out or opening our wallets.

PNC Park is located just down the street from the old Three Rivers Stadium, but that’s about as close to the old ballpark as this one gets in any way. The old ballpark was the worst of the cookie-cutter dual-use 1960s stadiums, big and impersonal and mostly empty. PNC, like all the new parks we’ve been to on this trip, is very open, with lots of views from the outside of the inside and vice-versa. We were on the third-base side, just past the bag, about thirty-five rows up in the lower deck, and from there we had a view of the Roberto Clemente bridge and a bit of the Pittsburgh skyline. The out-of-town scoreboard is similar to the one in Philly, but in this case, I didn’t much care what was going on out of town, because the Cardinals were busy delivering yet another defeat to the Pirates. Albert Pujols sat out, which led to this conversation one row behind me. As I listened in, I couldn’t decide whether it was an ad for MLB, an ad for, say, “Spend time with your kids. A message from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints,” or, “Kids are counting on you. Don’t let them down. A message from the [see above].” You make the call:

Dad: Is that Albert Pujols?
Son: No, dad. That’s Scott Rolen.
Dad: I don’t think Pujols is even playing today.
Son: Yeah, I don’t think he is.
Dad: And he’s the main reason you wanted to come today.
Son: Yeah.
Dad: He was all you could talk about in the car on the way here.
Son: Yeah. . . . . But Scott Rolen’s pretty good, too.
Dad: Yeah. He sure is.

The Pirates scoreboard opened the game with a lengthy animation in which the Pirates' ship sank the ships of the other NL Central teams. Later, it featured the animated beginning to what turned into an on-field Pierogi race. In this race, the Pittsburgh Parrot mascot, taking his cue from Randall Simon, decked three of the pierogi in order to assist the female pierogi, Hannah Jalapeno, who had fallen at the finish line. The Parrot carried her over, to much applause.

Pierogi without legs or gender were available at the concession stands, and they came in a close second to the Comerica Park veggie pita in the vegetarian ballpark food rankings. The reason they didn't rank more highly was that, as I think Bob can vouch, you can either eat not enough pierogi--the problem with a serving at PNC--or way too many pierogi--the problem if you eat them at home. There's no middle ground, and PNC, perhaps sensibly, chose to go with too few rather than have groaning patrons unable to leave their seats at game's end.

The Cardinals got a three-run homer in the second from Reggie Sanders and a solo homer the next inning from Jim Edmonds, his third of the weekend, to give them a 5-0 lead. In the third inning, Larry Walker threw out Jose Castillo at the plate as he tried to score on a single to right. Yadier Molina took the throw and just had time to turn towards Castillo when Castillo, traveling about 75 mph, knocked him into about the twelfth row. But Yadier held on, got his brain put back in the right direction, and stayed in the game. That was a good thing, because the next inning also ended, following a patented Matt Morris semi-meltdown, with the tying run thrown out at the plate trying to score on a single to Jim Edmonds. Edmonds makes that play several times a year, running in hard to field a single and coming up throwing a strike to the plate. A few times a year, he overruns the ball and looks extremely silly, but the outs at the plate more than make up for that.

The Cardinals held on, matching their win total from all of last year and running us to 8-0 on the trip. Tomorrow, we’re on to Cleveland, where we meet up with Dan (and, presumably, get in for free again) and, I think, root for the Indians. As far as the trip goes, despite the threat of thunderstorms today, we’re into the home stretch; it feels kind of like it’s the 9th, we’re Eric Gagne, and we’re about to face Rey Ordonez, Neifi Perez, and Tom Goodwin. Our perfect record, however, is in more danger than ever: none of the remaining three games presents us with a clear favorite team to root for, and any one seems as likely to win as any other one. I have faith. 11-0, here we come.

Oh, and there are two newspaper notes. First,a demonstration of my political commitment: Despite the lead story--accompanied by a photo--being about how bunnies are thriving in Pittsburgh this year because of the wet weather, I did not buy the right-wing rag the Tribune-Review. And the Post-Gazette, which Jim did buy, included today the phrase "a throbbing mass of roaches."

Original comments...

Nancy Boland: Glad you saw a great game and advanced to an 8-0 record! Enjoyed having you for your short stay in Philly!

Toby: It was actually Ty Wigginton on the collision.

Did you guys go over the bridge where the opening scene in "Flashdance" was shot? I visited Pittsburgh with Levi's sister and some other friends in January 2003 and we went over it. How nostalgic...

thatbob: What a feeling!

Hey, I don't understand why Jim was rooting for the Cardinals over Pittsburgh this game. I'm going to consider his record to be at 7-1 until he explains himself.

thatbob: I imagine it would be very easy, but really, really mean, for a pirate ship to sink a ship full of bear cubs. And it would seem against a pirate's own interests to sink a ship full of brewers. That doesn't even make sense.

Toby: Neither do most of the personnel moves the Pirates have made the past 12 years.

Labels: brpa, Cardinals, eat 'n park, game report, maura johnston, pirates, pittsburgh, pnc park, rabbit, road trip

Today’s headline is a statement made by Maura as Brewers pitcher Victor Santos issued an intentional walk to Jim Thome, eliciting boos from the 40,000-strong Citizen Bank Ballpark crowd. Maura joined us midafternoon, meeting us at WPRB’s fancy new studios--complete with functional headphones--in a fancy new dorm on the campus of Princeton University. Maura graciously allowed us to take over her weekly radio show for a couple of hours, playing songs and clips from Jim’s baseball playlist and talking about some of the things we’ve seen on the trip. Three different callers who had never before heard Steve Goodman’s “A Dying Cubs Fan’s Last Request” called to find out what it was.

Following the radio show, we met Jim’s aunt and uncle and followed them to the ballpark. Their presence--combined with Maura’s Phillyphilia and everyone’s hatred of Bud Selig--overrode my regional loyalties and caused us to choose to root for the Phillies. It was a good choice, too, because it allowed us to spiritually join the Padilla Flotilla that was out with their banner in deep right. Vicente Padilla did them proud, throwing 8 shutout innings. Victor Santos of the Brewers fared less well, starting strong but absolutely falling apart in a 6-run fifth inning that forced me, for the first time in two years of keeping score, to shift my inning over a column as the Phillies sent twelve men to the plate. Walks will haunt, indeed. The Padilla Flotilla was ecstatic.

Citizens Bank Ballpark was surprisingly pleasant, especially if contrasted with what I’ve heard about Veterans Stadium, recollections of which tend to not be suitable for a family publication like BRPA 2004. It’s a big, new ballpark kind of like all the others, but I like the angularity of its design: the upper decks all have sharp edges and clean breaks between angled sections; the outfield walls run at odd angles to each other rather than curves, and access to the upper decks is via squared-off staircases rather than ramps. Like seemingly all the new parks, the upper deck--where we sat, right behind home--is too far from the plate, but because each of the four decks is only about twenty-five rows high, you’re able to avoid Comiskey-style vertigo.

Citizens Bank Ballpark definitely the biggest footprint of any non-Skydome park we’ve been to, and unlike Skydome, it doesn’t have a hotel inside. Land in way-south Philly must not have been in great demand, because what the team has done (with much, much public money) is build a fairly normal-sized ballpark, then put a large shell around it of wide concourses, staircases, escalators, food stands, a walk of fame, games and such for the easily distracted younger set, and more food stands. Spoiled by Wrigley, I dislike any park where you have to walk a Harold-Washington-library’s-inside-length distance to get to the entrance, but this ballpark didn’t bother me that much, maybe because the concourses felt, perhaps unintentionally, almost separate from the grandstand and field.

