Hitting Them All — A Journey of Friends and Baseball

This is the final excerpt from my book, Hitting Them All.  There are a limited number of copies for sale in the first printing and they are selling fast.  If you would like to purchase a copy, click Order Now on the main menu,  follow the directions and I will send it to you.

 

Prologue

What started as an obsession became a journey that turned into a quest.  It began in Baltimore and ended in Seattle when Marty, Jack, Jay and I walked through the turnstile at Safeco Field on May 31, 2011.  That occasion marked the end of a 20-year pilgrimage, crisscrossing the country to visit every major league stadium and ballpark. Wearing commemorative tee shirts we were greeted warmly by the Mariner’s ushers, photographers and fans.  We had realized a dream and checked off a “bucket list” item for many baseball fans.

The Mid-Atlantic Sports Network, the flagship television station of the Baltimore Orioles and Washington Nationals, interviewed Marty and local newspapers in our home towns did feature stories about us.  Orioles broadcaster, Jim Hunter, asked Marty how he felt about doing something that baseball fans dream about.  “Mastercard never put us in a commercial, but it took a commitment from a special group of friends that loved baseball,” he replied.

As Orioles fans, we attended several games at Memorial Stadium and Oriole Park at Camden Yards.  After going on some road trips to other cities, we forged a pact in Tampa in 2000 to “hit them all.” Each year when the Major League Baseball schedule was announced, we planned a trip to another ballpark.  This was no easy task for four married guys living in different parts of the country. Putting this plan in motion required a commitment of time, money and patience from an understanding group of wives.  This book tells our story.

Our quest was not just about baseball, although the games were the reason for it.  As history buffs, we made it a point to visit national landmarks and historic sites along the way.  We toured Civil War battlefields at Gettysburg and Antietam, hiked the Freedom Trail in Boston, went to Independence Hall and saw the crack in the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia and were escorted by an NYPD Officer on an emotional tour of the national September 11 Memorial in New York City. We went to Ford’s Theater in Washington D.C. where John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln and the Texas Book Depository in Dallas where Lee Harvey Oswald fired the fatal shot that killed JFK. We listened to an audio recording of a sermon by the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. at the Ebeneezer Baptist Church in Atlanta where he served as a pastor and toured Jimmy Carter’s Presidential Library and Museum.

We ate barbecue at the world famous Arthur Bryant’s restaurant in Kansas City and were served Boog’s BBQ at the ballpark in Baltimore by the Orioles ex-slugger, Boog Powell. We dined on thick Porterhouse steaks and Italian roast beef sandwiches in Chicago, fresh salmon in Seattle, Cuban sandwiches in Miami, clam “chowda” in Boston, New York City pizza and Philly cheese steaks.

In the course of our quest, life happened.  We shared “Wrigleyville” moments — peak experiences you will read about in the book — celebrated births, mourned the passing of loved ones and had a few brushes with our own mortality.

I can’t recall some of the details about the early trips, so most of what I wrote was from memory.  To paraphrase Mickey Mantle who allegedly said, “If I knew I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself,” if I knew I was going to write a book, I would have taken better notes.

Some may think our pilgrimage was a childish endeavor for four grown men, and some may wonder why we did it.  Understanding our “why” is easy. As the noted journalist and respected baseball author, Roger Angell, once wrote, “Baseball’s time is seamless since baseball’s time is measured only in outs.  All you have to do is succeed utterly; keep hitting, keep the rally alive and you have defeated time.  You remain forever young.”

 

 

 

 

Hail to the Houston Astros and Why Today is the Saddest Day of the Year

“Baseball is designed to break your heart.  The game begins in the spring when everything begins again and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.” –Bart Giamatti, former Major League Baseball Commissioner

For me, the saddest day of the year is the day after the World Series is over. Baseball fills a void between Spring Training when pitchers and catchers report in February until the last out of the World Series is recorded in November.  While the “Hot Stove League” keeps the fire burning with trade rumors, free agent signings and actual deals during the winter, nothing can replace the daily pleasure I get from watching the games, scanning the box scores and watching baseball highlights on a daily basis during the regular season.  I subscribe to the notion once espoused by the deceased former Associate Supreme Court Justice, William O. Douglas, that he read the sports page in the newspaper first so he could read about man’s accomplishments before reading the rest of the news about his failures.

Hail to the Astros for a hard-fought victory in an exciting seven game World Series over the Los Angeles Dodgers — the last clash of two super teams with more than 100 wins occurred in 1970 when the Baltimore Orioles squared off against the Cincinnati Reds “Big Red Machine.”   The Astros bringing home the first World Series trophy in 55 years to the flood-ravaged Houstonians was reminiscent of the joy the Saints gave to the people of New Orleans during their march to the Super Bowl in 2005 in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

A Thumbnail Sketch of the Astros’ Franchise

The Astros entered the National League in 1962 as an expansion team, the Houston Colt .45’s, along with the New York Mets.  They played two seasons at Colt Stadium before they changed their name and moved to the Astrodome, “The Eighth Wonder of the World.”  The roster in the first season was filled primarily through an expansion draft after the 1961 season where the Colt .45’s and the Mets selected players left unprotected by the other National League teams, not much of a recipe for success.

In their inaugural season, the Colt .45’s were led by stalwarts such as outfielders, Al Spangler and Roman Mejias, player-manager and infielder, Bob Aspromonte, starting pitchers, “Turk” Farrell and Dave Giusti, and relief pitcher, Bobby Shantz, at five feet, six inches and 142 pounds.  A footnote about Bobby:  he was a good friend and minor league teammate of father, Jim, and served as Dad’s best man at his wedding.  He won the American League Cy Young Award in 1952 with the Philadelphia Athletics, played on several New York Yankees’ championship teams and spent one year in Houston before ending his career with the St. Louis Cardinals, Chicago Cubs and Philadelphia Phillies. The Colt .45’s finished their inaugural season in eighth place in the National League, ahead of the Chicago Cubs and their expansion cousins, the New York Mets, who lost a record 120 games.

In 1963, Houston recalled some promising young talented  players who made their major league debuts, including a future Hall of Fame second baseman, “Little Joe” Morgan, who was eventually traded to the Cincinnati Reds, slugging outfielder, Jimmy Wynn, the “Toy Cannon,” and first baseman, Rusty Staub, who had a stellar career and eventually became one of the greatest left-handed pinch-hitters of all-time.  My friend, Bill Hilbig, who was born and raised in Texas, recalled seeing his first major league game at Colt Stadium  and getting autographs from Walt Bond and several Houston players in the parking lot after the game.

