A small collection of the 3000+ photos taken. The montage is not high resolution, but you'll get the idea.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Photo highlights
A small collection of the 3000+ photos taken. The montage is not high resolution, but you'll get the idea.
Part 6: End of the road
I came to Alaska to watch high caliber college ball. I came because there was a small yet dedicated community of supporters I was interested in being a part of. I came because I wanted to see players, a few at the start of their major league careers and most at the end of their college careers, play for the love of the game. What I got was the most intimate and major league experience of my entire summer of baseball.
When you attend five games in three days and spend seven hours at the stadium for the Home Run derby, All-Star game and rain delay, people start asking questions. When your husband takes copious stats and writes down all of the wacky things you observe, and you shoot with a telephoto lens attached to a somewhat cool-looking monopod, people really start to ask questions. And that’s exactly what happened as our time at Mulcahy Stadium wore on. Throw into the mix all of the MLB scouts in and around the stands, and people thought we were movers and shakers. Jamie was a scout, I was his interested wife (there are no female scouts in MLB), and we were just there for the showcase weekend. But after chatting with a few inquiring locals and even a few more inquiring scouts (you’ve picked up on the fact that I like to talk to strangers), our story of coming to Anchorage just to watch baseball traveled through the Anchorage Pilots’ baseball community faster than we ever expected.
“All the way from San Francisco to watch baseball?”
“This is for a class? There are classes on baseball? And you chose Alaska?”
“You’ve been watching just as many games as we have and just because?”
Yes, yes and more yes. So it was on our final day in Anchorage at our final ALB outing that we were welcomed into the pack of MLB scouts with excitement and glee. Before I knew it I was shooting radar behind home plate with the Cubs’ scout, laughing with the Diamondbacks scout about how much he loves to fish (that’s the real reason the scouts enjoy coming to Alaska), trying to convince the Red Sox scout that just because my rain coat was red didn’t mean I was a fan, listening to the Central Scouting agent explain the ins and outs of how no team can dominate the scouting season because MLB looks under ever rock and in every town.
I learned how to scout (newer scouts actually go to scout school; I just went to Alaska). It’s all a numbers game: 4.3 seconds from home to first for a right handed batter (4.2 for a lefty), 2 seconds to make the throw from home to second, 1.2 seconds for a pitcher’s delivery in the stretch, 87 mph average for all pitches. You clock the first three innings of a starter, and move quickly with each reliever. Size and bulk matter, but speed rules. Get out of the batter’s box quickly, and you’re a threat no matter how or where you hit the ball. Best speed ever seen by the Cubs’ scout: Mickey Mantle (I need to check this as I didn’t think Mantle was a speedster). I’m sure these metrics are available on all sorts of websites, but it was behind home plate at Mulcahy Stadium that I saw the game not as a fan or as a teacher or even as a former player, but as a business woman looking for a new employee. It was awesome.
The Home Run Derby and All-Star Game were fabulous as well. I can now say I’ve been to an All-Star game, a Home Run Derby and a World Series in one summer. And for the bargain basement price of $45 total. Not bad.
In all, the ALB was everything I had hoped for and more. I got to watch engaged athletes loving their game. I got to experience a baseball community unlike anything I’ve ever been a part of. And I got to learn lots of cool stuff about life on the road and on the field through the eyes of someone looking for the next great player.
Get yourself to the ballpark, observe the game and the life of the stadium and let me know what you find … I am truly hooked on all that baseball brings into not only my life and community but also yours.
Thanks for reading.
Number of ALB players likely to get drafted: 3
Best thing to happen to the ALB in years: Texas league went under
Home Run Derby Winner: Adam Martin of the Mat-Su Miners
Coolest new must-have toy: radar gun
Favorite player to watch: Aaron Judge (Fresno State – check him out; scouts like him too)
Funniest thing the scouts talked about: “Unbelievable Alaskan falafel!”
Daily calorie need of a Grizzly Bear: 30,000
When you attend five games in three days and spend seven hours at the stadium for the Home Run derby, All-Star game and rain delay, people start asking questions. When your husband takes copious stats and writes down all of the wacky things you observe, and you shoot with a telephoto lens attached to a somewhat cool-looking monopod, people really start to ask questions. And that’s exactly what happened as our time at Mulcahy Stadium wore on. Throw into the mix all of the MLB scouts in and around the stands, and people thought we were movers and shakers. Jamie was a scout, I was his interested wife (there are no female scouts in MLB), and we were just there for the showcase weekend. But after chatting with a few inquiring locals and even a few more inquiring scouts (you’ve picked up on the fact that I like to talk to strangers), our story of coming to Anchorage just to watch baseball traveled through the Anchorage Pilots’ baseball community faster than we ever expected.
“All the way from San Francisco to watch baseball?”
“This is for a class? There are classes on baseball? And you chose Alaska?”
“You’ve been watching just as many games as we have and just because?”
Yes, yes and more yes. So it was on our final day in Anchorage at our final ALB outing that we were welcomed into the pack of MLB scouts with excitement and glee. Before I knew it I was shooting radar behind home plate with the Cubs’ scout, laughing with the Diamondbacks scout about how much he loves to fish (that’s the real reason the scouts enjoy coming to Alaska), trying to convince the Red Sox scout that just because my rain coat was red didn’t mean I was a fan, listening to the Central Scouting agent explain the ins and outs of how no team can dominate the scouting season because MLB looks under ever rock and in every town.
I learned how to scout (newer scouts actually go to scout school; I just went to Alaska). It’s all a numbers game: 4.3 seconds from home to first for a right handed batter (4.2 for a lefty), 2 seconds to make the throw from home to second, 1.2 seconds for a pitcher’s delivery in the stretch, 87 mph average for all pitches. You clock the first three innings of a starter, and move quickly with each reliever. Size and bulk matter, but speed rules. Get out of the batter’s box quickly, and you’re a threat no matter how or where you hit the ball. Best speed ever seen by the Cubs’ scout: Mickey Mantle (I need to check this as I didn’t think Mantle was a speedster). I’m sure these metrics are available on all sorts of websites, but it was behind home plate at Mulcahy Stadium that I saw the game not as a fan or as a teacher or even as a former player, but as a business woman looking for a new employee. It was awesome.
The Home Run Derby and All-Star Game were fabulous as well. I can now say I’ve been to an All-Star game, a Home Run Derby and a World Series in one summer. And for the bargain basement price of $45 total. Not bad.
