But there was no real news-breaker. No real muckraking Upton Sinclair meets Arianna Huffington kind of stuff. I didn’t even get to play Bill Paxton and chase the funnel clouds that rained out the game in Memphis. I’m still here, on the back pages of the Internet, waiting to get called up to The Show.

The feel-good stories were good ones though. French people try baseball. Wisconsinites are so friendly when they tailgate for the Brewers like they do for the Packers. Los Angeles is an aptly named city. But in Seattle, I was determined to find that story that was going to blow the retractable roof off of Safeco Field, even if I had to ruffle some feathers to do it. Unfortunately, I should have realized the roof was already open.

Now You’re Tryin’ To Trick Me

We have seen games for free like we did in San Francisco, and we have seen them through the eyes of those wiser than us in St. Louis, or through the eyes of Taiwanese fans rooting on a fellow countryman. We had not yet seen a game from the friendly confines of a suite with the soft chairs, buffet lines, four flat screens, and two sub-zero fridges that just about complete the baseball-watching experience. Thanks to a regional alumni club of my alma mater Stanford and another generous ticket grant from readers like you, the Roadie was to hit the rarified air.

But before the opportunity came to watch baseball’s northern-most (or what I like to call latitude-challenged) franchise in action, the group with whom this experience would be shared settled in for a fireside chat and Q&A session with Seattle Mariner President and COO Chuck Armstrong in the media room located in bowels of the ten-year-old stadium.

Finally! I was set to go. The pump was primed further when Robin, one of the evening’s unofficial hosts came to me and asked if I had any questions. I felt like the Kingdome after Edgar’s double in 96. I wanted to say: “I’ll start with a no-spin caesar salad, filet de Woodward for the entree, and the Frost(ed)/Nixon cake for dessert.” Instead I replied, “I want to ask what everyone else probably wants to know – how has the economy affected the Mariners, if at all?”

She was not not pleased. Robin either wanted to throw up or throw me out. She did not know about the blog and I misread the room. Questions about what balks are, the type of grass used at Safeco, and whether arguments with players/managers ever get personal were going to rule the night.

It reminded me that there is so much I know, I think I know, and would like to think I know about baseball, that I forget sometimes that I am in a self-appointed and jaded minority who just wants THE GAME and sees the rest as just another business; and every time I see a middle-aged man with children and that man is wearing his favorite player’s $150 replica jersey, I want to violently shake that guy and scream, “That person does not care about you or your children! Now go to your backyard and teach that boy how to throw left-handed!”

The crowd of nearly 100 people were entertained and informed for 45 minutes by Mr. Armstrong, Mariners’ head groundskeeper Bob Christofferson, and Umpire Tim Tschida – crew chief and home plate umpire for tonight’s game. Mr. Armstrong whetted my whistle with one of his first comments – that attendance was down at my alma mater’s very fun, beautiful, and popular camp in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Alas, while it was revealed that 2008 was very rough for professional sports in the Emerald City only partly due to the departure of the Sonics of the NBA, the Mariners did pick up a corporate sponsor and the ownership group is committed to keeping baseball in town and running a sound, profitable franchise.

Let’s Move Before They Raise The Parking Rate

After our sit-down session it was time to head up to the suite and for me, it was time to find a tale of woe more woeful than mine in a skybox full of graduates from the one of the country’s grandest institutes of higher learning. I figured I had a better chance of passing Ken Griffey, Jr. on the all-time home run list before I’d be able to do that. I was right.

Elliott and Sally had season tickets to the Mariners all the way back to the Kingdome days and kept them up until a couple of years ago. They were in the package with some friends, but as time became the most precious of commodities in their respective lives, back into the general pool went the tickets.

Spencer, another one of the night’s organizers said that the Mariner’s better record and word of mouth on last year’s shindig helped contribute to an event that was twice as big as last season. No downdip there.

Then there was the tale of another fellow alumnus, who was the only person on the entire trip who did not give me permission to use a real name when asked. I believe what I can say is not only did this person’s recent and wildly successful capital-raising exploits put me and the rest of us wanna-be investment bankers to shame, but I think I was convinced to drop the ‘Moneyball’ crap and try to write the next ‘Liar’s Poker’.

Die Luft der Freiheit Weht

The winds did blow the Roadie out of Safeco with what it wanted most – a final piece of a 13-city/12-game glimpse into what fans around the country think about the grand game in one of the most introspective times in the country’s history. Stories, memories, and maybe even some multimedia will continue to trickle out over the next few days and weeks to help fill in the middle of this giant jigsaw puzzle that seems to have its borders in tact.

Bottom line overall is that it seems all right now.

In other news – Making his first start since being traded from the the Pittsburgh Pirates, Ian Snell did not make it out of the second inning in the Mariners’ 10-4 loss to the Tampa Bay Rays. The Mariners did tie the game at 3 B3, but long home runs by Evan Longoria and Carlos Pena T5 gave the Rays a lead they would not relinquish. Both teams continue to battle among four other contenders for the American League wild card playoff spot.

Thanks to the Stanford Club of Washington, The Seattle Mariners, and Family Smith for letting an admitted “Californicator” take part in the night’s festivities. Great job, all!

Lyric reference: Andy Fraser/Paul Rodgers

That lunch lady, Dorothy, and her now retired husband have been coming to Cardinals games for those 40 years and probably longer. They will continue to come this season and in the future. They were at this game (and in my seats!) with their grandchildren who were visiting from a state due south and west of Missouri. Their original intent was to take the youngsters to the All-Star Game festivities two weeks prior. That was cost-prohibitive however. So they enrolled the kids in Cardinals Camp for some drills and some autographs. They caught a couple of games with the kids as well. She also caught me.

We talked for nearly three innings. Her ability to pause our conversation in order to catch a play, or cheer a red-clad hero was a testament to her merit as a fan and merit as someone who knows how to multi-task. But her merit as an elder – in terms that society once regarded its wisest citizens – cannot go unnoticed as she flipped this interview on its head.