The Astros were habitually stuck in the second division with a losing record until 1969 when they reached the .500 mark with a record of 81 wins and 81 losses for the first time in the year that the “Amazing” New York Mets won their first World Series.  But the Astros were a team on the rise, and led by Texas legend and fire ball hurler, Nolan Ryan, they advanced to their first play-off and National League Championship Series in 1980, where they lost an exciting series to the eventual World Champion, Philadelphia Phillies. In 1986, they lost another dramatic and heart-breaking NCLS to the New York Mets, the eventual World Series Champion.

In the 1990’s, the Astros enjoyed a period of consisent success with the additions of Hall of Fame players, Craig Biggio and Jeff Bagwell, who teamed up with Lance Berkman, Derek Bell and Sean Berry to form a formidable line-up known as the “Killer B’s.”

During the 2000 season, the Astros moved to a new ballpark, built on the site of the old train depot, Union Station, that eventually was named, Minute Maid Park, and is their current home.  Minute Maid Park is a lyrical bandbox of a ballpark with a retro-modern design, a functional retractable roof and some quirky features. The Astros benefited from a large and boisterous home crowd and enjoyed a competitive advantage in their house during the 2017 baseball play-offs.

In 2005, the Astros added former New York Yankees’ pitchers, Andy Pettite and Roger Clemens, to a star-studded line-up of Biggio, Bagwell, Berkman, Jeff Kent and Roy Oswalt and made it to their first World Series where they got swept by the Chicago White Sox. The team  struggled through a re-building process with four seasons of 100 or more  losses despite the presence of outstanding players like Jose Altuve, the MVP front-runner in 2017.

But the team’s management and front office remained steadfast, stayed the course and re-built the team from within the organization. They embraced modern baseball analytic concepts, and eventually, their strategy paid off. They built a roster with exceptionally talented homegrown players including, Dallas Keuchel, the 2015 Cy Young Award winner,  Rookie-of-the-Year and budding superstar shortstop, Carlos Correa, scintillating center fielder, George Springer, the 2017 World Series MVP, third-base whiz kid, Alex Bregman and super utility man, Marvin Gonzalez. This year, they added some key missing pieces such as a veteran catcher and clubhouse leader, Brian McCann, imported a Cuban first baseman with a big stick and a spiked hairdo that looks like a Merganser duck, Yuli Gurriel, and acquired a future Hall of Fame pitcher, Justin Verlander, from the Detroit Tigers in a deal that was approved seconds before the trade deadline expired and put the finishing touches on a championship team.  Ironically, the Dodgers declined a trade for Verlander, even though he wanted to play for them, because they didn’t want to take on his long-term contract and high salary.  Instead, they acquired  Yu Darvish in a deal with the Astros’ rival, the Texas Rangers, in a move you could say altered the outcome of the World Series.

In 2014 before they achieved their success, Sports Illustrated predicted in a magazine cover story that the Astros would win the World Series in 2017.  In order to make that prediction come true, the Astros had to defeat a formidable trio of well-endowed, high profile, major market teams with huge payrolls and large bank accounts, the Boston Red Sox, New York Yankees and Los Angeles Dodgers. They passed those tests with flying colors.

Final Thoughts About the Astros and the 2017 Season

I became a believer in the Astros during Spring Training when my buddy, Bill, and I watched them play a game at their new baseball complex in West Palm Beach, which  they share with the Washington Nationals.  Most of their starting line-up was on the field that day and Dallas Keuchel was on the mound, recovering from an injury-marred 2016 season. I was impressed with how they put the barrel of the bat on the ball and Keuchel shut down the opposition effectively with good control of his fast ball and change-up pitch combination. I knew I was seeing something special so I bought an Astros’ baseball hat for the first time to wear when I played golf.

The Astros’ second base and shortstop combination of Jose Altuve and Carlos Correa is one of the most productive middle infield duos in major league history.  They are on a short list with Hall of Famers, Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese of the Brooklyn Dodgers,  Joe Gordon and Lou Boudreau, of the 1940’s Cleveland Indians and Rogers Hornsby and Travis Jackson of the 1920’s New York Giants.  You can look it up.

The Astros’ owner, Jim Crane, is a successful businessman and a scratch handicap golfer. He owns an exclusive golf course, the Floridian, and property that he is developing on the St. Lucie River in Palm City, five minutes away from where I live.  High-powered  members at his championship golf club include CEO’s, celebrities, entertainers and high profile athletes from other sports. Former President Barak Obama played golf at the Floridian twice during his terms in office.

Like the characters in the popular HBO television series, “Game of Thrones,” I know that winter is coming. Even in South Florida, there is a hint of cooler weather in the air and Daylight Savings time starts this weekend, making the days shorter and the nights longer and darker. But unlike the uncertain future faced by the characters in Westeros, I am certain that baseball will return next spring, because as the great baseball writer, Thomas Bowsell, wrote, “Time begins on Opening Day.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Talkin’ Baseball with Stan “The Man’s” Son

Photo caption:  Dick Musial, above left, at lunch with Jim Vojcsik.

I got an email from an old friend, Mark T, with an invitation to lunch.  Mark was enjoying his recent retirement as the former Editor of the local newspaper, The Stuart News. “Congratulations on the publication of your new book!” You must be thrilled,” he said.  “I want to invite you to lunch with Dick Musial, Stan’s son. Dick would like to meet you and he’s interested in how you got your book published,” his message continued.

I readily accepted Mark’s invitation to meet Dick. After all, Stan Musial is in the select company of Shoeless Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth and Ted Williams as one of the greatest left-handed hitters of all-time, and here was an opportunity to meet his son and talk baseball. Born in Denora, Pennsylvania (recent Hall of Fame inductee, Ken Griffey, Jr., was born in the same Western Pa. town) Stan “The Man” played 22 seasons with the St. Louis Cardinals.  You need a calculator to keep track of his career batting statistics, but he retired with a .331 life-time batting average and National League records for at bats (10,972) runs scored (1,949) and doubles (725). He was a seven-time batting champ, three-time MVP, led the Cardinals to three World Series championships and shares the major league record for the most All-Star appearances (24) with Hank Aaron and Willie Mays.  Stan “The Man” was also a stand-up guy, inside and outside the white lines.

Mark and I rode to lunch together and had a chance to catch up. We met Dick at the clubhouse of a golf community in Port St. Lucie, Florida where he lived. He arrived in the lobby, looking fit and trim in a red golf shirt like the military veteran he is.

