I spend a lot of my time on social media these days, and by doing such, find myself drawn into those personality quizzes. “What background character from The Simpsons Are You?” Or “What Color is Your Aura?”
I’ve become pretty good at just letting my eyes gloss over as I skim past them. Recently, however, was one that caught my eye and wouldn’t let go. The question posited was the following:
“Who is your favorite MLB players by position during YOUR lifetime…this is pretty tough if you’re a fan.”
I initially looked at it and assumed it would be a lot easier than it wound up being. Most of the “starters” were who I expected, but some of the competition was a LOT closer than I would have imagined. With the All-Star teams being announced today, in that same spirit, I present the Trippin’ Baseballs All-Time (so far) Team of My Lifetime.
C – Catcher was initially one of the more difficult positions for me to fill. Remember, we are looking to favorites, not necessarily “best.” I had almost settled for Mike Piazza, who once signed a baseball for me until I remembered another catcher who signed my baseball. The most beloved backup catcher in MLB history “Grandpa” David Ross. Ross always seemed to come through in the clutch, be it a meaningless Arizona spring game or Game 7 of the World Series. His presence and contributions during the Series certainly didn’t hurt his candidacy.
Runners up: Geovany Soto and Willson Contreras. Sense a theme yet? I promise the rest of the list isn’t ALL Cubs, but having a Rookie of the Year credit for the former and a World Series ring for the latter are pretty hard to argue against.
1B – First base was almost a slam dunk. Anthony Rizzo gets the nod here. Again, World Series credit, but here’s the thing. I’ve loved Rizzo since he was in the Red Sox system. I don’t know where I would have read his story, but I have an ex-roommate who was a diehard Red Sox fan, so I’m assuming he had something to do with it. When Rizzo was traded to the Padres, I told my brother to keep an eye on Rizz. That he would be a good one. (The rest of my family are Padre fans. I don’t know how to get them on the right (Cub) side.) In fact, I saw Rizzo’s last at bat as a Padre when he struck out against Andrew Cashner–who he would be traded for within a few brief weeks.Enough background. Anthony is an amazing team leader who is one of the type first basemen in the league. He stuck it out during the Cubs’ 100 loss seasons and led the team to the promised land in 2016 and for that, I salute you, Mr Rizzo. All that and I didn’t even touch on his amazing charity and community service work for sick children, a cause very close to my heart.
Runners up: Mark Grace and JT Snow. At my very first Cubs Convention ever I was an ill prepared, awkward 14 year-old. Unlike these days, there was a special pre-convention luncheon with many of the current and former players in a much less crowded setting than at the convention itself. At the time I had a PE and Study Skills teacher who had spent some brief time in the majors, which to me made him the coolest guy ever. He had also played baseball with Mark Grace at SDSU. When he learned I was going to the convention he told me to use his name if i got to meet Grace. I got my chance at this luncheon, and though its entirely possible Grace didn’t remember this guy at all, he was very kind to me and treated me like my teacher was his best friend who asked him to take care of me. It was a great experience. J.T. Snow was the Angels first baseman when I was working on a project for my church and contacted the Angels to see if they could set me up with something from him since his uniform number was significant to our pastor and the fact that he was an Angel tied into that. In addition to the item for the pastor (which I cannot, for the life of me think of) enclosed in the envelope was a signed card addressed to me. While I’m now sure that was courtesy of the PR/Community Relations Department, at the time I’d swear it was from Snow, himself. In other news, it broke my heart when he signed with the Giants. Still stings a bit.
2B – Second base was really no contest at all. For a long time my all-time favorite player was Ryne Sandberg…things may have slightly altered that ranking in the intervening years, but he is very strongly in my top-3 players of all time, which does have a certain amount of fluidity to it. I’ve already explained how i became a Cubs fan, in large thanks to the unknowing contributions of Mr Sandberg. I still collect his cards when I can find them and one year at the Cubs Convention I had the good fortune to get a jersey signed and had about 30 seconds to let him know what he meant to me. I think I managed to convey that without looking too stupid. Hopefully that won’t be the last chance I get to talk to him.
Runners up: Roberto Alomar and Javy Baez. I grew up in San Diego and was starting to get into baseball in a big way almost around the same time that Roberto Alomar was getting his first at bats with the Padres and I was a fan from the beginning. I even rooted for him in Toronto, which made me, more or less an ancillary Blue Jays fan. I remember hearing that he lived i the hotel that overlooked the field in the SkyDome (yes, SKYDOME! I don’t need no Rogers Centre) and thinking that was the coolest thing ever. Not that he would get to ever watch a ballgame from his apartment, but the idea of it all. I got to meet Robby a few weeks ago and while not overly chatty, he was perfectly pleasant and signed my ball and posed for a photo, so he’s aces in my book.
I liked Javy Baez when the Cubs drafted him and lot of those human interest stories came out and I learned about his MLB logo tattoo and his overwhelming confidence in himself. That hasn’t changed at all, but this year he has become a more complete ball player, and I only slightly hesitate when I claim that he has become one of the elite players in the league. If he is not a 2018 All Star I will riot,
SS- We finally reach one of the players that I didn’t ever get to see on regular basis, Cal Ripken. I do distinctly remember his chase to Gehrig’s consecutive games record. For the record-breaking game I know I made sure to get my tiny baby brother and hold him in front of the TV and told him what it was that he was watching and that it was doubtful that any of his friends could honestly tell him that they had seen the game as well. I have since learned a lot more about Ripken and read his autobiography and it’s nice to know that I was a good judge of character, even way back in my youth.
Runner up: Nomar Garciaparra. In the crop of young talented shortstops that all sort of burst onto the scene at the same time, including Derek Jeter and Miguel Tejada, I was always partial to Garciaparra. I’m sure part of it was his wacky name, but even more, he was a great 2 way player. He could hit up a storm and then go out and make some amazing plays in the field. In fact, I was so taken by “Nomah” that somewhere in the back of my closet is a #5 Red Sox jersey. I’m not overly proud of owning the jersey, since I now hate the Sox, if you could keep this just between us I’d appreciate it.