In all, the ALB was everything I had hoped for and more. I got to watch engaged athletes loving their game. I got to experience a baseball community unlike anything I’ve ever been a part of. And I got to learn lots of cool stuff about life on the road and on the field through the eyes of someone looking for the next great player.
Get yourself to the ballpark, observe the game and the life of the stadium and let me know what you find … I am truly hooked on all that baseball brings into not only my life and community but also yours.
Thanks for reading.
Number of ALB players likely to get drafted: 3
Best thing to happen to the ALB in years: Texas league went under
Home Run Derby Winner: Adam Martin of the Mat-Su Miners
Coolest new must-have toy: radar gun
Favorite player to watch: Aaron Judge (Fresno State – check him out; scouts like him too)
Funniest thing the scouts talked about: “Unbelievable Alaskan falafel!”
Daily calorie need of a Grizzly Bear: 30,000
Part 5: And you thought this adventure was over ...
"You came here to watch baseball?" asked the man seated next to me on the plane. "Good luck with that," he said with a bit too much sarcasm for me. Our B&B hosts had the same reaction when they asked us the usual, "What brought you to Anchorage?" Alaska's number one industry after oil and natural gas production is tourism. People come to the Last Frontier in droves to see Glaciers, the Northern Lights, sled dogs, and Denali. But baseball? Not many folks come this far north just to watch some college kids play ball. I'm not like many folks.
After finding it far too difficult to procure a rental house on the Cape to catch the Cape Cod League, I found that the Alaska Baseball League had a history in need of learning and a story in need of experiencing. Mark McGuire played up here. So did Dave Winfield, Barry Bonds, and Jason Giambi. Satchel Paige and other Negro Leaguers played up here when no other American summer league in the country would take them. They all braved the long trip, the sometimes overly rainy summer, and joined this wood bat league to not only extend their college season but also increase their chances of being picked up by an MLB team. The league operates largely on fundraising efforts from the local communities, a $250 player fee, and the hospitality of local families to house and feed the players. The players and coaches maintain the field, take on all of the usual clubhouse manager roles (think laundry and cleaning) and otherwise give their lives over to the game, to the team for two summer months. This is baseball as it once was long ago in the barnstorming days. And it's awesome.
With roughly 80 people at our first game, we felt like we were living that moment from A League of Their Own when no one, and I mean no one, was at the game. The grandstand was empty. The bleachers were empty. And the beer garden had more little kids than eligible drinkers. But that didn't stop the family and friends of Lefty Van Brunt (former pitching coach of the Glacier Pilots) from celebrating his birthday in style. See, Lefty committed 28 years of his life to the Glacier Pilots and died only two weeks before the start of this season. Besides coaching the players and dolling out advice to youngsters in the stands, Lefty's big contribution to the game was Tootsie Pops. And lots of them. He would throw out hundreds of pieces of candy to the adoring fans, so in honor of his birthday, his family and friends continued on with the tradition and the biggest, most awesome Tootsie Pop cake I've ever seen (see below). It was a great welcome to the Alaska League.
Today was the official start of the Scout Showcase weekend. That is part of the reason I picked this weekend to be here because all of the teams are playing in Anchorage and all of the pro scouts are in town to watch the players. Come Sunday we'll get to experience the first ever ABL All-Star Game and Homerun Derby. It promises to be awesome, and Californian and Bay Area resident Mike Miller is slated to put on a great show. His parents and girlfriend are in town for the weekend to watch him play. Mike plays short stop, and during the year he's at Cal Poly SLO. He played up here last summer after getting picked up from a California league the previous year. While it extends his college season some two months, it's the closest he gets to being a professional ball player. That is, unless he gets drafted. Mike is leading the league in batting, hits, and runs. His mom misses him and hates him being so far away (his girlfriend echoed that sentiment). But they both said Mike's love for baseball was so strong he was willing to do just about anything to play.
We've got two more games tomorrow and the All-star game on Sunday. Pretty pumped for the latter as 1. the tickets look super cool and 2. it's an All-star game. What's not to love. Reports to come ...
Highest attendance thus far: 350+
Best half inning entertainment: brother and sister running the bases (sis won!)
Second best half inning entertainment: adults in costume playing dizzy bat
New best friend: Noah, a scout for the Padres. He lives in Mill Valley, went to MC and said he'd talk to my class next spring!
Cheated death: Once, but thanks to the cat-like reflexes of a player, the line drive headed straight for us was diverted.
Ticket price: $5, but if you don't leave in-between games you don't have to pay again.
Stadium Signature dish: Reindeer sausage. It's good!
Time sun completely dips below the horizon: 11:45pm
After finding it far too difficult to procure a rental house on the Cape to catch the Cape Cod League, I found that the Alaska Baseball League had a history in need of learning and a story in need of experiencing. Mark McGuire played up here. So did Dave Winfield, Barry Bonds, and Jason Giambi. Satchel Paige and other Negro Leaguers played up here when no other American summer league in the country would take them. They all braved the long trip, the sometimes overly rainy summer, and joined this wood bat league to not only extend their college season but also increase their chances of being picked up by an MLB team. The league operates largely on fundraising efforts from the local communities, a $250 player fee, and the hospitality of local families to house and feed the players. The players and coaches maintain the field, take on all of the usual clubhouse manager roles (think laundry and cleaning) and otherwise give their lives over to the game, to the team for two summer months. This is baseball as it once was long ago in the barnstorming days. And it's awesome.
With roughly 80 people at our first game, we felt like we were living that moment from A League of Their Own when no one, and I mean no one, was at the game. The grandstand was empty. The bleachers were empty. And the beer garden had more little kids than eligible drinkers. But that didn't stop the family and friends of Lefty Van Brunt (former pitching coach of the Glacier Pilots) from celebrating his birthday in style. See, Lefty committed 28 years of his life to the Glacier Pilots and died only two weeks before the start of this season. Besides coaching the players and dolling out advice to youngsters in the stands, Lefty's big contribution to the game was Tootsie Pops. And lots of them. He would throw out hundreds of pieces of candy to the adoring fans, so in honor of his birthday, his family and friends continued on with the tradition and the biggest, most awesome Tootsie Pop cake I've ever seen (see below). It was a great welcome to the Alaska League.