We sat at a dining room table and the waitress brought us menus. Mark and Dick, die-hard Cardinals’ fans, commiserated over the Cardinals’ arch rival, the Chicago Cubs, winning the division title in St. Louis last night.  “They (the Cardinals) weren’t happy about that,” Dick noted.  Both men were of the opinion that the National League play-offs, starting next week, are wide open this year with several strong teams competing to represent their league in the World Series.  “The Cubs will have a tough time repeating,” Dick predicted.  “The Indians can pitch, hit and field and they have a good manager. They haven’t won a World Series title since 1948, so I think it’s their time this year like it was the Cubs’ time last year,” I said.

I like to ask baseball fans, “What’s your best baseball memory?” so I posed the question to Mark and Dick. That baseball is a bonding experience between fathers and sons was evident from our stories.  I went first. “My best memory was the day my father took me to my first major league baseball game at Connie Mack Stadium in Philadelphia.  The Phillies were playing the St. Louis Cardinals and Stan “The Man” was in the Cardinals’ line-up.  I can still recall my first impression walking up a ramp at the ballpark into the bright sunlight and seeing the greenest grass I had ever seen on the baseball diamond,” I said.

Mark’s best memory was similar to mine.  He attended his first major league game with his father and grandfather from Poland at the old Polo Grounds in New York in 1963.  The Mets  were playing the Cardinals that day and Stan “The Man” was in the line-up.  Mark said his dad kept up a running commentary about Stan “The Man” throughout the game.  It was interesting that both of our memories had a connection to Stan Musial.

Mark and I were curious about Dick’s best baseball memory since he has a treasure trove of memories about his dad.  “My uncle stopped by the house one day, and he said to me, ‘Dickie, let’s go to a ballgame today.’  The Cardinals were playing a doubleheader against the New York Giants at their old ballpark in North St. Louis. Well, we went to the game and Dad hit 5 home runs that day.”  No one had ever done that in one day in the major leagues before.

We waved the waitress away twice when she came to take our orders and we hadn’t even glanced at the menus, so it was time to get serious and order lunch.  We chatted about normal stuff:  children, grandchildren, travel, golf, and retirement.  Mark and Dick asked me some questions about my book, but the conversation kept returning to baseball.

“When Dad passed away, so many people came to his wake that I don’t remember them all.  Albert Pujols was there.  He and Dad were close. I was impressed that Jon Jay flew in from Miami.  Jay, a former Cardinals’ outfielder, now plays for the Chicago Cubs.  Most people don’t realize the impact that Dad had on people,” he said proudly. Dick lamented the fact that “the game has changed so much with all the big money contracts, you don’t get to see many ballplayers finishing their careers with one team anymore.” “Cal Ripken, Jr., Tony Gwynn, Chipper Jones and Derek Jeter come to mind, ” I said. “Yadier Molina (the Cardinals’ future Hall of Fame catcher) is another, but he hits into too many double plays, Dick said with a grin.  “I grew up during the best time in baseball,” he added. “Imagine if social media was around in the 1960’s when Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford and Billy Martin were carousing at those night clubs they liked to frequent” I said, and Dick and Mark laughed.

I told Dick and Mark about my part-time summer job keeping score of games in the Florida State League and why I liked minor league baseball.  We talked about how the St. Louis snowbirds make the trek every spring to Jupiter, Florida to watch Cardinals’ Spring Training games in the sunshine that don’t count in the regular standings. “Hands down, St. Louis is the best baseball town in the country,” I said, and they didn’t disagree. Neither Dick nor Mark had been to a Spring Training game at the new complex in West Palm Beach that was recently built for the Houston Astros and the Washington Nationals, two play-off bound teams this year.  I had seen a game there and liked it.  “The Nationals’ fans will drive down I-95 to see their team, but I don’t think many Astros fans will make the trip from Houston,” Dick said.

Mark paid for lunch over Dick’s offer.  Before we parted, we took some photos and Dick  offered to buy a copy of my book.  “It would be a pleasure to give you one” I said.  Mark thought there might be some interest at the local newspaper in doing a story about my book, so he offered to contact the editor on my behalf.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two — The Best of Them All, Oriole Park at Camden Yards

This is another excerpt from my new book, Hitting Them All.

“The Orioles proved that clean living and thinking plus Brooks Robinson at third base can bring victory with honor.”  — New York Times, October 16, 1976

The Poker Group

“Seven Card Stud, Queens are wild and whatever follows,” Jake called out the cards as he dealt them around the table, “Four of diamonds, Jack of Hearts, King of Spades.  There’s a Queen, followed by a three, so threes are wild, but that could change. And the dealer gets a seven of Hearts.”

Jake worked as a sales rep for a family business that sold construction and building supplies.  He had a medium build and was ruggedly handsome with short grey hair turning gray at the temples.  Jake appreciated a good joke, loved to tell stories and often made funny, random remarks.  We called him “Diamond Jake”, a suitable nickname since he liked to gamble at the casinos in Atlantic City a couple of times a year.  He played Caribbean-style poker against the dealer because it was the casino game with the best odds of winning.  Jake bore a physical resemblance to Jimmy Carter’s son, Jack, so we also called him “Jack.”  If this book were a movie, William H. Macy would be cast as Jake.

Six players sat around the table at my house in a small town on the Eastern Shore of Maryland  — a regular group of guys that got together once a month to play small stakes poker.  As we placed our bets, I studied the other players and thought about how I had met them. We rotated the game so everyone had a turn hosting it at their house.  The most anyone won or lost was $20, unless you had the hot hand or really sucked at poker like Biggy.

We gave Biggy a cheat sheet that showed the progression of the winning hands from lowest to highest:  a pair, two of a kind, two pair, three of a kind, etc.  He would stare at the sheet and ask, “Does a straight beat a flush?”  Biggy reacted to what was in front of him and didn’t think too far ahead. My wife called him the dumbest smart person she knew.  Before the game started, we asked Biggy if he wanted to pay his $20 in advance so he could play all night without having to think about placing any bets. It was said in jest, but on most occasions, he would have come out ahead.

Gary Shore sat to the left of Jake.  They became friends while pursuing an MBA degree together at a local university.  Gary was a successful financial planner and investment manager.  He took risks playing poker in the same calculated manner that he managed his clients’ portfolios. He rarely won or lost big, but usually came out ahead.