3B -Here’s the slam dunk. Easiest entry on the list, right? Welllll, not quite. I mean, once I got my head on straight yes it was simple, but initially one of my runners-up gave me a reason to step back and reexamine things. So yes, my third baseman is quite obviously my man-crush, Kristopher Bryant. I had a chance to meet Bryant after a USD alumni game and he couldn’t not have been nicer to the few of us waiting for him. He signed anything and everything with any inscription you wanted and posed for photos for everyone who wanted one. He was continued this benevolence to the fans even now as a bonafide superstar. The only difference is the size of the crowd and accessibility. Deep down he’s still just the kid from Vegas, playing in Chicago by way of San Diego. By the way, it also doesn’t hurt Bryant’s case that 4 of my siblings are USD alumni,.
Runner up: Ken Caminiti. Cammy was the Padres third baseman during their improbable World Series run in 1998. He was a creature of almost mythical tales. The Padres had a series in Mexico agains the Mets and something that Cammy had done (nothing in small measures) left him lying on the trainer’s table with IVs in both of his arms.yelled for a Snickers bar, downed the candy, proceeded to pull out the IVs and go out and hit 2 home runs. He was a “gamer” and the kind of player that ran out every ball like their hair was on fire. When we lost him to a suspected cocaine overdose (remember, nothing in moderation) I was heartbroken. He was playing for Houston and wasn’t the same ball player, but he played with the same intensity. I miss that.
OF -My main outfield consists of Tony Gwynn, Mike Trout and Steve Finley. I know, one of these things is not like the other. Gwynn is a genuine Hall of Famer. Trout is certainly building a career with an eye toward Cooperstown and title as an all time great, and then there’s Steve Finley. I loved Steve Finley as a Padre and hated him whenever he played for another team, which happened a lot. Finley was one of those scrappy ball players who always found a way to win, be it a walk, a home run or a highlight reel catch. He quietly went about his business but there was a fire that burned deep. Like Gwynn and Caminiti Finley was a keystone to the Padres teams I used to go and watch almost every Friday night in early high school.
Tony Gwynn should be obvious. If you were a kid in San Diego with even the most minimal interest in baseball and were born between 1975 and 1990 and Gwynn isn’t on your list of favorite players you have seen, there is something wrong with you. I’m not even going to sugarcoat that. You’re just wrong.
Mike Trout is quite possibly the most exciting player in the game today. Javy may give him a slight run for his money, but Trout has been doing it all longer and more constantly. I was at the game where Trout hit for the cycle and the palpable nerves and excitement when he came up only needing the home run to compete it was absolutely electric. I cant even begin to describe the feeling in the park when that ball left the field of play.
Runner up: Tim Salmon. Speaking of fishy-named Angels outfielders, one of my very favorites is Salmon. I wanted him in my starting lineup, but there was no one to remove to find a place for him. In fact, the runners up/bench players can probably thank the KingFish for their inclusion. I wasn’t going to make this list and completely leave Mr Salmon off. He came to the majors about the same time as JT Snow, which was when I decided to add the Anaheim Angels to my fandom. Timing worked out well.
DH -Vladimir Guerrero is one of the most fun players that I have ever seen play. Putting him at DH kind of cancels one of the most fun things about his skill set, which is his absolute cannon of an arm in right field. Again, around the time that Vlad was destroying the American League my ex-roommate and I were attending a lot of Angels games and Mr Guerrero was the most exciting guy on the field. He is a well deserved, if surprising (at least to me) second ballot Hall of Famer.
SP -Seeing Greg Maddux in anything other than a Braves or Cubs jersey was alway unsettling to me, yet thats how I saw him the most. As a Padre or Dodger. He may have bee older and lost a bit of spring in his step but he was still obviously the smartest guy on that field and an amazing pitcher. Of course with WGN and TBS being the cable behemoths that they were in my youth I had plenty of chances to watch him pitch for both Atlanta and Chicago. I loved that he looked nothing like a professional athlete and yet, he would go out to the mound and dominate all of the hulked up hitters of the mid-90s. I imagine he would throw a “Maddux” (compete game of under 100 pitches) and then go sit in his personal club chair in the clubhouse wearing a smoking jacket and read Tolstoy or something while sipping on tea in a china cup with his initials in the cup design. If I’m wrong, don’t tell me. I like my Greg Maddux fanfic as is.
Runner up: Andy Benes. One day soon I will get around to writing about the Padres coming to visit me in the hospital when I was 11. Benes was the big name of the group that came to visit. No Tony, sadly. The experience was surreal and actually served to cheer me up, in the exact way that most cloying hospital attempts to do so do the exact opposite. I always liked Benes, but now that we had a bond I had to root for him. Even at the end of his career when he became a godless Cardinal. That was hard.
RP -Here’s where I cheat a little bit. My choice for reliever is Kerry Wood, but I’m mostly including him for his work as a starter or closer. He did work as a middle reliever briefly so I can count him. My list, my rules. Kid K was supposed to be the miracle worker who brought a World Series to Wrigley Field. He wasn’t able to, and many of the villains in his story shared a dugout with Wood. His inability to bring a Series to the Friendly Confines was not due to lack of effort or heart. I’m happy to note that when the Cubs won it all in 2016, Kerry was a part of the organization and got his ring.
Runner up: Turk Wendell. When Cubs fans didn’t have much to look forward to, getting the ultra-superstitious Wendell into the game was one of those few bright spots. He wore “lucky” #13, refused to step on the chalk foul lines and chewed black licorice. Don’t worry though, he brushed his teeth in the dugout between innings. He was a solid reliever, but sometimes its fun just to have an oddball on the team to root for. Wendell isn’t going to be the last one that makes my list.
