Tickets in the Nose-Bleed Section – Part 5

Time now to move on to the second leg of The Grand Stadium Tour II, New York City. If you haven’t read “Tickets in the Nose-Bleed Section – Part 4”, you might want to check it out before proceeding.

Friday

We started the day early with the “free” breakfast downstairs and then caught the shuttle to Wood Island Station and the Blue Line. Always wanting to be early as opposed to late, we were hustling. At the State House Station, we switched over to the Orange Line—one we hadn’t been on before now—and were soon headed to Back Bay Station were we would catch the Amtrak Express to Penn Station in mid-town New York City.

Arriving at Back Bay in plenty of time, we went into the wait mode. Well, we waited and then we waited some more—I began to feel like I was back in the Army, “hurry up and wait”—I started looking for a line to get in. Along with the wait, came the diesel fumes. This was absolutely the worst ventilated station of the entire trip. To breath pleasant air, one had to go outside. They had huge fans moving air but it was to little avail—hack, hack, cough! The fumes were stifling even for an old POL man like myself.

Still waiting, we felt like a coffee but the Dunkin’ Donut concession looked packed every time we glanced that direction. Finally noticed that there was another across the station form where we were and nobody was going there—fine, Joseph and decided to give it a shot. The closer we got to the concession, the more popular we became. Two ladies (in head scarves) began to compete for our patronage; hollering for us to come to their station: “Pick me, pick me; I have the best coffee!” I thought that the way things were transpiring they might begin bidding on our patronage. But, they didn’t and we choose to separate and be served from both stations.

We walked away with now holds the title as the 2^nd Hottest Coffee in the World—DFW still holding on to #1. Forty-five minutes later, I was still waiting on the liquid to cool enough for consumption—another benefit of being early.

Finally we board the express and are on our way to The City, as the New Yorkers and everybody else in the area calls it. Not long aboard and we are out of Massachusetts and in Rhode Island. Before you can say “quick as a bunny” we’re NOT in Rhode Island—it doesn’t take long!

All through Connecticut, we travel along the coast but much of the view is obscured by the trees and rocky cuts on the trackside. What we could see, especially around the towns and communities was really nice. Passing through New London, I caught site of the Coast Guard’s training schooner and that was a thrill—but not for me and my sea-stomach!

Watching the houses and thinking “what would it be like to live in this area”, I began to notice that every backyard had a dock and every dock had a boat. Fairly soon we arrived in the New Haven area and this looked very nice from our picture window as we passed by.

Joseph braved the dining car and returned with an extremely hot pita bread//pizza combo that took him and Patsy the rest of the trip to consume. I consumed a couple of power bars that I had drug from home just for this kind of occasion.

Crossing over Long Island Sound, you could tell we were getting close to The City. All through the Flushing and Queens area I looked for landmarks I might remember from my time in the area in the late 70s and early 80s. The only standouts were the Whitestone and Throgs Neck Bridges. Once we started going under ground, it became obvious we were under the East River and soon we would be at Penn Station.

The Station was full of people going everywhere. We took time to buy a single ride ticket just to get to Times Square Station and our hotel in Queens. The ticket kiosk didn’t have a plethora of information and we thought it would be best to talk to somebody before going off half cocked and end up spending too much dough on subway fares that we may not need in the long run.

We made our way to Times Square Station in good fashion and transferred to the #7 train that would carry us over to Long Island and our hotel. The train to Queens was full—what a group! Everybody  boarding the train immediately sat down (where seats were available) or found a pole to latch on to and stuck their nose directly into their smart phone or iPad—never looking one direction or the other. I fully believe that Joseph, Patsy and I were the only people on the train communicating with another live person during the trip.

I hadn’t thought about it before, but soon realized when we stopped at Flushing Meadows that the majority of he riders were on our train to get to the U. S. Open tennis matches. Almost immediately, the train was close to a ghost town; only the three of us and a few early afternoon “coming home” workers. While pulling our luggage around the streets and looking for our bus stop a cabbie offered to take us to the Hampton-LaGuardia for $15—we quickly took him up on his offer.

As usual, we were early—room wasn’t ready—and they stacked our bags to the side and told us about the gift shop next door where we could get our train passes and information about getting around.

We bought the $5 pass which allowed us two train rides and two bus transfers—as long as you stay underground, one train ride pass works for as many trains as you need or want to ride as long as you don’t pass through the escape turnstiles. We sought out the Hilton’s bell captain, Joseph, a heavily accented Queensite for better instructions. Watching and listening to the conversation between the two Josephs (mine and Queens”) was a real treat.:

Joseph-Q “Take the #23 bus that stops right in front of the hotel to Roosevelt Avenue and look up like you’re gonna pray. Take the #7 train to Grand Central and then the #4 train to Yankee Stadium. Got it?”

Joseph-TX Got it!”

