Josh Beckett's Newest Fan

For as long as I can remember, every time I've been to a ballgame, the first thing I root for is a no-hitter. This, of course, means I'm rooting for both pitchers until they yield their first hits, but is only 100% true when I don't have a horse in the race. When my team's involved, I'd have a tough time rooting for them to get no-hit, but honestly that's never been an issue.

I can't really pinpoint when this personal tradition began, but my best guess is it started after I witnessed my first no-hitter in 1983. But, I do remember promoting this personal strategy of rooting for pitchers rather than teams to friends with whom I've attended games. 

As I alluded to in the first paragraph, I've been lucky that all the no-hitter flirtations in games involving the Yankees have been by Yankees pitchers: from Dave Righetti's no-no in 1983 to Mike Mussina's near perfect gem in 2001 to Chien-Ming Wang's 7 1/3 perfect innings in 2007. So, it pretty much goes without saying I'd be rooting for those pitchers to not allow hits or other base-runners. 

On Sunday, my neutral-game philosophy came to fruition for the first time. On the tail end of a Pennsylvania mini-vacation that included two days at Sesame Place with Little Chuck, KJ and I decided we'd visit Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia for the first time. It was also LC's first major league game and my first new park—31st overall, including 20 currently in operation—in five years.

It also happened to be IBEW Local 98 Ryne Sandberg Louisville Slugger Bat day, so the little guy came away with this nice souvenir:

Don't worry, it's made of plastic.

I'd joked at every possible opportunity leading up to this game about how frustrating it was, as a Yankees fan living in Boston, that the pitching matchup we drew was Josh Beckett vs. A.J. Burnett. I had also decided, considering Burnett is relatively more likeable in my opinion, this was as good a reason as any to root for the home team.  

But, Burnett gave up a hit to Dee Gordon to lead off the game, so I quickly shifted allegiances.

It's at this point that most people start talking about when they began thinking about a no-hitter. I can honestly say it was on my mind throughout the entire game. However, I recall looking at the MLB At Bat app during the 5th inning and seeing Beckett was sitting at 73 pitches through 4 1/3 innings. That was actually mid at-bat, and one pitch later he got the second out of the inning. Still, 74 pitches through 4 2/3 projects to 143 to get the full 27 outs. Needless to say, I was convinced there was little chance he was going the distance, and combined no-hitters don't quite have the same luster.

It was a hot and sunny day, and we were all covered thoroughly with 30-50 SPF sunscreen, but I'll admit protecting my son's skin from the sun is one of my major neuroses as a parent. We also had a 3 1/4 hour drive (if we were lucky)—through New Jersey to my Dad's place in New York—ahead of us after the game and the boy's sleep schedule was already completely annihilated by our vacation.

So, I had it in my mind we were probably leaving early. Of course, I was also hoping I could rationalize I was doing it for my 2 1/2 year old son, not because I'm one of those guys who likes to leave early to beat the traffic. Besides, even if Beckett completed the job, leaving early wouldn't negate the reality my son's first major league game was a no-hitter. 

I feel like the beauty of the no-hitter has been torn down somewhat by the sabermetric community. Sure, it requires a certain amount of BABIP luck, and walking five or more batters can really detract from it. But, it's still a pretty special accomplishment and, honestly, short of a postseason series clinching game, I don't think there's a more exciting moment to witness live.

So, I was really torn between rooting for Beckett to give up a hit and stop teasing us already, and pulling for what seemed like a very outside chance of witnessing a little bit of history.

We left our seats after the 6th inning to get out of the sun and walk around the park a little. At that point, Beckett had thrown 90 pitches—which projects to 135 for the game—and the wife and I began to discuss whether or not we would stick it out.

After the Dodgers scored three in the top of the 7th to extend their lead to 6-0, Beckett's next two innings went by pretty quickly and economically, with him needing only 10 pitches to get through each. It was at this point that KJ eased my mind by emphatically stating, "We HAVE to stay!"

LC kind of wanted to leave, but other than a couple hat-throwing incidents, he remained well behaved, as he did for most of the trip. By now, you surely know the outcome. I'm hoping and expecting Little Chuck will better appreciate in the future that, at his first major league game, he witnessed a no-hitter.

Yeah, I regret not pulling out the good camera for this one.

The Flagrant Fan: Portland Sea Dogs and New Friends

The family and I road-tripped it to Portland, Maine this past weekend to take in a Sea Dogs game, but also to meet up with a couple friends from the baseball blogging community.

Normally, I would write a brief post about such an adventure, but my pal William Tasker of The Flagrant Fan did a pretty darn good job of writing about it himself. So, I'll just link to his post here and add a few of my own comments:

The Flagrant Fan: Portland Sea Dogs and new friends

I'll reiterate William's sentiment that Bryan O'Connor, of The Replacement Level Baseball Blog, and his wife were excellent hosts, as were their two kids, who played well with Little Chuck.

Unbeknownst to me prior to the trip, Bryan's sister works for Maine Beer Company, so the visit included my first tastings of Lunch and MO, and both were excellent.

Lunch is their IPA, which is my favorite style, but I actually liked MO, a pale ale, a little better. The upfront citrusy aroma of MO was more dominant, which is actually a quality I love in my favorite IPAs. In fact, I'm prepared to put MO in a category with Dale's as my two favorite pale ales. For now, I'm just throwing Lunch in a category with many other very good IPAs, but not one of my absolute favorites.

Lastly, I want to share a little discussion the three of us had—in one of the rare moments we had to talk baseball rather than chase toddlers—regarding our perspectives as fans of rival teams. Bryan is a Red Sox fan. William and I are Yankees fans.

Bryan talked about why—although he has softened a bit—he can't seem to shake the attitude which is typical of most Red Sox fans towards the Yankees.

When the Yankees were in the midst of their run of three consecutive World Series victories—and four out of five—in the late '90s and early '00s, despite the fact there were plenty of stars on those teams, it was always a Jose Vizcaino or a Luis Sojo (I'll add Jim Leyritz and Chad Curtis) who came up with the big hits.

Fast forward to the Yankees' current season of imminent demise, and it's washed-up players like Vernon Wells and Lyle Overbay who seemed to save their season in the early going. Bryan's point—if I'm interpreting it correctly—is it gives fans of other teams the feeling that, no matter how the Yankees' roster is constructed, they somehow find a way to always be successful.

I can understand how that would be frustrating, even ominous. On the other hand, William commented that this year's Yankees team is one of his least favorite in recent memory to follow. I wondered why, since to me, this season has offered Yankees fans the unique feeling of getting to root for a team that's kind of an underdog. William's response was to point out that he knew it was only a matter of time before the shoe would drop, so to speak.

He was right, of course, but I failed to see it that way. On the other hand, my opinion also points to the fact I went into this season with a somewhat indifferent attitude toward this year's team, in that I knew I wouldn't be terribly upset with an outcome that didn't live up to typical Yankee standards.

I suppose, perhaps, these perspectives provide a little insight that Bryan is on the emotional end of the fan spectrum, William is on the pragmatic end, and I'm somewhere in the middle. Which is just an observation, of course, although it may have something to do with where the three of us fall on the age spectrum as well.

Anyway, I had a fantastic time meeting up with my fellow bloggers this weekend, and I look forward to future occasions of a similar nature.

Boston Beer Weekend

On Friday, in an effort to do my small part to support the city of Boston, I declared it Boston Beer Weekend. That is, I decided to only drink beers brewed in and around Boston for the entire weekend.

Of course, I was well aware I could make little difference on my own. At least not anymore. Those folks who organized the Last Half Mile Bar Crawl—while supporting Boston breweries was hardly their point—probably consumed more Sam Adams and Harpoon IPA in their first 15 minutes than the quantity of beer I put down the entire weekend.

But, it's the thought that counts. Right? I suppose it's possible (i.e. doubtful) others followed my lead, but that didn't matter to me. The point is I made an effort.