CP – Much Like Tony Gwynn, if you were of a certain age and a Padre fan, there was no way that you didn’t love Trevor Hoffman with every fiber of your being. If “Hell’s Bells” doesn’t give you chills and make you think of Hoffman you might be dead inside. When he was in line for save 479, to give him the all time most saves in history, my roommates and I watched the story of him getting 478 in the Padres second to last home game, turned off the tv, looked at each other and decided we were going to get in the car ad drive to San Diego for the game the next day. There was no guarantee that the Padres would win, or even that if they won there would be a save opportunity for Trevor, but dang it, if there was a chance, we’d be there. We all blew off work and Trevor rewarded our boldness with save 479. Luckily my manager at the time was a huge Padres fan and when I told what i had done, he just sort of rolled his eyes at me and I still had a job.
Runner up: Rod Beck. Beck, to me, was initially just the Giants closer. I had no feelings toward him, one way or the other (I hadn’t cultivated my hatred of the Giants and their fans yet.) Later, as his career was winding down the Cubs signed him as a cheap gamble. He lived in a trailer behind the outfield walls in Iowa and he would greet the fine folks of Des Moines in that trailer after games, cold brews in hand one for “Shooter” and one for whoever his new friend was. I love that story oh so much. Like Cammy, we lost Beck far too soon.
Manager- It’s really hard to not put Joe Maddon in this spot. How do you decline a man who brought the World Series to the North Side? I made it easy on myself. I didn’t. I know a lot of Cubs fans have issue with Joe constantly fiddling with lineups and some of his antics, but bottom line. Strip all of that away and he is a great manager. He takes chances and challenges things that are expected to be boiler plate to his advantage. I think Joe is a lot of fun and a very smart baseball man and a very smart man in general. Easily my favorite manager that I’ve ever watched.
Runners up: Bruce Bochy and Mike Scioscia. These guys were the keys to my second and third favorite teams as I was growing up. Now Bochy has moved to the Giants, which makes it really hard for me to root for him, but Scioscia is still here in Anaheim. Both are brilliant baseball men who have had many members of their staffs move on to managerial roles of their own (including Maddon under Mike Scioscia) which is the mark of a truly great leader and teacher.
There it is. My totally subjective, biased Hall of Fame–this round solely for players I saw play (or manage) in person. If this turns out ok, maybe there will be a meeting of the Veteran’s Committee and another installment. If that happens, please let me know the criteria you’d like to see the Committee to have to operate under. After all, its no fun just adding Willie Mays Bob Feller, Babe Ruth etc. Thin about it and if you’re out there please let me know!
Until next time,
Keep Trippin’ Baseballs!
Please allow a slight detour as I explain why.
Longtime readers of the blog have probably figured out that my health has not been the greatest over the past few years. In late 2016 I was diagnosed with kidney disease right as my Cubs were charging into the World Series. I had to go to a center and receive a dialysis treatment 3 days a week. That adds up.
Then, this spring, my doctors decided that I was able to continue my dialysis at home. The good part was not having to travel to the center several times a week. The bad part was that this type of dialysis took about 8 hours and sapped my energy. I could barely find it in me to eat, let alone go out to a game, surrounded by people in an environment that I have always considered to be high energy for myself.Recently I was approved for a dialysis machine, that allows me to do the entire treatment overnight as I sleep. It is much less intense and I mostly feel good afterwards when I wake up. This allows me a return to a relatively normal schedule, which means that one of the first things I wanted to do was get out to the ballpark!
My lovely wife, Lauren, and I picked a day off of work for her and began planning a game. Initially we were going to return to Lancaster to see the Jethawks, but shortly before gamely I started hearing some interesting rumors. It seemed that the injured, Mike Trout was getting ready to start his rehab and would begin working out with the 66ers.There were no guarantees that he would play right away but I’m a gambling man and bought 2 tickets for the first date that the Angels said would be his earliest return. I figured he would at least be working out with the team so we could watch him hit in batting practice and who knows? Maybe he’d be up for signing autographs.
Mike is a great signer at home in Anaheim, literally minutes away from my home, but luck has never been with me when he is signing and I’ve always missed out. A smaller ballpark, like San Manuel Stadium, home of the 66ers seemed to provide a much better opportunity.
So Lauren and I packed up baseballs, camera gear and a pretty sweet mix CD by me and headed up to San Bernardino. Along the way we stopped in to the Inland Empire’s favorite fast food, Baker’s Drive-Thru, and grabbed a couple of burgers for lunch.
I was afraid that the detour to Baker’s might throw off our timing to reach the ballpark, but we got there approximately 45 minutes before they were set to open the gates, which was an hour prior to first pitch.
It seems others had heard about the return of Mr. Trout (who the Angels had confirmed WOULD be playing that night.) There was a sea of #27 Angels jersey in the line, which appeared to be at least 100 people deep. By the time the gates opened, that number had at least tripled.After getting my bag checked I hobbled down to the third base side of the park and joined a mass of humanity with the same dreams of getting an autograph from Mr. Trout as I did. Having been in guest control in a former life I truly felt bad for the usher who was trying to keep the aisles clear for people who actually had tickets in the general vicinity. He was very kind and never lost his cool, so props to Darrell of the 66ers!
We stood. And we waited. Not only had Mike not come out by approximately 20 minutes to game time, but suddenly there was the announcement that strikes fear into the heart of all stadium autograph seekers.
“At this time we ask that you please return to your assigned seats.”
Honestly, I would have, but I was literally stuck in a mob of people with no way out. Darrell was not pleased that no one was leaving. I’m sorry Darrell!By this time Mike had come out and after signing autographs for the Little League team that was being honored on the field, headed down the left field line to warm up.
With the announcement having been made and the fact that it was mere minutes from the first pitch I figured I would have to chalk this up to a ‘close but no cigar’ encounter, but I was still trapped next to the dugout in a hot, sweaty mass of humanity.And then it happened. Mike came down to our little section and began signing. He mostly hit up the kids, but I’m not ashamed to say that I was able to hand over my baseball and get it back signed. I didn’t push, I didn’t cheat and I didn’t screw over any kids. I was pretty pleased with my quarry. Anything else that happened this night would be mere icing on the cake.