Today was the official start of the Scout Showcase weekend. That is part of the reason I picked this weekend to be here because all of the teams are playing in Anchorage and all of the pro scouts are in town to watch the players. Come Sunday we'll get to experience the first ever ABL All-Star Game and Homerun Derby. It promises to be awesome, and Californian and Bay Area resident Mike Miller is slated to put on a great show. His parents and girlfriend are in town for the weekend to watch him play. Mike plays short stop, and during the year he's at Cal Poly SLO. He played up here last summer after getting picked up from a California league the previous year. While it extends his college season some two months, it's the closest he gets to being a professional ball player. That is, unless he gets drafted. Mike is leading the league in batting, hits, and runs. His mom misses him and hates him being so far away (his girlfriend echoed that sentiment). But they both said Mike's love for baseball was so strong he was willing to do just about anything to play.
We've got two more games tomorrow and the All-star game on Sunday. Pretty pumped for the latter as 1. the tickets look super cool and 2. it's an All-star game. What's not to love. Reports to come ...
Highest attendance thus far: 350+
Best half inning entertainment: brother and sister running the bases (sis won!)
Second best half inning entertainment: adults in costume playing dizzy bat
New best friend: Noah, a scout for the Padres. He lives in Mill Valley, went to MC and said he'd talk to my class next spring!
Cheated death: Once, but thanks to the cat-like reflexes of a player, the line drive headed straight for us was diverted.
Ticket price: $5, but if you don't leave in-between games you don't have to pay again.
Stadium Signature dish: Reindeer sausage. It's good!
Time sun completely dips below the horizon: 11:45pm
Part 4: Cincinnati, St Louis, KC … Hall of Fame Baseball Towns
Cincinnati and St. Louis and Kansas City sit in the heart of baseball lure. The Cincinnati Reds and the St. Louis Cardinals are among the oldest baseball franchises around, and the Kansas City Royals hold fast to their roots in the Negro leagues (even if they denied them until more recently). It’s also in these cities where baseball seems to seep from the people, the streets, the culture.
St. Louis spreads and celebrates its history of famous players around the outside of its new ballpark. There are statues memorializing Cool Papa Bell, Stan Musial, Mark McGwire, and more. Bronze statues and pennant flags welcome fans to learn about the past before partaking in the game and lots of younger fans pose with the statues as older dads and moms point out the players they saw in person. It’s a common sight, but in this midwestern town among the old brick factories, there’s something particularly nostalgic about the scene.
The Cincinnati Reds know how to preserve their traditions and with the largest Hall of Fame outside of Cooperstown, the Reds don’t disappoint in the history department. From players such as Jonny Bench (all-star catcher) to Pete Rose (all-time hit leader) to Sam Crawford (famous barnstormer Wahoo Sam) each of these men’s stories are told and passed on. The Hall of Fame is quite a sight, one every visitor to Great American Ballpark needs to see. Cruise the halls with a bowl of Skyline Chili or a Cheese Coney, and you’d have yourself a perfect Cinci experience. And if you don’t know what a cheese coney is, Google it. It’s quite impressive, and Jamie had two!
The Royals have also done well with their Hall Of Fame. While the Royals have not been around as long as the Reds or the Cardinals, the team has finally embraced its connection to the Negro leagues. They celebrate the legacy of the Monarchs and the history of Negro leagues baseball in the city. The Royals and Reds really go beyond the monument parks of other stadiums and truly celebrate the history of the teams. In every other stadium I’ve seen, there’s been a dearth of history present. Sure there are some plaques around, some retired numbers, but nothing to really say the teams care about their pasts. In small to mid-market teams, a team’s narrative is what draws the fans in and what true fans dive into when things get tough (at least, that’s what the folks I’ve talked to have said). A team’s character comes from its struggles and successes. Why would a team want to keep that hidden?
We closed out our MLB swing in KC with the best game we’ve seen to date. It was a 1-run win for the Cubs and the Royals left two in scoring position as the last out was recorded. Not a bad outing. Then we headed north to Omaha where we’ll be for a few days as we catch the first game of the College World Series. While Omaha is surely ready for this inaugural event, the real news came during our drive north.
In the small town of Craig, Missouri just off Interstate 29 the people are waiting for the flood to come. The neighboring town is already deep underwater (think water up to the top of hay barns), the crops have been abandoned, and farm equipment has been moved. This is the spot where the highway was closed and we had to detour on country roads to continue our drive north. This is also the spot where we refueled and chatted with the lady who owns the small gas station/convenience store. Her store was host to a group of farmers talking about what was to come, what was inevitable: they all were going to lose their homes, their farms, their land. The hardest part the lady told us was that humans caused this trouble. Last year the area experienced drought because too much water was released too soon. This year too much water is flowing and the swollen banks of the river are expected to expand well into the fall. Horrible and consistent rains have not helped the situation. We heard the same worry in the voice of the Omaha Putt-Putt owner (a little mini-golf makes us feel like we’re truly on vacation).
The Putt-Putt was built in 1967 and the current owner bought it 20 years later. He doesn’t have flood insurance as it costs too much (many of the farmers in the Craig store said the same thing), and he’s hoping the levees around Omaha hold so not only his business survives but also his home. The banks of the river have been fortified with sand bags and temporary berms. The locals think the brand new ballpark will be ok, but if any of the dams give way along the northern part of the river, there’s enough water to flood the entire state of Nebraska with seven inches of water. That’s a lot of water. And while we’re here to see baseball and not the swollen river, I can’t help but think about the people who are already underwater and those who are waiting to be. Those who know their homes will be destroyed. Those who will lose their land and in turn their livelihood.
We had torrential rain last night, and the levees that are now protecting the town from the flooding waters are now preventing the drainage of the rainwater. We’ll be out of town by the time the river crests, but we’ll surely keep Omaha and the area in our hearts and thoughts, and we ask that you do too.
Game Stats
Homeruns: We’ve seen it all except for a Grand Slam. Maybe at the CWS.
Rowdy fans: Nothing like a huge Cubs contingent at the Royals game.
Most expensive beer: $8 @ St. Louis
Cheapest ticket we’ve purchased: $8 @ Cleveland
Worst seat: Any place you can’t see the jumbotron (Reds bleachers!)
Most devout fan: observant Jew with NYY on his yarmulke (Yanks won!)
St. Louis spreads and celebrates its history of famous players around the outside of its new ballpark. There are statues memorializing Cool Papa Bell, Stan Musial, Mark McGwire, and more. Bronze statues and pennant flags welcome fans to learn about the past before partaking in the game and lots of younger fans pose with the statues as older dads and moms point out the players they saw in person. It’s a common sight, but in this midwestern town among the old brick factories, there’s something particularly nostalgic about the scene.