Gary was born and raised, went to college and lived his entire life in the state of Maryland. He became my first friend when I moved to the Eastern Shore after accepting a job as the director of a well-known non-profit organization.  We shared a passion for baseball and bonded immediately over our love of the Baltimore Orioles and Brooks, Robinson, Gary’s favorite player.

Gary had short hair and wore thin, wire-rim glasses that gave him a scholarly appearance.  Unlike most of the members of his profession, he was a Democrat and a keen student of history and political science. Physically, he was tall and broad in the shoulders and built like an offensive tackle, which was the position he played on his high school football team.  Gary had a dry sense of humor that bordered on being sarcastic if you didn’t know him.  He resembled a giant teddy bear, especially with his shirt off, so if this book was a movie, Will Ferrell would play Gary.

Gary introduced me to Bob Bigelow, a fellow Jaycee who sold insurance at a reputable firm. When I first came to town, Biggy invited me to lunch and we became friends. He was originally from Delaware and grew up as a Phillies’ fan, so we had that in common. Biggy’s nickname fit his appearance. He was tall and big-boned with broad shoulders and a wide chest. He had short brown hair and wore a thick brown mustache and wire-rim glasses.  He was obsessed with his body, enjoyed working out in the gym and was in excellent physical shape. Biggy often seemed tense like a tightly-wound spring that could snap at any minute.  If this book was a movie, the role of Biggy would be played by a young John Goodman.

Johnny Bender sat to the left of Biggy.  I first met Johnny when we played against his softball team in a Jaycee District tournament.  He stacked his team with “ringers,” amateur softball players who never saw a gavel drop at a Jaycee meeting, but we beat them anyway.  Before the game started, Johnny boasted that his team was going to kick our ass and he wasn’t even playing. During the game, he argued with the umpires and taunted our fans from the coach’s box like a professional wrestling manager. After Gary invited Johnny to join the poker game, I got to know him better.  He was a master plumber by trade,  short and stocky with a full beard and thin, wire-rim glasses.  Zach Galifianakis would be the perfect casting choice for Johnny, if this book was a movie.

My friend, Steve Stone, sat next to Johnny.  We called Steve, “Sonny Boy Slim” or “Sonny” for short because he was a decent amateur musician who played the acoustic guitar and blues harps in several different keys. He knew the chords to several songs by heart, but didn’t always remember the words.  Sonny’s namesake, Steve Stone, was a good starting pitcher for the Orioles in the 1980’s.  For my 40th birthday, Sonny gave me a book about the Baltimore Orioles with the inscription, “Life begins at 40, but you’re still in the fourth inning.”  Sonny was average height and weight, and he had an ageless quality about his appearance like an old blues man.  Tom Hanks would be Sonny, if this book was a movie.

I sat next to Jake and observed the action at the table as it unfolded.  “Last card, down and dirty, time for the final bet.”  Gary and Sonny folded and Johnny bet a quarter, “I’d pay a quarter to watch a monkey fuck a doughnut,” he said in his raspy voice.  With two Kings showing, Biggy called his bet.  I didn’t know what he had, but I wasn’t worried. I had two wild cards and an Ace in the hole with another wild card on the table for a hand of four Aces.  Jake interrupted my thoughts, “It’s a quarter to you, Mac.”

“I’ll raise it 50 cents.  Let’s see who’s here to play poker,” I challenged.  Jake had a boatload of hearts with the possibility of a straight flush that would beat my Aces, but he just called my bet.  “What are you so proud of Mac?” Johnny asked as he bumped the bet another 50 cents.  Biggy folded.  Jake and I knew that Johnny liked to bluff, so we called his bet.  “Read ’em and weep, four Jacks,” Johnny boasted as he turned over his cards. “Not so fast, I have four bullets,” I said and glanced at Jake.  “Straight flush in hearts, boys,” he said and I grimaced. It was a nice pot for Jake, but there’s nothing worse than having the second-best hand in a poker game.

We took a bathroom break and refreshed our drinks.  When everyone returned to the table, Jake told us he had accepted a temporary job assignment at his company’s Richmond, Virginia office.  “Why don’t you boys come down for a visit and we could go to a minor league baseball game? The Atlanta Braves have a Triple A team in Richmond.” he said. “Better yet, we could drive down to Richmond for the weekend and catch an Orioles game in Baltimore Sunday on the way home,” Gary chimed in.  “I’ll check the schedule when it comes out and get a date.”  And that’s how the baseball trips got started.

The Best of Them All

Situated in downtown Baltimore a few blocks from the Inner Harbor, Oriole Park at Camden Yards was the first “retro” classic major league ballpark and the trend-setting design for several modern ballparks that followed.  Although it has a seating capacity of 40,000, there is an intimacy about Oriole Park that makes it one of the best places to watch a game.  There is a statue of Babe Ruth at the ballpark.  The Babe’s roots were in Baltimore where he grew up and learned to play baseball.  Legend has it that his father’s saloon once stood where home plate is now located.

Camden Yards has been the site of some notable games since it was built in 1992, including Cal Ripken Jr.’s record-setting 2131st consecutive game on September 6, 1995, but it has yet to host an Orioles’ World Series game.  Over the years, we have seen several games at Oriole Park, which may have biased our opinion.  But we have seen them all, and Oriole Park at Camden Yards is at the top of the list.

At the Game

It was a hot, sticky July day with the temperature over 100 degrees in the sun.  We sat in the left-field bleachers in the section where Chris Hoiles’ home run landed in the fourth inning.  Fernando Valenzuela, the former L.A. Dodger, pitched a gem of a game for the Orioles,  allowing only two hits in eight innings in a 6-0 win over the White Sox.  Cal Ripken, Jr. got his 2000th career hit, and later, drove in a run with a double. Hoiles’ home run was his 18th of the season, tops among American League catchers.  Three future members of the Hall of Fame played in the game:  Ripken, Frank Thomas, “The Big Hurt,” and Tim “Rock” Raines for the White Sox.

 

 

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One for the Ages — Wrigley Field and New Comiskey Park, Chicago

“It’s a great day for a ballgame; let’s play two.” — Ernie Banks, “Mr. Cub”

The Windy City

We flew from Baltimore–Washington International Airport to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, took ground transportation downtown and checked into the Doubletree Hotel on Michigan Avenue in a section of the city known as the Magnificent Mile.  We watched planes from an airshow fly below our hotel room in the high-rise building.