As hard as I tried to ask her about her school district, I ended up explaining to her San Francisco’s convoluted public school-by-assignment system. I also told her about the home prices in my town, because she does watch the news. Wanted to make sure it was real, I guess. She also asked me what I thought was going on in the country.

She had me talking about myself and my world more than I was able to get her to open up. It was my first opportunity on the trip to really take the time to talk from my perspective about what life was like for me and why I was still showing faith in baseball, the country, and most importantly – my own lot in life. This conversation with Dorothy was the most political conversation on the trip too. We agreed that things were as bad as our relative perspectives have seen it, and that more than perspective has to change in order for the country to get back on track.

I can only imagine the changes she has seen in the youth of America’s cafeteria in a post-Miracle Mets world. For four decades Dorothy has been there faithfully everyday for the kids at her school. She will be there presumably until she is no longer physically able. She loves what she does and has the perspective to be grateful for the opportunity to do it.

Baseball, eh?

There are singular sporting events that provide their locations a large portion of their identity. Europe has Wimbledon, The Tour de France, and Pamplona’s Running of the Bulls. The US has the Indy 500, The Kentucky Derby, and The Masters golf tournament. Canada has the Calgary Stampede.

The 2009 version of the world’s biggest rodeo had been tied-down for two weeks already when Judy, a sixty-something Calgary-resident, started talking about her love of baseball in the lobby of the Hilton at the Ballpark, St. Louis. Over the next two days, Judy and her husband were to board a bus with a score of other fans and head to Wrigley Field for a night game, then on to Milwaukee as part of a baseball bus tour.

That’s what I was doing! I was going to those same two cities, but as Gene Wilder said as Willy Wonka said on the boat in the movie, “Strike that. Reverse it.”

Calgary has always been a great baseball town, and I did not need Judy to remind me of that. Baseball Cube on the other hand needed to remind me that the Calgary Cannons of the Pacific Coast League served faithfully as a AAA-affiliate for four major league clubs (Seattle, Pittsburgh, Chicago AL, and Florida) from 1985-2002. Calgary has two teams these days: the Vipers of the independent Golden Baseball League and the Okotoks Dawgs of the Western Major Baseball League – a summer wood bat league for college players.

While both of those diamond remnants have supplied southern Alberta with quality baseball over the last few years, it and the bus tours (three years in a row) are still not enough for Judy and her husband. She takes advantage of Canadian Tax Day, which is 15 days later than ours in the U.S., so that she and her accountant husband can play snowbird down at spring training in Arizona. She books and he goes although I think he would rather stick around for the end of Calgary’s NHL team’s regular season.

Judy adores this game and takes great pride in how her fellow Canadians describe her as crazy for that adoration. Sheer glee emanated from Judy’s voice at midnight in the lobby of a hotel on the Mississippi River about how she was in the middle of stretching a single into a double in terms of this bus trip.

She will do this presumably until she is no longer physically able. She loves what she does and has the perspective to be grateful for the opportunity to do it.

Oh wait, did I write that already?

My number one goal for the Roadie was not to provide my own perspective, but to tell the stories of others. If I were to gain any perspective, it would have been be gravy, and I would not have expected it to come from the likes of Dorothy and Judy.

I was just grateful for the opportunity to have done it.

Billboard Photo Credit: Jesse Dorogusker

The link takes you to the Dodger Stadium A to Z Guide. Windows users Control+F; Mac users Splat+F to try to find the same term and the word appears once in the guide in the Disabled Services entry in the glossary. There interested Dodger fans can learn about some of the features the park has that disabled fans can rely on.

As the Roadie came to a close in Los Angeles baseball was the draw, but it clearly was not the appeal for me and my new traveling companion Greg who made this leg of the trip possible. A native Angelino – and celestial being in his own right – he has also been disabled for more than half of his life. I expect the wheels on his chair to turn into actual wings soon. But his gesture, along with those of a Dodger fan and employee made for a night that would humble the even most dreadlocked of millionaire player.

Every Time A Bell Rings

Bob from Northridge sounds more like the moniker of a regular sports radio talk show caller than it does of a man who, with his wife, travels 50 miles round trip to see the Dodgers for 27 games – or 1/3 of the home season. He never revealed why his mobile phone had a San Francisco 49’ers shell, but his Russell Martin #55 T-shirt, dodger cap with affixed pins painted a picture in clear focus.

He would come to more Dodger games if he could, but 27 is plenty – and that’s even with the mini-traffic advantage he enjoys living north of the stadium rather than south or east. Going to sporting events is something he just does regardless of whether professionals he does not know; or amateurs he knows very well are competing.

The Special Olympics is something in which Bob has great interest. In addition to being a worthwhile charity, Bob has a family member who competes regularly in the games. She often medals as she did in a recent competition. Understanding the ability of all those identified as disabled, Bob carries his empathy with him at all times, including those 27 Dodger games this season.

With his niece as inspiration, Bob routinely gives Dodger souvenir gifts to at least one disabled fan somewhere in the stadium. When he gave a gift to my friend Greg he tried to walk away without proper recognition. When I tracked him down in a concession line on the other side of the stadium to properly thank him, he ended up buying US beers. A true saint indeed.

Can the random act of giving a total stranger a baseball be considered significant? Maybe. However, it was with one gesture, and four simple words: “This is for you,” that Bob provided the Roadie its most special moment to date.

Angel Second Class

The days of the grizzled usher at the baseball stadium who would grab your ticket, lead you onward, wipe down your seat, then stand by aloof “not expecting” his buck or two are gone. They are still called ushers, but they are kinder, gentler ushers as evidenced by Jessica.

Exactly five months ago Jessica, a student at Pasadena City College beat the odds by beating a torrent of fellow Angelinos to get a wristband at the Dodgers’ job fair in early March. (Click the following links to find tremendous stories in the LA Times and CNN that covered the job fair in real time).