Of course, there are only three breweries within the actual city limits of Boston and two of them are Samuel Adams and Harpoon. So, I knew right from the start I was going to have to stretch my definition of what constitutes the Boston area a bit.

I kicked off my efforts on Friday with a 25-ounce bottle of Oasis IPA, from Everett's Night Shift Brewing. A Belgian IPA brewed with coriander and cardamom, as well as Cascade hops, it was the combination of coriander and Cascade that intrigued me. Although the spices really dominated this one, and there was minimal evidence of the glorious citrusy nature of my favorite type of hops, both KJ and I really enjoyed it. I gave it 4 stars (out of 5) on untappd, although I still think the idea has 4.5-5 star potential.

On Saturday night, I headed to the Red Sox-Astros game at Fenway with my pal DJ, whom I hadn't seen in about two years. Somewhat coincidentally, that was almost as long as the time since my last major league game.

DJ and I met up at Kenmore Square's Lower Depths prior to the game. I got started with a 14-ounce draft of Slumbrew's Rising Sun. Untappd characterizes it as a dampfbier, a Bavarian style I'll admit I've never heard of. Literally translated as "steam beer," the style is quite similar to the California common, to my knowledge the only indigenous American beer style in existence. The main difference between the two styles being the German version is brewed with ale yeast fermented at warm temperatures, while the American version—which would be called steam beer if Anchor Brewing Company hadn't trademarked their flagship brand, Anchor Steam years ago—is fermented with lager yeast at room temperature.

Rising Sun was solid (3.5 stars), although a little on the sweet (but not cloying) side, and my taste leans more towards better balanced brews. Still, I'd call it a fine alternative to wheats and Belgian whites as spring attempts to transition to summer. My next choice, however, was a bit disappointing.

On cask, they had Ipswich IPA dry hopped with Zythos. I've had plenty of Ipswich IPA and have always been a fan of the brewery, so the prospect of a slight variation, and on cask no less, intrigued me. What I got was nothing like what I expected. Up front, it tastes like hard liquor and there's very little evidence of hops in the after-taste. In hindsight, I probably should have asked if I was served the wrong beer, but it was the only one they had on cask and I saw my server pour it. I rated it 2.5 stars, but probably would've gone lower if it didn't grow on me a little by the bottom of the pint.

I stopped after those two, which means I didn't "take advantage" of any of Fenway's newish $9 craft offerings. Fenway probably has a better selection than Yankee Stadium—at least they don't have a stand called a "beer mixology destination"—but both are among the worst in all of MLB.

The game was interesting enough considering the Astros were involved. Here are a few highlights and observations from my perspective:

• I recognized only four players in Houston's starting lineup: Jose Altuve, Brandon Laird, Chris Carter, Ronnie Cedeno. Both Carlos Pena and Rick Ankiel came off the bench to pinch hit, though.
• I could swear Stephen Drew's walk-up song was the musical intro to Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road." Later I figured it was probably either a cover of the song or a total ripoff.
• The Astros are so bad that, although they trailed by only a 5-2 margin in the 7th, I was convinced they had no chance of winning.
• Daniel Bard made an 8th inning appearance, walking two batters on 9 or 10 pitches and was subsequently pulled.

Finally, during the game DJ asked for my top-five all-time Astros. I couldn't exactly rank them from memory, although the names I rattled off included the first four below, as well as Jose Cruz and Jim Wynn, and a requisite mention of Nolan Ryan and Joe Morgan:

1. Jeff Bagwell
2. Craig Biggio
3. Roy Oswalt
4. Cesar Cedeno
5. Lance Berkman

Other suggestions I received when I shared this list on Twitter: Derek Bell and Ken Caminiti. I'm assuming those folks weren't serious.

Paw Tuck It

In the late '90s, I was a fan of a Providence-based indie band called Purple Ivy Shadows. I knew of them and got to know the band members through friends who were mutual inhabitants of a similar music scene, but I've remained friendly with, and a fan of subsequent projects by, singer/guitarist Chris Daltry, a charming southernish gentleman who once was a batboy for the Richmond Braves.

I'm pretty sure Chris used to live—and maybe still does—in Pawtucket, Rhode Island. He still plays music, currently in a rootsy band called the 'Mericans, when he's not running What Cheer Antiques and Vintage, the store he co-owns and operates with his wife.

Purple Ivy Shadows' most acclaimed record was probably 1997's No Less the Trees Than the Stars—although 1999's White Electric is probably my personal favorite—and its opening track was a song named for the aforementioned Providence suburb. It's a good song, no doubt, but the thing about it that has stuck with me for all these years: Daltry's raspy/twangy song-closing rendering of the word Pawtucket, whether intentionally or not, sounds an awful lot like "aww fuck it."

Alright, so I'll admit that was a rather pointless intro to a post about an outing to baseball game, but KJ and I took the boy to his second game this past weekend, a Labor Day trip to McCoy Stadium, home of the AAA International League Pawtucket Red Sox.

Their opponent for their final regular season game was the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre (or Empire State, whichever it is) Yankees. In the alternative reality that is the International League, the Yankees did not squander a comfortable division lead and the Red Sox also qualified for the playoffs as a wild card. In fact, this game was just a tune-up for a postseason series between the two teams.

I'm really curious as to why this matchup is happening in the first round, considering Indianapolis finished with the league's best regular season record. In most playoff systems, that would draw them the wild card. I even asked Tamar Chalker (@jeterian on Twitter), who writes about the Yankees minor league system for It's About the Money, Stupid, but even she didn't know the answer.

It then occurred to me that, with the exception of the players involved and the fans in those smaller cities and towns, nobody really cares about the minor league playoffs. Even a writer covering those teams for a major league team-oriented blog is really only interested in how the prospects are doing. But, Tamar's interest in finding the answer seemed seriously piqued, so maybe this mystery will eventually be solved.

Monday's game was Little Chuck's second professional baseball game and he was just as well-behaved as the first, lasting until around the 8th inning before he started acting a little overtired. This time he stayed awake, though, but mom and dad had work to do back at the home front, so we left early.

I'm not even going to try to give the impression I paid much attention to the game. I saw former Boston Red Sox Darnell McDonald hit a solo homer for the Yankees, but beyond that I can't really recount the highlights. I could look them up, of course, but so could you, and minor league game recaps are not what you're here for. (What are you here for, while I'm on the subject?)

At this point, a ballgame is basically just a family outing to a place we enjoy spending time. McCoy Stadium is a great little park, with an added bonus being—for parents who might otherwise be stressed about whether or not they sufficiently applied sunscreen to their pale little baby of German, Irish, English and northern Italian descent—a good percentage of seating is in the shade.

While we're on the subject of family-related amenities, the changing station in the men's room was adequate and, more importantly, situated in a spot that wasn't over-run with traffic. There was also a family restroom, which we strategically used so we could take turns holding LC while the other took care of business. (I'm sure KJ will be pleased I included that detail.) The concourses were quite congested, however. Actually, they weren't that crowded, but since New Englanders walk like they drive, we felt like we were constantly trying to avoid people running into us while carrying the little guy. In fact, at one point KJ used her arm to shield LC from being brushed by a bag of garbage carried by a PawSox employee. Needless to say, she was not pleased.

Overall, though, Little Chuck's second baseball game was a successful adventure. We did finally find an infant-sized ball cap suitable for a boy and it looks nothing like the Bosox ripoff that is the standard PawSox cap:

Take LC Out to the Ballgame

I've been to games at 30 major league parks, 19 of which are currently in use by big league clubs. I've also been to a whole lot of minor league parks, but I honestly don't know how many that is. I've tried to figure it out, but it's not as easy to jog your memory when there are so many minor league teams that have come and gone over the years.

In fact, I know I saw one game at Reading, Pennsylvania when I was in Lancaster on a work trip, but I can't remember if I also hit Harrisburg. I also once received a job offer—that I didn't accept—from the Williamsport Cubs, but I believe my only visit to that park was for the interview.