Chicago has several nicknames: “The Windy City,” “The Second City,” and “Paris of the Prairie.” To those nicknames, Sonny added one of his own, “New York City with Manners.”  He and his family attended a blues festival in Chicago and they were impressed by the friendliness and hospitality of the residents.

Billy Goat Tavern

On the short list of things you must do in Chicago is to dine at the Billy Goat Tavern, made famous by the Saturday Night Live skit, “Cheezborger, cheezborger, cheezborger; no Pepsi, Coke.” The place has been a Chicago staple since 1934 and is a favorite hangout of professional athletes, entertainers and celebrities.

The original subterranean location was a short walk from the hotel. I was first in line to place my breakfast order at the counter.  “I’ll have a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich with a cup of coffee,” I told the clerk. “Bacon, egg and cheese,” he relayed my order to the short-order cook in a rapid fire voice.  “Make it two,” Gary ordered, and the clerk repeated the order. Sonny ordered a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich. “Bacon, egg and cheese,” the clerk piped in his machine gun voice.  “I’ll have a tuna sandwich on whole wheat bread with lettuce and tomato,” Jake said just to see what would happen.  “Bacon, egg and cheese, ” the clerk repeated, and we all laughed out loud.

“Wrigleyville”

We rode the “L”, an elevated subway train, with a contingent of Cubs fans to the North Side of Chicago for an afternoon game at Wrigley Field between the Houston Astros and the Cubs. One of the best things about going to a game at Wrigley is the neighborhood surrounding the ballpark known as “Wrigleyville.” The place crackles with positive energy and good vibes for baseball fans.  We went to the Cubby Bear and Murphy’s for pre-game refreshments that included another Chicago staple — the Italian roast beef sandwich.

At the Game

We sat six rows behind the Cubs dugout with a great view of the action on the field.  Our experience at the ballpark that day was magical. We have seen them all and the second oldest ballpark in the major leagues is truly one for the ages.  Built in 1914 (the same year as Fenway Park)  Wrigley Field is known for its ivy-covered brick walls. The Cubs’ Hall of Fame slugger, Ernie Banks, called the cozy dimensions of Wrigley Field, “The Friendly Confines.” Watching a game on a lazy summer afternoon takes you back to an earlier time. Although lights were installed in 1988, the Cubs still play a majority of their home games in the daylight.

The game quickly became a blow-out.  The Astros’ line-up of Killer B’s — Biggio, Bagwell, Berry and Bell — stung the Cubs by taking an early 4-1 lead.  In the sixth inning, a thunderstorm blew off Lake Michigan, causing a rain delay.  We huddled, wall-to-wall with other fans, dripping wet in the crowded concourse area below the field and waited for the rain to stop.  When the game resumed, the Astros scored a bunch of runs and coasted to a 12-3 victory.

On the Town

After the game, we had a free night on the town, so we caught a cab with several destinations in mind. The first stop was a round of drinks at Harry Caray’s restaurant and bar on West Kinzie Street.  The notorious Chicago gangster, Frank Nitti, once used the building as his hide-out.

The legendary Harry Caray entertained Chicago baseball fans with his colorful and distinctive style of baseball announcing for several years (he announced games for both the White Sox and the Cubs.)  It was said about Harry that he was an original — often imitated, but never duplicated.  Harry made “Holy cow!” his on-the-air trademark phrase. After a Chicago victory, Harry would shout, “Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!” Harry had a fondness for Budweiser beer and he liked to drink and socialize with the patrons at his club. Since his bar served cold beer, it was a logical place to start the evening.

The next stop was Michael Jordan’s restaurant on North LaSalle Street for dinner.  The Chicago sports legend’s sports bar was a popular night spot for many years until it closed in 1999, following Jordan’s second retirement. Jake and Gary ordered the burgers; they knew what they liked and stuck to it.  Sonny and I had baby back ribs, North Carolina style. The House of Blues was the last call of the evening for a night cap and a smoking set of live Chicago blues.  Chicago was definitely our kind of town.

The South Side

We rode the “L” Red Line to the South Side and arrived a couple hours before the start of the night game between the Orioles and White Sox at New Comiskey Park.  The ballpark is located off an expressway, which makes it accessible by car, but doesn’t provide many of viable entertainment options within walking distance. A dicey neighborhood surrounded the ballpark, so it didn’t seem prudent to wander too far without an armed escort.

We stumbled into a “speak easy” bar in a blue collar neighborhood across the street from the Democratic Party headquarters. It was the kind of place where patrons were once screened through a peep hole and needed a password to get in.  The South Side of Chicago was home to several prominent figures in American politics, including the current mayor, Richard M. Daley, his famous father, Richard, and President Barak Obama, a devoted White Sox fan.

Gary’s “Muff”

The Chicago White Sox were one of the original franchises in the American League and big league baseball has been played on the South Side of Chicago since 1900.  The New Comiskey Park opened in 1991 at its present location across the street from the old ballpark with the same name, after skin-flint White Sox owner, Charles Comiskey. We sat in the Upper Deck on the first-base side of the diamond in the first row on the railing. It was a steep vantage point, but we had a good view of the action.

With the Orioles trailing, 2-1, in the sixth inning, Albert Belle of the White Sox lofted a foul fly ball right at us. Gary stood up to catch it, suffered a momentary touch of vertigo and dropped the ball.  He watched helplessly as it cascaded to the Lower Deck.  The crowd reacted to Gary’s muff with a loud and lusty chorus of boos that reverberated around the stadium.  Gary felt bad about dropping the ball, and even worse, that no one in our section could retrieve it.

If you watch enough baseball, you can sense when a moment happens that will shift momentum and alter the outcome of the game. Gary’s muff started a chain of bad mojo for the Orioles.  In the next inning, Hall-of-Fame member, Frank Thomas, and Belle hit home runs and the White Sox won, 6-4.  Coincidentally, the game was a turning point in the Orioles season. With 31 games remaining, the O’s fell apart and finished the season with a losing record, 35 games behind the eventual World Series Champion New York Yankees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Negro Baseball League Museum

This is an excerpt from my new book, Hitting Them All — A Journey of Friends and Baseball.

At the corner of historic 18th St. and Vine in Kansas City next to the American Jazz Museum is a baseball museum dedicated to preserving the history of Negro League professional baseball in America.  The museum was a fascinating tour and the price of admission included entrance to the American Jazz Museum next door. At one time, 18th and Vine was a hotbed for great Jazz performers, including Count Basie and his orchestra, Charlie Parker, Lester Young and Big Joe Turner.

