The Inevitable

There's a certain inevitability that we all face. We see it coming, more and more with each passing year, although we try to deny it, or at least to postpone it. We rationalize that it's only partly true, but then witness partly turn to mostly, until one day we give in to the realization.

This is a little off topic from what I usually write about here, but it's only taken me two-plus weeks of living in my new home to realize the inevitable. That is, I am my father. Actually, it's only true that I'm much more like my father than I even realized. There are still a few distinct differences, but I expect these will be erased over time.

What makes me say that I am my father? First of all, let me admit that I began noticing these tendencies many years ago, but several new factors have really driven this point home. I'll get to those in a moment. First let me share a few of the responses I got, from those who know my father best, when I made the following declaration on Facebook:

Only two weeks into living in and owning my first house, and already it's obvious how much I am my father.

• "You fell asleep in the comfy chair watching TV and snored so loudly the next-door neighbors could hear it?"
• "Oh how scary!! Are you fixing everything with duct tape? Just wait 'til it's time to put up the Christmas lights."
• "Have you mastered the deep throat grumble grandpa always does?"

But, of course, none of these are what I was talking about, although the first two have the most potential to come true. No, actually, the behaviors that have convinced me of how I've become my father are as follows:

• Religiously checking that the thermostat has been lowered to the proper temperature, and the bolts on the doors have been locked, before going to bed.
  (Actually, I don't have to turn down the main thermostat before going to bed, because it's programmable, but programming it was one of the first things I did after moving in.)
  
• I explained to KJ how a leaf could cause the garage door sensor to activate, resulting in the door reversing direction.
• I offered to back the car out of the garage because only I could possibly understand the precision with which I parked the car in the first place. 

While we're on the latter subject, in my childhood home, I was the only driver (out of four, including dad) who never hit the basketball pole due to cutting the steering wheel too quickly while backing out. Of course, I was the youngest and was off to college only a year or so after getting my license, but this is still a point of pride for me.

While I haven't completely become my dad just yet, these are among the future behaviors of mine that KJ has to look forward to:

• Walking around the house turning off the lights in rooms that are not in use, asking the question, "Are you done in here?" in the process.
• Preaching against leaving the water running while lathering up the soap on one's hands.
• Rolling up towels against door crevices that could be letting just the slightest bit of cold air in.
• While reading the newspaper and magazines, underlining certain parts for emphasis and writing notes to no one in particular in the margins.

I just have to say that it's a good thing KJ finds my dad adorable. We'll see how she feels when she's living full-time with an exact replica of him.

Sunset Rubdown @ The Middle East

I honestly don't recall when the last time was that I attended a show at Cambridge's premier rock club, The Middle East, especially on a weeknight. The problem is that the headliner always takes the stage so ridiculously late, and I just don't recover as well the following morning as I used to. The only thing different about last night's Sunset Rubdown performance—their set started at 11:30—was that I didn't have to go to work today, as I'm working my "flex time" summer schedule of four longer days with Fridays off.

Musically, the show was worth the lethargy that I'm feeling today, although admittedly the consumption of four Harpoon IPAs probably had as much to do with that as the fact that the show didn't end until 1am. Surprisingly, for a band whose two most recent albums were among my favorites in their respective years, I recognized a very small percentage of the songs they played. Their soon-to-be-released record, Dragonslayer, was the major emphasis of last night's set, and the new material did not disappoint. Front-man Spencer Krug's manically off-kilter vocals, and his complex but accessible songs that are equal parts arty indie pop and classic rock, translate well to the live setting. Despite the quality of the newer songs, a personal highlight for me was a rousing version of “The Taming of the Hands That Came Back to Life”, from 2007's Random Spirit Lover.

Once again, my not-so-newfound philosophy of picking and choosing my moments when it comes to the club shows was reinforced. This time, I think I chose wisely.