There were two other great things in the ballpark that I’d never seen before. On the brick façade just inside the gate, they post the home team’s starting lineup in ten-foot high baseball card photos. And the out of town scoreboard along the low right-field wall was the best I’ve ever seen. It was an old-style (which is the new style) light-bulb scoreboard. The wonderful innovation the Phils feature is to display for each out-of-town game, the current on-base situation (represented by tiny lights on a diamond) and the number of outs in the current inning. For someone like me who spends half the game tracking, say, the Cardinals game, it’s a source of alternating joy and worry.

Following the game, we drove with Maura to a dinky motel off the interstate in Harrisburg to stay the night. Soon after we’d gone to bed, Marvin’s sister-in-law called, twice. First she called and asked for Marvin without identifying herself. Confident that we were Marvin-less, Jim told her she had the wrong number. Minutes later, she called back, at which point Jim politely convinced her that the number Marvin had given her two days ago was the number of a hotel room, and that we, not Marvin, were its rightful occupants. Sleep followed.

We’re 7-0 now and heading to Pittsburgh to see the Cardinals attempt to match last season’s victory total, with 32 games still to go.

Original comments...

Jon Solomon: I was only able to hijack the first 90 minutes of Maura's show before RealPlayer lost the feed, but I can turn this file into an edited mp3 and upload it somewhere. If FTP codes can be provided, I can even put it on baseballrelated.com! Let me know. Go Cats.

Labels: bolands, brewers, brpa, citizens bank park, game report, maura johnston, philadelphia, phillies, radio, road trip

Some thoughts on Fenway Park and the 3-1 Red Sox win we saw.

1) It’s wonderful when something you’ve heard about all your life fully lives up to its billing. Fenway did. It’s a nearly perfect ballpark. Really, there’s not a lot I could say about Fenway that’s not already been said elsewhere. Everything you’ve heard is true. It’s cozy enough that even from our seats 13 rows up in dead center, we felt close to the action. The long rows and tight spaces discourage the sort of incessant milling around that the crowds at, say, Wrigley Field are prone to. And while the high walls and blocky upper deck block any view of the neighborhood, that means that once you’re in Fenway, everything is centered around the game. The ballpark maintains an enclosed, insular feeling such that even the drunk fans gave the impression of being at least somewhat attentive, and most fans were concentrating on every pitch. It was a wonderful place to see a ballgame.

2) The current ownership of the Red Sox, having decided that, rather than attempt to extort a replacement for Fenway from the city like the previous owners attempted to do, they would take advantage of having one of the best ballparks in baseball while still taking every chance they could to squeeze more money out of it. To that end, they’ve made some changes that I suppose might bother longtime Sox fans, but that I thought were actually pretty good. They added seats to the top of the Green Monster. They added some seats to the roof of the upper deck. They added (I think) another section of upper deck just past the end of the grandstand in right. And, to me the most surprising: they seem to have talked the city into letting them more or less take over Yawkey Way on game day. Turnstiles are set up in the middle of the street, and once you’re past them, you’re in the park. Towards the back of the outfield grandstands, it appears that they’ve actually moved the exterior walls of the park out onto what would have been the sidewalk, allowing the Sox to open up what had formerly been a cramped concourse under the stands. They’ve used the space to make navigating the park easier and to put up more of the things the contemporary fan is said to want: food stands, urinals, and more food stands. It’s a successful alteration, one that I think I wouldn’t even have noticed had I not been there on a non-game-day tour in 1993.

3) If I didn’t know that Paul Harvey is a Midwesterner, I would have thought he was working as the Red Sox public address announcer last night. The announcer had Harvey’s voice, inflections, tone, and cadences. Jim and I both expected him to end his announcements with “Good day.” Regardless, he was without a doubt the best PA announcer we’ve heard on the trip. Late in the game, with the crowd absolutely ecstatic singing along to “Sweet Caroline” between innings, he began to announce a pitching change for the Tigers. Noticing that the crowd was still shouting “Bump-ba-dah,” he paused, let the last notes of the song pass, and completed his announcement.

4) The guys behind us, four early twenty-somethings down from New York for their first Fenway game, were the sort of drunkies who tend to bug me a lot at Wrigley, in part because they’re always up and down and milling around. But these guys just didn’t bug me that much. They were loud, but a lot of their talk was about the game, and much of the time, when it was off-topic, it was fairly entertaining. Like when one guy was talking about Emeril, and another guy had never heard of Emeril, and the first guy spent ten minutes explaining who Emeril is, complete with a lot of: “You know--Bam! Bam! That guy--Bam!”

5) I do have one suggestion for PA operators at stadiums nationwide: just because a band records a song about your team/ballpark, you shouldn’t play it unless it also doesn’t suck. The only dissonant note in the whole night was the four minutes, pre-game, we had to spend listening to a terrible country (Country? In New England? Why?) song called “Having a Ball at Fenway.” It sucked more than the Blue Jays song; the only reason it wasn’t worse overall was that it wasn’t like spreading throw-up all over the seventh-inning stretch with a butter knife the way the Blue Jays song was.

That song aside, though, the organist and PA people were solid. The organist began the game with “Selections from Jim’s iPod,” which began with “Walk Away Renee” and went on to "Eight Days a Week” and “After the Gold Rush,” among others. Later, I--who usually am not excited all that much by stadium crowd singalongs--got a big kick out of hearing the crowd sing along to “Summer Wind,” then go absolutely brains-melting crazy over “Sweet Caroline.” It’s as big as “Hey Ya!”

It was odd for me to see Red Sox fans--who generally appear to be some of the most attentive fans in baseball--doing the wave and bouncing beach balls.

6) Everyone knows that the Red Sox are Yankee-obsessed. But Jesus, people. “Yankees suck!” chants cropped up without provocation, and anti-Yankee t-shirts were selling nearly as well as Johnny Damon shirts. It’s like the slacker kid in high school constantly writing mean things about the cool kids in his notebook. Sure, I’ve got sympathy, but at the end of the day, he keeps doing it, and he’s just using up space in his notebook he could be using to transcribe Violent Femmes lyrics.

7) The Red Sox scoreboard advertises a new service: if a fan feels his enjoyment of the game is being hindered by, say, drunk and rowdy fans nearby, he can, rather than wait for an usher to show up, call the security hotline on his phone. Not that I’m a fan of using the phone at games, but given that Wrigley Field ushers never seem to be around when drunks begin chucking peanuts at everyone in sight, I could imagine being able to phone security might be helpful. The trick would be avoiding getting a beer dumped on your head while you phoned.

8) And Johnny Damon got a couple of hits, stole a base, scored a run, made a couple of catches. And the Mike Timlin made another great appearance out of the Sox bullpen. And the Sox won, running me and Jim to 6-0 on the trip.

Labels: boston, brpa, Fenway Park, game report, johnny damon, red sox, road trip, tigers

O, Canada! I am so ready to stand on guard for thee. You’ve won me over, with your rolling hills, your Euro-style, your wide vistas, your old buildings, your two-dollar coins, and, yes--I mean oui--even your French.