The Cincinnati Reds know how to preserve their traditions and with the largest Hall of Fame outside of Cooperstown, the Reds don’t disappoint in the history department. From players such as Jonny Bench (all-star catcher) to Pete Rose (all-time hit leader) to Sam Crawford (famous barnstormer Wahoo Sam) each of these men’s stories are told and passed on. The Hall of Fame is quite a sight, one every visitor to Great American Ballpark needs to see. Cruise the halls with a bowl of Skyline Chili or a Cheese Coney, and you’d have yourself a perfect Cinci experience. And if you don’t know what a cheese coney is, Google it. It’s quite impressive, and Jamie had two!
The Royals have also done well with their Hall Of Fame. While the Royals have not been around as long as the Reds or the Cardinals, the team has finally embraced its connection to the Negro leagues. They celebrate the legacy of the Monarchs and the history of Negro leagues baseball in the city. The Royals and Reds really go beyond the monument parks of other stadiums and truly celebrate the history of the teams. In every other stadium I’ve seen, there’s been a dearth of history present. Sure there are some plaques around, some retired numbers, but nothing to really say the teams care about their pasts. In small to mid-market teams, a team’s narrative is what draws the fans in and what true fans dive into when things get tough (at least, that’s what the folks I’ve talked to have said). A team’s character comes from its struggles and successes. Why would a team want to keep that hidden?
We closed out our MLB swing in KC with the best game we’ve seen to date. It was a 1-run win for the Cubs and the Royals left two in scoring position as the last out was recorded. Not a bad outing. Then we headed north to Omaha where we’ll be for a few days as we catch the first game of the College World Series. While Omaha is surely ready for this inaugural event, the real news came during our drive north.
In the small town of Craig, Missouri just off Interstate 29 the people are waiting for the flood to come. The neighboring town is already deep underwater (think water up to the top of hay barns), the crops have been abandoned, and farm equipment has been moved. This is the spot where the highway was closed and we had to detour on country roads to continue our drive north. This is also the spot where we refueled and chatted with the lady who owns the small gas station/convenience store. Her store was host to a group of farmers talking about what was to come, what was inevitable: they all were going to lose their homes, their farms, their land. The hardest part the lady told us was that humans caused this trouble. Last year the area experienced drought because too much water was released too soon. This year too much water is flowing and the swollen banks of the river are expected to expand well into the fall. Horrible and consistent rains have not helped the situation. We heard the same worry in the voice of the Omaha Putt-Putt owner (a little mini-golf makes us feel like we’re truly on vacation).
The Putt-Putt was built in 1967 and the current owner bought it 20 years later. He doesn’t have flood insurance as it costs too much (many of the farmers in the Craig store said the same thing), and he’s hoping the levees around Omaha hold so not only his business survives but also his home. The banks of the river have been fortified with sand bags and temporary berms. The locals think the brand new ballpark will be ok, but if any of the dams give way along the northern part of the river, there’s enough water to flood the entire state of Nebraska with seven inches of water. That’s a lot of water. And while we’re here to see baseball and not the swollen river, I can’t help but think about the people who are already underwater and those who are waiting to be. Those who know their homes will be destroyed. Those who will lose their land and in turn their livelihood.
We had torrential rain last night, and the levees that are now protecting the town from the flooding waters are now preventing the drainage of the rainwater. We’ll be out of town by the time the river crests, but we’ll surely keep Omaha and the area in our hearts and thoughts, and we ask that you do too.
Game Stats
Homeruns: We’ve seen it all except for a Grand Slam. Maybe at the CWS.
Rowdy fans: Nothing like a huge Cubs contingent at the Royals game.
Most expensive beer: $8 @ St. Louis
Cheapest ticket we’ve purchased: $8 @ Cleveland
Worst seat: Any place you can’t see the jumbotron (Reds bleachers!)
Most devout fan: observant Jew with NYY on his yarmulke (Yanks won!)
Part 3: Hello, Small Market Baseball
We’ve decided we’re going to retire to Pittsburgh. I know, Pittsburgh? For $35 a ticket, you can sit three rows back from the visiting dugout. You can shout out the names of the players, get waves from the ones you actually know, and hope that someone will throw you a ball used in the inning. When you’re that close, the glorious game of baseball is even better. And the people you sit around undoubtedly love the game as much as you do. They know the names of the players, they know the right ways to chastise the umps, and they know the possibilities the field and players present. It’s an addictive area, an area I’d pay to sit in for every game for the rest of my life.
George and his son Hank live 150 miles from Pittsburgh, 150 miles from Baltimore, and 150 miles from DC — smack dab in West Virginia. And yet this father and son are lifelong Pirates fan. Through good and bad and worse, they’ve come to games (a full 3-game home stand at a time) to cheer on their team. These are the kind of fans a team like the Pirates depends on. This father/son duo lives and dies for the team, that one moment in the game when something amazing happens. Sure they’d love the Pirates to reclaim some of their glory from the early 70s, but that’s not really the point for this pair. “You know, I pushed my boys into baseball at an early age. Heck, baseball is American. My boys had to do it. And now we have to watch it.” And watch it they do. They used to have season tickets, but with Hank’s work schedule as it is and money not so bountiful this year, they dropped their tickets in favor of some select games. “It was a good compromise,” said Hank. Hank even has dreams of marrying his girlfriend at the ballpark. “How great would that be?! But it’s got to be expensive. But imagine having the wedding right on home plate and the reception right here [Hall of Fame Club overlooking PNC Park],” Hank shared looking around the room excitedly. For the Pirates, a team who has struggled with its identity for the last 40 years (in baseball’s early history the Pirates were a real force to be reckoned with), George and Hank are its lifeline. They are there to ooh and aah at every great play, to hang their heads when the team suffers, to shout “Go Bucs!” no matter what.
Bob and Cheryl are on the other end of the Pirates spectrum. While they live in West Virginia, they say they’re from Pittsburgh, but they were cheering for the Orioles. How that happened is unclear, but their shared love for the game is pretty obvious. Bob is a perennial business traveler, more interested in the elusive perks of a business trip than the business itself. And so he and his wife found themselves in Pittsburgh for a few nights and at PNC Park for one. Bob was surely a fan of the game before he is a fan of a specific team. He cheered for great plays on both sides of the field, called for warm-up balls, whooped it up with the best of them. He was impressed with our score keeping skills and remarked that only true fans kept score anymore. “I used to do that,” he said. I guess even the most devout get tired as they age.
Outside of the ballpark, Pittsburgh is filled with baseball history. Be it the history of the negro leagues (the Pittsburgh Crawfords and the Homestead Grays played in town) or the city’s undying love for Roberto Clemente or the site of the very first World Series, there is much to see and do in this baseball town. A visit is surely encouraged.