She said she and her friends/fellow job seekers got to the area around Dodger Stadium an hour early. Instead of stop-and-going up the hill in the car with the rest of the traffic, they left the car somewhere on Elysian Park Ave. and scampered up the hill on foot as if they were channeling Teddy Roosevelt circa 1898. She got wristband #79 out of over 7,000. As a result she is spending her summer minding the customers in some prime real estate in Chavez Ravine.

Bully!

For a first time usher Jessica not only shows maturity beyond her years, but the ability to earn the post of sections 12 and 14 on the field level for every game, which include the disabled seating area. The joy she gets from not only working for the Dodgers, but to have such an important role, is abundant when she describes it. It has been an exciting season so far and the stadium has always been abuzz. This Monday night for an average Milwaukee Brewer team meant fewer fans through the turnstiles overall and in the disabled seating area. She did well in making us feel welcome nonetheless.

It will not stay that way through August. The Dodgers have two long home stands this month including seven games with the Cardinals and Cubs August 17-23. One thing is for sure. With Jessica working all those Dodger games it will be easier for those looking for work to find it, because they won’t have to deal with her charging up the hill.

Paging Clarence Odbody

What happened at Dodger Stadium on August 3, 2009 served and the perfect end to the Roadie in the perfect city given its name. One does not need to be the beneficiary Bob’s empathy, Jessica’s sympathy, or my friend Greg’s generosity to know that angels do take form among us.

They will find you – when you least expect it. And it does not take much to become one either.

In other news- The Milwaukee Brewers took advantage of walks by Dodger pitching to build a 6-2 lead heading into B9, boosted heavily by a monstrous home run off the bat of Ryan Braun. The Dodgers mounted a furious rally in the last frame loading the bases with the winning run at 2B, only to have Manny Ramirez fly out to right to end the game.

Epilogue – Dodger Stadium is the oldest stadium in the majors (1962) that is not Wrigley or Fenway in Boston. The place is immaculate. Elysian Park, despite its traffic offers no better surroundings; and the access to and seating for disabled is quite good. The aforementioned aggregated search listings need a handicapped placard of their own, but that looks like a league-wide website problem that is not specific to the Dodgers.

Greg and Jessica discuss the relative merits of Clayton Kershaw's curveball

References: ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’

This post was revised at 8:50AM, Wednesday, 8/5

That revised route led me as a young man to baseball and the broadcast booth for both my alma mater and a short-season A affiliate of a bay area big club. That was a true detour in and of itself because I returned to the San Francisco Bay Area in the mid-90’s. There was another gold rush on and it had more to offer than ‘the booth’ was offering at the time.

The Bay Area is going through a serious transformation today. It held up despite the downturn in the economy at the end of last year and beginning of this, but signs may be emerging, as least according to a Forbes article titled ‘America’s Abandoned Cities‘ that the second Gold Rush is indeed over. Lower pay and fewer jobs mean more people are realizing that there is more to life than fog, sourdough bread, fog, steamed beer, views of the Golden Gate, and more fog.

Living On Tulsa Time

‘Beth’ left San Francisco’s Excelsior neighborhood six years ago. Home to oft-forgotten McLaren Park, the Excelsior is in the southeast corner of the city about 10 Willie Mays home runs due west of Candlestick.

She lived all over the City (as it’s known): North Beach (Joe DiMaggio’s old haunt – the Italian section), the Avenues (a perfect grid of numbered streets between the ocean and the park), and Hayes Valley (near the Painted Ladies and another seven Barry Bonds home runs from the corner from Haight/Ashbury).

However, when the rising tide of free money and skyrocketing home values hit San Francisco (read: when I bought a house) Beth decided she wanted to do the same thing. Against the advice and desire of her brother and sister she did indeed do the same thing. In Tulsa. OK?

Trampling Out The Vintage

Over the past three years states such as Nevada, Michigan, and Virginia launched major handbill-type advertising campaigns in California promoting cheaper land, lower taxes, and a better quality of life in an effort to tilt the country back to east and filter out some of California’s loose business sediment into their own bottles. To an extent is has worked, benefitting the bordering states more than more distant ones, but the attraction to California is still fairly magnetic.

For Beth, the City was worn out and cramped and a place like Tulsa, Oklahoma offered her more space, a slower pace, and a smidge more opportunity. Oklahoma did not heavily market there and she did not do extensive research on where to go. She “just picked” Tulsa.

While at the Drillers game I overheard her talking in the row behind me about the new ballpark being built for the team Tulsa. She was comparing the excitement of new digs to what San Francisco (the town and team) went through moving into AT&T Park. Drillers Stadium is past its prime within the Tulsa Sate Fairgrounds and many avoid it because of its location and condition. It is a great place to watch a baseball game as the stands sit above the sunken diamond for that “on top” feel. The corrugated metal flooring and wooden overhang roof allow for some pretty good stompin’ when the Drillers are rallying. But many of the people I talked to felt attendance was down because people are in anticipation mode. There’s no other way to explain it being 2/3 full on Kids’ Night (a Friday) for a first place team. Unless of course – ‘It’s the economy’, stupid.

Get Your Kicks

Beth sees the changes even hitting a place where the oil business has buoyed the town so much over the last few years. Working part time in the event planning/catering business she is looking for more to do. Business is coming her way, but it is difficult to predict because it is usually smaller in scope than it used to be and it is more spur-of-the-moment.

Other types of recreation are being impacted as well. She has seen a large spike to the positive at her regular Wednesday movie matinee. The empty theatres for the cheap showing now fill to 3/4 capacity and the demographic is younger. Our speculation led us to the same natural conclusion – those out of work were taking a break from blogging – but then again I was 15 years old the last time I paid $3 for a movie.