I found Lauren who had cooled down with a shave ice while I was Trout fishing and we got a lemonade to cool me down and found a nice shaded picnic area in which to relax. We rested and I rushed down to try to get some photographs of Mike’s first at-bat.In addition to being Mike Trout Day (unofficial) it was a celebration of SPAM’s 80th birthday (official). I love SPAM. Lauren likes SPAM. It seemed natural that we would enjoy some of the SPAM-centric snacks available. I was getting hungry again, so Lauren went exploring and reported back with the specialty SPAM menu. I felt that the “Grilled Cheesy Bacon Melt,” described as “Thick slabs of griddled Texas Toast loaded with bacon, cheese, more bacon and even more cheese!” with an addition of diced SPAM would hit the spot and the SPAM musubi would also be a nice treat. This is the point where the wheels fall off of our lovely adventure.
It seemed to me that Lauren had been gone a while, like 3 innings at least, and I was beginning to worry when my fast dying cell phone buzzed at me and I got a text saying “Still waiting.” She made it back to me shortly thereafter, and was obviously not happy.
We don’t know why, but it took over 40 minutes to make my sandwich. There was no warning that this was going to be an issue, and most appallingly, there was no apology for the wait afterwards. Not even an obviously false one. In addition, the musubi and bottle of water we ordered was given to her upon paying. The water had 40 minutes to warm up and the musbui had the same amount of time to cool down and slightly congeal. Lauren was not the only one with this problem. There were several others at the stand livid about the treatment and many cancelled their orders and demanded refunds.
I understand that this is a Class-A ballpark. I understand that the SPAM items are a specialty and that the high school kids in the concession stands are probably not overly familiar with them. I do NOT understand where an “I’m sorry for your wait” or even some indication that what was happening was unacceptable was never offered. I’m not saying offer a discount or comp the food or anything like that. However, a bit of human decency is not difficult to muster up and, to me, seems like an automatic response.
This experience cast a very negative light over our whole time at the ballpark and will likely color any future visits; but it doesn’t matter to the concessionaires. They’re just high school kids working for minimum wage and couldn’t care less if their attitudes cost the team, or at least their concession stand, customers. It was just a shame.That being said, the sandwich was delicious. Tons of orange American cheese melted on standard white bread with little jewels of bacon and SPAM sprinkled throughout and decorating the top. I destroyed the thing. Might have considered another if I thought I could get it before the game ended. The musubi was a bit of a disappointment. As stated earlier, it had gotten cold and the rice began to solidify as the SPAM was disintegrating into a cold grease bomb. We were only able to eat a few bites. The warm water was wet and that was all we asked of it, though a cool drink would have been nice.
We decided to leave the picnic area at this point and look around the stadium itself. It was a nice little ballpark that to me was very reminiscent of an MLB Spring Training facility.
As we walked past one particular point of the concourse there was a line of people, probably 40-50 deep. Lauren asked me what was going on, and I was stumped for a minute and then my brain clicked.“They are out here waiting for Mike Trout to leave after the game!” I said. Considering that he was only at that point coming up for his final at-bat and then would have to shower, get ready to go and likely handle some media requests, those folks were in for a long wait. I hope they did well.
The team store was nice. It had a pretty decent selection of things, including a Mike Trout 66ers shirsey, but my wife says I have too many t-shirts already (I do) and nothing else in the store particularly struck my fancy. There were some nice hats, but at the price point, I’m not sure I would have gotten the value out of wearing them, so we left the shop empty-handed. I was also surprised to not see any game-used items for sale. Usually team shops will have a bucket of cracked game-used bats and maybe a few other items, but there were none to be found.It was at about this time that we decided to head out, so we took a few last photos and headed to the car.
Overall, I achieved what I came to do and the ballpark itself was nice and had a very strong community vibe. A lot of the fans seemed to know each other and spent a lot of time visiting with each other and catching up on life. There was a very positive energy that I enjoyed.
Sadly the food incident really did color the entire evening, but we are willing to revisit San Manuel Stadium, perhaps on a normal weeknight when one of the greatest players in the MLB isn’t in town and see what kind of experience we have then.I’m hoping to be able to add some more entries on here soon, so until next time, keep trippin’ baseballs! As always, my full complement of photos can be found here
Addendum as of Friday morning. After I contacted the 66ers with my concern they reached out to me and not only apologized for the behavior of the employees, but gave a reasonable explanation as to why the food took so long (They knew it would be time-consuming so it was scheduled on a Wednesday night,which is traditionally slow…and then Mike Trout happened.) They invited us back to a game to get a full experience and I will look forward to taking them up on that. Thank you, 66ers for your prompt and satisfying customer service.
“The region is altogether valueless. After entering it, there is nothing to do but leave.”
Lt. Edward Beale, Congress report on Arizona, 1858
While I don’t completely agree with the good lieutenant, I must say that I am glad to be home. You see, we weren’t intending on going to Spring training this year. My health is still a bit dodgy and being away from our home base is a bit scary right now. We aren’t habitual Spring Training junkies, but have been a few times and I’ve always had a good time. I had a lot of fun this time as well, but it was a little different from I had expected.
The impetus for even going down at all was the wedding of two of our closest friends, who happened to be from Phoenix. Which happened to be on my birthday. Which happened to be over the weekend of my birthday. When the universe clearly wants you to go Spring Training, you go!
For my birthday gift, my wife gave me her credit card and let me get tickets to all of the games I wanted to attend, which–after I restrained myself–wound up being 4 games. I found a Motel 6 close to both Sloan Park and the dialysis center that I would be utilizing twice during our short stay and booked our room.More details on that to follow.
That is far too long of a prologue, so lets just jump right into day 1.
We ended up leaving our house a bit later than intended, but other than one issue with CD selection (Yes children, old people still use physical media to listen to music) the drive was uneventful. Traffic was easy until we hit the outskirts of Phoenix, but we still made it to Scottsdale Stadium just a little bit after the Giants v. Puerto Rico game had begun. We immediately saw an issue. After driving around the ballpark and nearby environs there was literally no parking. All the lots were either full or blocked off with “Non Event Parking” sign. We even tried to find a place to park away from the ballpark and having a car service take us to the game with no avail. By this point it was getting late and we hadn’t eaten anything for many hours, so we cut our losses and changed our quest to find lunch.
