Monthly Archives: March 2015

Double Headed Monster

16 Monday Mar 2015

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So….when a 76-year-old man suggested hitting two spring training games in two different cities on one day, you will feel like a wimp if you don’t do it.  And so we did.

The first stop:  Joker Marchant stadium in Lakeland.  Where?

Near Orlando.  Lots of stuff is near Orlando.  Even Orlando is near Orlando.

My buddy Camp zoomed us in via his I-phone app that outsmarted the traffic jam. Yes, sometimes technology makes life easier as opposed to just vaguely feeling like really weak heroin.

The first stop after a long drive in Florida traffic is….well you know what that is.  The second stop is the obligatory visit to the gift shop.  Matt, I hope you like your new fetching and festive Tigers pencil.

We found our primo seats (they are all primo at Joker Marchant) and were soon surrounded by some very happy Tiger fans.  Well, until their beer got low- which was about the same time as Nathan came in to pitch and gave up six runs. At that time, they turned in to world class hecklers. I felt sorry for Nathan but who wants to follow Verlander?  Nobody wants to follow Verlander except for his brother, the hitter who snagged two hits and an RBI.  The fans were happy again. They got happy fast.

I know I say this about baseball fans everywhere, but the Tiger fans truly are that perfect blend of gregarious and respectful.  Engaged and observant. Tipsy but not wasted. Enthusiastic but polite.  Unless you are Nathan blowing another inning. In which case, they turn into their team name.

It was a great game even though the Phillies pulled off the win. Who cares? We are at baseball in March. Everybody else is at work. To not enjoy yourself is a crime. Far be it from our trio to break the baseball law.

We grabbed our sunscreen and Tigers pencil and headed out back towards Tampa for a night game:  Braves vs. the Yankees. I see a future where global warming creates more night games in March. It’s the only plus I can think of for global warming. Camp scored outstanding tickets down the first base line, which put us in a great location to watch Tanaka pitch, A-Rod sign autographs, and to witness the battle of the creative cotton candy vendors. Would you have thought to use a train whistle to help sell cotton candy?

Waiting on the game to start and the sun to set.

Waiting on the game to start and the sun to set.

I picked up a program, the slickest and thickest of the Spring Training programs, chocked full of information about the PAST.  There were more pictures of the retired Jeter than of any current player.  In fact, it was basically a Jeter magazine with a scorecard in it. But the fans love Jeter, even if he isn’t there- as witnessed by the plethora of #2 jerseys.

I love the Yankees fans by and large, I really do. But they definitely can lay claim to having the most obnoxious team supporters. Say, the guy next to me. Let’s call him the Bombed Bronxer.

The Bombed Bronxer, like any wasted human, was keen on narrating each and every play with his own special, slurry style. The Braves were all ‘beeches’ and the Yanks were…all ‘beeches’ as well. He gave a running monologue, to no one in particular, about his girlfriend’s breasts, about how he shouldn’t have ‘taken so much’ of that stuff, about fairly accurate predictions of which of their body parts would hit us as they squeezed down the aisle, about how his girlfriend should go get him more beer because he was too drunk to get it himself, and so forth.  Note: he didn’t use lackluster terms like breasts and body parts.

This was a particularly exciting game because it marked the return of the injured and honorable Yankees ace, Tanaka. It also was a showcase for the reputation injured A-Rod who was MORE than eager to sign whatever needed signing. Camp waltzed down and snapped this:

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And yet, despite his good will tour down the first base line, he got booed at the plate, but not by the Bombed Bronxer. I think the Bronxer had a crush on him.

To sum up the game:  Tanaka pitched beautifully for two innings, taking the Braves down one by one. I am a Braves fan but I am also a fan of great pitching and this guy just really has it down. I would happily take a free ticket to see him pitch anytime, anywhere. It was a perfect cool night with lots of great plays, solid action, and good seats to watch it all from, with additional free add-on entertainment all around us.  Until he passed out.

Hey, Mickey?

15 Sunday Mar 2015

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The list of Grapefruit League stadiums left for me to visit has been shrinking fast.  All that’s left are those that are far away (Hellooooooo, Mets!) and those that don’t sound very appealing.  There is actually only one on that ugly list.  And here I am.  Champion Stadium is the name of this park and it’s located in scenic Disney World.  Yep, the Atlanta Braves chose this place. I’m sure somebody in a very nice suit had at least one compelling reason to have a baseball stadium in a non-baseball corporate theme park. I can’t imagine what it was but I bet it has something to do with money vs. soul.

At first, I thought my buddy Camp was joking when he said that the park was IN Disney World.  He was not joking because I am here looking at Goofy, the Braves mascot.  I cannot abide this.  There are many things I cannot abide around here.  How about a list?

1.  Goofy as mascot.

2.  A fairly thin program that costs more than the thick Yankees program.

3.  There are no Braves fans here. Anyone else find that odd?

4.  There are not so many baseball fans here.  Many are too young to know what they are. They are still high on Mickey.  The fact the family is here at all must be a concession to dad, at best.