While Pittsburgh welcomed up with its jovial fans, a beautiful stadium, and cheap tickets, Cleveland was nice, but so vanilla we were (dare I say it) bored. Sure there were games between innings, and instant replays on the big screen, but the energy in the crowd was so bland, so ho-hum it was bizarre. Maybe it was a hot dog induced coma brought on by $1 hot dog night. Maybe it was the average age of the fan (it seemed like teens and college students swarmed the stadium). Maybe it was the lackluster performance by the Indians. Regardless, the game itself was unexceptional. BUT, once the game was over and the teams had dispersed, Cleveland proved its merits with one of the coolest fireworks shows I’ve ever seen. The stadium transformed into a sea of oohs and aahs, of people so excited for the night it was awesome. Where was this energy during the game? Where was this shared experience while the players were around? Maybe in Cleveland and other mid-market teams, it’s not about the game rather the extras, the $1 hot dogs and the free fireworks. It’s cheaper than the movies and much more fun. But for me, a fan of the game and the magic it promises, it’s hard to be around people who are in it for the extras rather than the spell the field induces.
I’ve become moderately obsessed with fans and their smartphones. HDTV and high ticket prices are not the real killer of baseball’s status in America; it’s smartphones. And they’re everywhere. I’ve seen both a mother and father on smartphones while the kids watch the game. People posting pictures to facebook only moments after taking them. Texting and IMing, it’s all over the stadium. A few people in front of me in Cleveland had their phones out the entire game just in case there was something to text or type or do. I do not agree with this. But I also do not own a smartphone. What’s the point of going to a game if you’re not going to watch it? I’m all about sharing the experience with people not at the game, but when fans text and IM and surf the web during a game, they remove themselves from the adventures of the ballpark.
Tonight is the eve of our biggest game to date: Cincinnati vs. Yankees. I call this the biggest game because it’s finally my chance to see my team. But what I’m experiencing for the first time ever (mainly because I’ve rarely seen the Yankees outside of New York) is the Yankees’ fan base that exists in the most obscure of locations. The family of five from Indiana. The husband and wife from Ohio. How are these people Yankees fans? And what are they fans of? Jamie says they are probably fans of what the Yankees represent (dynasty, legacy, history), but I am determined to find out more as we head to the stadium tomorrow.
Game stats
Hot dogs sold on $1 hot dog night: 60,153
Average number sold at a game: 8,000
Limit per person per visit to the hot dog vendor: 6
Never before seen act: Play (homerun) Under Review
What got the people fired up the most: 3 fans ejected from the upper deck
“Major League” moment: the drum dude still sits in the bleachers of every Indians’ home game
George and his son Hank live 150 miles from Pittsburgh, 150 miles from Baltimore, and 150 miles from DC — smack dab in West Virginia. And yet this father and son are lifelong Pirates fan. Through good and bad and worse, they’ve come to games (a full 3-game home stand at a time) to cheer on their team. These are the kind of fans a team like the Pirates depends on. This father/son duo lives and dies for the team, that one moment in the game when something amazing happens. Sure they’d love the Pirates to reclaim some of their glory from the early 70s, but that’s not really the point for this pair. “You know, I pushed my boys into baseball at an early age. Heck, baseball is American. My boys had to do it. And now we have to watch it.” And watch it they do. They used to have season tickets, but with Hank’s work schedule as it is and money not so bountiful this year, they dropped their tickets in favor of some select games. “It was a good compromise,” said Hank. Hank even has dreams of marrying his girlfriend at the ballpark. “How great would that be?! But it’s got to be expensive. But imagine having the wedding right on home plate and the reception right here [Hall of Fame Club overlooking PNC Park],” Hank shared looking around the room excitedly. For the Pirates, a team who has struggled with its identity for the last 40 years (in baseball’s early history the Pirates were a real force to be reckoned with), George and Hank are its lifeline. They are there to ooh and aah at every great play, to hang their heads when the team suffers, to shout “Go Bucs!” no matter what.
Bob and Cheryl are on the other end of the Pirates spectrum. While they live in West Virginia, they say they’re from Pittsburgh, but they were cheering for the Orioles. How that happened is unclear, but their shared love for the game is pretty obvious. Bob is a perennial business traveler, more interested in the elusive perks of a business trip than the business itself. And so he and his wife found themselves in Pittsburgh for a few nights and at PNC Park for one. Bob was surely a fan of the game before he is a fan of a specific team. He cheered for great plays on both sides of the field, called for warm-up balls, whooped it up with the best of them. He was impressed with our score keeping skills and remarked that only true fans kept score anymore. “I used to do that,” he said. I guess even the most devout get tired as they age.
Outside of the ballpark, Pittsburgh is filled with baseball history. Be it the history of the negro leagues (the Pittsburgh Crawfords and the Homestead Grays played in town) or the city’s undying love for Roberto Clemente or the site of the very first World Series, there is much to see and do in this baseball town. A visit is surely encouraged.
While Pittsburgh welcomed up with its jovial fans, a beautiful stadium, and cheap tickets, Cleveland was nice, but so vanilla we were (dare I say it) bored. Sure there were games between innings, and instant replays on the big screen, but the energy in the crowd was so bland, so ho-hum it was bizarre. Maybe it was a hot dog induced coma brought on by $1 hot dog night. Maybe it was the average age of the fan (it seemed like teens and college students swarmed the stadium). Maybe it was the lackluster performance by the Indians. Regardless, the game itself was unexceptional. BUT, once the game was over and the teams had dispersed, Cleveland proved its merits with one of the coolest fireworks shows I’ve ever seen. The stadium transformed into a sea of oohs and aahs, of people so excited for the night it was awesome. Where was this energy during the game? Where was this shared experience while the players were around? Maybe in Cleveland and other mid-market teams, it’s not about the game rather the extras, the $1 hot dogs and the free fireworks. It’s cheaper than the movies and much more fun. But for me, a fan of the game and the magic it promises, it’s hard to be around people who are in it for the extras rather than the spell the field induces.
I’ve become moderately obsessed with fans and their smartphones. HDTV and high ticket prices are not the real killer of baseball’s status in America; it’s smartphones. And they’re everywhere. I’ve seen both a mother and father on smartphones while the kids watch the game. People posting pictures to facebook only moments after taking them. Texting and IMing, it’s all over the stadium. A few people in front of me in Cleveland had their phones out the entire game just in case there was something to text or type or do. I do not agree with this. But I also do not own a smartphone. What’s the point of going to a game if you’re not going to watch it? I’m all about sharing the experience with people not at the game, but when fans text and IM and surf the web during a game, they remove themselves from the adventures of the ballpark.