Beth does not go to many baseball games, but with the new stadium in place next season she and her neighbors will be there in full force. I asked her if she would ever re-join me as a neighbor in San Francisco – and although the lack of good food and warmth in the winter gets her down, there is enough to keep her there in Tulsa.

While I do not think it is fair to call Beth’s migration ‘reverse-Okie‘ to its core, there are certainly some elements to it. She is actually more like a ‘New Sooner‘. Oddly enough there were billboards in west-central Kansas offering free land for both residential and industrial/agricultural purposes. Some people this century are migrating. We are making a mistake if we ignore the echoes of The Depression.

Given where I am these days, I often wonder the same thing about San Francisco. That’s one of the reasons why I took this trip.

I don’t really know. It’s just stuff I’ve been thinking about.

In other news – The Arkansas Travelers sent 14 men to the plate T1 and scored nine times en route to a 12-4 victory over the Tulsa Drillers. A helicopter landed on the field during the pre-game ceremonies delivering a local news personality and one of the three first pitch baseballs.

View the video here.

Quote attributes: Grapes of Wrath, Battle Hymn of the Republic, Route 66, Jason Friedman/LSJUMB

THe KTUL News Chopper. No one was hurt in the filming of this footage.

The ghost – my traveling companion (of 38 years old) was gone. He got called up you could say. A heavenly thought that. He had fans both in California (family) and Wisconsin that needed him. There’s really nothing you can do in the minors when the big club calls except shake hands, say, “thank you”, and wish all the best for a great opportunity.

The empties – the feelings of leaving family, more friends, and possibly even better things behind in behind in Chicago. The choice was between staying and watching Yankees @ White Sox; or head down to the farm and keep my appointed route. Since I hate the f*cking Yankees it only made the choice slightly easier. Besides, there has always been a part of me that wanted to see Graceland.

A late start and multiple lane closures on the way south meant I didn’t cross the Mississippi into Tennessee until 6:45PM or 25 minutes before first pitch. The Redbirds’ radio play-by-play man did what all good shills do (and I can say that because I have done it myself): “Despite the standing water and funnel cloud touchdowns in the area the game has not been called yet.” Whether or not the folks in Germantown (East Memphis) or Olive Branch, MS (suburb south) were going to be able to use their tickets was inconsequential because those weren’t real tornadoes that ripped though their towns just two hours prior.

I went down to the field anyway despite that I knew the game would be called. Surely the surrounding nightlife would support the stories of poorboys and pilgrims on and around Beale St.

All Shook Up

Bob and Sue from Akron, OH stood on the concourse behind the last row of seats behind home plate in Autozone Park watching the bat boys and clubhouse attendants (presumably) having a catch in bare feet in short right field. They did not know when tonight’s rainout would be made up as they were in town all weekend and would be able to go again if their schedule allowed. They did not seem like they were interested in talking to me until they found what kind of shenanigans I was up to.

This kind of trip is something that they aspire to do, but Bob said he wanted to see all 30 parks. His wife agreed. They are not yet at that stage of life, but they are getting closer. Claiming great pride for the success of his hometown minor league team, the Akron Aeros of the Eastern League and true sadness at the end of the fad that was the Cleveland Indians/Jacobs Field, Bob intimated at a gaping hole gorged in the hearts of all Cleveland sports fans be it from the football Browns of the 80’s, baseball’s Indians of the 50’s and 90’s, and basketball’s Cavs this decade.

Sure Cleveland is part of the landscape, but does it really rock? When Bob and Sue get the call to tour the country, they will find out.

Heartbreak Hotel

I should never have met Carlos from Pine Bluff, AR. The man obviously knows his sore thumbs however, because he could immediately tell that my first pass up-and-down a tornado-scared Beale St. resulted in nothing but more confusion.

As Beale St.’s unofficial and unintended concierge, Carlos quickly stopped me asked me where I was from and whether I wanted music or food. Within three minutes, Carlos was able to extract form me where I lived, where I was raised, why I was in Memphis, and how Oct. 27, 1986 was the happiest day of my life (to that point). He also knew that I was good for a little bit of money.

I did not get into too many specifics with Carlos. Other than hailing from Pine Bluff and that he was tired from sleeping on a bench in a nearby park, I did not want to hear anymore. I just heard a similar story of business failure from Pirani in the cab in Chicago, and whether or not Carlos’ story was true – it was still unfolding and he was trying to recount it. He seemed trustworthy and I had no reason to think otherwise.

He led me to the Rendezvous and told me I would have a delicious meal there. I would eat delicious ribs there and I thanked Carlos monetarily in advance. Locals may have sent me elsewhere, but I had Carlos looking out for me. He is waiting for a call up too. Hopefully he gets one.

It’s Now Or Never

The server who took care of me at the Rendezvous didn’t seem too impressed with my version of ‘Aw shucks’ method of conversation creation, so I had to pull out the heavy artillery about the trip to get her talking. Once we got talking, she kind of stopped working. We talked the whole time I sat at the bar. I hope she didn’t get in trouble.

A product of the schools in the East Memphis area, she left college with a degree in finance. However, the reason why she no longer works at the bank is not because of the economy, but frustration with the South and its ways. Despite what we think is changing regarding chauvinism, racism, and small-minded thinking – no matter how many beers we have – it’s not happening fast enough.

She will have a career in business sooner rather than later as she bides her time for the right thing to come along. First – she is sharp. I always look for common sense in entrepreneurs and she is that. Second – she saves, yet does not deprive herself of finer things. One she learned I was from New York she told me about the trip she recently took to NY with friends. The trip included meals at some of the best restaurants in town and a trip to Yankee Stadium.

They got tickets to Yankee Stadium!! Let me re-phrase: Holy crap! She does not go to many Redbird games and she is not much of a baseball fan, but her friends are. They researched, engaged in the mission, and executed. They also took the subway too. That’s damn impressive. Savvy rookies, if you will.