My rough count has it at around 30, including independent leagues, spring training sites and the inaugural home game of the Sun City Rays.* So, that's an approximate total of 60 professional baseball parks I've seen games at. Little Chuck has some serious catching up to do—but, we plan to give him every opportunity—as this past Saturday he got his first live taste of the sport that both his parents revere.

*In case you're wondering, the Rays were a team in the Senior Professional Baseball Association, a league for players 35 and older that began play in 1989 and folded halfway through their second season due to poor attendance.

KJ, LC and I went on a little overnight jaunt this past weekend to Portland, Maine—a two-hour drive up I-95 for us—as one of my birthday presents was to take our son to his first game.

Interestingly enough, Portland happens to be one of the ballparks I couldn't seem to recall whether I'd been there or not. I certainly spent a lot of time in that neck of the woods when, in my previous career, Poland Spring was my client. But, as it turns out, walking up to Hadlock Field was all the evidence I needed to realize it was my first time there.

The Portland Sea Dogs are the AA Eastern League affiliate of the Red Sox, so for some reason they thought it would be a good idea to turn their home into a bit of a replica of Fenway Park. The left field wall, dubbed the Maine Monster, is a wooden version of Fenway's Green Monster, complete with miniature Coke bottle, Citgo sign and WB Mason billboard. However, the scoreboard is electronic rather than manual, probably because there's nowhere for the scoreboard operator to hang out, or for Manny Ramirez to "take a break," had he ever played there while on rehab.

I have mixed emotions about the Maine Monster. I guess it's kind of a cool idea that some young fans might get a big kick out of, and I'm more appreciative of that angle these days. But, I can't help wondering if it was created for player development purposes, and this would seem like a silly idea to me.

Ultimately, there is only one Fenway and it should remain that way. Now, if they decided to tear down the original, then I'd be all for paying tribute to it elsewhere.

At least the amenities at Hadlock Field—most notably the relative spaciousness of the seats—made for a much more comfortable fan experience than at its major league counterpart.

The one important area where Hadlock was hands-down better than any major or minor league park I've visited is in beer selection.**

**I'm kind of embarrassed to say I don't remember what the selection was like at PGE Park, the former home of the Portland Beavers. You know, the superior Portland (no offense to Maine's, but Oregon's is a tough standard), also known as the craft beer capital of the United States.

The park has an entire stand dedicated to microbrews, with about a dozen selections from Maine brewers Geary's, Sebago, Shipyard, Sea Dog and Baxter, one of my new favorites. They also had Harpoon IPA, which I suppose is better than offering Bud Light, but I would have preferred it to be exclusively local beers.

In hindsight, I should have opted for one of the Baxter offerings that I've never tried, but I was in the mood for an IPA and they didn't have Baxter's Stowaway, which is excellent. So, I opted for a Sebago Frye's Leap IPA, which was good, but falls short of my favorites for the style because of its piney rather than citrusy hop characteristics.

There's also a Shipyard Grill concession stand, offering a wider selection of styles from one of Maine's weaker microbreweries—in my opinion—as well as a few interesting food options and...Bud Light. I guess you can't win 'em all.

We missed the first two innings of the game between feeding LC, taking turns in the rest room following a few hours on the road, and getting ourselves fed, but we knew this was par for the course when taking a baby to a ball game. After spending a few innings in our seats, it was fairly obvious the boy needed a respite from the sun, so we headed to the souvenir stand.

We had our sights set on an infant ball cap, which would be LC's first and would appropriately commemorate his first game. But, all they had in his size was a girl's cap. The Sea Dogs hat sized for a 2-4 year old was adorable, but I didn't see the point in buying his "first hat" if it wasn't going to fit. So, we purchased a cheap $8 Sea Dogs ball, which will be a decent souvenir we can hang onto until he loses it or decides he's not as nostalgic as we are. But still, we couldn't help feeling a little disappointed (even more so when I discovered the infant cap is not available online).

We weren't sure how long the little guy would last at the game, but our Baby Bjorn sure made it easier for his parents. The wife has more experience carrying him in it, but I quickly learned to make sure everything else I was holding was at least an LC arm's length away. So, in fact we did make it through nine innings, although LC did fall asleep briefly in the 8th, which is right about when all the fireworks were happening (literally).

The Sea Dogs led 1-0 until late in the game when both offenses came to life: the visiting Binghamton Mets scoring five runs in the top of the 8th, the home team answering with three of their own (on two homers) in the bottom of the frame, and one more to tie it up in the last of the 9th.

Portland's outburst introduced us to the lighthouse that rises behind the center field fence, accompanied by fireworks, after a home team player hits a home run. I liked this attribute of the ballpark much more than I did the Maine Monster.

Now is when I admit we left after the bottom of the 9th, and didn't stick around to see Binghamton win on a solo homer in the 10th. Normally, I'm not a fan of leaving early, but I think you'll cut us some slack considering the circumstances.

Our hotel was in South Portland, only a mile or so away from two brewpubs, or so I thought. My first choice for my birthday dinner was Sebago Brewing Company, but it turned out The Beer Mapping Project needs an update as that brewer's South Portland location is no more.

The other nearby option was Sea Dog Brewing Company. I made the mistake of telling KJ earlier my initial impression of this brewery wasn't a great one, so of course she felt bad we were settling. But, it was getting late, and being a beer snob is much further down my list of priorities than is being a parent. Besides, I didn't have a strong recollection as to why I was so non-plussed about Sea Dog, and I'm always willing to challenge such hazy impressions.

Turns out, my first impression was dead on. Their IPA was basically a Bass Ale clone passed off as brewed in the style of an English IPA. But, if you ask me, while Bass is worthy of being considered the predecessor to considerable improvements in the style, it really shouldn't be mentioned in the same breath as an IPA at all.

The food was nothing to write home about either. I broke a personal rule by ordering an ethnic dish—Chicken Mole—in a region not known for that particular ethnicity. It actually wasn't bad, but the portion was a little light, even after I questioned why it included only one filet and was brought a second. KJ, on the other hand, ordered something you'd think it reasonable to expect would be done well in Maine. But, her Fish 'n' Chips looked more like fish nuggets and were a little on the soggy side.

None of this, of course, detracted from a great little birthday road trip, one I'm sure will remain in the memory bank for however many more years or decades this world has in store for me. I took my only son to his first baseball game, after all. Short of watching him play in his first game (but, let's not rush things), it doesn't get much better than that.

Teach Your Children

KJ and I attended our first Yankees-Red Sox game together on Wednesday night, and the occasion marked Little Chuck's introduction to the long-standing rivalry as well. Well, sort of.

It was also the first time I've paid to park in the Fenway neighborhood since my first visit there back in the summer of '88. Since KJ is under doctor's orders to take it easy, we decided to suck it up and shell out for parking at Fenway's most convenient location, the Lansdowne Street Garage. $44 later—and that's actually a competitive price, I kid you not—we arrived just across the street from the park.

This, of course, did nothing to change my perception of Fenway as the worst value in baseball, but in this case, it was well worth the price.

We also sat in the right field box seats for the first time ever, and they were actually pretty good seats by Fenway Park standards.

The game took place the night after the ridiculous Cervelli-Lackey fiasco, in which Francisco Cervelli broke the long-standing and well-known unwritten rule that dictates only pitchers—even when they're showing up their own teammates—are allowed to show emotion on the field. But, that's all I'm going to say about that incident. I may revisit it in another post, but don't count on it.

During the game, David Ortiz was intentionally walked in front of Jed Lowrie. The crowd, predictably, booed the move, prompting me to tweet:

Of course, this quick list was missing a couple other important examples that I thought of a little later.