Fortunately nearby was a restaurant serving Cornish pasties–as well as air conditioning, so we went in for a fine lunch topped off with an amazing banoffee pie and began to feel human again. at this point it was late enough to check in to our motel, so we headed in that general direction.
After a quick trip to the Walmart, which was decked out in Cubs merchandise, we arrived at our temporary home.
Do you ever get a strange feeling that things aren’t good and might soon get much worse? That was the feeling in my gut as we checked in. Don’t get me wrong, all the staff that we dealt with during our stay were perfectly nice. Very helpful and professional, even “upgrading” us to a handicapped room with no extra charge.
The room though? Not so good. The sort of place that you’d expect Norman Bates to work at, were “Psycho” set in 2017. Upon walking into our non-smoking room we were hit by a cloud of nicotine–something that persisted throughout our stay minus the one day when nicotine was swapped for pot smoke. There was a dirty boot print in our shower and the whole place looked like it had been cleaned by a disinterested teenager. Yes, I should have complained, but I was afraid any other room would be worse, so we soldiered on and kept the room.
Eventually we fell asleep and were not murdered in the night. I set those odds at 50-50.
Today was exciting because we were going to see the 2016 World Champion Chicago Cubs (I never get tired of saying that and love getting to refer to them as such) at Sloan Park, a ballpark I had yet to see since it opened only a few years ago. With Arizona ignoring Daylight Savings Time, I mentally thought that the game started at 12:05, the same as at home, so we arrived an hour sooner than expected. Oops. They soon opened the gates and we found our way inside and immediately grabbed some hot dogs, pretzels and water. We headed down to our seats and ate our lunch, fortunately, in some of the rare shade. The game against the Mariners was fun, not counting the final score, and it was good to see Bryant, Rizzo and the rest of the crew at it again, as well as see prospects like Eloy Jiminez in person.
Sloan Park is gorgeous and I do wish we had explored it a bit more, but the shady seats were too tempting to leave and so we remained sedentary for the length of the game. The timing worked out perfectly for us to enjoy the ballgame and get to my dialysis appointment in Mesa on time.
I did manage to get my photo with the Sloan Park marquee before we left though. I DO have my priorities after all.
After my 4 hours getting my blood cleaned we grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed back to the motel of doom for the night. As you can no doubt tell, we are some late night party animals. Like the kids in the pool. Right outside of our room. Until after midnight.
Today we were headed to Tempe to see the Padres play the Angels. Looking back on it now, I don’t know why we didn’t just go and see the Cubs play the Mariners in Peoria, but seeing 2 of my favorite teams play each other was not a bad option either.
On the way we stopped for breakfast at a Whataburger, which I had never tried before. It had been described to me as “the Texas In ‘n Out” so I had to try it. Though it was breakfast time I felt the need to get the eponymous burger, but lo! On the breakfast menu was biscuits and gravy…one of my all time favorite meals. Decisions, decisions. In the end, although my appetite has been waning as of late, I ordered both. And finished them too.
While eating, a woman at a table across from us asked me about my cane and other, increasingly personal questions, which I answered, since I generally don’t know when to shut up. We finished our meals, ended the conversation and continued on to Tempe Diablo Stadium, home of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim…who train in Tempe, Arizona. Why not add a few more locations for the poor Angels?
Unfortunately unlike Sloan Park there were virtually no shaded seats at Tempe Diablo Stadium and I started to bake from the moment I sat in our seats watching the teams warm up. Kindly, Lauren went and got us a huge frozen margarita concoction to try to cool us down. Yes, I realize that alcohol probably has an adverse effect on remaining hydrated, but it was delicious. More importantly it was cold.
We downed that sucker fast enough that I didn’t even have time/ presence of mind to get a photo. The bottom of the drink vessel was actually molded into a baseball which Lauren wanted to keep, but was rebuffed by an usher as we left and forced to throw it away. We will never forget you, margarita baseball.
By the second inning the sun was beating down on my poor little body and we decided to leave the seats in favor of shade. It turns out that many people were doing the exact thing that we were and the mass of humanity clogged the concourse and made it extra hard just to walk around, let alone pop into the team store.
We decided that for the sake of my health (we still had a wedding reception and yet one more game to attend on our Arizona adventure) we should leave and go back to the air-conditioned motel room, to rest before dialysis.
I must have looked the way that I felt, because a kindly usher had me sit down for a moment and called to have a cart come to drive us over to our car. Unfortunately, once at the car we were blocked in by a fire truck parked directly behind us. We sat in the car for at least 20 minutes until a firefighter came back and moved the truck and in doing so, free our car.
We drove back to the motel where I had a short and cool nap. Our room hadn’t been cleaned yet, nor would it be that entire day.
I had my dialysis and then immediately began my backslide with dinner at The Cracker Barrel. We only recently got one in California and it’s a bit of a drive from our home–not that Phoenix isn’t–so on the rare occasion that we find one we are there!
We returned to our uncleaned room, got new towels from the front desk and looked forward to a long sleep in, since the following day was baseball-free.
I’ll try to keep this short since there is virtually no baseball connection. Today was my birthday, as well as the reception for our friends’ wedding. They had done a real wedding ceremony, very small, the day prior and then had their reception at a local barcade. For those unaware, a barcade is a combination bar and arcade, generally featuring older video games for those of us that grew up playing them.
There was lots of good food, good drinks, virtually unlimited free games and so a good time was had by all.
That evening, Lauren and I planned on going to a charity function to raise money for clean drinking water in the Dominican Republic and reportedly featuring many baseball players in attendance. Since I had been virtually shut out of autographs the whole trip, I thought this would be a fun way to celebrate my birthday. The universe had other plans and struck Lauren down with some sort of bug, so we got halfway to the venue and turned around to go back to the motel. We grabbed some Sonic for me and called it a night.