Le Stade Olimpique, on the other hand. . . . Well, let’s just say if all baseball were played in such conditions, Jim and I might be on a trip to see 11 team handball games instead. Oh, it’s not as bad as it could be. Some good points: The Metro lets you off right under the stadium. Tickets from un homme out front were 10$, or about $.65 U.S. The seat location printed on those tickets was more a suggestion than a condition. The funny yellow seats that looked like they’d been recycled from Tomorrowland’s “Mission to Mars” were actually pretty comfortable. The poutine—which, because I do find myself on occasion eating meat gravy, at Thanksgiving, say, I decided I couldn’t quite bear to pass up—was as advertised. Youppi was slightly less annoying than your average mascot. When an Expo homered, the scoreboard flashed, “CIRCUIT!”

But there were, without a doubt, bad points. The main--all-encompassing, really--bad point was that we were watching baseball indoors. It’s just wrong and deeply unsatisfying to walk out of a pleasant, 25-degree night into an enclosed concrete bowl with a puffy roof. The turf--though more grasslike than the bright green nightmare that serves as the field at Skydome--is still far closer to carpet on the carpet/grass continuum. The outfield walls, though decorated with the retired numbers of Expo greats (Quick quiz: name three. Okay, time’s up. If you said three of Andre Dawson, Gary Carter, Rusty Staub, Tim Raines, or--and this one isn’t really fair--Jackie Robinson, you win!), is still a tall, stadium-blue vinyl cushion thing. And the foul poles, like at Skydome, aren’t poles at all, just two-foot-wide netting painted yellow and strong from the top of the wall to the upper deck--although Stade Olimpique gets bonus points for continuing the foul poles with dotted lines painted across the appropriate part of the façade to the ceiling.

Jim and I were both pleasantly surprised by the size of the crowd. The Dodgers were in town, and quite a few of those in attendance were wearing the blue, but the majority of attendees seemed to be Expos fans. The announced attendance of nearly 8,000 didn’t even seem all that inflated. Jim and I decided just before the first pitch that, being in Montreal, we would allow location to supersede Jim’s regional loyalties, so we cheered for Les Expos. As the team took the field, I learned that Expos third baseman Tony Batista (Who, you may remember from his days in Baltimore, has the silliest batting stance in baseball, sillier even than Craig Counsell. Really. Try it out yourself. Look in the mirror. Imagine the mirror is a pitcher. Take the stance that normal hitter would take, and you’ll see that your outside shoulder is faced towards the pitcher. Now, imagine you’re Tony Batista. Say “Hola, soy Tony Batista.” Take your left foot, the one closest to the pitcher, and step out of the box with it. You’ll notice that you’re now facing the pitcher. Take the bat off your shoulder and hold it with both hands directly in front of you, pointed up, like Ben Kenobi awaiting Darth Vader. Wait for your pitch.) runs out to his position at top speed just like Sammy Sosa. Only, as Batista is an infielder, he has to get moving and get stopped much more quickly. But the crowd loves it nonetheless.

The game itself was a good one for Expos fans--from the third pitch to Brad Wilkerson leading off the bottom of the first, Jose Lima had definitely set his watch to Lima Time. Only, he’d set it to Lima time circa 1999, when his propensity for the “balle de circuit!” forced him out of baseball. He threw “un balle de adios, mon ami” to Wilkerson, and later he served up “un balle de tristesse toujours san fin” to the aforementioned Tony Batista a few innings later. (Remember how silly you looked just now in the mirror? I don’t understand how it works, either.) Miixing it up a bit, Lima tossed the next batter, Juan Rivera, a “balle de Mercy!, merci.” In the sixth, Termel Sledge, who’s only mentioned here because of his great name, singled and scored when Lima threw his last pitch of the ballgame, “un balle de circuit de troix puntos.” The 6-3 lead that gave Les Expos would hold up, making the teams Jim and I are rooting for 5-0 on the trip. That in itself is almost worth our not getting to see Eric Gagne pitch in his homeland.

One last incident from the game deserves mention, and it involves the twice-mentioned Tony Batista. In the 7th, Batista dodged a wild pitch--“un mauvais balle”--that nearly hit his ankles. The next pitch was a fastball that hit him in the helmet. He went down, knocked out. The Dodgers pitcher was instantly ejected, unfairly, in my view, and the trainer and players gathered around Batista. It was scary, but within a minute or so, he was moving around. Then, within seconds of having been out cold, Batista pushed himself to his feet, turned and waved both hands at the cheering crowd, and, shrugging off assistance, sprinted to first. Though I expected him to be replaced in the game for precautionary reasons, he stayed in, and three pitches later, he stole second on the back end of a double steal. Surely he’s a fan favorite in Montreal.

Now we’re rolling up and down the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire, on our way to Boston. When I turned the computer on, I misread the wireless network symbol and thought for a second that perhaps all of Vermont was an open wireless network. Sadly, no.

The examination at the border crossing back into the U.S. was a bit more strenuous than the one we endured to enter Canada (Here is the entry one in its entirety, as a one-act play: Customs guy (bored almost to the point of rudeness: You bringing anything in? Me: Nope. Fin.). The lady looked in our trunk, asked how we knew each other--explaining CRC set us behind schedule about two hours—and asked twice if we were bringing anything in. Later, we took a pleasant ferry ride across lovely Lake Champlain, and, minutes after I had expressed to Jim my general distaste for giant Recreational Vehicles like the pink one adjacent to us on the ferry, which was towing an SUV behind it--and seconds after I expressed my fears that it would smash our car attempting to drive off the ferry--said RV, in driving off the ferry, banged its long-ass back end into our right rear panel. Fortunately for us, only the trailer carrying the SUV suffered damage, a smashed taillight. Our Chevy Impala, apparently “increveable,” was unmarked. A ways down the road, as we passed the RV, I was able to shake my fist. I doubt the driver saw me, though, from his perch forty feet above the roadway.

On to Boston. Johnny Damon, we come for thee!

Original comments...

Jim's mom: Mom says hi. Drive carefully and eat your vegetables.

Toby: Levi, If you didn't get a picture of Lima's wife, don't bother coming back! Are you trying to say the tickets were 65 cents or is there a typo somewhere?

thatbob: That's just Levi trying to make some of his patented "exchange rate" humor. It probably would have made a little more sense about 4 years ago, you know, before the US dollar went all to hell.

Eric Ritter: Poutine... mmmmm.

stacey: so what exactly is poutine?

Dan: When I went to Olympic Stadium in 1989, I thought it was a tremendous dump. Although I bet it was a terrific place to see the opening ceremonies of the '76 Games.

sandor: Poutine is something like fries swimming in meat gravy. It's much grosser than a pretty name like "poutine" would lead you to believe.

I'm curious to know if either Canadian ballpark served donairs. During our recent trip to Canadia, we were confused as all get-out to see them advertised at the same level and intesity as hamburgers and hot dogs, not having ever heard the term before. Turns out a donair is pretty much the exact same thing as a gyros. I guess they hate Greeks in Canadia, and needed to come up with something sufficiently anglo as a replacement.

stacey: It's now 3:16 here in Chicago. I've just turned off WPRB after enjoying the radio show . . . but I'm surprised there's not a new post yet. Isn't Maura a wireless zone?

stacey: sorry to keep posting about the future and the past . . . but this reminded me of the bunny at the swing of the quad cities game:

http://mlb.mlb.com/NASApp/mlb/mlb/news/mlb_leftfield.jsp?ymd=20040825&content_id=838421&vkey=leftfield&fext=.jsp

Jason: The big question is: Did Jim eat any poutine?

Eric Ritter: Poutine is the national food of the part of Quebec that doesn't object to it being the national food.

