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

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

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.

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.

Papillon
Photo Credit: motleypixel, Flickr

Un autre papillon

Despite the boom/bust cycles of the last 10 years, this town has been on a roll over the last 20 years when it comes to sports. Super Bowls, Stanley Cups and World Series can all claim a tile in the Denver mosaic during that stretch. Each of the teams that play for those championships got a new stadium as well. The team that plays the baseball stadium got its building first back in 1995. Coors Field has held up very well. The place is big, but feels small. Just over 40,000 filled it last night for a game that had as many playoff implications as a game in mid-July can have.

While it had a lot for me to absorb, it almost didn’t have me.

I didn’t miss a flight or get in a car accident, but I almost didn’t get a ticket. After checking in, I strolled down to the park for a delicious and calm dinner in the half-filled Argentine-themed pizzeria on 22nd St. steps away from Coors. Buenos Aries Pizzeria used to be a parrilla, but was downsized because covers were thin. Apparently, everyone had eaten before the game or was planning to eat inside. (I guess they hadn’t heard about where I had dinner.)

The walk-up was huge. My decision to buy tickets at the stadium nearly backfired. But as they say I baseball you will always see something new.

Mining My Own Business

On the morning of July 24, tickets were still available for purchase in the Rockpile for $4 dollars via the web. The Rockpile is a section of seats behind the fountains and fir trees behind center field that are 600 feet away from home plate. I chose not to buy these tickets in this manner because from the map it looks like the seats are as far away as Aspen. In addition, the fees brought the price of the ticket to $9.50, and while I am all for convenience, I am not for avarice.

This section sold out during the massive the walk-up before game time. My ticket booth agent Nancy told me that the walk-up overwhelmed them on this night and possibly accounted for 10-15% of the sales for the evening. However, she still had one $40 ‘powerticket’ remaining. For $2 more dollars than the $38 ticket in section 144, I could sit two sections closer to home plate (Section 142) and receive $10 in credit toward purchases at certain concession stands around the ballpark.

I could overhear many standing with me in line talking about price thresholds in the $12 or $16 ranges for second or third level tickets. This ticket allowed me to get 22 rows from the field just off the third base bag on the left field side, with 90% of a beer and a dog included. Not a bad deal.

The surprise walk-up should not have been a surprise. These teams are in serious playoff contention. Yet, the fact was corroborated by one of the vendors selling beer out by the Rockpile section of seats. What drew me to his stand-alone cart were the Budweiser and Bud Light labels on his taps. Apparently, the beer situation as Coors Field is not an exclusive, but the Coca-Cola soft drinks are, which is also confusing because Pepsi owns the naming rights to hockey/basketball arena in town, which he did not think had a soft drink exclusive there.

Hmmmph.

Several patrons came up and asked for Coors Lights anyway. The vendor, whose name I was unable to procure, was just happy to be there. Anecdotally, ticket sales have been a bit of a moving target for the Rockies. This gentleman knows this because of his involvement with the Bikes for Tykes charity. Warranted by the size of the crowd, the Rockies will offer hawker and vending jobs to non-profit groups as a way to raise money. Workers are either paid a flat fee for their services or get a percentage of the take of what ever they sell. This is a great program and it works. Other teams, like the Giants at AT&T do it as well.

Last year was a banner year for this program raising over $27,000 for the organization. 2007 was even better thanks to the Rockies getting to the World Series. This year, the program has not been offered as many spots as it had been in past years. As a result donations are down and it is getting even harder for the organizer to staff because of the infrequency of the work, combined with personal situations of the charity members who have less time to give in years past.

Things are picking up though. He anticipates August to be a great month with 11 games against the Cubs, Giants and Dodgers that buoy a three-game set against the Pirates. Tickets in the Rockpile for the Pirates series are $1.

With enough excitement to handle one mile high and one-eighth of a mile away from home plate, I venture back to my seat in section 142. It was already in the fourth inning and the game was moving picking up pace. I was going to have to get lucky to be able to come up with something else.

To my chagrin, more kids in rows 21, 22, and 23 of the section were going to make it difficult to grab the attention of doting parents. I thought all hope was lost. And then, a sound rarely heard in this or any other stadium a trouvé mes oreilles.

I was to become an ambassador.

In other news – The San Francisco Giants tied the Colorado Rockies for the lead in the National League Wild Card race with a 3-1 victory. Nate Schierholtz homered and Matt Cain pitched seven strong innings for his 12th win of the season. The Rockies did get the winning run to the plate B9 but Brian Wilson got Troy Tulowitzki to ground into a game-ending double play for the save.