Today was our last day in Arizona and we were pumped to see the 2016 World Champion Chicago Cubs (I told you I loved saying it) take on the Oakland A’s at the Cubs old ballpark, Hohokam Stadium. I was primed and ready to go. Earlier I had visited the Walmart again and gotten all sorts of defense against the sun. Cooling towels, sunscreen and a big floppy hat were amongst the items purchased.
We took a little bit of time before going to the ballpark, which was very impressive to me. No, it isn’t as pretty or nicely designed like Sloan Park or Camelback, but it has a lot of charm and I would choose it ahead of the Brewers park in Maryvale or even Tempe Diablo Stadium.
The A’s have really made it their own, with history on display throughout the concourse. There was even some living history as Rollie Fingers, Bert Campaneris, George Foster and Blue Moon Odom were on hand to greet fans and sign autographs for a small donation. The Cubs and the Fergie Jenkins Foundation do a similar thing at Sloan Park and I think opportunities like that are really a cool thing for fans.
I grabbed a basic hot dog, which was at least a foot long, and we got to our seats. Stamper the Elephant was cavorting around and playing with kids as we waited for the game to begin. Once again we really had no shade and I literally went through 2 bottles of water before the first pitch was thrown. I tried to tough it out, but the unjust kicked my butt, even with all of my sun gear in place.
We saw Jake Arrieta pitch a few innings, watched my boys hit and slowly made our way out of the park and began our long drive to my parents’ house in San Diego.
The one big benefit of driving to San Diego rather than Orange County is the fact that you travel by way of Yuma, Arizona, home of Chretin’s Mexican Restaurant. I’ve known about Chretin’s since I was a child. One of my pajama shirts in childhood was a Chretin’s t-shirt.
My dad used to fly for the Navy and there was a landing site in Yuma. Whenever they’d land there, they would head over to Chretin’s for magaritas and the famous Chretin’s “killer nachos.” It got to be a competition as to who could eat the most nachos, with the reigning champ getting his name painted on the wall. Sadly, the old building is no more, but the “killer nachos” live on in a new location.
Had we not stopped in, I think my family may have disowned us. The nachos were amazing and the margaritas were good, cold and cheap. We left perfectly content, even ordering a dozen nachos to-go for my family.
We got to my parents’ house safely and were thrilled to sleep in a bed that we knew had clean sheets.
Overall, it was a good time and I’d like to head down again next spring. I’ll need to find some defenses and new strategies to fight the sun and begin collecting my pennies so we can stay in a place a slight bit better than the Mesa Motel 6. Next year I’d like to get out to the back fields to check out the minor league guys and maybe check out some “B” games as well.
I’m already looking forward to it!
Until next time, keep tripping baseballs!
Full set of edited photos is found here!
While I don’t fully understand the reasons that the Cubs would play an exhibition game on the day before they open the season against the team with whom they are going to play to start the aforementioned season I cannot complain too much. The fairly ill-conceived game provided me with two opportunities to see my Cubs in my town, since tickets to the actual opening day were selling for slightly more than I was willing, or able, to pay. Adding to that, the fact that the exhibition was taking place on a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I was sold on the idea.
The crowd for the game was significantly less than I had anticipated, possibly due to the fact that the two teams were playing “for real” the following day, and there was a healthy number of Cub fans in attendance, many located on the first base side close to the Cubs dugout.
The thing that irritated me a bit was the fact that while Joe Maddon started the same lineup that will be starting on Opening Day, the Angels didn’t even bother with trotting out the regulars, even for a few innings. Mike Trout and Albert Pujols were both conspicuously MIA.
The ballpark appears much the same as it has over the past few years with no real notable additions or subtractions, either aesthetically or in relation to food offerings, which is a bit of a shame.
All of that being said, however, it was great to get back out to a baseball game, and while the end result of a Cubs loss is never a good thing, Kyle Hendricks pitched well and struck out more than a batter an inning and the Bryzzo boys crushed a pair of home runs adding to one from Addison Russell. Albert Almora showed his amazing defensive skills, as well.
I will also be attending game two, featuring Jon Lester and hopefully seeing the Cubs head to Arizona with a 2-0 record!
As always, the full gallery of photos can be found here.
Until next time,
Keep Tripping’ Baseballs!
Wednesday, April 2nd was my first foray into the 2014 baseball season and let’s just hope that the rest of the year goes significantly better than it began. Not burying the lead, the Angels got beaten. Badly. Like a bad, bad donkey. And, to paraphrase one of my favorite movies, “Clerks,” I wasn’t even supposed to be there that day.
Evidently reading a calendar isn’t one of my strengths, as I purchased tickets to the game on Wednesday when I thought I was buying them for Tuesday night, the night of the Mike Trout bobblehead. I should have realized when it was so easy. Wednesday was still a giveaway and we got our “stadium exclusive” caps, which is better than being poked in the eye with a sharp stick.
Arriving for batting practice, I began to doubt if the game would even occur when the dark storm clouds rolled in right as the Angels finished hitting. I literally saw one ball hit and no one stuck around signing autographs as the rain began to fall. The tarp covered the infield and the skies opened up. For all of 10 minutes. Just long enough to get our seats thoroughly wet and then the sun came back out as if nothing had happened.
The crowd was fairly big for a Wednesday night with a threatened downpour but, I suppose the novelty of baseball being back was still contributing, though most of the people would be gone by the 8th inning of the loss.
Sadly, it was the Angels debut of Hector Santiago and he didn’t exactly pitch poorly, the offense was just anemic at best. Mike Trout was his usual superhuman self, with 2 extra base hits, a RBI and some fine play in the field, but he was about it as far as the offense was concerned and the bullpen imploded. Again. As Yogi says, “It’s like deja vu all over again” from last season. Back-to-back home runs by Justin Smoak and Mike Zunino off Ernesto Frieri were just the icing on the cake in the 9th. James Paxton who started for the Mariners was not a name that I was very familiar with, but he pitched brilliantly and looks to be a dark horse star in a rotation that will, ideally, include Felix Hernandez, Hisashi Iwakuma and Taijuan Walker later in the season.