Joseph-Q “Take any buss to Roosevelt and look up. Now what bus number did I say take?”

Joseph-TX “The #23!”

Joseph-Q “Any bus. They all go to Roosevelt.”

Joseph-TX Got it! They all go to Roosevelt.”

Joseph-Q also gave us instructions for our Saturday travel, but I will get to that later on. The #7 train into Manhattan was not so bad, only a few riders came along with us and the U.S. Open still in full swing. The #4 train that we joined at Grand Central was packed when we boarded. Resembling sardines, we were headed uptown to Yankee Stadium. The further we moved north, the more crowded the train became—full cans of sardines. People were getting off work, headed home and many more headed to the game. Bad timing, but we had to be early—might catch some of batting practice.

Finally there, we have arrived to join the throng standing around outside gate #6 soaking in the atmosphere. !” We are going to watch those same Baltimore Orioles that we saw two nights ago take on the Bronx Bombers, the New York Yankees. Finding a little used entrance, we are inside the “cathedral of baseball.”

Yankee Stadium

We struck it lucky and were the proud recipients of free Yogi Berra bobblehead dolls that they gave away upon entering the stadium. I plan on passing mine on to my brother, Kenny, who has been a life long Yankee fan.

Yogi Berra touring the ballfield

Not liking the variety of hats available at a couple of kiosks we checked, we moved over and went into the Fan Store. I found a hat I liked and we all spent the $100+ on souvenirs for those back home prior to heading to our seats way up on the 4^th deck—on the 1^st row in nose bleed area once again.

Coming out of the tunnel and seeing the field in the New Yankee Stadium for the first time, another song//thought popped into my brain: “There’s green grass on the field. Put me in Coach, I’m ready to play. I can be centerfield

In our seats - 4th Deck, front row

Derek Jeter leaving field after batting practice

The game started off fairly tight through the 3^rd inning, but starting the 4^th, CC Sabathia, pitching for the Yanks, couldn’t keep hitters off the bases and when the hitters got on base, Sabathia couldn’t keep them from scoring. Baltimore started off this evening just like they had in Boston—striking early and fast. Manny Machado scored again for Baltimore, like he had in Boston on a Chris Davis single and Baltimore took the lead through 3 & ½ innings. In the bottom of the 4^th, Alfonso Soriano homered to right with Robinson Cano scoring in front of him and the Yanks were right back in the game and leading 2 to 1..

 

 Yankee Stadium crowd

To start the 5^th, Sabathia again allowed a base runner, Nick Markakis  prior to giving up a home run to Danny Valencia. Alexi Casilla got on and Manny  Machado brought him home with a single to left. Baltimore goes up 4 to 2.

In the bottom of the 5^th, the Yankees played “Everybody hits and most score.” Curtis Granderson reached base and scored in front of a Mark Reynolds doubled to deep left. Ichiro Suzuki homered to right with Reynolds scoring also. Austin Romine, Brett Gardner and Derek Jeter reach base with Romine and Gardner scoring on a Robinson Cano single. After 5, the Yankees lead 7 to 4.

In the Baltimore 6^th, Adam Jones reaches base and scores on a single to right by Nick Markakis. Baltimore closes the gap but still trails 7 to 5.

The Yankees 8^th saw both Robinson Cano and Afonso Soriano reach base before Alex Rodriguez singles to left driving Cano home. Through seven, the Yanks lead 8 to 5.

The 8^th inning was inconsequential for both sides setting up the top of the 9^th with Mariano Rivera closing for the last three outs. New York over Baltimore 8 to 5—What a game! It started slow but finished with a wild bang! The game’s over and Frank sings! Amazing to hear 40,000+ singing New York, New York! I wanta wake up in a town that doesn’t sleeps, top of the heap!”

The evening’s attendance was 46, 165 and I think at least 40,000 of them needed the #4 train. Getting there from the 4^th deck was a chore—sorta like Rowdy Yates said: “It’s like working tail on a cattle drive!” And, like working cattle, most of our co-train-riders didn’t speak the same language as we did.

After departing the #7 train in Queens at 103^rd & Corona, like Joseph-Q had advised, we found that the #23 bus stop was on a one way street heading the wrong direction. Without knowing how far out of the way the loop back to the hotel’s direction might end up costing us—we sure didn’t want a repeat of the fiasco we experienced in St. Louis—especially at 0-dark-thirty; I thought that the next street down was probably a one way heading the right direction. We started to make the block. Walking and walking; sometimes in what during the night looked like a really unsafe neighborhood, some apprehension began to set in. Nobody was behind us and we finally met three guys coming toward us—everybody kept on walking.

The intersection soon found, we crossed to the bus stop and took the #48 bus back to the Hampton. The night was finally over.