Kentucky Rain

My grand plans for Memphis, including sneaking into Kentucky for five minutes on the drive from Chicago, were washed out. Normally, when the visiting team is making its final trip to a city the clubs take every care to make sure the game is played – even in the minors. That didn’t happen in Memphis, but I don’t consider it my last trip.

I don’t consider it to be the last trip for those I met in Memphis either.

In other news – The Memphis Redbirds won the make-up version of the originally scheduled game with the Round Rock Express by the score of 5-2. And Jesse did not go to Graceland. He snuck into Mississippi instead to but a toothbrush and gum. That’s state #45. Oklahoma will be state #46 in about four hours.

Lyric attributes: Paul Simon, Elvis Presley, Ian Hunter

The weather might not be as perfect as it was on July 29, 2009, but it won’t matter. And sure, you will probably be delayed if you fly, but there is something about this town that is so authentic. More than any other city, and despite all the modern conveniences, Chicago seems to do things today the way they did them decades ago. Wrigley Field is the best example of that.

When you go, go with an open mind. Wrigley Field has so much hype around it and as a result expectations need to be set accordingly. If you set yours lower than you think you should you will be properly prepared. The place has the capability to exceed any level of expectations as mine were on this day. However, there were a couple of things I did not expect to see that really made we wonder where the expectations need to be on getting the country back on the good foot.

Back To That Same Old Place

You may be surprised when you get to Wrigley Field as you will immediately recognize two things: 1. people like you who spend more time looking up, taking pictures and getting in the way of your early-20th-century-conceived sightline – and 2. the die hard Cub fans who pay attention to everything, stay to the end, and sing ‘Go Cubs Go’ after a Cubs win in a way that would make any North Korean card-stunt choreographer proud.

During my walk down from the upper deck something caught my eye. About two pivots before the main level concourse a Cubs Jersey wrapped in clear plastic hung from a hangar on the top of a handtruck in an unusually Joad-ian kind of way. Next to it – a sign – with a logo from a Bank whose name I will not reveal, but they have been in the news lately and they are all over America. Next to that was a table with multiple clipboards with pens and paper and plenty of room to divulge your household income in an effort to get more credit.

There can’t be a better place to do that than the place nicknamed the ‘Friendly Confines’, right?

Normally, booths like this are crowded and there is plenty of free stuff to be had. On this day, the hawker was pushing credit to only one person as I approached. She was older than I (another observation about Wrigley is that demographic has to skew older) and was regaled in Cubs hat and jersey.

“I didn’t think they did this anymore,” I said.

“Neither did I,” said the Cubs fan shrugging her shoulders. “I have been looking for something like this for a while.”

She then split, awaiting her card in the mail. So I pretended it was 2005.

“You guys still do this.”

“Oh yeah,” said the credit man. “It’s not like it was back in the old days, but we get anywhere from 2-5 people signing up a game.”

“What’s the rate?”

“High. It starts at like 11-and-a-quarter and goes all the way to…” I think he said 18 but I cannot remember exactly. I thought to myself if that’s high, then I better sign up for another credit card right now.

He went on selling. “If you sign up, after the first $75 you spend on the card you get a free Cubs Jersey just like this one.”

Ignoring the generous temptation, “That’s it?” I asked. “Do a lot of people sign up for this?”

“No. When we tell them they get the jersey after they spend they usually walk away. But before we would give away shirts, or hats, or coolers and people would sign up all the time. Now you have to spend to get the jersey and when people hear that they usually walk away.”

I did too.

Sweet Home Chicago

Pirani was born and raised in Pakistan. He came to Chicago as a young man and lived there for several years before he moved to Atlanta with his family to pursue business opportunities – all of which fell through. The latest venture was a Dunkin Donuts franchise his partners squeezed him out of. Racked with debt he is back in Chicago alone, driving a cab, and “working all the time” in order to get out of the hole.

He is a willing storyteller and while the pessimist’s pessimist (yours truly) is always on the lookout for tall tales to engender sympathy (read: a big tip), this narrative was pretty compelling. One story however did not mesh with something heard earlier in the day and it left me scratching my head looking in the middle of the two extremes trying to find the truth.

Cabs were our mode of transport to and from Wrigley. (When you go, take the L. Period.) On the way there our cab driver said he has at least one fare per day on Cub game days and generally has more than 10 per week. Recently, he did four-in-a-row one morning.

With my expectations set fairly high when I asked the same question to Pirani he said no. He said he hadn’t had a Cub fare in a while and that the city was dead, the hotels were empty and the visitor count would be a fraction of what it was in May.

That stadium was full. My hotel was too and a couple of others that we checked were close to full occupancy. Was Pirani pulling our leg? Was the city really that dead? Or was he looking so hard for fares that he couldn’t find any. It is difficult to say what is exactly happening on the ground either in Chicago or in any other place for that matter. It could have been a great story for that something extra.

Pirani and I do have one thing in common and that is we are both looking, albeit for different things. His daughter is getting married and he desperately wants to get back to Pakistan to see family. Our relative personal perspectives not withstanding, it has been my experience that often times things find you more than you find them. That’s why the expectations matter because one person’s high is another person’s low everything else drives you crazy.

Now, let’s get some runs!

In other news – The red-hot Cubs destroyed Mike Hampton and the Houston Astros 12-0. A six-run first punctuated by the three-run home run from Alfonso Soriano was all the Cubbies needed for the easy win. Pitcher Randy Wells threw eight shutout innings for Chicago. Also, my dad was at the game and that was pretty cool.

On the field, thanks to Jesse D. (l to r) Jesse J., Tom J., Jonathan, Jesse D.

Quote/Lyric credits: Fred Fisher, Robert Johnson, Harry Caray

January 1, 2000 was cold, wet, and heartless. With no sleep all 75 of us struggled to find our way to Pasadena and all the roses fit to glue on a golf cart. The Tournament of Roses Parade started at an ongodly hour in order to accommodate the east coast fans on TV. Soon after, a football game would follow and those among us in the group of outnumbered fans of the west coast team had to find our way to the Rose Bowl and fight off multiple demons before kickoff.