I loooove Poutine. But I understand the point of view of people who don't want it to be the national food. It's extremely yummy (to me, an avowed fan of fatty foods), but doesn't achieve the culinary brilliance of certain other proletarian fatty foods, such as Southern fried chicken (of which I am the grandmaster, by the way. And which is much less fatty than you think.) A francophone nation can do better.

Eric

Labels: brpa, dodgers, expos, ferry, game report, montreal, olympic stadium, road trip

Toronto feels far more like London that I would have expected. When I was here two years ago for a conference, I didn’t notice that because I didn’t get out of the immediate downtown area much. We made it into town early enough yesterday, though, for me and Jim to wander around a bit through what seemed to be kind of the Belmont area of Toronto. The businesses all keep their doors open, like in London, and the crowd--young, stylish, multi-ethnic--feels much more international than a similar crowd in, say, Chicago, would. The weather was beautiful, as it was on my previous trip, leading me to suspect that perhaps the weather is always great in Canada, but is painted otherwise by Canadians in order to keep Yankee fans from retiring there en masse. When I went for a short run this morning, I noticed another similarity to London: it’s hard to run on the sidewalks in Toronto because there are too many pedestrians. I guess it was good practice for the slow-runner-dodging required in the marathon--although this was like the marathon would be if, say, everybody but me decided to walk the race, except for a couple of people on bicycles.

But on to the game: Red Sox Nation descended on Skydome in force last night. I suppose we shouldn’t have been surprised--the combination of Fenway’s astronomical prices and limited seating must make an eight-hour drive to Toronto seem reasonable. So when Jim and I reached the ballpark, delivered by the TTC subway, there were a couple thousand Sox fans waiting outside the gates. Various psychologists and counselors were making a fortune wandering the line and taking appointments from long-suffering Sox fans. Every once in a while, a Blue Jays fan would wander by, seeming out of place. The atmosphere wasn’t quite as overwhelmingly Sox-positive as the pro-Cubs crowd at Milwaukee creates, but I have no doubt the audience was more than half Sox fans.

From the outside, Skydome looks less like a ballpark than a convention center or hotel or parking garage, its utterly nondescript concrete exterior looking out of place topped by the retractable roof, which was rolled back for the game last night. Inside, the décor—concrete, neon, pastel railings, futuristic logos on the food stands--reminded us a bit of EPCOT Center, which I posit is the most-quickly out-of-date design in the history of the universe. The only way Skydome could have seemed more mid-80s would have been if the ushers had been decked out in Members Only windbreakers.

Our seats, way down the right-field line, 21 rows up, are seats that are pushed back out of service when Toronto’s Argonauts play arena football, which I hear resembles hockey or curling or something. Remembering the worshipful articles about the glories of Skydome that appeared in every U.S. newspaper when the Jays were good in the early 90s, I went in search of interesting vegetarian food, and I found some. There was sushi stand, advertising sushi “Made while you wait.” In Canada, “Made while you wait,” must mean, “Taken from a stack of containers of pre-made vegetarian sushi while you wait.” It wasn’t the best sushi I’ve ever had, but it was, hands-down, the best sushi I’ve ever had at a ballpark. I followed it up with a vegetarian burger, which, like most of its ilk, was predictably bland. Jim had pizza and a bag of popcorn so large that the usher made him go buy it a ticket.

From the start of the game, the Sox fans dominated the proceedings with their cheering. Even the many children seemed to pay attention to the game. Tim Wakefield threw his “balle de papillon” past several Blue Jays early on, although one pitch which failed to knuckle—making it a 120-kilometre-per-hour fastball—was deposited by Orlando Hudson in the right-field seats. But an inning later, Doug Mirabelli knocked a “balle de c’est la vie” from Miguel Batista into the second deck in left to give the Red Sox a 3-2 lead. Chants of “Let’s go Red Sox!” swept the park. The game remained close, with Tim Wakefield, hoping to keep the crowd in the game, managed to load the bases with no one out in the 6th, forcing a reliever, former Blue Jay Mike Timlin--who wears a camouflage t-shirt under his jersey--to strike out the next two Blue Jays and get a groundout to preserve the lead.

When the seventh-inning stretch rolled around, the mostly-annoying P.A. announcer---who seemed to take his vocal stylings and enthusiasm from former “Double Dare” host Marc Summers—shouted to the assembled, “It’s seventh-inning stretch time, and you all know what that means!” Fool that I am, I thought I did. Instead of one of the two acceptable songs for this moment (I allow “Roll out the Barrel”), the Jays began playing some hideous song that mixed loud guitars and processed drums and banal lyrics about the Jays, the Skydome, the baseball, and how we’re all going to enjoy a day at the ballgame. It even referred to “the umpire’s call” as an element we might have been looking forward to, which I suppose we might, in the same sense in which we might look forward to hearing that our cancer is benign. It was a nasty little song--but I was given pause when I looked around and saw that the audience was kind of into it. They were making some kind of lazy gestures that were being encouraged by the Jays’ cheerleaders (yes, that’s another abomination that we won’t discuss) atop the dugouts. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe this was a good song, beloved by Jays fans? But then I remembered that half the audience were Red Sox fans, and we all know that Red Sox fans prefer pain and suffering to pleasure and happiness. They probably play the long version of “Feels So Good” at Fenway in the seventh. “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” was played following “Sucky Jays Baseball Song” so I guess no permanent harm was done. But the whole thing did nothing to lessen my feeling of being stuck back in the 1988-1991 period, a dark era if ever there was one.
The game was the longest we’ve seen on the trip so far, but it stayed close--5-4 Sox--to the end, so we didn’t mind. And, unlike the Sox fans who left--rushing back to their hotels to catch the latest medal count update?--in the 8th, we didn’t have anywhere we needed to be. When Keith Foulke struck out Eric Hinske to deliver the W for the Sox, a rousing cheer went up from the Hub fans, and, for one night at least, all was well in Red Sox Nation—though the situation among the Sox fans still didn’t feel quite healthy. After all, midway through the game, apropos of nothing, a chant of “Yankees suck!” made the rounds. Obsession is an ugly thing, as are festering inferiority complexes.

Oh, and Johnny Damon? He played a solid centre field, though one ball went over his head. Walk, groundout, single (complete with a stolen base and an advancement to third on a throwing error), strikeout. Sadly for everyone involved, neither his helmet or his cap ever left his head. If I assume that that’s Bud Selig’s fault (Maybe Selig ordered Damon to get some toques that fit?), is that a sign that my Selig hatred is becoming unhealthy?

Oh, well, on to Montreal! Oui, Monsieur!

Original comments...

thatbob: I was going to say that Marc Summers might be Canadian, but a little research shows that he's a Hoosier. Still, there's no reason the announcer couldn't have been Marc Summers. What else is he doing?

Speaking of parallel universe song choices, did you sing along with "O! Canada! before the game at the top of your lungs? That's *my* favorite thing about Blue Jays games. You have no idea how loudly I can sing "O! Canada!" No idea.

stacey: 1. marc summers is hosting a show on the food network. it only occasionally involves slime.

2. the version of "o, canada!" i hear most often is the hidden track on the end of cub's "mauler" - and the words go, "o, canada! what's wrong with you?" this is problematic for singing along at the ballpark.

Labels: blue jays, brpa, game report, red sox, road trip, skydome, toronto

This morning, we bageled up at the Stahl household, then left my parents--as well as two cats, the stinky dog, some fish, a hummingbird, and an owl that went “whoo-oo-oo” all night long--behind and hit the road bright and early, counting on Jim’s playlist of #1 hits to carry us through. And carry us through an uneventful morning they did. We dropped Stacey and Luke at the University Park Metra station a full ten minutes before their standing train was due to depart. They left us with good wishes and the remaining dozen Hostess Baseballs.