Moses Fleetwood Walker was the first black professional baseball player in the United States in 1872 before black players were banned from the sport. Professional baseball was an all-white sport from 1900 until after World War II. Ken Burns, the noted filmmaker, in his excellent documentary film about baseball referred to the United States during this period as a “Shadow Society.”

Black ballplayers formed teams and “barnstormed” around the country playing exhibition games against white competition.  In 1920, Rube Foster founded the National Negro Baseball League so black players had an organized professional league in which to compete against one another.  On a tour of the museum, we learned about the great Negro League teams — the Homestead Grays, Kansas City Monarchs, Pittsburgh Crawfords and New York Black Yankees  — and the colorful players who played for them: “Turkey,” “Double Duty,” “Wild Bill,” “El Diablo,” “Bullet Joe,” and “Mule.”

The centerpiece of the museum is a ball field with life-sized bronze statues that appear to be playing a game.  We were the only patrons at the museum that day, so at the end of the tour, we walked around and studied the “Field of Legends.”  The Negro League stars on the field represented the best players of their era: Leroy “Satchel” Paige, pitcher, the brightest star of the Negro League. Josh Gibson, catcher, the “Black Babe Ruth” allegedly hit 80 home runs one season. Buck Leonard, first-base, “Sneaking a fastball by Buck was like sneaking sunrise by a rooster.” Pop Lloyd, second-base, known as the “Black Honus Wagner.” Ray Dandridge, third-base, he was called “Hooks” because he snagged baseballs like they had hooks in them. Judy Johnson, shortstop, a versatile infielder from Snow Hill, Md. Oscar Charleston, center-field, who Buck O’Neil said was “Willie Mays before Willie Mays.” Cool Papa Bell, left-field, “He was so fast he could turn out the light, get dressed and be under the covers before the room got dark.” Leon Day, right-field, also a great pitcher; played in Baltimore. Martin Dihijo, batter, the only player inducted into the baseball Hall of Fame in three countries. Buck O’Neil, manager, standing on the front steps of the dugout, he was a beloved good will ambassador for the game of baseball. Rube Foster, the founding father of the Negro League, was the last man honored with a statue.

Baseball’s proudest moment,and a watershed moment in American History happened in 1947 when Branch Rickey, the general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers, hand-picked Jackie Robinson to break the color barrier in Major League Baseball. When the Dodgers recruited Jackie from the Kansas City Monarchs, he brought the exciting brand of Negro League baseball, built around speed and aggressive base running, to the major leagues. Jackie’s signing hastened the decline of the Negro League since all of the best black ballplayers were recruited to play on major league teams.  By 1955, the Negro League was gone.  Hank Aaron was the last big league ballplayer to play in the Negro League.

No less of an authority than Martin Luther King, Jr. said Jackie Robinson was the founder of the Civil Rights movement.  The words written on Jackie Robinson’s tombstone speak volumes about the man and his legacy: ” A life has meaning only in its impact on other lives.”

Arthur Bryant’s World Famous BBQ Restaurant was a short walk from the museums, so we went there for lunch. We got cafeteria trays, waited in line and placed our orders at the counter.  The server put on a show.  “You are about to have some real barbecue, Bam! he exclaimed as shoveled large portions of tasty barbecued beef and pulled pork on our plates.  We shared a pitcher of beer to wash it down.

When we left the restaurant, storm clouds had gathered, the sky looked ominous and a tornado watch was in effect.  “Boys, I would like to say we’re not in Kansas anymore, but we are,” I joked nervously.  We drove through heavy traffic on Interstate 70 to Kauffman Stadium in the Harry S. Truman Sports Complex located in suburban Kansas City for the Friday night game between the Baltimore Orioles and Kansas City Royals.

How I Became an Orioles Fan

This is an excerpt from my new book, Hitting Them All — A Story of Friends and Baseball.

Through his baseball connections, my father, Jim, an ex-minor league player, was hired as a “bird dog” scout by the Baltimore Orioles organization in the early 1960’s.  Going through Dad’s possessions after he died I found his original scouting engagement letter from the Orioles.  As a youngster, I accompanied him on several scouting trips to high school and summer league games to watch prospects he was assigned.

One of the perks to growing up in a baseball family was my father had access to major league equipment, including gloves worn by major league players.  At age 7, my first baseball glove was a well-worn, dark brown fielders mitt, owned by Bobby Richardson, the New York Yankees second-baseman.  It was my most prized possession.

In the early 1960’s, I became a Yankees fan for a few years.  The Yankees played in the American League, and unlike the Phillies, they routinely won championships with marquee players like Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford and Roger Maris.  I can still remember their starting line-up in 1960.

That year, my Dad’s friend, Bobby Shantz, was a relief pitcher on the Yankee team that won the American League pennant and played in the World Series against the Pittsburgh Pirates.  The first baseball game I remember watching on a black and white TV set was the seventh game of the 1960 World Series when Pittsburgh’s captain, Bill Mazeroski, launched a dramatic walk-off home run over the left-field fence at Forbes Field in the ninth inning to win the World Series for the Pirates.

In December 1965, a memorable blizzard hammered southeastern Pennsylvania.  It started to snow on Christmas eve and the township called Dad into to work to operate a snowplow.  The winter storm lasted two days and nights and we had to wait until Dad came home to open our Christmas presents.

It was snowing too hard to go outside and play reindeer games and my younger brother, Andrew, and I were bored.  We passed the time playing an electric football game  The game had a vibrating board that made a humming sound while tiny plastic players buzzed around the board helter-skelter like beads of cooking oil on a hot skillet. We put on the new pajamas that Mom gave us for Christmas, pushed the beds together and played tackle football.  I wore blue “Pj’s” so I was the San Diego Chargers and Andrew wore red so he was the Houston Oilers, two of the iconic teams in the old American Football League.  We had fun until I tackled Andrew too hard, he got a bloody nose and Mom had to interrupt her baking to stop the game.

My sister, Mary, completed our family.  She and Andrew were close to the same age and grew up together.  He teased her mercilessly.  We were all together that Christmas.  It finally stopped snowing, my exhausted father came home and we opened the presents. Gift-wrapped and waiting under the tree for me was a catcher’s mitt worn by Andy Etchebarren, a back-up catcher with the Baltimore Orioles.   The glove was a rich, brown-gold color with a smooth, well-worn pocket and it was love at first site.  It would have made a good Christmas baseball movie.