Tonight is the eve of our biggest game to date: Cincinnati vs. Yankees. I call this the biggest game because it’s finally my chance to see my team. But what I’m experiencing for the first time ever (mainly because I’ve rarely seen the Yankees outside of New York) is the Yankees’ fan base that exists in the most obscure of locations. The family of five from Indiana. The husband and wife from Ohio. How are these people Yankees fans? And what are they fans of? Jamie says they are probably fans of what the Yankees represent (dynasty, legacy, history), but I am determined to find out more as we head to the stadium tomorrow.
Game stats
Hot dogs sold on $1 hot dog night: 60,153
Average number sold at a game: 8,000
Limit per person per visit to the hot dog vendor: 6
Never before seen act: Play (homerun) Under Review
What got the people fired up the most: 3 fans ejected from the upper deck
“Major League” moment: the drum dude still sits in the bleachers of every Indians’ home game
Part 2: Detroit … sports town & former motor city
The Stadium
Over the outfield wall of Comerica park sits downtown Detroit. It’s a typical cityscape filled with high-rise office buildings, art deco gems reminding each visitor of America’s past. But when the sun sets and the lights of the ballpark illuminate the field, the city slips into the gritty darkness created by the decay of a failed industry and housing market. There are few lights, few buildings with tenants willing to pay the bills. But, Comerica Park, finished for the 2000 season, is literally a beacon of hope in a city in need of something, some one in a time of despair. Now, the Tigers are not a perennial powerhouse, but they are in a heated race with Cleveland for the division lead. And even with dwindling attendance there are still fans that cheer and roar and look forward to each and every game.
The people
The office party behind us in section 336 included a mix of fans. There was the life-long Tigers fan that came to 2-3 games a year, and lived and died for the Tigers’ success. He knew every player past and present, loved the Tigers just because, and wished he had more time, more money to come to more ballgames. There was the husband and wife on the end who clearly knew baseball (they quizzed me on what material I included in my class) and were decked out in full Tigers gear. And then there were the two older ladies in the middle: they were at the game because their co-workers were and they knew a night out to Comerica would be fun. What I loved most about this jovial crew sitting only four rows from the upper-most wall of the stadium was how much fun they were having. They were chatting throughout the game, laughing, participating in all the cheers, loving every minute of their shared experience.
“After a 2-hour rain delay, if some die-hard fans wanted to get into this section to watch the end of the game, would you let them sit here?” That’s the question I asked Dave, usher and section 133 guardian. Who hasn’t seen those games on ESPN when the stands are emaciated, anemic with only a few fans? Wouldn’t the players benefit a bit more from the fans’ enthusiasm if they were closer? “I wouldn’t let them near this section even after a 2-hour rain delay,” he answered. I was shocked by Dave’s certainty, his cold-hearted conviction to his job description and unwillingness to let people move down when the season ticket holders or the high price ticket buyers leave their seats because the Tigers are losing or the weather is unwelcoming. But then Dave, who also ushers at Red Wings’ games, told me more about ushering than I ever wanted to know. His stories included details of being under video surveillance to make sure he was checking tickets, hoping he would get his own section (it takes about 15 years before that happens) instead of being a fill-in and floater, missing Gallaraga’s near perfect game because he didn’t work on Tuesdays. He lived and died for the Tigers and the Red Wings and the Lions and the Pistons. He oozed Detroit pride with every request to see a ticket and even when people gave him crap just for doing his job. He’s truly the most devout fan I’ve met thus far.
The City
Outside of the ballpark, Detroit has been a fascinating exploration into some of America’s coolest architecture and one of America’s most dilapidated cities. There is such a stark contrast between one bustling street and the next abandoned one that I had to wonder how the local residents navigated it all. So many of the office buildings downtown are vacant and boarded up. So many of the neighborhoods consist of homes that are falling apart. So many of the major factories look more like war survivors than places where industries thrived. There were times when I took pictures of the buildings and I felt bad. I felt bad for the people who had to drive by then every day, for the people who worked in the factories, for the people who felt the pain of a city on the brink. But with the help of a good friend, we found pockets of life. There was delicious Avalon bakery serving all organic breads and treats. And there was Slow’s BBQ which filled our bellies with some amazing food. We even talked with a few construction workers at the old train depot and found out Detroit and some developers are starting the restoration process. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they look, but I sure do hope the Tigers can hold on to the division lead and give the city a much needed boost.
Game stats
*9 innings of baseball (first of the trip, but the Tigers lost)
*Homeruns: 1 (Tigers’ Boesch)
*Comerica Park novelties: a carousel with tigers instead of horses, a ferris wheel with baseball carriages, a wild tiger sound echoing throughout the stadium when the Tigers score a run
Cleveland & Pittsburgh call …
Over the outfield wall of Comerica park sits downtown Detroit. It’s a typical cityscape filled with high-rise office buildings, art deco gems reminding each visitor of America’s past. But when the sun sets and the lights of the ballpark illuminate the field, the city slips into the gritty darkness created by the decay of a failed industry and housing market. There are few lights, few buildings with tenants willing to pay the bills. But, Comerica Park, finished for the 2000 season, is literally a beacon of hope in a city in need of something, some one in a time of despair. Now, the Tigers are not a perennial powerhouse, but they are in a heated race with Cleveland for the division lead. And even with dwindling attendance there are still fans that cheer and roar and look forward to each and every game.
The people
The office party behind us in section 336 included a mix of fans. There was the life-long Tigers fan that came to 2-3 games a year, and lived and died for the Tigers’ success. He knew every player past and present, loved the Tigers just because, and wished he had more time, more money to come to more ballgames. There was the husband and wife on the end who clearly knew baseball (they quizzed me on what material I included in my class) and were decked out in full Tigers gear. And then there were the two older ladies in the middle: they were at the game because their co-workers were and they knew a night out to Comerica would be fun. What I loved most about this jovial crew sitting only four rows from the upper-most wall of the stadium was how much fun they were having. They were chatting throughout the game, laughing, participating in all the cheers, loving every minute of their shared experience.