Among the demons that day included giant puddles in the parking lot, insufficient attire for inclement weather, and the lack of a proper tailgating gear with which to refresh. Then there were the fans of the Wisconsin Badgers. Having turned the Rose Bowl into a mini-Madison for a second year in a row, these fans (and their team) put on a display that was difficult for us on the other side to understand: the bright red rain gear, the portable grills, and about 60,000 pairs of lungs that ritually screamed RON! DAYNE! every time the running back took the ball to chew up clock in the second half.

Fast forward to July 28, 2009. After infiltrating the enemy’s front line at Miller Park for a baseball game in Milwaukee we saw it all in action again. It was a glimpse to a way of life that make this group of people easily the heartiest and warmest fans we met to date.

We’ll Have a Barrel of Fun

The drive from St. Louis to Milwaukee was trouble-free and gave us two-and-a-half hours to kill on the Miller Park property before first pitch. Since the park is not in the city setting that made St. Louis so convenient there was a fear that we would be stuck with not much to do. Not a problem.

As we filed in toward our parking space with hundreds of other cars, the moving forms became much clearer. The scene that unfolded brought me back to visions of that Rose Bowl. But it was a Tuesday in July. Not a Saturday in October, or a Sunday in November, or the first day of a century. The big cars opened and their inhabitants filed out with military precision unfolding tents, lighting grills, and setting up bean bag toss courts. A tailgaiting M*A*S*H unit was being erected and we again were woefully unprepared to contribute to the new city’s fare.

We’ve Got The Blues on the Run

Great care and zeal goes in to the construction of the Wisconsin tailgate. Once parked, we were pinned in our car because regiments were already on the move on both our left and right flanks. The general, who we would later learn to be Tina, was making sure her vehicle’s passenger door did not damage my driver’s side door. I told her it was a rental. With a huge smile, she said her five boys, “didn’t give a rip” about my car. I thought if these folks did not talk to me, then it was going to be all my fault.

We needed tickets and since we left the Weber back in California, that was our first piece of business. Time of day and opponent (Nationals) made the walk-up situation for tickets on this night very easy. With a way into the stadium procured, we then walked around Miller Park to soak in the atmosphere take some pictures and then headed back to The Swamp.

When we got back to the car all the tables were set, the beer was flowing, and dinner would soon be served. It is a wonder they serve any food concessions inside Miller park, but contrary to what seemed to be out before us not everyone tailgates. Here’s a short list of those who do:

The Gang’s All Here

Tina’s Family

From a town straight up the shores of Lake Michigan the highly-coincidental California license plate of our Ford Escape was the conversation starter. My explanantion for the trip got me talking about Brewer baseball with Tina’s husband Jeff who brings the family of four boys, (plus one of their friends on this day) down a couple of times a year. They always do it this way. Full parking lot meal, toss the football around, and cheer on the Brew Crew before the long drive back. While the trip was enough of an icebreaker, the slingshot momentum for the continued conversation was the revelation that my traveling companion works at Apple. And if you remember the scene from ‘Return of the Jedi’ when the Ewoks anointed C3PO as their god – you get what happened with my friend Jesse, just without the wicker-back chair, when we discussed all things iPod.

We learned about Tina’s growing interest in photography, Jeff’s love of the Brewers, and their oldest son Taylor’s upcoming piano recital. Good luck, Taylor! We are rooting for you!

Dave, Sarah, and Tricia

To our right was Dave whose propane powered grill provided his group with all kinds of protein: shrimp, chicken, burgers, and dogs. Dave was not ready to head on inside when we did about 25 minutes before first pitch, but that did not stop him from offering us anything and everything in his buffet line and in his cooler. We obliged.

Dave does not come to Brewers games often. When he does he is usually able to get a handful of tickets from work – a job that requires him to spend a great deal of time on the road. He could not have been more happy to provide us weary travelers with sustenance. In fact, he and his group were still finishing up the leftovers after the game when we got back to the car. That’s where Sarah and Tricia were. Sarah is a sign language interpreter and Tricia is a trade show/conference coordinator. All of them were incredibly nice and showed great interest in the trip and what we were trying to do. Sarah, a total blog-a-holic (please comment if you read this!), understood completely abut the impact that real-time blogging is having on the media because she has friends down at the Journal-Sentinel (Milwaukee’s newspaper) who are fearful that the newspaper problems and closings that happened in Seattle and Denver may happen here too.

Jesse grabbed a beer and I, responsible for getting us to Chicago, grabbed a caffeinated beverage. This group was different from the group on our other side because they were friends and not family. But the scene and set up were still the same. They were also very interested in wanting to know about the other places we had seen and where we were going. You could tell there is a certain pride everyone feels whether they are wearing Brewer Blue, Badger Red, or Packer Green. I did not ask about the Bucks, but I probably did not have to.

As we drove away we really felt like we left family. I love the M*A*S*H analogy because in that final episode Honeycutt left Hawkeye a goodbye note spelled out in rocks as Pierce flew away in the chopper. We did not get a goodbye note in Denver, Kansas City, or St. Louis.

But we got one in Milwaukee.

In other news – Nyjer Morgan hit the second pitch of the game for a home run and the Washington Nationals never looked back in an 8-3 win over the Brewers. Adam Dunn hit is 24th home run of the year – a shot measured at 445 feet. However, that can’t be right. He tattooed the freaking the baseball. That was the longest home run this reporter has ever seen in a baseball game. Period.

The Note

Quote credit: Beer Barrel Polka

Firmly ensconced in his window-side throne in one of Busch Stadium’s enclosed dining areas, The King (as he shall be called) made it known to my traveling companion that he bet on the Cards/Dodgers game. He took the over on a line at 7 ½. Meaning, as long as the combined total of runs scored by both teams was greater than 7 ½, The King would be a winner.