Goal Post 23, Cool Cat 2

I'm going to take a stab at doing a write-up for each of my softball team's games this year, similar to what Lee does for each Yankees game he attends. Speaking of which, I turned down tickets to last night's Yanks-Sox game at Fenway to play our first game of the season. My team needed me after all, as we had exactly ten players available. Actually, I'm pretty certain we could have won short-handed, as it turned out to be a rather easy victory over one of the weaker teams in the league, Cool Cat Sportswear.

We scored four or more runs in every inning except the third, and were awarded a mercy-rule victory after just five innings. I batted leadoff and went 5-for-6, although I was the beneficiary of a very generous scoring decision for one of the hits. My recent trend of opening the season by reaching base in my first ten or more plate appearances—something I've done the past two years—ended when I grounded into a fielder's choice for our final out of the game. My personal highlight, though, was turning the pivot on a 6-4-3 double play, on which our shortstop and first baseman told me later they thought we had no chance and assumed I would just take the force out and hold the ball.

Two of our three new players were in attendance last night, and it looks like they will be significant additions to a team that went 15-13 last year, but was swept in a best-of-five semi-final series by the eventual league champions. I believe the new guys make us a little younger, but that's not saying much for a team whose average age would be right around 40 if not for last year's addition of the 21-year old son of one of our teammates.

Of course, since it was Friday night, and our sponsor is a bar, the evening ended at the Goal Post Tavern, which meant I had to watch Jason Bay's coming-out party with its South Shore brethren. I suppose it could have been worse...I could have been at Fenway. Is it just me, or is David Ortiz now no better than the fourth-most feared hitter in that lineup? That statement's not meant as much as an endorsement of the Red Sox offense—although it is pretty impressive—as it is an indictment of Big Papi's rapidly eroding skills...not that you heard that hear first.

The night also ended with a few bets among teammates about the upcoming season, mostly involving the aforementioned double-play trio...hardly Tinker to Evers to Chance, I must add. I'll get to those wagers later, though, as it's going to be a long season...or at least that's what my body is telling me. It's time to go take a couple Advil.

30 by 50

When I completed my ballpark trip to Cleveland, Detroit, St. Louis and Cincinnati in the summer of 2004, I set a goal of increasing my number of current ballparks visited by at least one per year until I had been to them all. At that point, the total stood at 16, meaning that the goal would be to complete the entire circuit by the end of the 2018 season. Of course, what slightly complicated this were the subsequent closings of three of those stadiums in the time since. So, although I've visited five new parks in the past four years, the total has grown to only 18.

This past week, not fully considering the fact that I was creating a more difficult standard, I decided that the goal should be to make it to all 30 current major league parks by the time I turn 50. Since I'm turning 42 in less than a month, this only gives me a little more than eight years to accomplish it. Of course, that would be during the 2017 season, more than one year prior to the original goal. Since I'm not really comfortable placing too much emphasis on the concept of turning 50, I'm going to amend that a little by saying that the goal is to hit them all by the end of the 2017 season. That is, the season during which I’ll turn 50.

This means that I have to visit 12 parks, plus keep up with any new stadium openings, in the next nine seasons. Here are the current major league parks that I have yet to witness games at (listed roughly in order of difficulty, easiest to hardest):

New Yankee Stadium (New York Yankees)
Citi Field (New York Mets)
Citizens Bank Park (Philadelphia Phillies)
Nationals Park (Washington Nationals)
Turner Field (Atlanta Braves)
Tropicana Field (Tampa Bay Rays)
Dolphin Stadium (Florida Marlins)
PETCO Park (San Diego Padres)
Dodger Stadium (Los Angeles Dodgers)
Angels Stadium of Anaheim (Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim)
Coors Field (Colorado Rockies)
Minute Maid Park (Houston Astros)

This sounds difficult, but I already have tentative plans to meet up with a few old college pals at Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia this summer, and it’s likely that I will hit both new stadiums in New York this year as well. That would raise the total to 21, leaving nine remaining. However, Minnesota already has plans to move into their new ballpark next season, so that means there will be at least 10 to spread over eight years.