“After a 2-hour rain delay, if some die-hard fans wanted to get into this section to watch the end of the game, would you let them sit here?” That’s the question I asked Dave, usher and section 133 guardian. Who hasn’t seen those games on ESPN when the stands are emaciated, anemic with only a few fans? Wouldn’t the players benefit a bit more from the fans’ enthusiasm if they were closer? “I wouldn’t let them near this section even after a 2-hour rain delay,” he answered. I was shocked by Dave’s certainty, his cold-hearted conviction to his job description and unwillingness to let people move down when the season ticket holders or the high price ticket buyers leave their seats because the Tigers are losing or the weather is unwelcoming. But then Dave, who also ushers at Red Wings’ games, told me more about ushering than I ever wanted to know. His stories included details of being under video surveillance to make sure he was checking tickets, hoping he would get his own section (it takes about 15 years before that happens) instead of being a fill-in and floater, missing Gallaraga’s near perfect game because he didn’t work on Tuesdays. He lived and died for the Tigers and the Red Wings and the Lions and the Pistons. He oozed Detroit pride with every request to see a ticket and even when people gave him crap just for doing his job. He’s truly the most devout fan I’ve met thus far.
The City
Outside of the ballpark, Detroit has been a fascinating exploration into some of America’s coolest architecture and one of America’s most dilapidated cities. There is such a stark contrast between one bustling street and the next abandoned one that I had to wonder how the local residents navigated it all. So many of the office buildings downtown are vacant and boarded up. So many of the neighborhoods consist of homes that are falling apart. So many of the major factories look more like war survivors than places where industries thrived. There were times when I took pictures of the buildings and I felt bad. I felt bad for the people who had to drive by then every day, for the people who worked in the factories, for the people who felt the pain of a city on the brink. But with the help of a good friend, we found pockets of life. There was delicious Avalon bakery serving all organic breads and treats. And there was Slow’s BBQ which filled our bellies with some amazing food. We even talked with a few construction workers at the old train depot and found out Detroit and some developers are starting the restoration process. Maybe things aren’t as bad as they look, but I sure do hope the Tigers can hold on to the division lead and give the city a much needed boost.
Game stats
*9 innings of baseball (first of the trip, but the Tigers lost)
*Homeruns: 1 (Tigers’ Boesch)
*Comerica Park novelties: a carousel with tigers instead of horses, a ferris wheel with baseball carriages, a wild tiger sound echoing throughout the stadium when the Tigers score a run
Cleveland & Pittsburgh call …
Part 1: Four games, four days, three cities ...
There is a low hum that bounces around a ballpark. It’s the collective conversations of thousands of people. And in one moment, one clutch run scored, one bad call, the hum erupts and the voices unite. This is baseball at its best. When goose bumps emerge because you’ve witnessed something great. When you’re swept away by the local emotion of a much-needed win. When the home team plays like a high school squad one night, only to pummel the same team the next. Some people say baseball is slowly fading from the American landscape. Soccer and lacrosse at the youth level and football and basketball at the professional level are replacing it. Ticket prices are driving people away. High-def televisions offer more angles to see the action, and the price of beer from the fridge is unbeatable. But visit Minneapolis or Milwaukee or Chicago and ask those 40,000 plus fans at each stadium if baseball is dying and the resounding roar is no. Not even close.
The stadiums
It’s all about the jumbotron, entertainment between innings, keeping the fans happy in those intermingling moments when the players are taking the field or running it in for an at bat. We’ve seen the Blue Bunny Ice Cream Scoop toss, the magical kiss cam (god forbid you go to a game with your sibling!), the muscle cam, guess the hat, races to the ballpark, t-shirt launchers, and more. There are more food options than a modern mall’s food court. Miller Park and Target Field have all the amenities of a First Class Airliner, but old Wrigley Field, wedged into the city like a sausage into its casing, does little more than offer up its players and the game to the fans. Funny enough, Cubs fans and those who visit the stadium don’t complain about the minimalist menu or the lack of instant replay or the difficulty in scoring a game when the line-up can be found nowhere. I have to wonder, are all of the games played in and around the baseball game needed? Is it all about making money on the owner’s part? All about sponsorship of each and every moment of the game? We’ll see …
The people
There really are only three kinds of fans at games: the die hards, the baseball lovers, and the “someone game me these tickets, so I had to come”. We fall into the second category, but it’s the combination of the first and second that really makes spectating at games interesting. So far, the die hards have been the heavy drinking, frequently yelling, tail gating folks who respond to every play, every demand from the jumbotron, every clap and cheer and yell. They feel they’ve given so much to the team that they deserve something in return. It need not be a win or a close game, rather the die hards want to see the magic that the perfectly manicured grass promises. It’s a charging play to the wall to catch a fly ball, an aggressive steal to get a runner in scoring position. Maybe it’s even a pitcher’s tip of the hat after a long slog against one too many batters. What happens when you mix the die-hard fan with the reluctant one? To me that’s where the real magic of baseball happens. In some cases, we’ve seen teaching take place (“Cheer for this guy and boo for that guy,” a die hard might instruct), but in most cases the die-hard can never truly understand the reluctant fan who shows up one, two, maybe three seconds after the first pitch, let alone those who show up in the fifth inning to claim their seats.
Dawn and Brian are two local Minnesotans who had never seen the Twins play in Minnesota before. They’ve seen the Twins on the road, but never, ever at home. They ponied up for some fabulous seats in the new stadium as a treat for all of their years of dedication. They are fans because “it’s what you do; it’s the team to root for.” Yet when I asked them how they became fans, they had no idea. Lots of die-hards have the same answer. Team loyalty seems to be passed on from parent to child, from spouse to spouse, from one die-hard to the next. I often have the same response when people ask me why I’m a Yankees fan. I just am. It’s the team my family rooted for and they’re the team of my childhood.
I met these other two guys on the L after the Cubs game and they too were on a little stadium pilgrimage. Their loop was a little smaller (White Sox, Brewers, Cubs), but they had a love for the game that extended beyond their loyalties to the Yankees and the Phillies. They wanted to see stadiums because they reflected the cities they were in, told a little story about each team. They were willing to drive long distances just to sit in the outfield seats of some never before seen stadium. They loved their teams, but they also loved the game. And at each stadium they decked themselves out in home team gear – hats, jerseys, foam fingers. They bounded off the L a stop before mine happy to have finally visited the old Wrigley, happy to have witnessed a rare Cubs win, dreaming of their next game, their next new stadium.