On a positive note there is a new fry stand in the concourse and we thoroughly enjoyed our garlic fries. Another plus, food wise, was that since the game was still so early in the season the hot dog buns had yet to get stale.
Sometimes it’s the small things that make all the difference, and those were our silver lining on the rain clouds of the ball game.
Until next time, keep tripping baseballs!
The day that I had been waiting for was finally here and the Cubs were descending upon Anaheim. Yes, I had seen them in Los Angeles and San Diego, but having them here in my current town was very exciting and surreal for me. So was the desire to root for someone other than the Angels– the only time I’ll do that is when they play my Cubs.
I decided to be a decent person and not drag Lauren to the game at the crack of dawn to wait for the Cubs to come to the stadium and try to get autographs. We did, however, get there before the gates opened to wait for the guys to take batting practice and, hopefully, interact.
I waited down the right field line with two fellow Cub fans, a dad and young son. This would prove to be a good strategic move, as baseball players are more likely to respond to a small kid than to an unshaven 30-year old guy. This would prove true as the afternoon went on.
I wasn’t feeling well to begin with, and standing directly in the unrelenting Southern California sun was not doing me any favors, so I alternated standing at the wall and sitting in the seats. The first Cub that we saw was Jeff Samardzija who was coming out to run and do a bit of long toss. The kid next to me asked him if he’d sign and he said that he would after he worked out.
So…I was only able to attend the first of the Cubs-Angels games, and while I had a fairly successful evening, and I will be writing it up shortly, but here is a letter that I wrote to the Cubs regarding missing that second game.
See-ya Se-attle: The Angels Resume the Sinking of the Mariners
After the insanity of the previous night’s game, where Mike Trout hit for the cycle, Lauren told me that even as she was up in Simi Valley, her brother sprung it on her that he wanted to go to the Angels game. Sadly, they had left the DeLorean back at the hotel, so he was unable to time travel in order to make it to the Big A on time for the game.
When I heard about this, I felt bad and suggested that we try to get tickets to the next afternoon’s game against the Mariners. We were able to get good seats in the Field Level for less than ten dollars a ticket, so back to the old ballgame I went.
Lauren’s brother is a Giants fan, pretty much one of the worst kinds of people. As we were planning the details for the baseball game I made sure to tell him that he could not wear his new Giants cap. I hate it when fans wear the attire of teams that are not participating in the game. All baseball teams are not created equal and just because something is baseball related, does not mean it is appropriate for every game.
He showed up not only wearing his Giants cap, but also a Houston Astros shirt. Neither of whom were playing. This essentially sums up my relationship with Lauren’s brother.
I was excited to finally see CJ Wilson take the mound at Angel Stadium. This would be my first time to see him in person since his big signing as a free agent the year before. I have always liked CJ, even when he was a hated Texas Ranger. He has been entertaining on Twitter and was one of the first big ballplayers to embrace the new media. Plus, he has always been a heck of a pitcher.
The Angels picked up right where they had left off the night before, including Mike Trout hitting a single and a triple in his first two at-bats. Alas, the dual cycle was not to happen, but the Angels put a hurt on Brandon Maurer, a local boy from the nearby city of Orange, and he was credited with giving up all seven runs. He lasted all of three innings, and the Mariner bullpen slammed the door on the Angels, shutting them out from the fourth inning onward.
The seven runs, though, were more than enough for CJ Wilson, who went eight strong innings and only allowed one run. Mike Scioscia inexplicably brought in Dane De La Rosa for the ninth inning, and even with that six run cushion, I was uneasy. Surprisingly, De La Rosa did his job, despite some two out dramatics, and the Angels lit up the Halo.
Continuing my luck from the Royals game, we were once again treated to visiting fans who don’t understand how to behave in another team’s ballpark. As the game was winding down, they weren’t rooting on their team, they were trying to incite the home team fans, in a game that they were losing quite handily. I don’t understand how standing in the front of the entire section and basically baiting thousands of the opposing team’s fans makes sense, especially when you are being soundly destroyed by that opposing team.
I will be attending both of the Cubs-Angels games fully festooned in my Cubbie regalia, but I won’t be inciting the Angels fans. There is a way to conduct yourself with a sense of dignity while cheering on your visiting team. I will be cheering every home run and great play, but I will also not be mocking the local fans.
It’s just common decency as well as respect.
Until Next Time, Keep Trippin’ Baseballs!
For the second consecutive game I was dateless. Lauren’s mom and brother were coming in to town and she was planning to join them on their visit to the Reagan Library. I already had tickets for the Angel game, so I opted out and called my brother, Matt, to see if he wanted to join me for the game and the free Mike Trout pint glass. He agreed to leave work early and drive the hour and a half from San Diego to Anaheim.
Due to traffic, we didn’t get to the Big A until after 6 pm, with the game scheduled to start at 7. I had completely written off the idea of getting in for batting practice, which was fine, but I was paranoid that we wouldn’t get one of the pint glasses. We finally reached our seats in center field a few minutes before the pre-game festivities began.
We were actually sitting in a pretty neat spot as we were right next to the batters eye/national park in center field and kind of cornered in our own little box. It was cozy. We got our food before sitting down and basically didn’t need to move for the entire game. This fact would prove to be a very, very good thing.
I had been watching the Cubs game on TV, waiting for Matt to get into town, and they mentioned off-handedly that Aaron Harang was one of the biggest Cub killers of all time. Harang was the Mariners starter and I figured that it was just my luck that he would destroy the Angels as well. That isn’t exactly what happened.
After hitting a home run and a triple his first 2 at-bats, it seemed like Josh Hamilton was going to be the hero of the night on his birthday, and a candidate to hit for the cycle, having gotten the hardest part out of the way to start the night. While the Angels were smacking the ball all over the yard against the weak Mariner pitching, Mike Trout was quietly putting together a pretty remarkable night of his own. After he hit a 3 RBI double in the 6th, I turned to Matt and said, “If he got credit for a base hit in his second AB, he is a home run away from the cycle…” We whipped out our phones and checked, and it was indeed an infield hit in the third.