Gambling Is Illegal At Busch

Gambling is not a topic I expected to cover on this trip. Yet MLB preposterously dredged up Pete Rose’s name and possible reinstatement earlier in the day. My sense was they tried to get the lead back from Sportscenter and the guy with the dogs (Vick), so I suppose it was inevitable. Shoulda bet on it.

Additionally, a <a href="“>front page article in the USA Today on this day discussed the topic more broadly about how states are seriously considering legalizing sports betting in order to support their failing economies. Delaware will legalize betting on football games for the upcoming season and all four of the major sports franchises are fighting them in court to stop. MLBAM President and COO Bob Dupuy refers to the 1919 Black Sox scandal and MLB’s desire to never have to deal with anything like that again as one of their reasons for the lawsuit. Yet the article and I cannot ignore the constant reminders at major league stadiums for fans to gamble once they leave the ballpark, such as at the Casino Queen, an advertiser for the St. Louis Cardinals.

I Never Slice

I never understood betting on baseball, and I know my way around a casino and sports book. The lines and odds are not presented in an intuitive way, and after The King explained it to me I was reminded why I don’t like it. He said if you see a “+130” on a team’s line that means you win $130 with a $100 bet.

At $100, you can barely get your family in the ballpark, why would you risk the cash this way?

Betting on baseball probably is not the staple it is in football for two reasons. First, ten times as many games per season as football means 100 times the risk (at least) from a dollars perspective. Second, even if you could… for argument’s sake… control who was playing at any given time – baseball is just not that easy to predict.

An admitted hockey fan, The King said that this game’s “over” was too good to pass up. I then decided to challenge him a tad by asking for which of the St. Louis teams (Blues, Rams, or Cardinals) whose tickets would he take every time – the no-hesitation answer was for the NHL’s Blues. I then asked him what one bet of all three of those teams he would make every time giving or taking points – he said he’d take the Rams to lose. EVERY TIME.

Interesting how baseball does not fit in either of those landscapes.

Juiced

Adrenaline is gambling’s sweet nectar and silent killer. Its most unfortunate part is the money attached to it. Or is it? Some like the juice from the competition aspect – beating the odds. That’s me. For some it is a career. For The King, it is an outlet.

The aforementioned outlet for The King developed as a result from some changes at work down at the tile factory. They instituted random drug testing. He is also recently married so he can’t chase the skirts as he once did. Some vice grips have closed and others seem to have opened for His Majesty; and today, on his birthday, he clamped down on a sure thing.

Once done with sports gambling theory, The King also expounded on stocks. We schussed down that slippery slope because he mentioned he hedged the over/under by betting the Cardinals to win. I told him that given my experience and training with stocks I hated derivative trading. You could get in trouble real fast if you got it wrong. Ask the Lehman Brothers.

He disagreed and said that the best buy over the short-term was GM (k.n.a. Motors Liquidation [Ticker: MTLQQ.PK]) and some covered calls. “It can only go up, “ he said.

“Unless it goes to zero,” I said. I have seen it happen.

In hearing The King’s strategies for betting the one sure thing is that he only bets his sure things. We all surely know there is no such thing.

One thing is for sure; however, and that is that something changed for him. It killed the king.

Long live The King!

Epilogue – Once the Cardinals started to pull away in the game it looked like The King was going to be in the money and for one evening in the right. The Dodgers put themselves in a position to score the 8th run of the game in the 8th inning, which would have ended up perfectly for The King. A Cardinal win and a cover would likely have provided jet fuel for another night rolling soft 10’s at the Illinois side’s Casino Queen. Just the fresh squeeze His Majesty ordered.

In other news – The Cardinals won 6-1.

As of July 26, 2009, and in perhaps the most competitive season in recent MLB history the Kansas City Royals seemed to be battling the Indians for AL Central basement yet again. This year, that could certainly be considered a surprise given their 18-11 start, a pitcher in Zach Greinke that is certainly capable of being a stopper, and a GM in Dayton Moore that is trying to make his team better.

He has too. The Kansas City Royals are too proud a franchise to endure this consistent mediocrity. And given the refurbished palace in which they play, their fans are still wondering when their knight in shining armor will come.

You Play to Win The Game

A scouting director once told me that at any given level of an organization, there are no more than five players per team capable of making the major leagues. Then he said that the rest of the guys are there so they (the five) can play games. Everything else after that he said “was gravy”.

While I never asked any of the minor league players I was around on a regular basis what side of the line they thought they were on, they all seemed to know. After being in Kansas City on a glorious Sunday afternoon, I got the sense that the fans of this quadragenarian team chooses to ignore that they are part of an ignominious handful of teams that cannot get out of its own way and – along with four or five others teams – are there so that the Yankees, Red Sox, Cubs, Dodgers, and Mets (in that order) can play games.

Much Ado

Two million fans may pay or even pass their way through the turnstiles at Kauffman Stadium in 2009. If that happens, it will be the first time since 1991 and 22% higher than last year. The average attendance through the first 54 games is 23,784 or 19% higher than last year total.

Further renovations to the already comfortable Kauffman Stadium may be a part of it. The Royals knew that while their ballpark was good, in order to keep people coming they needed to make it better. They have. There are also pictures to prove it.

BJ, a St. Louis native, Kansas City-area resident, and Cardinal fan who was close by said that he thought the ongoing renovation was to cost $250 million with the Royals kicking in some and Jackson County taxpayers the rest. Had he said 10% by the former and 90% by the latter through a sales tax increase, he would have been exactly right.

It all begs the question as to how can these types of projects still get green lights. This specific project was actually ok’ed under much better economic circumstances, but crews had to boogie in order to get the place ready for the Yankees and opening day 2009. They did it and they did it well. The crowds are holding up, but if the Royals keep losing, then whither GM Dayton Moore and Manager Trey Hillman?