Bobbi and LouAnn work the Box Office at the Qwest Center/TD Ameritrade Stadium in Omaha. They are the gatekeepers for ticket information and sales related to the College World Series. And these two ladies couldn’t have been nicer. We stopped in Omaha on our way to Minneapolis just to scope out the city and to see if we could get tickets for the first game of the CWS. Pre-sale tickets are gone, but day of tickets will be available, and Bobbi and LouAnn did everything they could to try and get us some free tickets. “Teachers on a road trip to look at the history of baseball? There’s such a thing as Baseball Literature?” asked Bobbi. Yup! These two local ladies have been to the CWS for more than a decade and go “just because.” Just because they love watching those college players hustle. Just because any kind of baseball is better than no baseball at all. Bobbi was so gracious she was ready to offer us some of her own tickets, but when she realized we wanted to go to the Championship game, she tried to get some tickets out of her supervisor but with no luck. Here were these two ladies ready to give up some of their own tickets, willing to give us all the hot tips on how to procure our own tickets, welcoming us into their city and their big event just because we all loved the same game.
The game stats
Twins v Rangers — Rangers
Twins v Rangers — 8-1 Twins
Brewers v Cardinals — 4-3 Brewers
Cubs v Brewers — 1-0 Cubs
*Total baseball time: 10 hours 16 mins
*Innings seen: 32.5 (ok, we left at the bottom of the 7th on Friday night because of the rain and cold . We weren’t prepared)
*Homeruns: 1 (Milwaukee’s Prince Fielder)
*Total attendance: 161,089
*Things of note: Two proposals, 4 perfect innings (Twins’ Scott Baker), Sausage races, pickle play between 3rd and home, incredidog (hotdog with stadium sauce, onions, sauerkraut – made Jamie a little ill)
*Total miles driven: 1,452 (as of typing this on the road)
The stadiums
It’s all about the jumbotron, entertainment between innings, keeping the fans happy in those intermingling moments when the players are taking the field or running it in for an at bat. We’ve seen the Blue Bunny Ice Cream Scoop toss, the magical kiss cam (god forbid you go to a game with your sibling!), the muscle cam, guess the hat, races to the ballpark, t-shirt launchers, and more. There are more food options than a modern mall’s food court. Miller Park and Target Field have all the amenities of a First Class Airliner, but old Wrigley Field, wedged into the city like a sausage into its casing, does little more than offer up its players and the game to the fans. Funny enough, Cubs fans and those who visit the stadium don’t complain about the minimalist menu or the lack of instant replay or the difficulty in scoring a game when the line-up can be found nowhere. I have to wonder, are all of the games played in and around the baseball game needed? Is it all about making money on the owner’s part? All about sponsorship of each and every moment of the game? We’ll see …
The people
There really are only three kinds of fans at games: the die hards, the baseball lovers, and the “someone game me these tickets, so I had to come”. We fall into the second category, but it’s the combination of the first and second that really makes spectating at games interesting. So far, the die hards have been the heavy drinking, frequently yelling, tail gating folks who respond to every play, every demand from the jumbotron, every clap and cheer and yell. They feel they’ve given so much to the team that they deserve something in return. It need not be a win or a close game, rather the die hards want to see the magic that the perfectly manicured grass promises. It’s a charging play to the wall to catch a fly ball, an aggressive steal to get a runner in scoring position. Maybe it’s even a pitcher’s tip of the hat after a long slog against one too many batters. What happens when you mix the die-hard fan with the reluctant one? To me that’s where the real magic of baseball happens. In some cases, we’ve seen teaching take place (“Cheer for this guy and boo for that guy,” a die hard might instruct), but in most cases the die-hard can never truly understand the reluctant fan who shows up one, two, maybe three seconds after the first pitch, let alone those who show up in the fifth inning to claim their seats.
Dawn and Brian are two local Minnesotans who had never seen the Twins play in Minnesota before. They’ve seen the Twins on the road, but never, ever at home. They ponied up for some fabulous seats in the new stadium as a treat for all of their years of dedication. They are fans because “it’s what you do; it’s the team to root for.” Yet when I asked them how they became fans, they had no idea. Lots of die-hards have the same answer. Team loyalty seems to be passed on from parent to child, from spouse to spouse, from one die-hard to the next. I often have the same response when people ask me why I’m a Yankees fan. I just am. It’s the team my family rooted for and they’re the team of my childhood.
I met these other two guys on the L after the Cubs game and they too were on a little stadium pilgrimage. Their loop was a little smaller (White Sox, Brewers, Cubs), but they had a love for the game that extended beyond their loyalties to the Yankees and the Phillies. They wanted to see stadiums because they reflected the cities they were in, told a little story about each team. They were willing to drive long distances just to sit in the outfield seats of some never before seen stadium. They loved their teams, but they also loved the game. And at each stadium they decked themselves out in home team gear – hats, jerseys, foam fingers. They bounded off the L a stop before mine happy to have finally visited the old Wrigley, happy to have witnessed a rare Cubs win, dreaming of their next game, their next new stadium.
Bobbi and LouAnn work the Box Office at the Qwest Center/TD Ameritrade Stadium in Omaha. They are the gatekeepers for ticket information and sales related to the College World Series. And these two ladies couldn’t have been nicer. We stopped in Omaha on our way to Minneapolis just to scope out the city and to see if we could get tickets for the first game of the CWS. Pre-sale tickets are gone, but day of tickets will be available, and Bobbi and LouAnn did everything they could to try and get us some free tickets. “Teachers on a road trip to look at the history of baseball? There’s such a thing as Baseball Literature?” asked Bobbi. Yup! These two local ladies have been to the CWS for more than a decade and go “just because.” Just because they love watching those college players hustle. Just because any kind of baseball is better than no baseball at all. Bobbi was so gracious she was ready to offer us some of her own tickets, but when she realized we wanted to go to the Championship game, she tried to get some tickets out of her supervisor but with no luck. Here were these two ladies ready to give up some of their own tickets, willing to give us all the hot tips on how to procure our own tickets, welcoming us into their city and their big event just because we all loved the same game.
The game stats
Twins v Rangers — Rangers
Twins v Rangers — 8-1 Twins
Brewers v Cardinals — 4-3 Brewers
Cubs v Brewers — 1-0 Cubs
*Total baseball time: 10 hours 16 mins
*Innings seen: 32.5 (ok, we left at the bottom of the 7th on Friday night because of the rain and cold . We weren’t prepared)
*Homeruns: 1 (Milwaukee’s Prince Fielder)
*Total attendance: 161,089
*Things of note: Two proposals, 4 perfect innings (Twins’ Scott Baker), Sausage races, pickle play between 3rd and home, incredidog (hotdog with stadium sauce, onions, sauerkraut – made Jamie a little ill)
*Total miles driven: 1,452 (as of typing this on the road)
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