I’m not sure how many in the crowd realized what was happening because as the Angels’ lead grew bigger and bigger, the crowd in the ballpark got smaller and smaller, but I have been to enough games in my life to realize that a baseball game is not over until that 27th out is recorded, let alone to not leave when there is an assault on history.
Innings came and innings went, and the Angels continued scoring while the Mariners did not, but that was, for all intents and purposes, meaningless. We were waiting for one more time at the plate for Mr. Trout. He came to bat in the eighth, with no one on base.
The count against Lucas Luetge was 2-0 when Trout connected on the pitch. It was a long drive right off the bat and it was undeniable that he had hit a home run to complete the cycle. The stadium erupted and after Trout had made his way around the bases, was forced out of the dugout for a curtain call. It was an incredible moment.
As I mentioned, I have been to a lot of baseball games over my lifetime, but I have never been to a game with the historical significance as this. Previously, the closest I had come to was at the second game of a double-header in old Jack Murphy Stadium one afternoon when Kevin Brown took a no-hitter into the late innings, but, as the Padres still lack a no-hitter, we know how that turned out in the end. It was absolutely exhilarating to witness a moment of this caliber in person.
As Trout returned to the field for the top of the 9th, he was very reluctant to make his way out to center field, opting to stand near second base and chat with Josh Hamilton. It was like he knew that we were going to lavish him with love and he didn’t want it, being a bit of a quiet guy, but he eventually had to make his way out, and got loved on whether he wanted it or not.
The only issue I had with the game was the removal of Jerome Williams in the 9th after he had spent the previous 8 innings completely dealing. Albeit he had thrown 107 pitches, but given the weakness of the Angels bullpen and the strength of Williams through the 8th inning, I feel like he could have finished the game and earned his first complete game shutout of the year, but overall, this is the most minor of quibbles.
The funny thing about this whole deal was the fact that earlier in the day, Matt had been trying to see if he could pass his ticket off to one of my other brothers, since he had been relatively missing a lot of work and didn’t look forward to telling his boss that he was leaving early again to attend the game. I think, when all was said and done, he was reasonably happy with his decision to come up to see Mike Trout become the youngest American League player to hit for the cycle since Mel Ott and the first Angel since Chone Figgins.
In the years to come, as Trout continues his rise to elite superstardom, I’m sure that the number of people who will claim to have been at this game will double or even triple the actual number, but to have actually been there was truly an amazing experience, and one that I will treasure for the rest of my life.
Until next time, Keep Trippin’ Baseballs!
I hate the White Sox. I have hated them as long as I can remember, being a rational Cub fan. The two factors that most fueled my vitriol during the most recent years, Ozzie Guillen and AJ Pierzynski, are no longer with the team, and with that I am not blinded by the hatred that I once was for the boys from the South Side. I still canNOT stand Hawk Harrelson, but if an obnoxious broadcaster is the pinnacle of my dislike, things have calmed down considerably.
All that being said, I really wanted to go to the May 16th game against the Sox. Not so much for the game, per se, but for the Mark Trumbo bobble head that was the giveaway that night. I had found cheap tickets after some negotiation with ScoreBig.com and both Lauren and I would be off work in barely enough time to head over to the Big A for the game. Then, reality hit. Lauren was sick and had been invited to see an opening day showing of the new Star Trek movie, which interested her much more than the Angels game. I was now at an impasse.
I really wanted that bobble head, but I had never been to a baseball game solo before. I am actually very loathe to be solo in public, as I irrationally assume that everyone is staring at me and wondering, “Who is the weird guy with no friends?” My desire for the knick-knack that I have no need nor space for outweighed my social anxiety and I decided I was going to go it alone.
Lauren picked me up from work and brought my change of clothes so I wouldn’t have to drag a bag full of smelly work clothes into the ballpark and dropped me off, en route to her theater for the movie. Since I had paid for 2 tickets, I was certainly going to get both the bobble heads that I had paid for. I initially thought that to get both bobble heads I would need to engage in all sorts of trickery and enter initially through Gate A, exit Gate B, hide the swag and enter Gate C, all while changing shirts and using a fake mustache to avoid being recognized.
In reality, I walked up to the ticket scanner, told the woman that I had 2 tickets, that Lauren would not be joining me but that I did want her bobble head. She looked at me, asked if I was sure Lauren wasn’t coming and upon my assent, yelled for the distribution elves to give me 2. Painless, but not nearly as exciting as my imagined spy mission.
I made my way out to right field and found my seat in an empty row and sat down to begin my solo adventure. I had the row to myself for awhile, until the sorority girls came by. They added quite an interesting element to the game with all of their insightful comments, which included the statement that they weren’t going to boo at all, because “…that would be, like, really bad sportsmanship” and the need to share details about exactly how they wanted their future weddings and boyfriends to be. And, of course they were ignorant Disneyland passholders. With no other human being to talk to, I got to listen to this banter for the entire duration of the game. Yay, lucky me.
Meanwhile, on the field there was a baseball game. The Angels actually held the lead for a vast majority of the game supporting a fairly solid outing from Jerome Williams until the fantastic bullpen duo of Dane De La Rosa and Michael Kohn made an appearance in the 8th. De La Rosa gave up the tying run and Kohn decided that Jeff Keppinger, he of the .188 batting average, should get his first walk of the season. With the bases loaded. With a tie score.
This, sorority girls, is why you boo.
The Angels failed to mount a comeback against Jesse Crain and Addison Reed and, despite having Reed on my fantasy league team, I felt no joy.
My first solo game was a success and I had lots of friends ask me if I would do it again. Absolutely, I would. The only change is that I think I’d bring a small FM radio to listen to the game. I had my iPhone with the MLB AtBat app, where I could listen to the game, but there tends to be a bit of a delay there and I didn’t want to be listening to a game on a 30 second to 2 minute delay that was happening live in front of me. That’s how accidental time travel occurs and nobody wants that.
Until Next Time, Keep Tripping Baseballs.