To my knowledge, none of the remaining teams still residing in older stadiums have plans to build new ones: the Red Sox and Cubs seem committed to their historic parks, and the Athletics and Royals have both spent considerable money on renovations. Of those on my yet-to-visit list, Tampa Bay, Florida and both Los Angeles venues are the only older parks, with Chavez Ravine being the only one that I'd make an effort to visit if I learned the Dodgers were planning to build a new home.

Another reason this is not an impossible task is the proximity of some of the parks to each other. All it will take are two well-planned long weekends to Florida and Southern California to check off five more. That's the reason I list Colorado and Houston as the most difficult, with the latter being a less attractive travel destination. So, it's going to be difficult, but I'm certainly going to enjoy trying.

Point of Know Return

The trip reaches its western-most point today, and tomorrow heads back east, although, in terms of miles, it is well past half over. In fact, after two quick games (tonight in Kansas City, Saturday in St. Louis), I'll be on a flight and back in Boston by Sunday night. As always, there are mixed emotions about this. The good thing about getting older is that, after being away from home for more than a week, I tend to want to get back. This, of course, softens the blow of the end of vacation, but doesn't completely negate those end-of-vacation blues.


Forget what I previously said about my seat at Miller Park being the best I've ever had. Tonight at Kaufmann Stadium, I sat in the 5th row, directly behind home plate...literally. My 9th row seat at Miller Park was actually just to the right of center. The ticket price for tonight's game: $37. I think you can still get a standing room only ticket, or a bleacher or outfield grandstand seat, for a little less than that at Fenway.

I also take back my somewhat critical comments of a couple aspects of the Metrodome. Kaufmann Stadium also has trough-style men's bathrooms, but, unfortunately, no mango hand soap. More importantly, though, there was some type of promotional game or gimmick between every half inning: trivia, a "Name that Royal" baby photo contest, text message contest, hot dog race, etc. The only difference between this and a minor league game is that the Royals actually did a pretty good job of not holding up the game in the process.

There was a Casey Fossum sighting at the ballpark tonight. During pre-game warmups, I spotted a skinny goateed player with very distinctive facial features, wearing the uniform number 49 for the Detroit Tigers. I was pretty certain it was Fossum, one of two major league players named Casey whom other people have called my look-alikes. I verified later that it was, in fact, Fossum, whom I've lost track of over the past couple of years. My other look-alike, Casey Blake, is a slightly higher profile player, who is a little easier to keep tabs on. He recently was traded from the Cleveland Indians to the Los Angeles Dodgers.

I designated this a no alcohol night, but I did drink a few of Kansas City's own Boulevard Pale Ales yesterday. This nicely hopped brew, which I'm considering the second best beer of the trip so far, was also available at the stadium, in addition to the standard Anheuser Busch products.


Detroit won the game 4-3, and it was a pretty exciting finish, that I have to admit I missed. I left early, with Kansas City trailing 4-1 in the top of the 9th. In my defense, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, but the leaving early to beat the traffic thing is also a product of getting older. Fortunately, the Royals comeback bought me some time as I searched the parking lot for my car. Losing my car seems to be a theme of the trip, and completely out of character for me, as I also couldn't remember where I parked in Madison the other day.

As I walked through aisles and aisles of cars that weren't mine, I was taunted by the cheers I heard from inside the stadium. But, at that point, I knew there was no turning back. Eventually, I looked at the photo I had taken of the outside of the stadium on my digital camera when I arrived, to realize that I was looking in the wrong location of the parking lot entirely.

Overall, Kaufmann has a lot in common with the Metrodome, as would be expected, considering they're both older stadiums. The concession areas weren't very congested, but, of course, the attendance was an especially woeful (for a Friday night) 18,361. The food selection was, not surprisingly, pretty limited as well. The major edge Kaufmann earns over the Metrodome, however, is that it is much more aesthetically pleasing, making it possible for it to survive as a modern venue with the renovations that are to be unveiled next year.