So, since I'm soon to be a brand new parent, I thought I'd share my list of the five things you (and I) need to teach your (our) children about being a fan with a clue. Because, honestly, most fans at the ballpark are really lacking in that respect, and the Fenway faithful are no different from anywhere else.

Without further ado, I present these in my favorite list format...as a top five countdown, even if I've already given a few of them away. I suppose you could call these my unwritten rules of fandom (otherwise known as the top five stupidest things baseball fans do that you should avoid).

5. Don't boo the opposition's attempted pickoffs.
When you boo the opposing pitcher for attempting to pick off your runner, you're basically complaining that the other team is trying to win. I know you're rooting for your team to win, but this is supposed to be a competition. I can, however, understand booing an excessive number of pickoff attempts against the same runner. I guess that's why this one is #5.

4. Don't boo when the opposing team makes a pitching change.
Again, what you're doing here is protesting the fact the other team is trying to win. I get that pitching changes drag out the length of the game, but if you're going to be a baseball fan, it's something you'll have to learn to deal with. Besides, if you're frustrated that the game is being delayed, why don't you boo your own team when they change pitchers?

3. Don't boo when one of your players is intentionally walked.
First of all, the intentional walk is generally a foolish strategy. This is not intended to be post about SABRmetrics, so I'm not going to over-analyze this one, but more often than not, the intentional walk improves the offensive team's chance of winning. So, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, alright. Also, since your opposition at least thinks they're doing it for their own benefit, see #4 and #5 above.

2. Don't yell "balk" at things that aren't balks.
First of all, you'll need a lesson about what is and isn't a balk. I once wrote a post—exactly three years ago today, in fact—that my pal Lee called the ultimate blog entry on balks. But, that's a little more detail than is necessary here. What I'm really talking about is when fans call for a balk when the pitcher fakes a move to second or third. News flash, folks...THIS IS NOT A BALK. It's legal for a pitcher to fake a pickoff throw to second or third, but not to first. OK, got that? I'm not even going to confuse you by explaining when it's legal to fake a throw to first. Concentrate on understanding this difference first.

1. Don't do the wave.
If I even need to explain this one, then I'm sorry, but you're a hopeless cause and probably shouldn't have little baseball fans in the first place.

Oh yeah, the Red Sox beat the Yankees 9-5, so our family tally now stands at Red Sox 1, Yankees 0...obviously.

Rock a No-Show vs. Rox

Last night was my last chance of the season to see Tim Raines's Newark Bears play at Campanelli Stadium versus the local team, the Brockton Rox. I had fully intended to write a blog post about how I saw Tim Raines in Brockton last night, when I really should be seeing him in Cooperstown this weekend.

Of course, I've written plenty here about how I feel Tim Raines should be a Hall of Famer. In fact, I didn't realize how many times his name has been mentioned in this blog until a search on Raines returned 11 results. One of those was actually about his son, but if you're interested you can read my feelings on Rock's Hall of Fame credentials here.

If you want even more on the subject, check out this excellent web site.

Anyway, I didn't get to see Raines last night, because he wasn't there. In fact, neither was his son, Tim Raines Jr., who is one of Newark's star players. He's currently hitting .321, with 8 HR, 38 RBI, 46 runs and 16 stolen bases in 46 games.

As it turns out, the junior Raines hasn't played since July 16 due to injury. But, according to this article, the elder Raines is out with a bad back. So, I was disappointed not to get to see him, but I was pleasantly surprised that the Bears' acting manager and pitching coach is none other than Yankees' 1996 World Series hero Jim Leyritz.

My good friend—and former drinking buddy—Barb accompanied me to last night's game. At one point, a question she asked prompted me to explain that most of the players in the independent minor leagues have previous experience in affiliated professional baseball and are just trying to work their way back into the system. That is, they're trying to get noticed enough to earn a contract with a major league organization and get their dreams back on track.

My post-game research uncovered a good example of such a player. Jorge Jimenez started the 2011 season with the Brockton Rox, and was the starting third baseman for the team when KJ and I attended our first game back in late May. Jimenez, who had previous experience in the Boston Red Sox farm system, recently had his contract purchased by the Cincinnati Reds and is currently playing for the Bakersfield Blaze in the Class A California League.

She also asked me if I'd seen any "washed-up former major leaguers" at these games. My reply was no, but last night provided a good example of this as well. Former Astro/Dodger/Pirate/National/Brave/Cub Daryle Ward is the first baseman for Newark. Ward, now 36 years old, played 11 years in the majors from 1998 to 2008, and was basically an average-to-slightly-below player.

Of course, this makes him a star in the Can-Am League, and last night provided evidence of this. He got the scoring started for the Bears by hitting a solo homer in the second and an RBI single in the third to give Newark a 2-0 lead.

Then, in the bottom of the 6th, with his team leading 9-2, Chris Valencia was on second for Brockton with no outs. The batter—Mike Torres—smacked a hard grounder that Ward snared on a hop and threw to third, with Valencia attempting to advance, as he's supposed to, on a ball hit to the right side. My initial reaction was, "What the heck is he doing?" (in reference to Ward). But, lo and behold, he threw the runner out. Unorthodox, but unbelievable. Leyritz had to have been shaking his head in the dugout.

Newark won the game, 10-2, snapping an eleven-game home winning streak for Brockton. The loss was also the Rox's first defeat in the second half of the Can-Am League season.

The league plays a split-season schedule, with the first-half and second-half champions (if different) both qualifying for the playoffs, in addition to the two (or three) additional teams with the best overall records. The Québec Capitales won the first half, while Brockton and the New Jersey Jackals are currently tied for the second half lead at 4-1. The Rox are also third overall, so they're in a good position to qualify for the postseason in Bill Buckner's first season as manager.

Unless Brockton meets Newark in the playoffs, I'll likely have to wait until next season to see Tim Raines at Campanelli Stadium. It remains to be seen how much longer than that I'll have to wait to see him in Cooperstown.

On the Rox

It looks like I've got some blog catching up to do.

On Friday night, May 27, KJ and I attended our first game at Campanelli Stadium, home of the Brockton Rox of the independent Canadian-American Association of Professional Baseball, otherwise known as the Can-Am League.

I've got a bit of a history with independent minor league baseball. In 1995, I tried out for an umpiring position with the brand new North Atlantic League, and was selected as an alternate. Unfortunately, due to financial issues, the league released all of its umpires and decided to go with local officials mid-way through that first season, so I never got the call to work a game. Not surprisingly, the league disbanded after only two years in existence.

My pal Fred, whom I met at umpire school, was also one of the alternates in that inaugural North Atlantic League season. Following this unsuccessful venture, he went on to work close to ten years in the Northeast League, which eventually became what is now the Can-Am League.

I saw Fred work games in small cities such as Newburgh (NY), Waterbury (CT), Nashua (NH) and Lynn (MA), three of which are sometimes known as the armpit of their respective states. My main observation regarding the crowds in these cities are that they can sometimes be a little less than civil. That's possibly a spillover from the on-field action, as the lack of affiliation with a major league organization generally makes for a less professional contest. Not in terms of the quality of play, but instead with regard to the way the players carry themselves on the field.

Neither of these prior impressions were confirmed by my first taste of Can-Am League action. The size of the crowd—2017, or about 1/3 the capacity of the 6000-seat stadium—wasn't all that impressive, but there was a definite family/community feel to the atmosphere. I've also learned to appreciate that the between-innings games and promotions are part of the experience when it comes to the minor leagues.

On this particular night, my favorite was the "Pie-In-The-Face Game," which basically consisted of a 5-year old three times being offered the choice between a prize in an envelope/box or hitting his father in the face with a pie. Not surprisingly, he chose the pie in the face every time. In the end, though, quite predictably he was awarded the prizes anyway.

As far as the baseball was concerned, the Can-Am League claims to be AA-quality baseball. While there were a couple errors—both by Brockton's opponent, the Worcester Tornadoes—and a few more mental lapses during the game, I'd have to say this is a fair assessment.