Matt Campbell of the Kansas City star wrote on March 1 that “you wouldn’t know there was a recession,” given all the activity down by the Sports Complex of which Kauffman Stadium is a part. BJ seemed to agree. He said he heard the place had many more fans the night before for the always festive – and totally awesome – Christmas in July promotion. However, he and other fans have to act quicker on the nights that Greinke pitches because they do draw much better.

What it comes down to unfortunately is wins. As the Giants can attest, as they have nights with Lincecum that draw very well, their overall numbers are getting better after a slow start because they are winning.

The play is the thing, in which teams must capture hearts, minds and wallets to be considered king.

104 foot HD screen part of the Kauffman Stadium renovations. Photo Credit: Jesse Dorogusker

The voter-approved Jackson County sales tax increase in 2006 meant to cover renovations at both Kauffman and Arrowhead Stadium, home of the Chiefs. The chiefs and the Hunt family (its owner) will contribute approximately 20% of the $375 million renovation there.

In addition to the Shakespeare lines, we borrowed a line form Herm Edwards too – former coach of the KC Chiefs.

Some of my earliest recollections of the term envoy bring me back to the Reagan administration when it seemed like Jeane Kirkpatrick, James Baker, or Jesse Jackson was going somewhere, officially or not, trying to get things back to normal for the United States.

However, since I was not able to watch from the cheap seats and I was more enamored with the game up there anyway, I needed to get the Roadie back to normal and find another story to augment that of the charitable hawker. A stranger in a strange land had to deal with the changed initial conditions and now had five innings to act.

Merci, Poincare

The chaotic order of the Seven Game Roadie is probably not dissimilar to repeating the exercise with perfect strangers on airplanes, doctor’s waiting rooms, or bellied up to a bar. The people, topics, and time covered are all a result of the previous course of action.

Simply, it always changes. And I want it to always change. That’s my strange attraction to this; and in Denver, home to the very successful private software company, Quark, it makes sense to recognize, just what the hell is going on here.

I’d like to believe that the trip is a dynamical system unto itself, if not in the strict quantum physics definition. Were it not, I would never have met Bernard et Mireille.

Right, back to that sound that found my ears. A very nice woman two seats to my left, leaned in to tell her husband that her Cracker Jacks were “tres sucres,” or very sugary (sweet). Now, the thought of a French person eating Cracker Jacks is mind-blowing enough. She either knew what they were or she was immersing herself fully in the baseball experience. But that she found them sugary (literal: sucres) and not sweet (colloquial: doux) meant I had a live one.

During the next inning break I asked, “Tu parles francais?” We were off and running.

The Holiday

Thrilled they finally had a connection to what they were seeing in front of them, we got along well. They had absolutely no idea what was going on in the game. They were on vacation, a la the movie ‘The Holiday’ where an American and a Brit swap houses and find love. (Kate W., the house next door to mine in San Francisco is empty right now, just in case…)

Pour cinq semaines (five weeks), Bernard et Mireille would be in Boulder, while a Coloradoan couple enjoys chez eux (their home) in Montpellier – 168 km ouest de Marseilles – on the south coast.

Now, the last time I spoke French at great length was at a wedding in Napa, Calif. two years ago. The groom was born in Saint-Jean-de-Luz on the Atlantic coast, but was essentially raised in St. Louis, MO (a marvelous coincidence as I publish this story in that town). My wife and I sat with members of his family including son papa et sa grand-mere. It was a delight for me, et j’espere cet etais pour eux (and I hope it was for them too).

Bernard knew enough English to help me with my questions to him in French. The words were so difficult to recall. Besides, I can’t speak a lick of ‘baseball French’. This would have been handy. Memo to Coors Field: Get WiFi!!!

I finally had a chance to play ambassador in a baseball context. I was a special envoy for the commissioner conceived elsewhere, yet I had to confront familiar realities in a foreign context. Brilliant! I was able to get the basics across: 9 innings, no time limit, 4 balls, 3 strikes, 3 outs, fair/foul, runs. Double switches, sac bunts, and the 7th inning stretch were going to have to wait however.

Honestly, we spent more time talking about other things. They were the obvious strangers, but they fit right in. It was so enjoyable to get to know these people and see another part of the world from a different perspective.

Bernard enjoys mountain biking and Boulder is perfect for that. Their daughter is also traveling in the United States and is doing some things in that regard independently for the first time. They also love to ski (Bernard a snowboarder), but like me, they have yet to experience the Colorado powder.

Since everything was “on sale” for them they were paying for everything after euro conversion, I asked the only question I thought relevant outside of baseball suitable for this forum.

Les francais: Obama ou Sarkozy?

Obama.

If I understood him right, Bernard indicated that Sarkozy is more to the right than originally advertised. His attempts to revitalize the French economy may be taking them too far away from happy balance of the socialized plans of Mitterand and the pro-business Chirac. Mais, as advertised, anyone else different from Bush marche avec eux (is alright for them).

He was surprised to hear that Colorado went blue in 2008. He laughed out loud when I asked about the politics of his first lady, Carla Bruni. La reponse de Mireille etait parfait: Elle est tres jolie, non? (Mireille’s response was perfect: She’s very pretty, right?)

After the game we exchanged hugs, pictures, and parted ways. I am not sure that Bernard and Mireille will ever watch a baseball game again, but at least for one night they were digging something purely American.

We’re comin’ back, baby! There’s definitely some charm in that.

Note: For expediency, this entry was published originally published without proper French grammar and will be corrected.

Note. The Camus/L’etranger/absurd/existential angle was considered, but ended up on the editing room floor because the Heinlein/sci fi/quantum physics stuff was too good to pass up. Hope I did my physics-professor-uncle proud.

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Photo Credit: motleypixel, Flickr

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