5.  Even though the parking is free, it’s in the next county. You are robbed of great amounts of anticipatory joy just by schlepping from your car to the stadium.

6.  The court of flags in the left field berm boasts the colorful flags of great teams like Alamo, HP, Chaquita and Jif Peanut Butter. I wish this were a joke. I guess it is, but the joke is on the fans. Unless you are that special type of fan that really like cheering for rental car companies. REMEMBER THE ALAMO WHEN YOU NEED A CAR!

7. Disney imagery and iconography is forced on top of sacred baseball imagery and iconography.

And yet, even though I am typing while the Blue Jays are batting, I have been having a good time…almost. The staff are the absolute friendliest of all the parks. The water is only double the normal price (instead of the stand up triple they usually hit you with) and the kind and alert senior citizen employees encourage you to fill up your empty bottle at the water fountain. One attendant let me know my sunscreen was not completely rubbed into my nose.  Everybody there wants you to enjoy yourself, even if you are holding grudges against Goofy.

And yes, I still hold such a grudge.

But here is where they won me over. Before the game, the Atlanta Saxophone Group came out and played actual music. Wonderful, human, non-computerized, music. They played it well and it replaced much recently lost joy in a mere flash.  I don’t know whose idea this was, but this was a wonderful pre-game experience devoid of the corporate overload from every direction. In fact, it served as a powerful antidote. I should book them a gig at the airport hotel.

Again, I don’t know who thought of adding a sax quartet for entertainment-  but I’m damned sure it wasn’t the robot that suggested making the stadium in the middle of a theme park and then throw in, for good measure, Goofy as the mascot.

Play ball.  Next time, though, somewhere else, please.

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A Nice Place to Sit

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

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About this time last year I was zooming down I-75, rocking out to an obscure live Springsteen recording, windows down, hopes high, Fritos slowly digesting as I made my way to spring training in Florida.  There is nothing quite like the anticipation of baseball season.  Except that moment when it arrives. You get a second chance every single year and they all feel the same. Fabulous.

This all makes for an enjoyable 12-hour drive. It’s the drive back that kills the joy. The only thing the drive back offers is an experience in the rear view mirror, temps dropping every 20 exit signs or so and many great opportunities to eat rotating corn dogs at the Shell station.

So, this year, I flew.  Or the plane did, I just sat there.

I have tired of the flying experience but at least when flying I don’t have to concentrate while moving at high speeds. Just give me an aisle seat, some pretzels and a junky magazine and I’ll be somewhere in near the ‘content’ range.

If I’m being greedy, I prefer sitting next to an empty seat.  That not being possible, I’ll settle for small people.  Not children, but small and not particularly chatty adult humans.  Do I need to explain that even though I like children just fine I REALLY don’t want to share that space with them? I didn’t think so.

Clear skies, no wind, on time.  Moving easily through time and space. Perfect.  Oh, but wait, as  bonus I realized I was sitting next to a very small adult.  Enough leg room for each of my legs. No cramps. No frowns.

I would say this pushed me into the high end of ‘content’ range. The self-hyped anticipation of the upcoming baseball adventure had not been in vain. I was about to see MORE, MORE, MORE BASEBALL. IN THE SUN. OUTSIDE. WITHOUT SNOW.

The only thing that really grated on my particular set of nerves was the squeaking of the mic caused by a rather poor understanding of sound and audio equipment by our otherwise top notch flight staff.  (And yes, I know the mic itself doesn’t squeak. I put it that way in case any flight attendants are reading this, less they be baffled.)

They broke in just about cruising altitude to tell us that on our flight was a certain little eight year old girl named Courtney.  Courtney was about to pop out of her seat because her whole family was going to the worlds of both Disney and Sea, courtesy of the Make-A-Wish-Foundation. I don’t know what Courtney’s back story was, but I sensed something very tragic in it.  Dressed in painfully adorable Minnie Mouse gear, she even took the mic herself to tell everybody her plans.  Her mom was wet eyed.  And here I thought I was the most excited kid on the plane.

I believe that’s right about when the guilt started to set in.  GO AWAY GUILT, DO NOT RUIN MY PERFECT VACATION.

Yet it returned.

Along with silent thoughts like: Maybe I should have taken the money for this trip and given it to the Make-A-Wish-Foundation.

Countered by thoughts like: Oh come on dude, you can still give money to the Make-A-Wish-Foundation, or help somebody out along the way, or something. There’s space enough in the joy room for both you, Courtney and her crying mom. 

And thoughts like: Don’t you feel funny about worrying about the size of the person in the seat next to you given what true suffering is going on in the world? And the fact YOU, tall man who eats Fritos, are cramping the person next to you?

Countered by:  Yeah, I feel a little sheepish on that one.

I thought about all of this a lot and was not finished thinking about it when the plane touched down in Orlando. It hung in my head all the way through baggage claim.

I’m still not sure that I reached a conclusion- but I do know when life offers you a good seat, appreciate it, and just sit.