The offensive talent is definitely there, as evidenced by the three home runs the two teams combined for. That kind of hitting display is something you almost never see in the short-A New York-Penn League, because the players at that level just haven't developed enough power yet, particularly due to the adjustment to wooden bats. Of course, the exception was the four homers Evan Longoria hit in just eight games for Hudson Valley back in 2006.

The Rox defeated Worcester 7-5, in what was the second game of a season-opening four-game sweep en route to an 8-1 start. They've since lost four of five games, including three of four to the Quebec Capitales, the Can-Am League's two-time defending champions.

At 9-5 prior to tonight's game, Brockton finds themselves tied for second place with this weekend's opponent, the Newark Bears, with both teams trailing first-place Quebec by a half game.

Newark is managed by none other than Tim Raines—his son is also on the team and one of the league's major hitting stars—so we'll definitely be checking out some of this weekend's action. Of course, you know Brockton has a pretty noteworthy—especially in these parts—skipper of their own.

Is Fenway Park the Worst Value in Baseball?

I'm sure some of the exorbitantly priced seats at the new Yankee Stadium could give them a run for their money, but it doesn't get much worse than the vantage point KJ and I had for last night's game.

For $55 per ticket, here was our view of the on-field action:

Click to enlarge

Actually, since KJ was sitting one seat to my right, she could just barely see the batter, but not the catcher or the umpire.

But, there was a silver lining.

During the second inning, we discovered that we were sitting in the wrong row, and our real seats were one row closer to the field. As you can see from the next photo, this made a significant difference:

Click to enlarge

Seriously, though, this isn't the only reason I'm suggesting Fenway Park is worthy of this dubious distinction. Prior to the game, I was telling KJ that the stadium's right field boxes are the absolute worst seats I've ever witnessed a game from. 

For an idea of what I'm talking about, take a look a sections 91 and 92 on the Fenway Park Seating and Pricing page. As you view the field from the photo provided on the web site, note the direction of the seats, which I'll point out are beyond the right field foul pole (otherwise known as "Pesky's Pole"). They're facing directly into the right field corner. Now, try to imagine how your neck would feel at the conclusion of that game.

These seats go for $52 a pop.

But, these are just my observations, and I'm certainly not trying to say that last night wasn't an enjoyable night at the ballpark. The weather was perfect,  Philip Humber—bullpen support not withstanding—delivered almost as brilliant a performance as John Danks did the last time we saw a White Sox game, and we were lucky enough to witness former Yankee Alfredo Aceves's second career loss, against 16 wins.

Since an unusual play occurred during the game, I'll revisit what I've previously referred to as the "baseball lesson of the day."

In the home half of the 5th, Carl Crawford singled with nobody out. The next batter, Jed Lowrie, lofted a fly ball to center field, but Crawford was running on the pitch. He returned to first easily, but was called out when White Sox shortstop Alexei Ramirez appealed by stepping on second base.

It took me a few seconds to figure out what happened, but when asked by the girl sitting to my left, the explanation was that Crawford, after sliding into second, had taken a step towards third. This action subsequently required him to retouch second on his way back to first, something he neglected to do. Therefore, he was out on appeal.

30 and Counting...Still

A couple years ago, I wrote that my goal was to see a game at all the current major league parks by the end of the 2017 season. Not surprisingly, the time frame of that goal is beginning to look a little unrealistic. Honestly, I'll be happy to simply reach the point someday where I can say that I've visited all of the existing ballparks, so I'll amend the goal as such.

At the time, my number stood at 18 of the 30 active ballparks. Since then, I've visited two new ones, Turner Field and the new Yankee Stadium, but this only brings my active total to 19, as the Twins subsequently moved out of the Metrodome and into their new digs, Target Field.

Coincidentally, 30 is actually the number of total ballparks I've visited, including 11 that are no longer current major league parks. To keep track of this, I've created this Ballparks Visited page on the blog because, to be honest, I constantly find myself having to peruse the standings in order to refresh my memory regarding my personal count. Now, hopefully I won't have to do that anymore.

Since I added no new parks to my list last year, a couple ideas involving multiple stadiums have already been discussed this year. First, my friend Will suggested we attend the SABR convention in Long Beach, California in early July. Conference registration includes trips to two major league ballgames, at Dodger Stadium and Angel Stadium, but Will nixed the idea before I could get on board.

Later that month, KJ is attending a conference, also in Long Beach. If I choose to accompany her, schedules would permit trips to both Petco Park in San Diego and Angel Stadium, but we'd need to stick around until the weekend to hit Dodger Stadium on Friday night. Unfortunately, the weekend in question is when the Hall of Fame induction ceremony takes place, so neither of these Southern California plans will allow me to get to all three of these parks at once.

We haven't ruled that trip out yet, but the latest idea is a September long-weekend mini-road trip to Citi Field in Queens, Citizens Bank Park in Philadelphia and Nationals Park in Washington. Stay tuned for more on those plans, if you're so inclined.

Jason Varitek Catches Two-Hit Shutout, WAR Doesn't Care

Much has been made in the past about what a great game-caller Jason Varitek is, and with Josh Beckett pitching last night like the 2007 version of himself, I'm sure the calls for Varitek to be Beckett's personal catcher are not far off. In fact, the nonsense has already started.

I'm not trying to downplay Varitek's reputation for being good at handling pitchers. I'm sure it's warranted. I bet there are a lot of pitchers who love working with him. I just don't think it makes that much of a difference. Any pitcher with his head screwed on straight knows he's the one who decides what pitch to throw in what situation—the catcher can only suggest—and that it ultimately comes down to his ability to execute. So, I suspect the pitchers who stand to gain the most from a catcher who's a good game-caller are those who are not long for the major leagues anyway.

I'd like to see someone perform a statistical analysis of Varitek's catcher ERA in comparison to the other catchers who've played for the Red Sox during the same time frame. This would have to be a little more than just a look at the team's ERA with versus without Varitek, as it's possible that backup catchers might be at a statistical disadvantage, more often than not being called on to catch back-of-the-rotation starters. For example, when Doug Mirabelli was in Boston, he was Tim Wakefield's personal catcher. Wakefield had some pretty good years during that time frame, but I would still suspect he was below average relative to the rest of the team's starters.*

*EDIT: As it turns out, I'm wrong about this. Mirabelli spent six full or partial seasons with the Red Sox (2001-05 & 2007, catching 48-62 games in each), and Wakefield's ERA was below the team average in only 2004 & 2007. But, you get the point. Regardless of who's at a statistical disadvantage, the analysis would need to be properly weighted to ensure a fair comparison.

So, this would need to be some kind of weighted-average analysis that takes into consideration the quality of the pitchers throwing to each catcher. Who knows? If it's determined that Varitek improved his pitchers' ERA by as much as 0.2 runs per game, that translates to more than 280 runs over his 1423 games caught. Since, in WAR methodology, every 10 runs roughly equals one win, this could add 28 wins to Varitek's current career WAR of 23.1. Bringing his WAR total over 50 would put him in the class of rock-solid Hall of Fame catchers Mickey Cochrane and Gabby Hartnett.

But, seriously, I have no intention of taking on such a project. I don't have the time nor the motivation. Besides, I'm quite content in the knowledge that the closest Varitek is going to get to the Clark Sports Center podium is sitting in the invited guest seats when Pedro Martinez or, perhaps, Curt Schilling gets inducted.

I made my first visit to a major league park last night, witnessing Josh Beckett's masterful pitching performance in person. I always enjoy going to the ballpark, even if it means I have to contend with "Yankees Suck" chants and the drunks in the Fenway Park bleachers, as I did last night. I wore my Yankees hat, but maintained a pretty low profile, as there wasn't really much reason to do otherwise.