We passed through the Slough of Despond, or northern Indiana. We crossed into Michigan, where, like the welcome center in Florida that gives travelers free orange juice, they were giving out paper cups of motor oil. In Michigan, a pattern developed: road construction followed by light rain followed by heavy rain followed by traffic being slowed to a crawl by a wreck ahead. Like a driver’s ed class following a Troy McClure film, we took heed and drove with caution.

Yet we arrived in Detroit right on time. Jim took us into the city on Michigan Avenue, so that we would go by Tiger Stadium. The old ballpark looks a bit run down, but it’s still impressive--huge and boxy and white. A ticket booth remains right on the corner, but there are no tickets to be had.

Detroit itself, meanwhile, is as depressing and hard to believe as I imagined. Street after street is deserted, storefronts are boarded up, windows are broken. A few businesses here and there are hanging on--the Refrigerator King, a few liquor stores, a surprising number of antique-looking antique stores--but even the extant businesses appear to be holding on only by cutting costs to the bone, deferring even the most basic maintenance, from painting to repairing broken signs. (Side note: one thing that was odd for me, simply because Chicago’s truly poor neighborhoods are so segregated: the people on the street were about an even mix of white, black, and Latino.) Once we entered downtown, the picture went from sad to surreal, as abandoned storefronts were replaced by abandoned deco skyscrapers. Across from our hotel is a derelict twenty-story building with detailed stonework and statues of knights at about the tenth floor. And downtown seems to be like that just about everywhere; I saw a sign on a building that said, “Building available,” and I thought it was awfully optimistic.

The ballpark, on the other hand, is surprisingly pleasant. Sitting in the 18th row just on the first-base side of home, we were a bit spoiled. The upper deck--my usual haunt at a ballpark--does look like it might be all the way back in the Central Time Zone, so I can’t fully vouch for the ballpark, but it was a great place to watch a game from the high-roller area. The stadium is very open, with a view of downtown and a lot of sky, a silly fountain (The General Motors Fountain) beyond center field, and statues of Tiger Hall-of-Famers on the concourse in left. I was even able to get a reasonably good vegetarian pita with rice pudding for dinner, which saved me from the wrath of Little Caesar’s, the house pizza. Jim supped on a Kowalski kielbasa--and, as we learned later, “Kowalski means Ko-wality!”

Oh, and the game! I had decided beforehand that since the Sox are doomed, I was free to root, root, root for the home team. It was a good night for it, as Jeremy Bonderman, apparently leaving his 6.07 E.R.A. at home with the wife and kids, absolutely baffled the Sox. He threw mostly inside curves and slowwwwwwwww changeups. Then, when the hitters would start looking for the slowwwwwwwww changeup, he’d throw an even slower one. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen this many major league hitters look this foolish. Paul Konerko in the 9th was so far out in front of strike three that the ump nearly called it against the next batter. The Tigers, meanwhile, kept drawing walks after walk after walk off Jose Contreras, and the game wasn’t in doubt for long. Jeremy Bonderman struck out Joe Borchard for his personal-best 14th strikeout to end the game, and the Tigers won, 7-0.

Now I will wrap this up and get to bed. Jim’s somehow managed to get our TV stuck while he tried to order the Garfield movie.

Original comments...

Dan: Old Tiger Stadium was awesome. Just had to share.

Jason: 'Slough of Despond'? I would be offended if it wasn't true.

Labels: brpa, detroit, game report, jeremy bonderman, road trip, tigers, white sox

First of all, yes, the trip is going as scheduled so far. Even though it's going to say this was posted by Jim, this is actually a collaborative post, more or less, because for the first time both of us are sitting next to the same computer. This may be how we do things for the rest of the trip, or maybe not -- we'll have to see. We're at Levi's parents' house in Carmi, Illinois, right now, using their computer, and we have to get up early to get on the road, but we wanted to get a little something down.

The car we ended up with from Hertz is a 2005 Chevrolet Impala. It has a CD player but no tape deck, so we're using Vince's iTrip, which is working okay so far. Everyone in the car seemed to enjoy Jim's baseball song playlist and Luke's baseball song-and-Red-Barber-recollection playlist. Now we're working our way through Jim's "Number Ones" playlist, which is every song he owns that hit #1 on the Billboard playlist. (Playing it was Levi's request; Jim probably would have chosen something with more radio station jingles.)

On to the games. Saturday's game at John O'Donnell Stadium in Davenport is the only minor-league game on the trip. That meant it was the only game at which we could walk up and get box seats and still get change from a $20 after buying two. We bought four, so we got change from a $40. We sat 10 rows up, right behind home, in front of a row of screaming children. (You know how you hear sometimes how great the laughter of children sounds? In reality, it's shrill.)

Levi tried both vegetarian food options at the ballpark. Neither the nachos nor the fries were particularly distinguished.

The mascots, on the other hand, were almost the Famous Chicken level. The Swing's actual mascot is a man in a monkey suit who, when he's wearing the monkey suit, is known as Clyde. Clyde has a sidekick, a 4'10" man in a green-and-yellow superhero costume, complete with cape, named, of course, Banana Man. He runs around, occasionally stopping to stand heroically with arms akimbo, and occasionally stopping to throw bananas into the crowd. No explanation is offered.

The game itself was a brisk affair. The Swing center and right fielders should possibly have been players of the game due to the following incident late in the game with the Swing up by 1: with the tying run at first, a ball was hit to the wall in center. We couldn't quite see if the Swing center fielder bobbled it or not, but whatever was going on out there, it eventually ended with the outfielders' arms upraised in the universal symbol of "where the hell is the ball," most commonly seen in the major leagues at Wrigley Field when a ball gets lost in the ivy. We, being cynical city folk, doubted their story, but the umpire bought it hook, line, and sinker, the hook being the tying run being sent back to third. You can guess what the line is -- the go-ahead run being stuck at second. The sinker: a 1-0 Swing win.

Distracting everyone late in the game was a rabbit that had somehow wandered onto the field. First he was out in left field minding his own business, but somehow in all the commotion, he ended up in foul territory near home. He would sit around for a few minutes, then scamper off about 30 feet. At one point, perhaps thinking he had been called in to pitch, he sat between home and the pitcher's mound between innings. The umpire appeared to be consulting his mental rule book, but surprisingly, the Midwest League doesn't seem to have an official policy on rabbits taking up residence in the infield, so he decided it was somebody else's problem and ignored the little guy. No, not Banana Man, the rabbit. Banana Man was clearly the umpire's problem.

Eventually, the rabbit took off for parts unknown. Meanwhile, it seems that whenever a rabbit gets loose on the field, Section 5 gets handed free Blue Bunny bomb pops, or whatever they're called now that you can't say "bomb." Perhaps Tom Ridge pops. Anyway, we got to enjoy our tri-color quiescently frozen confections for the last couple of innings, with no real explanation as to how we got them.

After some interesting wandering on two-lane roads in Illinois, through Saturday night rodeo traffic, we spent a too-short night at the Country Inn and Suites in Galesburg. Bright and early Sunday, we got up and Levi spilled tea on his feet, which meant it was time to leave for St. Louis. We met up with hanger-on Tony for lunch before the game, and then met up with the various other hangers-on at the Stan Musial statue outside Busch Stadium. Inside, Jim met the final hanger-on of this busy hanger-on day, Jay, of "Jeopardy!" message board fame, who managed to get a seat right behind the main group.