Baseball Lesson of the Day: Tonight's game ended with David DeJesus being thrown out at home plate, by Brandon Inge to Fernando Rodney covering, trying to score the tying run on a pitch that Rodney threw to the backstop. I spent considerable time looking at all the online box scores trying to figure out if this was ruled a wild pitch or a passed ball, when I realized it was neither. Since DeJesus failed to advance, and the game ended on the play, so the other runners are considered as not advancing as well, it is neither a wild pitch nor a passed ball.

41 Going on 14

Following my softball game this past Friday night, I commented to a teammate that I think I've just finally realized that I'm in my 40's. Despite the fact that I'm still in pretty good shape, and still run pretty well, I'm not holding up as well as I used to. Yet, I still play as hard as ever, and always seem to be the guy with the dirtiest uniform.

But, sometimes this is unnecessary. Take Friday night's game, for example. On one play, about midway through the game, I'm running from first on a groundball hit in the hole between short and third. I don't even remember who came up with the ball, but he didn't field it cleanly. By busting my ass and sliding hard into second, I was able to beat the throw, and knock the ball loose in the process. Well worth the effort, of course.

Then, later in the game, I do the same thing, in a similar situation. This time, however, the ball is fielded cleanly by the shortstop, and, while I make the play closer than most would have, I'm still out by five feet. After realizing that I had jammed my left hand into the ground in the process, and can barely grip the bat and squeeze my glove afterwards, I decide this one was not worth it.

So, at my game last night, my hand is feeling better, but I still can't grip the bat really well, and it occasionally hurts to catch the ball. So, what do I do? Late in the game, in trying to avoid being forced at second again, I slide into the bag, and wouldn't you know it? The same hand hits the ground, slightly aggravating the injury.

After the game, it takes me ten minutes to remove my cleats, put my sneakers back on, and tie the laces. Then, I limp to the car, my bad ankle suddenly feeling tender again, while each knee takes a turn feeling like it's going to give out. In the process, I'm reminded that, despite being a fairly svelte 5'10" and 160 lbs, and the fact that I still play like a kid, I am definitely getting old.

The Fab 40: Chronicling my lifelong obsession with music

It's less than two months from my 40th birthday. Like a lot of people who've reached this age, I'm not too psyched about the idea of reaching this particular milestone. Don't get me wrong...I'm not freaking out. In fact, I think I've actually come to terms with this. It's just that, I'd rather be turning 30. Regardless, I've decided that, instead of dreading the occasion, I'm going to celebrate it. To that end, I've been thinking recently about what artists have meant the most to me during my lifetime of listening to music...and, to honor my upcoming birthday, I'm going to narrow the list down to 40.

I'm calling this list the Fab 40, and, of course, The Beatles made the cut. I'll give that one away right off the bat. First, let's get a couple things straight. This is not a list of the best bands of my lifetime, nor are these my current favorites. There's no critical element to this, so unless you were there with me, there's no second guessing allowed. This is purely opinion, and the only opinion that matters is my own. No matter how bad my taste was when I was a kid, this is the list. In a way, this will represent my 40 favorite bands and artists during the course of my days on this earth. But, the most important thing to remember is that 8-year old Dan gets the same vote as 39-year old Dan.

Oh, and the list is going to be chronological, so you'll be hearing from 8-year old Dan (more commonly known back then as Danny) first.

Before I begin with the list, let me make one clarification. It may be a little misleading to say that 8-year old Dan has an equal vote to 39-year old Dan. This might seem to imply that my selections are equally spread across the range of my years, which is not exactly true. For the first half of my time as a music listener (1975-1991), I've selected 15 artists, with 25 artists comprising the second half. I still contend that this distribution makes sense, as I listen to a hell of a lot more music now than I did back then. In fact, I probably listened to nothing but the first band on the list for at least a year after I was introduced to them. In 2006 alone, I listened to 400 new releases. Despite this, there is also a bias against music that I've discovered in the past few years, simply because it hasn't had the time to develop a certain sense of nostalgia. The end result is that the period of 1994-1997 may seem a bit over-represented, as this was the time that I was turned on to many of the bands that would shape my taste for years to come. Alright, now on to the list...