Highlights, while few and far between, included:

• Attending a game with my pal DJ for the first time since our trip to Toronto for the World Baseball Classic two years ago, and discussing our new offensive player rating system, which I'll write more about at a later date, if it seems worthy.
• Observing the cluelessness of fans around me, as no one seemed to notice that a run was erased when Kevin Youkilis was called out for runner interference on an attempted double play in the third.
• Watching Carl Crawford continue to struggle. 
• The fact that the game was over in just under three hours (2:58 according to the box score), which has to be some kind of record for a nationally televised Yankees-Red Sox game.
• Witnessing the Yankees debut of Freddy Garcia. OK, not really.

But, as I may have said before, a night at the ballpark—even when your team manages only four base runners, and ends the game with 17 consecutive batters retired—is pretty much unrivaled by almost any other activity.

Best of 2010

A little later than I did this last year, here are my other Best of 2010 awards in categories related to this blog.

Best Brewery
While attending a conference in Chicago back in April, KJ and I visited Piece, the brewpub partly owned by Cheap Trick guitarist Rick Nielsen. It was, hands down, the best new brewery I checked out this year.

Best Beer
While Piece's Wack Job and Dysfunctionale were both excellent, my favorite new (to me) beer of the year goes to Mikkeller 1000 IBU, which I sampled at the Armsby Abbey in Worcester, just prior to the Neil Young show at the Hanover Theater.

Best Ballpark
Although I visited U.S. Cellular Field for the second time—12 years removed from my first visit—George M. Steinbrenner Field in Tampa was the only park I visited for the first time this year. It was an impressive complex, nonetheless, so although it takes this award kind of by default, the Yankees Spring Training home is a winner.

Best Concert
I slacked off a little on the concert-going in the first, third and fourth quarters of 2010, but I attended a fair amount of shows in the three month period from April to June. While Keith Emerson and Greg Lake's reunion tour stop in Lynn would be the runner-up, The National's House of Blues show in June was definitely my concert of the year.

Best Trip
I used to call this category "Road Trips," but that description really didn't apply to my top travel experience this year. Although our frequent wedding planning treks to Grafton, Vermont were quite memorable, it should come as no surprise that KJ and my honeymoon excursion to Italy was by far my favorite trip of the year.

PONY League

Last week, KJ and I went on an unintended mini-tour of New York-Penn League stadiums, visiting Lowell on Thursday night and Hudson Valley on Friday. The Lowell game was planned, as the tickets were courtesy of KJ's employer, but we ended up at the Hudson Valley game as a result of making excellent time on our Boston-to-Poughkeepsie trip for the three-day 4th of July weekend.

The Short-Season A-level New York-Penn League actually consists of seven teams from New York and only two from Pennsylvania, plus one each from Maryland, Ohio, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Vermont. For as long as I've been familiar with the league, Pennsylvania has been just as under-represented. In fact, after the Erie Sailors left town following the 1993 season, and moved to Hudson Valley to become the Renegades, the Williamsport team was the only representative of the Keystone State until the New Jersey Cardinals became the State College Spikes in 2006.

Incidentally, I was once offered a job by the Williamsport Cubs—now the Crosscutters—back in 1996. But, it was a seven-month position, and one which paid very little. Despite being a job in baseball, I wasn't all that excited about the responsibilities, and even back then I wasn't young enough to be willing to make the sacrifice, so I turned it down.

When the league was founded, in 1939, it was originally the Pennsylvania-Ontario-New York League, or PONY League. But, even then, with their name receiving first billing, the Bradford Bees were the only team from Pennsylvania, while four from New York and one from Ontario rounded out the league. In fact, in its 70-plus year history, Pennsylvania teams have won only four championships, in addition to one "co-championship." Five teams from outside the two states that are the current league's namesakes have won, with the remaining 60 or so championships belonging to New York teams.

I was originally going to compare the two minor league venues, but you probably know how I feel about all the between-innings nonsense that goes on at these games. I have to admit, though, that I'm softening my stance a little, and accepting that it's all part of the show. Besides, these two games finished in an average time of just under 2 1/2 hours, a half hour shorter than the norm at the major league level, so the extras don't really drag these games out all that much.

Instead, I find myself focusing on just a couple of factors that favor Hudson Valley. Free Wi-Fi at Dutchess Stadium allowed me to jinx the opposing team's seven-inning no-hitter by tweeting about it, as well as to provide Red Sox-Orioles game updates to a couple Sox fans—KJ and my Dad's friend, a native of Maine—sitting with me.

More importantly, Hudson Valley can boast of one legitimate craft beer offering—Pleasantville, New York's Captain Lawrence Pale Ale—while the best Lowell has to offer is Sam Adams. Now, don't get me wrong here. I think Samuel Adams Boston Lager is a solid offering, but I'd much rather try something new than opt for "solid."

Captain Lawrence Pale Ale reminded me of how Sierra Nevada Pale Ale used to make me feel when I first discovered it in the mid-'90s, and why the latter became my regular beer of choice at my favorite Lark Street watering hole in Albany. It's just a really nicely balanced California-style pale ale: malty sweet and slightly citrusy up-front with a mildly bitter kick to back it up. In fact, I liked it enough to drink a couple more at my sister's restaurant two nights later, and to begin thinking about how I can get my hands on some Captain's Reserve Imperial IPA.

Baseball the Yawkey Way

This past Sunday, I visited Fenway Park for the first time in two or three years. I honestly can't remember for sure if the last time I'd been there was 2007 or 2008. But, I know I didn't make it last season, as this past weekend was the first game I saw there with my beloved KJ.

Having lived in Boston for 13 years now, Fenway is second on the list of parks I've visited most frequently, trailing only the old Yankee Stadium. The only other major league park I've been to more than five times is Shea.

Our friends from Idaho were in town, and they have a connection to one of the trainers from the visiting Kansas City Royals, so the highlight of the day was the autographed baseball their nine-year old daughter was given by Zack Greinke. A similar ball recently sold for over $60 on my former favorite non-Yankee Darin Erstad's eBay site, the proceeds of which are donated to the Child Abuse Prevention Center.

The Red Sox owners have been committed to maintaining Fenway, and have made quite a few significant improvements over the years, including adding seats above the famed Green Monster and creating an outdoor vendor-lined area on Yawkey Way similar to the Eutaw Street experience at Camden Yards. But, most of the seats are still as uncomfortable as they were when the park opened almost 100 years ago, and their idea of premium beer is an Irish Pub stand serving 12-oz. cups of Guinness, Smithwick's and Harp for $8.25.

One major improvement I noticed is in the bathroom facilities. I used the brand new urinals in the rest room behind home plate a few times—not because I drank a lot, but because I'm a man in his 40s—and I never had to wait in line. Plus, the area wasn't nearly as cramped as I remember from my past Fenway Park men's room experiences.

The game wasn't tremendously exciting, as is usually the case when a pitcher of Jon Lester's caliber faces one of the worst teams in the league, and the Red Sox won in what wasn't much of a contest. As a result, the crowd wasn't very intense, but our guests still got to experience the Boston sports mentality over the weekend, particularly on one occasion when a middle-aged man asked our friends' daughter what teams she rooted for in Idaho. She really didn't have an answer, although the Jacoby Ellsbury t-shirt that KJ gave her as a present last year seems to have converted her.

But, my point is, it's a foreign concept to folks in this area that people from elsewhere, especially those who live several hundred miles from the nearest professional sports team—minor leagues not withstanding—are not as rabid about sports as Beantowners are.

No Cell

An electronic sign at U.S. Cellular Field declares its namesake as the exclusive cellular provider of the Chicago White Sox. Little did I know that meant my service, purchased in a market that U.S. Cell doesn't compete in, would be rendered useless. While I can't say for certain that they're actually blocking other carriers, or if it's just that my cell provider doesn't cover the area as well as, say San Francisco, it seems pretty suspicious.