Levi nearly used up a whole pencil filling in the boxes on the Cardinals' side of the scorecard today, after he finally figured out which side was supposed to be the Cardinals' side of the scorecard. He had to fill in box after box after box as the Cards scored run after run after run, as usual this season. Luke, in his Cubs shirt and cap, looked awestruck. Behind him, the fans wearing Cardinal red looked on with pity. Particularly noteworthy plays were Edgar Renteria's 13-pitch first-inning at-bat that ended in a 3-run homer; Larry Walker's grand slam; and, best of all (only best because the Cardinals were already leading by nearly a touchdown at this point), Reggie Sanders leaping high against the wall, coming down with his glove closed to cheers from the audience, and the scoreboard operator immediately putting up "HR RBI." The scoreboard operator was the only one in the stadium not fooled by Reggie's act -- well, we guess the umpires weren't fooled either; there was no joy in Gloveville, the ball had gone right out.

Immediately after the game, we found the ramp to I-64 East that hadn't been torn down for new Cardinals ballpark construction and hightailed it to Levi's hometown, Carmi, Illinois. At Levi's parents' house, we were visited by frequent baseballrelated.com commentator Toby, as well as Levi's grandparents (non-commentators).

The title quote for this post was said to Jim by the desk clerk at the Country Inn and Suites in Galesburg, explaining how he could qualify for the rate he was quoted on the AAA web site. No one asked.

All right, now we're going to bed, probably two hours later than we should have. See you in Detroit, assuming we can find an abandoned building that still has an Internet connection up and running.

Original comments...

sandor: When those buildings were abandoned, it was still callled DARPAnet, which means you're going to have to enter in your post using punchcards. I think they still sell blank ones down at the A&P.

Where are the links? I assumed Levi would gladly trade in sleep for the chance to hyperlink all possible words in this post. I was particularly looking forward to the interpretation of the words "Banana Man" as well as "Levi's grandparents."

You are playing the license plate game, right? Who's winning?

Congrats on keeping up your schedule. Keep the posts coming!

stacey: i think the lack of links was due to the late hour, combined with the fact that the internet connection at the stahl chalet is VERY slow. this is more than made up for by their amazing hospitality, though. i'm still full of delicious pasta, fresh fruit, and great company. the commute from carmi to chicago is a drag, though.

Luke, hanger-on: To flesh out the image of how this post came to be, I should note that Jim and Levi wrote together at the family computer in Levi's brother's room. Jim did the typing, employing his closed-captioning skills to take dictation from Levi, who reclined on a bean bag with a cigar and glass of port, pausing now and then to re-read that Sunday's Post-Dispatch story about the Cardinals and the clubhouse iPod.

I, meanwhile, dosed a few doors down in Levi's old bedroom, which I found impressively well-preserved. The Smithsonian should scoop it up for its exhibit on "Halcyon Childhoods of America: 1980-1989." Not surprisingly, the room betrays fascinations with Star Wars, classic rock and mullets. I could have stayed forever.

Jim: Yes, we will go back after the trip and add links, additional stuff we may have forgotten to write about, and especially photos. Or at least I will. Levi may choose to wash his hands of the whole thing, for all I know.

Labels: brpa, Cardinals, carmi, game report, jay temple, luke seemann, pirates, rabbit, road trip, stacey shintani, stahls, swing of the quad cities, tony becker, wisconsin timber rattlers

One of my stops while I was in New York last week was the New York Transit Museum, which is in an old subway station in Brooklyn. Many of the old subway and elevated cars that are normally parked on the lower level had been moved out to run on fan trips all summer (this being the 100th anniversary of the opening of the first subway line in New York), so instead they brought in some not-so-old cars that have only recently been retired from the system. Including this one:



Yes, there's a Yankees logo on the other end of the car, but the platform wasn't wide enough for me to get a picture of the entire car. Besides, I would see plenty of Yankees logos at Yankee Stadium.

When I arrived at the stadium from the subway, wearing my Devil Rays shirt and cap, I ended up walking around the stadium the "wrong" way looking for the ticket booths. At the press/game personnel entrance, one of New York's finest stopped me and said, "You look like a big fan," then asked me who Paul Olden was, since he had just come in. I eventually remembered he was their radio play-by-play announcer. He was the TV broadcaster for the Yankees in the mid-1990s, but perhaps the cop was actually a Mets fan in disguise.

At any rate, there were plenty of good seats left for this game, now that the Devil Rays were no longer the hottest team in baseball. Here's the view I had:



Yes, you can smell the history at Yankee Stadium, or maybe that was just in the men's room. I completely forgot about going to Monument Park on my way in, so I had to settle for taking pictures from across the field. Also, I guess Adidas has enough money that they can print up a different bullpen awning for every visiting team:



Now, here's the sacrilegious part: because certain people had to work Thursday night, I was at the game alone; when I'm at a game alone, I try to keep up my scorekeeping skills. At Yankee Stadium, you had to buy the $7.00 magazine to get a scorecard, which I expected because of their evilness. (Surprisingly, though, they serve good and pure Coca-Cola instead of evil Pepsi.) One of the articles, written by Keith Olbermann, was about how no one can remember who the P.A. announcer for Yankees was before Bob Sheppard took over in 1951, not even Bob Sheppard himself. These days, he doesn't even do the between-inning promotions, just announces the starting lineups and does some of the other announcements at the beginning of the game, and then announces the players during the game. Problem is, I found him a little bit hard to hear and understand, especially his first announcement of each half-inning where he was usually talking over music. It's probably a combination of the P.A. speakers all being in center field, plus his 136-year-old voice. Vin Scully, who is almost as old, has the benefit of going through radio and/or TV audio engineering.

Also at the game, by the way, were former New York Giants quarterback Phil Simms (who got a lot of applause) and current Tampa Bay Buccaneers coach Jon Gruden (who got no applause because they showed him briefly on the Diamond Vision screen but didn't put his name on the scoreboard, so I may have been the only person who noticed him and recognized him). I saw only two other people wearing Devil Rays merchandise. I was asked a couple of times if I was from Florida. "Originally," I said both times. The man sitting next to me asked if I knew why Fred McGriff only had two home runs for the season, so I attempted to explain the whole sordid story.

Anyway, here, have some more pictures. Anyone want to translate the orange-and-white ad here, which I assume is for the benefit of people in Japan watching Hideki Matsui?



And anyone want to translate the "F" and "G," or perhaps "FG," on the out-of-town scoreboard? It's hard to see because I didn't take this picture until after dark, but there is a column of single-digit numbers available under each letter, which weren't used at any point. Until I hear differently, I'm going to assume it stands for "Faraway Games."



They still make the groundskeepers do "YMCA"!



The Number 4 wins the subway race!



Speaking of which, this isn't necessarily a baseball-related story, but people who know me may find it amusing: on the way back from the game, I had to change trains at 59th Street-Columbus Circle. So picture me, wearing a Devil Rays shirt and cap, on a subway platform with dozens of people wearing Yankees shirts and/or caps, so I perhaps looked less like a New Yorker than every other person there. Nevertheless, two people came up to me and asked about getting to Penn Station. I'm beginning to think my reputation is preceding me. (Yes, I did know the right answer, more or less. I didn't realize it was as late as it was, so I told them they could either take the local C on the outside track or the express A on the inside track, whichever came first, but in the late-night hours, the A runs local instead of the C, so what showed up first was an A on the outside track. The people I had helped had wandered off, so I didn't see if they managed to figure it out or not. Yes, the New York subway is somewhat more complicated than, for example, the Chicago 'L'.)