I became an Orioles fan for life during the 1966 baseball season when Frank Robinson won the Triple Crown, and along with Brooks Robinson, led the Orioles to a World Series sweep over Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and the Los Angeles Dodgers.

 

 

 

 

 

Tim Tebow Comes to Town — Keeping Score in the Florida State League

For the past two years, I have worked as an independent contractor, keeping score of minor league baseball games in the Florida State League for Baseball Info Solutions, a private business that collects a variety of data for Major League Baseball franchises. There has been a proliferation of the use of metrics in professional baseball and BIS is on the cutting edge.  You can visit their web site at http://www.baseballinfosolutions.com for more information.

The Florida State League is a Class A-Advanced minor league, which puts it a notch below Class AA on the professional baseball pyramid. The season starts in April and ends on Labor Day.  I usually attend games at Roger Dean Stadium in Jupiter, Fl., the Spring Training home of the St. Louis Cardinals and Florida Marlins.  The Palm Beach Cardinals and Jupiter Hammerheads (Marlins) are in the league, along with the St. Lucie Mets, a few exits north of Jupiter on Interstate 95, the Tampa Yankees, Clearwater Phillies, Fort Myers Twins, Daytona Beach Tortugas (Reds) and Florida Fire Frogs (Braves) to name a few of the teams.

The Florida State League is known as a “Pitcher’s League”, which means we get to see some of the best pitching prospects advancing through the minor leagues. It’s a highly competitive league with a fast pace of play, aided by the use of a pitch clock (15 seconds are allowed for each pitch.)  Batting averages are low, few players hit .300, home runs are a premium and speed and defense are utilized effectively.  The average game time of two-and-a-half hours is well below the major league norm.  Occasionally,  we get to see major league players on injury rehabilitation assignments before they re-join their teams.

The score keeping job is a paid gig, but the best perk is free admission to the games.  The score keepers are a diverse group that share a common passion for baseball. Two score keepers are assigned to each game, so we sit together to compare notes.  We are tasked with collecting a variety of data for each plate appearance.  We track the pitch sequence (balls, strikes swinging, strikes taken, foul balls), the velocity of each ball in play (hard, medium or soft), the location of each ball in play (medium ground ball to the shortstop) and the outcome of each play (ground-out, shortstop to first-baseman.) We collect the data manually at the game and upload with a custom software program to BIS headquarters after the game. We are graded on the accuracy of each report.

The crowd attendance at most games is less than 500 people, fewer than 200 at some, but in late June when the New York Mets promoted Tim Tebow, the Heisman Trophy winning quarterback from the University of Florida to Port St. Lucie, a dramatic spike in attendance occurred around the Florida State League.  In the second half of the season, games featuring Tebow and the St. Lucie Mets drew record crowds of 2,000 or more at every ballpark.  Much of the attendance bump was fueled by Florida Gators’ fans who wanted to watch their grid-iron hero in action in his first season of professional baseball.

Tebow is a marketing dream:  famous, handsome, athletic, hard-working, articulate and media-savvy.  In the Florida State League, he was a phenomenon.  He signed autographs, conversed with the fans, gave interviews to the press and made it look easy. When a player comes to the plate in the Florida State League, at best, he is greeted with a smattering of polite applause from a sparse crowd, but when Tebow’s name was announced, the large crowd shouted out his name and gave a loud roar. Among the things that happened during the season was a story-book incident involving Tebow and a an autistic child that actually resulted in Tebow hitting a home run for the child.

Tebow demonstrated that he was a better ballplayer than some two-sport wannabes like Michael Jordan, even though he hadn’t played baseball since high school.  He was a respectable outfielder and served as an occasional designated hitter.  He got off to a torrid start, and one time was batting over .300 with a long streak of reaching base safely in consecutive games.  But, eventually his numbers came back to earth and he ended the half season with a pedestrian .225 batting average, five home runs and a combined on-base and slugging percentage around .650.  The Mets honored Tebow with his own bobble head doll as a give-away item for the fans at the last home game of the season.

I enjoyed watching Tebow play, but in general, I have become a fan of minor league baseball.  It is a pure experience watching young men compete at this level to see how far they can advance up the food chain of professional baseball and fulfill their dreams of reaching the major leagues.  Most of the players in the Florida State League do not have large contracts and are not over-paid.

We get to see some good prospects every summer.  The best prospect I saw this season was Vlad Guerrero, Jr., son of Vlad, with the Dunedin Blue Jays.  He’s a five-tool player that swings the bat like his daddy with a rifle arm at third base.  I like the fast-paced action and silly promotions that entertain fans between innings. It is cheap, old-fashioned family entertainment for young and old, where you can still buy a dog and a beer for less than $10, and it was the perfect place for Tim Tebow.

 

“We’re back! Rain Delays, Slugfests and Steaks at Ted’s, Sun Trust Park, Atlanta 2017

We returned to Atlanta to see a Braves game this past summer in the inaugural season of Sun Trust Park, keeping alive a quest among four friends to visit every major league ballpark.  If they built it, we would come.

Day One, June 21

Our group flew into Hartsfield-Jackson Airport and took a shuttle bus across town to the Hampton Inn where we were staying by the Cumberland Mall in Cobb County, a ten-minute ride to the ballpark.  We arrived at the ballpark just as the outer bands of Tropical Storm Cindy were passing through the Atlanta Metropolitan area.  The gates didn’t open until 6 p.m. for the 7:30 game, so we walked around the huge entertainment complex surrounding the stadium know as “The Battery.” On the walkway around the ballpark, were life-size bronze statues of the Braves’ Hall of Fame pitchers, Warren Spahn and Phil Niekro.

Several restaurants and brew pubs were open. There are plans to build more, but it was still a work in progress.  We ordered drinks at the bar named The Battery and the service was slow as the bartenders were also filling drink orders from customers in the crowded restaurant.

When the gates opened, we checked out the concession stands in the main concourse area. The food choices were standard ballpark fare, but plenty of stands were open and the lines were short.

Monument Garden

The Braves Monument Garden in the main concourse behind home plate is an impressive display of baseball history and memorabilia for a franchise that was founded in 1871 as the Boston Red Stockings. The Braves are one of the charter members of the National League along with the Chicago Cubs.  The replica baseball uniform jerseys displayed in glass cases chronicled the moves of the franchise from the turn of the 20th century.  After several name changes, including the Bees, the team became the Braves and moved to Milwaukee in 1953, and then to Atlanta in the 1960’s.  A life-sized bronze statue of Hank Aaron, smacking his record-breaking 715th home run in Atlanta in 1974, is prominently featured in the exhibit.