The view from the Rockpile

The original version of this post appeared in the May/June issue of the online publication Inertia, when I was writing for free for something else. Content has been modified for TIBH in the spirit of the site and in the wake of the country’s 233rd birthday.

In 1913 a baseball team moved down off a hilltop in Manhattan and began playing its games in a new stadium that rendered its nickname “Highlanders” useless. As a result the colloquial term the papers used to identify it as an American League team stuck. The New York Yankees were born.

So I had to look it up recently, because I have often wondered why North America’s most successful sports franchise is still called what it is called. In an era where political correctness rules the day and individuals with origins from all parts of the world are making up larger percentages of this country’s sports teams and the fan bases that support them; then why the hell are the Yankees still called the Yankees?

The question never needed asking more than when I learned that a New Yorker sued the Yankees in April 2009 because the team allegedly forced him to remain in his seat during a seventh-inning rendition of “God Bless America.” Civil rights violations, compelled patriotism, and Alex Rodriguez’s narcissism can all be yours from the front row for the low-low price of $1,250. Right, Hank?

Now I was not there and it is not out of the realm of possibility that this guy might have broken the seal in the third inning and could not hold his third Miller Lite by the seventh, then caused a scene, and is now trying to make a buck. He is from Queens after all, home of the Mets; whose former home would often smell like The Dead were playing there and not the Phillies. However, it was the policy of ‘The Big Ball Orchard in the South Bronx’ to prevent egress from seating areas while the song is playing or being sung. It is the only stadium where the song is played during every game and not just on Sundays and holidays, which is the league’s policy.

So I looked it up because true Yankees, true patriots, would not restrict freedom in such a manner.

According to Webster’s Third College Edition, the word Yankee has several definitions and can be plotted in reverse chronological order: 1. An inhabitant of the U.S.; 2. A Union soldier in the Civil War; 3. A native or inhabitant of New England. And then there’s number 4: a disparaging term for a Hollander, later for a Dutch Freebooter (pirate).

The Dutch equivalent of John is J-A-N. Kaas is the Dutch word for cheese.

It can be deduced then that a word which has come to broadly define an American–a real, live nephew of my uncle Sam–once was used as an insult the way all classic insults germinate. By preying upon something native to a culture.

Can’t really tiptoe through those tulips.

What is not conjecture is that just because a person might have to pee, seek first aid, or stick a feather in her cap during the seventh-inning stretch it does not necessarily make her unpatriotic. Just pressed, or inconsiderate – especially when the cost of a game is so dear it itself commands a new found respect.

The policy has been changed and it is back to baseball. Regarding the name though, the Steinbrenner boys should change the it back to “Highlanders”… as in the plural version of the 1986 movie. Then they would never die. Yankee Doodle never die.

Read great posts about this topic from a Yankee blog here and here.

Spending an evening at the ballpark by picking up the Flatbush Avenue trolley at Avenue U and taking it toward Prospect Park and 55 Sullivan St., zip code 11225 was a common occurrence. It was pretty rough watching the ‘Daffiness Dodgers’ until Durocher became the manager in ’39. The first pennant came in ’41. 104 wins came in ’42. After the war, an angel came in ’47 in the form of a second baseman changing the landscape forever.

He told me just the other day that his favorite way to experience his favorite team was to queue up early for the 50-cent bleacher seats that went on sale on or about 5:30. Really? Night games in the 40’s? That’s what I thought. But he was there (in the good seats) for Johnny V. in ’38. He was bleached under the Brooklyn sun for the Gashouse Gang and Pepper Martin smoking a cigarette in the outfield during BP in ’34; and he was there for the Robins (as the Dodgers were also known) and a 40-year-old Dazzy Vance as a wide-eyed 11-year-old in ‘31.

I could not help but think about those stories while standing under the ‘Number 2 Archway’ for nine innings of Marlins @ Giants on 8 July ‘09. I thought I would find the 21st century version of ‘The Knothole Gang’ where hundreds of fans both young and old would try to catch a nine-inning glimpse of this year’s biggest surprise going for a series sweep. For the most part, that was not the case. It was, however, a decent view of the game and an even better view of this slice of Americana.

Credit must go to the San Francisco Giants for conceiving and executing the Portwalk, one of the most spectacular features of any of the new parks out there. Of its many features, the Portwalk borders the north side of McCovey Cove, holds a ferry terminal, and provides entry to four field-level, free standing room only arch-shaped gaps in the right field wall.