But, I digress. Not only was "The Cell" the third park KJ and I have visited together in our one-year history of traveling to baseball games as a couple, it was the 10th current park I've visited more than once (Fenway Park, Yankee Stadium, Camden Yards, Rogers Centre, Progressive Field, PNC Park, Wrigley Field, AT&T Park, Oakland Coliseum). If not for the Twins leaving the Metrodome in favor of Target Field, that would have equaled the number of current parks I've yet to visit.

When Brian and I visited what was then called New Comiskey back in 1998, we weren't terribly impressed with the aesthetics of the park. That opinion hasn't changed 12 years later. Don't get me wrong, this is no Veterans Stadium, but opened one year prior to Camden Yards, it's just not as nice as its contemporaries.

While the photo may not give you enough of an impression, you'll have to either take my word for it or see for yourself. The place just doesn't have a lot of character. But, that doesn't tell the whole story either. The sight lines could be significantly improved if the seats were turned about 15 degrees towards the on-field action, something that has worked well with other parks built in the late 20th and early 21st Centuries.

There were positives, however. The rows in our section, and those around us, were only 8-10 seats wide. As a result, there was only one time during an entire nine-inning game that we had to get up to let our fellow patrons pass. If you've ever been to Fenway, you certainly would understand the importance of this factor.

Also, there were numerous concessions options beyond the standard fare. Of course, my mind was fixated on Chicago-style hot dogs, and I wasn't disappointed in the foot long I found, which was topped with sweet pickle relish, tomato wedges, pickle spears, sport peppers, mustard and onions. KJ opted for the smaller version, but I think she ended up regretting that decision. We were both surprised there was only one stand in the entire park that sold these wonderful creations, but we quickly figured out why once we sat down to eat them. A photo would have been a nice idea here, but you'll have to use your imagination to understand how difficult it was to eat a hot dog that looked like it had been "dragged through the garden."

The beer selection was comparable to that at most Midwestern parks. That is, the options were mostly of the American lager variety—Chicago’s proximity to Milwaukee makes it clearly a Miller town—with a couple of decent, if not spectacular, micro-brewed choices as well. We opted for the Wisconsin-brewed Leinenkugel's Classic Amber, which was solid, but nothing special. I was a little disappointed that there wasn't a single beer brewed in Chicago available at the game, leading me further to the conclusion that this is not a craft beer city. I may or may not be correct in that assumption, but the following day I would discover the place that, in the very least, is the exception. More on that in a later post.

The White Sox were hosting the Tampa Bay Rays, a team that was fresh off a Patriots' Day weekend sweep of a four-game series in Boston. Apparently, a masterful performance from John Danks is what it would take to slow down the hottest team in baseball. The Chicago lefthander shrugged off a first-inning solo homer by Carl Crawford, then proceeded to hold the Rays hitless for the next 5 1/3 innings until Crawford's swinging bunt single in the 6th. His impressive outing (8 IP, 2 H, 1 ER, 2 BB, 9 SO) was more than enough to lead the White Sox to a 4-1 victory, in a game that lasted just two hours and 22 minutes with none other than Joe West behind the plate.

 A few other items worth noting from Tuesday night's game:

• It was immediately clear that it was Jackie Robinson Day at U.S. Cellular Field, this being the Sox first home game since April 11. A group of kids spotted outside the stadium, wearing White Sox shirts with #42 on the back, was our first clue.
• The White Sox are one of those home teams whose dugout is on the third base side. I believe I've already written about how much KJ dislikes this.
• We laughed at the song that was played every time Gordon Beckham came to bat: "Your Love" by The Outfield. I'm not sure why we found it so funny to hear "Josie's on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over," over and over.
• Baseball lesson of the day: "One from the mound, two from the field," is the common phrase used to remember how many bases are allowed on a throw that goes out of play: one base if the throw is by the pitcher from the rubber, two if the throw is from any other fielder, including the pitcher while off the rubber. All base awards are from the time of the throw.  

Pittsburgh Town

This is the seventh and final part of the Summer of '04 series, chronicling my first serious baseball road trip.

Friday, June 18
It's probably a blessing in disguise that Brian has a lunch date with his former advisor, because immediately afterward, we're hitting the bars for some pre-game drinks.

Not surprisingly, this is where the journal entries end. Just as we did during our 1998 trip to Chicago, Brian and I kind of overdid it during the daylight hours, the highlight of which was a visit to Chiodo's Tavern, in the Pittsburgh suburb of Homestead. The place was one of Brian's favorites during his days at graduate school, and on this day, we were lucky enough to meet its 86-year old owner, Italian immigrant Joe Chiodo.

Joe has since passed away, and Chiodo's Tavern is no more, but it was a Steel City landmark in its day, known for the hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces of memorabilia hanging from its ceiling.

I do remember deciding on this trip that Pittsburgh's PNC Park was, perhaps, my favorite ballpark. I later adjusted my thinking, because let's face it...with exception, all of the new parks are great. Some have better concession options, while others have done a better job with space. Some are a little more visually appealing than others, but all of them have good sight lines. That is, all seats priced moderately and up provide a good vantage point for the on-field action.

So, what made PNC Park stand out so much to me? Honestly, I believe it was Pittsburgh itself, particularly the view of the city from the stadium, especially those trademark yellow bridges. Unfortunately, the photo below is the best I've got, and it doesn't really do the view justice, but I hope it will give you an idea of just how aesthetically appealing the view from inside PNC is. It's just too bad that the Pirates haven't produced a winning season since going 96-66, and losing the NLCS in seven games to the Braves, in 1992.

The day after the game, while driving Brian to the airport, I felt that all-too-familiar crunch of brakes that have worn all the way through the pads. The trip was nearing its end, but I was still 600 miles from home. So, instead of risking driving that far on brakes that were shot, I decided to play it safe and drive only 400 miles to Poughkeepsie, NY.

That's actually not as crazy as it sounds. Driving a car with a manual transmission on a route that was almost entirely interstate highways, I was able to downshift when absolutely necessary, so that I barely had to use the brakes at all. $90 spent at Auto Zone and a little help from my brother-in-law and I was back on the road for the 200 miles that would return me home safely, and bring my first serious baseball road trip to an end.

Legends of the Spring

Not surprisingly, the Spring Training home of the New York Yankees—George M. Steinbrenner Field, formerly known as Legends Field—is an expensive ticket. My initial impression was that they were exorbitantly expensive, but, as it turns out, I was probably expecting them to be in the ballpark of minor league tickets. Obviously, they're not, and reality is that Yankees tickets are only a little on the pricey side, relatively speaking.

Also not hard to believe is the fact that the spring home of the World Series champions is an impressive complex. It sits across Tampa's North Dale Mabry Highway from Raymond James Stadium, home of the NFL's Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and looks like a resort in comparison to the typically goliath-like football venue.

The grounds surrounding the stadium are adorned with a monument of the twin towers and a tasteful tribute to those who lost their lives on 9/11, as well as plaques celebrating the careers of each Yankee whose number is retired. There also are several well-maintained practice fields where my friends and I got to see Robinson Cano and Nick Swisher take batting practice prior to one of the games.

As is the case with most Spring Training games, we got to see the big names for four or five innings, followed by a parade of minor leaguers, many of whom even I was unfamiliar with. The major highlight for me was an appearance by Kei Igawa, in whom the Bombers invested $46 million—20 million over five years, plus a $26 million posting fee paid to his Japanese team—prior to the 2007 season, only to have him post a 2-4 record and 6.66 ERA in just 16 major league games since.

Igawa sparkled in relief of unimpressive performances by Phil Hughes and Joba Chamberlain—1 2/3 IP, 0 H, 0 BB, 2 SO—but gave up five earned runs in one inning in his next outing, and was cut by the Yankees a week later. Still under contract, he'll likely return to AAA Scranton/Wilkes-Barre, where he is the franchise record holder with 29 victories.