Later, waiting for the light to change at the corner of 48th Street and 8th Avenue, a man asked me if I knew where the strip clubs were. But that's another story.

The final line, on the Yankee Stadium scoreboard (and note that, although they have enough money to make a "Tampa Bay Devil Rays" awning, they don't have enough money to put in a scoreboard with enough characters available to allow a space between "Tampa" and "Bay"):



Here's the headline from the Daily News. Really, the difference in the game was that Victor Zambrano was shaky at the beginning, and Jose Contreras wasn't.



And the front page. I wonder how many people know what that thing between "Daily" and "News" is supposed to be, now that they're "New York's Hometown Newspaper" instead of "New York's Picture Newspaper." Why, they don't even own WPIX-TV anymore. But the good news is that, since both New York teams have baseball-shaped logos, it makes for a nice layout balance.



Later, in Connecticut, I saw The Ballpark at Harbor Yard, home of the Bridgeport Bluefish. You get a very nice long view into the stadium as you're on a train that's decelerating into the Bridgeport train station, it turns out, but there wasn't a game going on as I was preparing to detrain in Bridgeport.

Original comments...

Dan: I believe I read somewhere it's an ad for a Japanese newspaper (Yomiuri Shimbun?)

Luke: FG = First game?

Levi: I bet the guy who asked you about the strip clubs had been hoping to run into Mo Vaughn, but in Vaughn's absence, he turned to you.

Steve: I find it hard to believe nobody knew who Jon Gruden was. During the football season they cut over to him on the sidelines more than any other coach.

maura: victor, not carlos, zambrano. but don't worry, people make that mistake all the time.

Jim: Well, Carlos Zambrano would have been shaky at the beginning, too, if he'd been there.

maura: a handy mnemonic: the 'v' in victor stands for 'get out of the way, because there's a good chance he'll hit you.'

DrBear: Yup, FG is for first game. You kids may be too young, but us old-timers remember when teams used to play two games in one day! The old scoreboard at County Stadium in Milwaukee had the same thing as G1, even including it at the end of the linescore for the Braves/Brewers game.

Labels: devil rays, game report, jon gruden, paul olden, phil simms, victor zambrano, yankees

Honorary hanger-on Jason Kaifesh called me Sunday afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to a minor-league game. Of course I said yes. The California League-leading Lancaster Jethawks were playing the Inland Empire 66ers (San Bernardino) in a game with a strange 6:00 start time, perhaps because the temperature can get quite high up in the Antelope Valley. First, the best of my attempts at an action shot. Note the ball seemingly frozen...



Since Lancaster is near Edwards Air Force Base, they have two space shuttles on either side of the message board, albeit space shuttles that look more like NASCAR vehicles, with the advertising. Hmm, didn't the idea of having NASA raise money by selling advertising space come up at some point during the Reagan administration?...



Speaking of which, note the flags, and the fact that the wind was blowing very strong towards right field throughout the game, although there was only one home run hit in that direction (quite a few fly balls to the warning track, though). Is there some kind of mailing list you can subscribe to, if you have a flagpole, to let you know when you're supposed to have your flags at half-mast?...



This being the minor leagues, they let a kid race the mascot around the bases while the game is in progress (I mean, between innings, but still...). I can provide witnesses to corroborate the fact that Kaboom the Jethawk took a dive, by the way, in case any federal prosecutors interested in a RICO case are reading this...



Lancaster Municipal Stadium, a.k.a. The Hangar, is fairly new, which means they have a manual scoreboard. Yes, that is a ridiculous contradiction, but we live in ridiculous times. At least the manual scoreboard's numbers are readable (when they remember to put them up), unlike certain electrically-operated numbers that are hard to read when the sun is shining directly on them and a third of the light bulbs are burned out...



Final score: 66ers 7, Jethawks 3. One of the best things about the game, by the way, was the noise the crowd made when the P.A. announcer announced that the Lakers had lost Game 1 of the finals to the Detroit Pistons. It was the noise of several thousand people simultaneously making a noise that meant, "But the local media has been leading us to believe that the Lakers are the team of destiny for months now!" I know, I know, that's not really baseball-related.

Now I'm headed to Vegas for a few days. Unfortunately, the Las Vegas 51's won't be in town while I'm there, so I guess I'll have to find something to do other than watching minor-league baseball.

Original comments...

Levi: I'm surprised, Jim, to see you refer to the flag as being at half-staff.

As this site shows, lowered flags on ships are at half-mast, but lowered flags on land are at half-staff.

There recently was a story in the Tribune about a woman who contacted the head office of McDonald's to inform them that they were not, by flag codes, allowed to lower the flags at their restaurants in tribute to their CEO, who had died suddenly. According to her, a government directive had to go out. She was backed up by the reporter and by a government official, whose name and position I've forgotten.

Anyway, it's the first I'd heard about it. Anyone know anything more about these rules?

And were the flags down for Reagan, or for the Lakers?

Labels: game report, inland empire 66ers, jason kaifesh, lancaster jethawks

First of all, yes, there was the obligatory letter to the sports editor in Saturday's L.A. Times complaining about people at Dodger Stadium doing the wave during Alex Cora's marathon at-bat.

Today I went to one of 2004's new ballparks, Petco Park, with Cathryn and Jennifer (and Jason, who took this picture)...


It is a very nice place, albeit colder than Qualcomm Stadium, thanks to the breezes coming off San Diego Bay, and the fact that we were under the overhang. In fact, we were in the very top row of the upper deck section to the left of the "first base tower" in the picture below...


In the top row, there's some bizarreness involving the steel supports holding up the overhang, so although we had seats 7 through 10, there was about a 6-inch gap between seat 7 and seat 8, although it wasn't like there was a giant metal post in the way or anything like that. (There was also a gap of about 18 inches between seat 6 and seat 3. Seats 4 and 5 were missing.) Anyway, this is the view of the diamond from way up there...


And this is the view of downtown San Diego. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get a picture of a plane landing (they come in just beyond the skyscrapers, eventually disappearing behind them)...


The lawn looked like a nice place to hang out...


So did the seats in front of the Western Metal Supply building...


And if you've got to pick one Padres player to hang out with, it's got to be David Wells...


The final line...


In conclusion, Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia, where we'll be on August 27th, has a lot to live up to. I already think it's going to lose points for not being right downtown. But it may gain points for being warmer than Petco Park...next time, I'm going to wear long pants and at least bring a sweatshirt. Or try to get seats at least a few rows farther down, which will be in the sun.

Original comments...

maura: how about that ben sheets!!

Levi: On paper, the building they left in left field struck me as really dopey, almost as bad as the flagpole and hill at Bush/Cheney Field in Houston--though not nearly as bad as the stupid train at the same park.

But now that I've seen the new San Diego park on TV, I've changed my mind. The building's kinda cool.

Jim: What? Trains are not stupid. The fact that Houston has better train service at their baseball stadium than they do at their actual train station (a 3-day-a-week Amtrak train to L.A. and Orlando) is kind of stupid, but me ranting about inequities in government transportation funding is off-topic for this blog.

Levi: Actually, the train in Houston is remarkably similar to Amtrak rides I've taken. You sit on it for a long time and it doesn't go anywhere. Then it goes, but only a short way, at which point it stops and changes direction. Then you sit again for a long time.