Of the roughly 200 people that cycled in and out of the area, less than 5% stayed for the entire game. 30% were children – most of whom were in large groups for picnics that allowed the chaperones a well-deserved respite from their duties. The remaining guests were either backpack-laiden tourists or Docker-clad businessmen sneaking away for a two-inning-long lunch.

An organized chaos has developed over the 10 years of the park. It seemed as if each of the archways was its own neighborhood (or borough for the New Yorkers), with a leader. The supervisor of Number 2 Archway was Will.

Will has been coming to Giants games since 1960; and while it would be flat wrong to say he has been priced out of the market entirely post-Candlestick, he cannot afford to go as many games as he would like to attend. Regardless, he has definitely found a home at the nearly 300 Giants games he has seen in 10 years staring at the backsides of the likes of Reggie Sanders, Jose Cruz, Jr., and Randy Winn.

A member of trade unions for most of his adult life, Will’s outlook is not too far from San Francisco’s off-center center. Like me, with more free time lately to watch baseball, he has views on what is happening in D.C. and Sacramento, but he does not let it dampen his enthusiasm for the game. It was my question to the Archway’s populace asking ‘Who’s playing hooky?’ that broke the ice and got us on a political tangent, but it was not long before we were talking about baseball’s rightful, but torn place in America’s tattered fabric.

He taught me the Archway’s code. Get there early for the Dodgers (sound familiar?) and for Lincecum. Dodgers game on a Friday night? Brace yourself. Giants’ staff will rotate fans every three innings for the super-premium games. Otherwise, rotating positions are self-policed; and if you are at the rail and you see a kid straining to see, you must cede the rail for him or her and step back.

Getting the rail for the bleachers in left –center was the reason why my grandfather got to Ebbets Field as early as he did. By some calculations, fifty cents in 1941 is worth over $7 today. That does not get you in the building in L.A. or S.F. off the standard ticket menu, but the lowest prices for the most remote regions of those ballparks are not that much higher.

Whether the price is $0 or $2,600, the true value still in the tickets still seems to come from the memories created. 34,157 paid for memories this day. That’s 82% of capacity for AT&T. Not bad considering 200 of us got in on the action gratis.

In other news – Chris Volstad created memories of his own by singling, scoring on a sac fly, and five-hitting the Giants in a masterful complete game shutout. The Marlins avoided a sweep and kept their hold on second place in the NL East, while the Giants’ rookie starter Ryan Sadowski, whose scoreless streak to start his career ended at 16 2/3 innings, took his first loss.

This was not supposed to be a working trip as I was a guest of a good friend, with whom I had not spent quality time for several months. He brought his son as well, which made the outing extra special. But a free ticket is a valuable commodity so I was not going to let this one go to waste.

I was going to have a great time with my friends and if the opportunity came to me to test-drive the project then I would take it.

Jackpot.

Round about the bottom of the third (B3), a family of four came to take the four seats between the aisle and mine. The matriarch now in S209, R9, #4 explained the clan was seeking sun because – as anyone who has been to a baseball game in SF or OAK knows – there is a 10-degree difference between shady and sunny sections. I did not mind at all. After a second icebreaker about one of the local transportation authorities, I made my move.

“Stop me if this is awkward… First of many games… Taking a trip… Blog… May I talk to you?” Four innings later when Max finally finished his sno cone, I realized this project was going to be everything and nothing like I thought it would be.

I did not have a set line of questioning, I did not have a routine down yet, and I did not have a note taking device other than the one I was born with, so I was not going to do heavy layers. I was going to hit the high points and try not to embarrass myself in the process.

But of all the fans, in all the stadiums in all the leagues she came to sit next to me in mine; and was perfect! Taking a half-day (as did her husband) to take their tween-age boys to a game with tickets the older son won in a radio contest, this seemed to be the family’s first game in a while. Long-time Giants’ fans came to enemy territory on this early summer afternoon. Lani said that they do not come to games as much as they used to, but there were several reasons for that. This busy family has a lot on its plate, but Lani did admit that they were starting to cut back and be bit more prudent with their spending decisions.

Lani’s occupation in real estate offers her a window through which she can see details of the economic crisis that many of us ignore or do not see in the bite-size morsels of media we devour.

That is where the a-ha moment happened for both of us. That is when we both realized that strangers often offer an opportunity we never saw coming that we try to grab with a Torii-like leap over the H.H.H.Hefty-Bag in center.