I wish I had more to report on about my visit to the Yankees' spring home. Unfortunately, by the second game of the weekend I was operating on about six hours sleep in the last two days. I don't do well under those circumstances. I will say I was fairly unimpressed with the food and beer selections, but those were the only aspects of the park that I would consider shortcomings.

I was also quite amused at how enthusiastically the Tampa Bay Rays fans cheered as their team put a hurting on the New Yorkers in the first of the two games I witnessed. Less than two years removed from a trip to the World Series, I'm surprised they're already reduced to such trivial excitement.

The Sheltering Sky

This is part six of the Summer of '04 series, chronicling my first serious baseball road trip.

Thursday, June 17
It's a short drive to Cincinnati for a day game versus Texas. I'm wearing my Soriano Yankees shirt, but I'm most excited about Griffey, obviously. I chat with the parking attendant about the shift towards a more team-oriented approach in building teams. An example is the improvement of teams like the Mariners and Rangers after their stars left town. He gives me directions to I-71 for after the game.

One of the Mariners' former stars is the headline attraction at this game, but somehow I have a feeling that's not who we were really talking about, especially considering I was wearing a Yankees shirt.

I think that's Griffey under the 499 sign.

Great American Ball Park is nice, but all the new parks are starting to look alike at this point.

I think what I really meant to say is that it's getting harder to tell the difference between a good new stadium and a great one. But, I'm sure I'll have more to say on this subject at my next stop.

Griffey doesn't hit his 500th. In fact, he fans feebly in his final at bat versus Texas lefty specialist, Brian Shouse. The Reds stage a nice little late rally to come from behind and win. That makes three out of four home teams who have accomplished that on the trip so far.

I'm pretty sure that's Griffey at bat. I'm positive that it's future Hall of Famer Barry Larkin leading off third base. Well, positive that it's Larkin, that is...not necessarily positive that he'll eventually get his due.

After the game, I drive from Cincinnati to Pittsburgh and pick up Brian at the airport just before midnight. By the time we get to the hotel and get checked in, it's a little after 1am. Much to our delight, the clerk at the front desk tells us that bars are open until 2, so we head to an Oakland neighborhood bar called Panther Hollow Inn and down three Iron Cities each before last call.

What is the plural of Iron City, when you're referring to the actual product? It just doesn't look right to refer to them as "Iron Cities." I guess technically I should have just gone with "Iron City beers" or "bottles of Iron City," but I'm sticking with Iron Cities.

On Deck: Pittsburgh Town

The Long Cut

This is part five of the Summer of '04 series, chronicling my first serious baseball road trip.

Tuesday, June 15 (Cont'd)
This game is just as exciting as Saturday night in Cleveland. Neither Morris nor Zito is on: Zito lasts only five innings, giving up three runs (two earned), while allowing seven hits and five walks. His pitch count must have been over 100. Morris starts off shaky, giving up two-run homers to Damian Miller in the 2nd and Mark Kotsay in the 3rd, but then cruises through four strong innings for the win (7 IP, 6 H, 1 BB, 5 SO, 4 ER). St. Louis scores five in the 7th off of Oakland's bullpen—Chad Bradford, Ricardo Rincon and Justin Duchscherer—coming back from 4-3 to win 8-4.

I end up at the Fireside again after the game, chatting it up with Angela (the bartender) and her sister—who once lived in Boston—while drinking two more Buds to add to the two beers I had at Pitcher's pre-game and two 32 oz. drafts at the park.

I didn't write it down, but I think it's pretty safe to assume that the two drafts I consumed at the ballpark were Anheuser Busch products.

Wednesday, June 16
I drive from Troy, IL to Middletown, OH (about a half hour north of Cincinnati). I'm on fire trivia-wise, listening to sports radio on the AM dial:

• "He's a rock 'n' roll star whose father is a sportswriter." (Neil Young)
• During broadcast of Reds-Rangers game: "Name the four Rangers who've won the AL MVP." (Jeff Burroughs, Juan Gonzalez, Ivan Rodriguez, Alex Rodriguez)
• "The only player, other than Texas's Eric Young to steal six bases in a game." (Otis Nixon)

I have to admit that the last one was multiple choice.

I watch the end of the Reds game from a sports bar called Bullie's in Middletown. I'm still rooting for Griffey to not hit home run number 500 tonight. The score is 3-3 in the middle of the 8th. I'm pulling for the Reds to score in the bottom of the inning, but for Junior to not get to the plate, then they can finish it out in the top of the 9th.

In fact, Cincinnati scores four. Griffey comes to bat, gets a couple good pitches to hit, but ends up grounding into a double play. I'm relieved...and excited. The Reds are up 7-3, should hold on to win, and I get to see him go for number 500 tomorrow.

I have a good feeling...

On Deck: The Sheltering Sky

Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis

This is part four of the Summer of '04 series, chronicling my first serious baseball road trip.

Monday, June 14
I drive from Lima, Ohio to Troy, Illinois (20 miles from St. Louis). It's been a fairly uneventful day so far. I'm definitely not going to get anything besides a Bud or Bud Light in this town.

Tomorrow's game will be the first ever regular season meeting between the Cardinals and the Athletics. It's a nice pitching match-up as well: Matt Morris vs. Barry Zito. Neither has pitched particularly well this year, but I still consider it to be compelling. I predict one of them will throw a gem.

I spend the evening in Maryville, at a sports bar called the Fireside Inn, after eating a tremendous country style dinner—roasted pork w/ stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, salad and bread—for $6.90 (tax included) at a family restaurant called the Red Apple. I drink six Budweisers, for $1.75 each, at the bar, and chat with a nice, attractive bartender about Yankees-Red Sox, Cubs-Cardinals, rents in Boston compared to St. Louis, etc. She gives me directions to the nearest MetroLink station—“it’s like the T,” she tells me—so I think I'll go that route tomorrow, rather than drive to St. Louis.

I believe I decided on this trip, just as I did four years later, that St. Louis has the best looking women of all the mid-western cities I've visited.

Tuesday, June 15
I receive three phone calls from the front desk this morning...yes, I'm staying another night. Yes, I understand that you left the charges open yesterday! Yes, today I will pay for both nights!! This is the cheapest rate of the trip so far, at $38.85 per night, including tax.

I also recently unearthed the journal I kept during the cross-country trip that two of my college buddies and I took after graduation. Had I been writing this entry then—or had the 22-year old version of me been on this trip—I probably would have written something offensive about the people running this motel. But, this is 15 years later, and I had matured quite a bit.

Breakfast at Cracker Barrel...this place seems a bit overrated. The food is pretty good, but not a great value.

There seemed to be a lot of emphasis on value for my money on this trip.

I take the MetroLink into St. Louis. The bartender's directions are perfect. Only eight stops and I'm right outside Busch Stadium. I check out the area, take pictures of the arch, but don't go up—been there, done that—and stop for a couple beers at a bar called Pitcher's, where I talk to a Syracuse native who's a lifelong Cardinals fan. One of the beers I drink is a St. Louis brewed Schlafly Pale Ale: "A rich, amber-colored, medium-bodied, British-style ale with a smooth, mild hop character."

I'm not sure if that quote was written on the bottle, or if I later looked it up on their web site, but I certainly didn't write it myself, because here's what comes next:

Note to self: when ordering microbrews from towns not known for good beer, go for IPAs because if they're not good, at least they'll be strong and hoppy. Standard pale ales tend to be lame.

Interestingly enough, Schlafly's was one of the breweries briefly mentioned in the Beer Wars movie. This was the only time I've had any of their beers, and apparently I wasn't impressed. Note also that I referred to St. Louis as a town not known for good beer. That shouldn't come as much of a surprise to anyone.

I enter Busch Stadium in time for batting practice, and end up talking to a couple who are A's fans. I take their picture, and they take mine. They're really nice people, and we find a connection in that we're all previous residents of upstate New York. She once lived in Watertown, and he's from Schenectady.

On deck: The Long Cut