Sun Trust Park

My friend, Marty, got complimentary tickets to the game between the Braves and the San Francisco Giants from the son of a former business associate who was employed by the Braves.  We rode the elevator up two levels to the seats with a face value of $7 in “peanut heaven,” section 312.  Everyone had a touch of vertigo descending the steep steps to our seats.

The new home of the Braves was built exclusively for baseball with good site lines for watching the game.  The outfield is dominated by two large, state-of-the-art high definition scoreboards.  An attractive wall of Georgian brick extends the height of the right-field wall by several feet, but it is still an inviting target for batters with a short porch, 325 feet down the line and 375 to the right-field power alley.  The stadium has an asymmetrical design, so it is 335 feet down the left-field line and 385 to the power alley. It is 400 feet to dead center-field, making it a home run-friendly ballpark.  But, it was hard to appreciate the subtleties of the ballpark with a bird’s eye view from seventh heaven.

At the Game

The outer bands of the tropical storm unleashed a ferocious downpour around 7 p.m., delaying the start of the game for an hour and a half.  The storm increased in intensity and the rain fell in sheets.  The temperature dropped as gusty winds swept the stadium and fans ran for cover.  We had weathered rain delays before, but this was ridiculous.

Eventually, it stopped raining, the grounds crew dried the field and the game got started. The Braves and Giants were struggling teams with sub-par records at the mid-point of the season.  The most popular uniform jerseys worn by the Braves’ fans were Chipper Jones’ retired No. 10, and Dansby Swanson, the team’s young shortstop, No. 7.

Undaunted by the rain delay, Braves’ outfielder and ex-Baltimore Oriole, Nick Markakis, belted his third home run of the season over the short right-field porch, and a couple innings later, “Big City” Matt Adams, the Braves’ tattooed first-baseman, tattooed a tater, that put the Braves ahead.  The Braves won the game, 4-3, on Matt Kemp’s walk-off home run in the bottom of the 11th inning.

We caught an Uber ride back to the hotel and it was four bucks cheaper than a cab.  My friend, Jay, was chatting with the driver and asked him.  “Did you hear that the CEO of Uber resigned today?” The driver hadn’t heard, so apparently the corporate culture at Uber was above his pay grade.  He was driving an old car and told us it was a slow night, so we gave him a good tip.  We drank a night cap of Scotch whiskey and drifted off to sleep after midnight.

Day Two, June 22

The day started with a complimentary hot and cold buffet breakfast at the hotel.  It was raining again, so we hung out in the room, drank screwdrivers, played poker and watched Heidi Watney, the honey-haired, Cali girl hostess of the MLB Network show, “Quick Pitch”, do her usual classy rendition of the baseball highlights of the previous night’s games.

We went to Ted’s Montana Grill at the Cumberland Mall for lunch.  “Fellas, in our younger days we went to strip clubs and now we go to the mall,” my friend, Jack, joked.  But no one joked about the steaks we ordered for lunch.  It was a fine meal with excellent service.  Our glory days may have passed us by, but we were still living with  gusto.

On the walk back to the hotel, my friend, Marty, mentioned that he likes to listen to Bruce Springsteen’s music while he uses the treadmill at the “Y.”  We talked about the set that Bruce and the E Street Bank performed at the Super Bowl several years ago.  It was an intense four-song set that lasted about 10 minutes:  “10th Avenue Freeze Out”, “Born to Run”, “Badlands” and “Glory Days”, changing the lyrics from baseball to football.  I recently read Bruce’s autobiography, Born to Run, and recommend it to rock fans that would like to read an honest account of a life well-lived from a true legend.

At the Game

It was raining that evening when we arrived at the ballpark, so we ducked into the Terrapin Taproom, a brew pub on The Battery, for a round of drinks and to sample the Fox Brothers’ BBQ we had heard about. The pub was packed and there was a long wait for a dinner table, so we paid the bar tab and left.

Marty scored complimentary tickets to the game from an Atlanta law firm. The field level seats in section 120 between the Braves’ dugout and the home plate were superb.  It was deja vu all over again when the start of the game was delayed by rain until 9 p.m. When the game started, it quickly evolved into a slug fest with both teams pounding hits and scoring runs in bunches. The Giants’ perennial All-Star catcher and Georgian native, Buster Posey, hit a solo home run and two doubles, staking his team to an early lead.  But the Bravos bounced back with a seven-run fifth inning, highlighted by Nick Markakis’ fourth hit of the night, and home runs by Matt Adams and Lane Adams (no relation). Lane’s moonshot, pinch-hit home run landed in the upper deck of the Hank Aaron Terrace in left-field.  The devotion of the Braves’ fans to the “tomahawk chop” chant never wavered throughout the game.

In the fifth inning, Matt Kemp lofted a foul fly ball toward our seats.  It bounced off the concrete steps and rattled around our section.  There was a brief scramble for the ball and it landed at Jack’s feet.  He reached down and scooped it up for a souvenir.  At every Braves’ home game, a lucky fan gets a chance to compete in a race from foul pole to foul pole across the outfield warning track against a costumed Super Hero named “The Freeze.”  The Freeze gives the fan a huge head start in the race, then proceeds to run him down and pass him at the finish line much to the delight of the roaring crowd. The event has upstaged Milwaukee’s Great Sausage Race on the baseball highlight shows.  When the final out was recorded the Braves had a 13-12 win.

The consensus of our group was that Sun Trust Park is a nice ballpark and the Braves are doing a good job of entertaining their fans.  The location in the suburbs is somewhat remote, but the entertainment complex surrounding the stadium has potential. Despite the lousy weather and rain delays, everyone had a good time.  We have been to 38 ballparks, including all 30 of the current major league parks, and Sun Trust Park kept our streak alive to “hit them all.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First Post

Welcome to my blog site!  I will be posting chapters and excerpts from my soon to be published book, Hitting Them All, about the quest of four friends to visit every major league ballpark.  It took 20 years, but my friends and I did it in 2011 and lived to tell about it.  If you like baseball, you will enjoy my book.  Your comments and feedback are always appreciated.

I will also be posting new stories about our continuing journey.  We operate on the principle, and abide by the philosophy, that “If you build it, we will come.”  Our most recent trip this past summer was to Sun Trust Park, the new home of the Atlanta Braves in the Cobb County suburbs. In my next blog, I will be posting a review of the new ballpark with some highlights from the trip.