Play Ball!
Posted on September 24, 2008 - Filed Under Baseball, Just For Fun, brain farts, laughs, my opinions
So my little sister, Kathy was in town over the weekend. She comes out once a year to see friends, she once lived out here and then ultimately decided to go back to Michigan and make her permanent home there. Anyway, usually when she comes out we meet have a long lunch and then that’s it. This time out however, I suggested we try doing something more fun than a house salad and iced tea at the Black Cow.
She was receptive to the idea and we decided we’d take in a ballgame. She took care of getting the tickets and scaring up other chums to join us and all was cool. A few days later I got an email from her husband asking me to call her because of course she didn’t have my phone number with her. So, I took down the number and made the call. Now, you have to understand that Kath lives in the Detroit area and I always forget how much more direct they are out there, it’s been so long since I lived there and I’ve lived in California for pretty much all of my adult life - you know land of the nuts and twigs where everything is just nice and easy? Anyway, I call her cell and get her message which goes like this -”This is Kathy, you got my cell phone, leave a message. Good bye.” If I were to explain the tone though the message would have been more like: “this is Kathy, you wanna make something out that? So, you wanna leave a message, huh? Well go ahead, I dare ya!” I swear I was laughing so hard I could hardly leave the message. But that’s my sis, God love her, she is nothing if not direct.
So, she gets in town we have a nice breffy on Saturday morning - she asks if I want to join her at the LaBrea Tar Pits, which I decline because I have work to do and we part company. Sunday, is game day and her friend Dar comes by my house (since she lives nearby) so Kath can just swing by and pick us both up because still after four years it is a mystery to her how to get around my little burg - not sure why since there is only one main road and is quite a small little place but it just causes her problems. So Dar comes over we have coffee and some toast and chat away, waiting for Kath. The game is at one and it’s nearly noon so we’re wondering. Sure enough the phone rings and “I’m lost, pick up the phone, where are you - hello, hello, helloooooo?” Okay, pick up the phone, yes turn around, hang a right at the Starbuck’s - okay see you in a minute.”
All right then finally she’s there, we all pile into the car and we’re off. As we’re driving toward the 5 she says, ‘now how do you get to Dodger Stadium again? Should we be on the 5 or the 2?’ She says this to a car full of women who of course have no fricking idea where we are going. We resolve in the end to stay on the 5 because the 5 leads to all things in Southern California and we figure we’ll see the signs for the stadium. Well as soon as we start to see them then traffic comes to a halt and it takes about 35 minutes to just get off the off ramp to the stadium and another 10 to get the half mile to the stadium, people racing up the turn lane and cutting in front which pisses her off more.
At last we reach the stadium, park in the lower 40 and start the half mile hike to the stadium - when we’re just to the gates she remembers she’s forgotten her camera and wants to go back but oh no, we won’t let her. Then through the three bag checks and ticket showing, blah blah. Okay, so here’s the thing we entered at the exact opposite of where we should have, so we walk the entire length of the stadium only to discover we are on the 7th level, up the escalators, into the cramped elevator and at last we find our section, then down to almost the bottom where we find our seats smack dab in the middle of the row. Which is fine for us - not so much for the people who have to stand up during our constant comings and goings.
So I sit down and I say to Dar and Chris at the end of the first inning - ‘okay, well we aren’t going to get any real action til the 7th inning and then it will be neck in neck and then we’ll go into extra innings.’ This is a thing I do - predict ball games. Don’t know why but it just comes into my head and I say it. As the game progressed and my prediction became truer and truer, my seat mates kept glaring at me and saying, ‘God, can’t you let them score already?” I assured them I only predicted I didn’t have the power to intercede. It was good though because that gave us plenty of time to go and buy stuff and visit the bathroom and smoke a couple of cigarettes. I had my hotdog and beer for a mere $15 dollars. Yup, beer was 12 ounces and cost $8 - hey somebody has to pay those salaries right? So we sat in the sweltering sun - watched inning after innning with no runs, over and over. It did start to get a little interesting but by the bottom of the 9th Kathy says, if they don’t score by the end of this inning you want to go? Of course we did, we are girls after all and none of us really had a horse in the race -so yeah, we were game for leaving. Sure enough no runs so up we got, promising the people on the aisle it was our last departure from the seats and we started for the exits. Of course the other three had to hit the ladies room first - go figure. Then just as we got to the car we heard the crowd going ape shit, which probably meant that somebody scored and since the Dodgers were playing their arch rivals the Giants I’m assuming it was the Dodgers who scored. Ironically, we didn’t bother to turn the radio on when we got in the car to see who scored or if anyone scored, the ball game now just being a thing of the past and air conditioning and finding a frozen margarita far more parmount in our minds.
And that my friends is how four women enjoy a baseball game. Oh and the magaritas were divine. And I still don’t know who won that game. 
Take Me Out To The Ballgame…
Posted on October 27, 2006 - Filed Under Baseball, History, Just For Fun, Life, adventure, fangirly
I’m not much of a sports fan. In fact, by and large sports are kind of boring to me. Except Baseball. I love baseball. It could be because when I was a child I spent a lot of time with my grandpap who was a semi invalid. I would often sit with him in the livingroom and watch the game on tv. As the game played out he would explain to me what was going on.
I quickly learned what a pop fly, a shut out, a bunt, the squeeze and countless other things meant. And what they looked like. And I quickly began to appreciate anyone who could seemingly fly up into the air and snag a homerun wannabe ball and dash all hopes.
I think maybe because of grandpap and my early tutelidge in the game I became a diehard Tigers fan. Even now, even though I’ve lived in California for most of my adult life - I still have a softspot for those motor city madmen. There is just something about them that speaks of the best of ‘home’ to me. They take me back to my childhood, when popcorn was heaven and watching the game was the biggest thing going on in the world. When things felt safe and happy. And even if they got the pants beat off of them I never stopped loving my Tigers. I guess that’s what they call a fan.
One of my fondest memories was the 1968 World Series. It was Tigers vs the Cardinals. And what a series! It was a nail biter from beginning to end. It looked like the Cards were going to sweep the series but somewhere around game 5 my Tigers busted outta the box and the fight was on. They were not going to go quietly. The Cards were going to have to use every trick in their bat bag to beat them.
Maybe because I’d watched my Tigers from the time I was a tiny girl and knew the team - Stormin’ Norman Cash, Al Kaline, Wille (the Wonder) Horton, Bill Freehan, Mickey Lolich, Gates Brown, Mickey McClaine and the rest…I just had a feeling. I believed. I knew my Tigers were going to rally and come back to take the series. It was going the full seven games and they were going to win.
I watched the whole series with my then best friend Dorothy - we were on a babysitting job with some neighbor kids and made them watch too. Our eyes never left the set. Especially on Game 7. It was the one. The game that would decide it all.
And that final moment when catcher Bill Freehan caught that last out sent us over the edge. We screamed until we were hoarse. We danced. We celebrated. Our guys had done good!
Imagine my delight when I learned that this year’s series was once again between my beloved Tigers and the awesome Cards. I’ve been watching the series - and ironically, I find myself going back to my memories of the ‘68 series. This could be it tonight. The Cards could take it all. They have only to win one more game and they’re the champions. Yet…in my heart I’m hoping and believing that my Tigers will rally once again. They will get their blood boiling and their bats banging. And make this hometown girl proud as punch. Cuz though the players have changed, I think the spirit of the Tigers lives on - it transcends the players, the managers and coaches and is its own force to be reckoned with.
Wish them luck.
WC