Cost of baseball? Fine. Manny and Alex? Whatever. It was when the conversation started to take a more macro tone that I thought about calling Pandora to ask her how to close the box. Because I was not taking notes, it is tough to recall when exactly it got heavy, but around T5, Lani suggested that if I really wanted to do some writing, I should go see what it is like when someone has to short-sell a home. In other words, sell the house for a price less than what the owner originally paid.

In her part of the San Francisco Bay Area many things are common: migrant workers, large extended families, shared living expenses, excess inventory, declining home values and of course… short sales. What she described in terms appropriate for the Plaza Level at the Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum in these types of situations was nothing short of sorrowful.

She clued me in on some of the stories that lie beneath the facts we hear and behind the for sale signs we see far too often. There is not only economic upheaval that leads up to and continues beyond these events, but the family disruption that ensues when 12 people in a four-bedroom house have to vacate is almost impossible from which to recover.

One could argue that a situation like that was not enviable (or viable for that matter) to begin with; and there is a valid argument there. But no one can argue that an already strained system cannot withstand a continued barrage of distress, when the majority in a short sale situation is just trying to do the right thing.

One thing for which I can argue is that Brian and Brandon are in good hands with Lani and dad Brad, who continue everyday to teach their boys about the difference between value and worth. Selfishly, if I can continue to have the good fortune of sitting next to folks like Lani around the country then I might just be able to ‘go long’ with a valuable project that is worth different things to different people.

In other news, home runs by Jack Cust and Jason Giambi helped the A’s overcome and early 1-0 deficit and eventually win 5-1. Justin Verlander threw some filthy hooks as he is wont to do for the Tigers, but Dallas Braden outpitched him on a day that saw several strong pitching performances across baseball. The A’s avoided a sweep, and the Tigers left town in first place.

Lani’s Family with me holding young Max

This is one of the questions I want to answer. I watched Randy Johnson’s 300th win on TV and even though the weather was as awful as it has been all summer in D.C. – the joint was empty.

Seemed like they were coming up until a couple of years ago. On Oct. 2, 2007 Major League Baseball announced a single-season record paid attendance of 79,502,524 surpassing the previous year’s record for the fourth consecutive campaign. Allan H. did not cancel the World Series that day. Instead, he was quoted as saying, “By any measure, this is a golden age for Major League Baseball.”

There was no such press release in October 2008. In fact, paid attendance was down 1.15% league-wide on the whole (78,591,116 or thereabout) and down .78% on average per game. That doesn’t quite hang together for me. Yes, gas prices spiked in the summer, but the heavy stuff didn’t come down until mid-September, there were lifts in the graveyards in Tampa and Washington, and the National League was an exciting, hot mess right up until the end.

However, 16 teams saw drops in overall paid attendance and 15 in average/game. Cincinnati saw a Razor Shines-thin bump. Gravity seemed to vector west as San Francisco, Seattle, San Diego, Texas, and Oakland all saw drops of at least 11% in both categories.

According to the Team Marketing Report , ticket prices rose on average by 10.9% for the 2008 season and the Fan Cost Index (FCI), which is a measure of the cost to attend a game including parking, souvenirs, food/drink for a family of four rose 7.9% on average in the 2008 season. There may be a correlation of affordability to draw here.

The mid-aught’s sure seem like the Roaring ’20’s compared to today. Deflated by the first burst bubble and September 11th, attendance slumped 6.4% in 2002, but was flat in 2003 before it started its climb like a boli-fueled home run toward the golden age. In 2009 so far, the numbers suggest another cycle down.

It is admittedly unfair to extrapolate completely in this unscientific forum because the 2009 major league season is not quite half over. Excluding economic factors, the main negative has been the weather in the east. Countering that are the races where the largest lead is six games and only three teams are worse than 8 games below .500 as of post time.

Through the same number of games played in 2008 based on where each team is as of June 29, 2009, Baseball Reference reports that only 10 teams are up in average per game. Florida enjoys the largest year-over-year increase at 22.2% (Fan cost index up 6.6%) and Washington’s attendance rank resembles its won/loss at -23.3% (FCI +32%). It is worth noting though that first-place Detroit is down 22% as well with FCI up 2.9%, just below the MLB average of 2.9% in 2009.

This superficial look at the numbers is a catalyst for this effort. What will the fans say later this month on the Roadie? They seem to be coming to the park less, but are they coming more than they did earlier in the season? Are they spending less when they get there? Will they not notice inflation in peanuts and cracker jacks? Will they care if they ever get back?

Get back to where they once belonged.