But at least the train doesn't turn into a bus.

sandor: Trains going forwards and backwards and forwards again? Sounds like my trip on the L yesterday. Halfway between Irving Park and the Addison, the brown line train I was on stopped, then started going in reverse. In 10 years of riding L trains, I've never experienced such a thing happening. I didn't even realize they had a reverse gear. It was quite shocking.

Sorry, off-topic. But I thought worth sharing.

thatbob: "Thank you for not requesting autographs"?!? WTF?!?

thatbob: Now obviously those seats at Western Metal Supply Co. are supposed to be reminiscent of Wrigleyville rooftops, or that book depository (or whatever) in Baltimore. What I can't figure out is if the seats are actually part of the park, ie. ticketed revenue, or just an authorized use by a lucky neighbor. What's going on there?

Levi: Silly Bob. There's no way that a modern park would ever let any chance at a dollar slip by. Those aren't only seats: they're expensive luxury box thingies, and they bring in buckets of the ready for the Padres.

Jim: "Thank you for not requesting autographs": It was Photo Day, and you're just supposed to take pictures of the players, not ask them for autographs.

The ground floor of the Western Metal Supply building is the main Padres store, and then there's standing room in front of it; each other individual level is, I believe, a single "party suite," available on a per-game basis for your corporate get-together or other function. There's no actual suite on the roof, just some tables with umbrellas to go along with the ballpark seating, but it, too, seems to be a special group seating area.

Jason: What Jim forgot to mention - and I am shocked that he did - was the fact that he took a trolley train to the game. Must have been the sugar high from too many Hostess Baseballs to affect his memory.

Jim: I thought me taking a trolley was a "that goes without saying" kind of thing. Yes, parking near Petco Park is expensive, so the trolley was the best option.

thatbob: I'm a *big* fan of selling the crappiest seats in the house to the stupidest people with the most money! I heartily approve! God Bless You, Petco Park!

Labels: game report, padres, petco park

A question that could have far-reaching implications for the road trip, where we'll be seeing games on consecutive nights in cities that are several hundred miles apart: would I have a good time seeing games on consecutive nights in cities that are several thousand miles apart?

The link between the Devil Rays and the Dodgers? Why, former Devil Ray Wilson Alvarez, of course. He's the white blob on the left side of this picture, getting ready to pitch to Sammy Sosa...


You know when an at-bat is going on a long time when the scoreboard operator has enough time to type in something like this...

Cora fouled 14 times in a row, and each one was accompanied by some Little Leaguers in our section trying to start The Wave, which would peter out a couple of sections over because nobody else really cared. And then Cora hit a home run.

The answer is, yes, I had a good time, although I was pretty tired by the end of the game shortly after 10:00 Pacific time, since I had been up since 6:00 A.M. Eastern time. I'm not expecting any jet lag on the road trip. Fortunately, I didn't have to be behind the wheel to get out of the Dodger Stadium parking lots...


In the L.A. Times on Thursday morning, the headline spotlighted Alvarez (pulled after 101 pitches), but the picture is of Cora being congratulated after the at-bat that went on forever...

Original comments...

Levi: That's a remarkably pointless headline.

Biggest surprise for me in that game? Learning that Wilson Alvarez is in the league again, and that, despite losing some weight, he's still a very big man.

Tom Ellwanger: And at the Ranger/Devil Ray game on the afternoon of May 13, in order of perceived excitement:

1. The Rangers pitcher picked two Devil Rays players off first base, including Maura's favorite player. Per the surprisingly diplomatic Lou Piniella, no right-handed pitcher can have that good a pickoff move without balking, in this case with his knee, "but the umpires didn't see it."

2. The Rangers blew both resulting run-downs in different ways, something which nobody in the stands--all 2,600 of us--had seen since Little League. In one case, the picked off runner made second and got credit for a stolen base, producing the same result as a balk call (assuming Lou was correct).

3. The Devil Rays won the game. The starting pitcher got the win, the new-from-Durham setup man got his 95 mph fastballs close enough to the plate that people swung at them, and the closer got the save (save number 4 out of 11 total victories).

4. Raymond came down the aisle and stopped to kiss Jim's new stepmother. No photographer was around to memorialize this poignant image.

5. Jim's new stepmother wishes that Jim's father had used the ready-made excuse to pound this obnoxious mascot into the real-clay infield, but he (Jim's father) was too stunned by the entire spectacle to react that quickly.

Baseball fever! We have it in Tampa. Oh, Rocco Baldelli bobblehead doll night is next Tuesday, but I'm going to the Lightning/Flyer game.

Levi: At least with Rocco Baldelli bobblehead day, the Rays are sure they won't be faced with the ignominy of having to cancel the day because the player's in the minors again, like they were forced to do with Jason Tyner bobblehead day.

Labels: cubs, dodgers, game report, wilson alvarez

First and most importantly, I have solved a mystery that has been puzzling Levi ever since last July, regarding the end of a certain White Sox-Devil Rays game, captured by Levi's TiVo and replayed endlessly. The question was, what was the deal with the Devil Rays mascot, Pansy the Wuss-Wuss Fish Who Can't Keep It Up (a.k.a. Raymond), when he was jumping around with the players?

The answer is that if the Rays are behind, he spends the bottom of the ninth standing around on top of the visitors' dugout, dressed in a black shirt and mask, "disguised" as Rally Ray. Unfortunately, I was unable to get a good picture of him as he was unsuccessfully attempting to work his mojo against the Rangers on Tuesday night:



And now, more pictures:


Tropicana Field, as seen from the Interstate. It's hard to tell, but we were driving through a sudden, very brief cloudburst at this point, approximately 6:40 P.M., and that's why the city of St. Petersburg built a dome in the late 1980s.


The view from my seat, on the club level. I have to admit that this would be a very nice stadium if not for the permanent roof.


Plenty of good seats available. The official attendance was 10,389, but there were probably fewer than 7,000 people actually at the game. This is what happens when a team has lost its last five games and 12 out of its last 14, and plays a Tuesday night game against a team other than the Yankees or Red Sox, and doesn't give away some sort of promotional item. They did not play Guess the Attendance on the scoreboard.


Maura's favorite player!


The final line.


Headline in the Tampa Tribune.


Headline in the Dallas Morning News (it was a coincidence that I was changing planes not too far away from The Ballpark at Arlington...excuse me, Ameriquest Field).


Unfortunately, although the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa has a "please touch" ray pond, since they're all the rage these days, they haven't labeled which ones are the devil rays. (Insert your own joke here, or better yet, in the comments.)

Original comments...

maura: haha, i was totally going to ask you where the picture of rocco was!! nice work, my friend, nice work. have you been to other roofed parks ever? i have never seen a baseball game indoors, and man people i know sure hate tropicana field.

maura: i am really sad about the rays this season, too, but i think i've mentioned that. sigh

Levi: I've been to a game at the Metrodome, with Stacey and Sarah Meisch and Dan Rivkin and Baggarly. We all kind of enjoyed it, although it was weird. The worst part was leaving a 65-degree sunny day to enter a 65-degree fluorescent-lit dome.

Steve: As much as I'm glad Jim was able to enjoy a trip home, (and catch an AL game in a dome) his attention to detail makes a strong case that baseball could use some contraction.

Jim: Nah, I'd have the same attention to detail even if the AL still had only eight teams. But it'll all be worth it if I get on "Super Millionaire."

Steve: I hear you on that super millionare. Will you be my phone a friend if I make it? I don't like the new "jury" lifeline. Even though they should be super brainy, I don't trust them. They are there at the producers behest no?

Labels: devil rays, game report, pansy, rangers, tropicana field