Saturday

Up early, we took the #23 bus (again) to Roosevelt Street and the #7 to Grand Central (like Joseph-Q had also advised). Taking the R train downtown, we were right on Joseph-Q’s schedule—on our way to Courtland Station. We heard what we couldn’t believe over the loud speaker—Canal Street was the last stop before the train passed under the East River for Brooklyn. Could Joseph-Q have been wrong again? Well, Yes! It seems that the R train doesn’t make the last three stops in Manhattan on the weekend. We scrambled off at Canal Street, retrieved our city map and plotted our course.

After a fairly good walk, we arrived at the 9/11 Memorial entrance right at our scheduled time of 1030 hrs. It was a real stroke of luck that I had gone on-line ahead of time and secured passes for us. We hopped ahead of 200+ people standing in line to get tickets—entrance to the memorial is free but a donation is willingly accepted. Next came the security check—same procedures as at most airports: belts, shoes, change, bags on the belt and a scanning portal. Because of my shoulders, the alarm went off and I had to be frisked—old hat now.

The memorial if really impressive—a fitting tribute and a great reminder that everybody killed that day were not all citizens of this country.

 

 9/11 Memorial (Fountain #2)

 

 Names in granite

 

Joseph & Patsy by Fountain #2

 

 Howard & Joseph by Fountain #2

 

We spent a good hour or so strolling around both waterfall pools, reading names and just watching the people visiting the memorial—a sad and moving experience.

Leaving the memorial, we strolled down to Battery Park, watched the ferries going back and forth to Liberty Island and Staten Island and the people out for a Saturday in the park. Next, we headed up town and came across Trinity Church. The old edifice dates back to pre-revolutionary days and is the church that Washington attended during the war and his presidency while the original capital of the U.S. was in New York City. The church holds other distinctions as well: the formation of the Society of Cincinnati (1783) and the burial place of Alexander Hamilton plus many others.

A few block uptown, we came upon Wall Street and walked down it and back up—only a block long.

About 1200 hours, we again found ourselves at a street fair on Greenwich—we had passed them setting up on our way down to the 9/11 Memorial—and did the smells entice? Before ordering, we watched a troop of street performers (claimed to all be brothers) doing amazing break dancing, flips and humor. The show finished and donations collected, we each latched onto a lamb kabob on pita bread and something to wash it down with and cooled in the adjacent park.

 

 Trinity Church (main chapel)

  

To walk off our lunch, we made our way over to the West Side and strolled a ways up the Hudson, watching the boats and the people out for the day—the people are more interesting to me sometimes than the sites we take in.

Having just about walked ourselves to death, we located a train station and caught the #3 train to Times Square Station and then the #7 back over to Queens and our ole faithful #23 bus to the Hampton.

Finally we rested!

Sunday

Up real early for our 0755 departure, we caught a whirl wind shuttle ride to LaGuardia and checked in. Security was once again a challenge due to my shoulders. I passed the pat-down and was then surprised that the TSA guard swabbed his gloves and submitted the swab to the spectrometer for an explosive residue check before I was released to join the others.

After our 3+ hour flight to Houston’s Hobby Airport, we snacked down on Papa’s Burgers and then awaited our separate flights to Austin and Dallas.

Before you know it , we were picking up Little Gus and Otis at the kennel and the Grand Stadium Tour II was history!

Tickets in the Nose-Bleed Section – Part 4

After a two summer delay, the Grand Stadium Tour II got underway with converging flights to Boston, MA—Joseph coming from Dallas via Kansas City and Milwaukee and Patsy and I from Austin via Nashville. Joseph arrived some two hours ahead of us due to weather on our adjoining flight coming into Nashville from who-knows-where. Dilin could not join us this time due to a scheduling problem associated with school and his night job—too bad!

Tuesday

By 0900 hours, we  had dropped off the Pups and cleared security at the Austin airport. By 0920, I was holding the second hottest cup of coffee ever produced—why do airport concessions have to make their coffee so HOT? By 1125, we were in the air and headed for Nashville. I was sitting next to a nice young lady named Marie, a grant writer for the Austin Mexic-Arte Museum who was headed to Boston for three days of work and then to Maine for a friend’s wedding.

Southwest was on time to Nashville where we had a two hour layover. Around to 1320 hours, I searched out Gibson’s Café and tried to order a chicken fried steak. Both James Lee Carter  and I had tried in 1970 to get a chicken-fried in Nashville and were turned down flat—waitress said: “Not only do we not have chicken fried steak, we don’t have steak fried chicken either.” My friend and I were on our way to Ft Lee, Virginia start our careers in the Army at the time. It seems that in forty plus years, there has been no forward development in Tennessee. Patsy and I settled for a Burger King combo meal.

The connection aircraft to take us to Boston was late arriving due to weather and its departure airfield so we were delayed some thirty minutes getting out of Nashville. On this leg, I sat next to Bill, a young man traveling from Colorado back to Boston for a few days and eventually up into New Hampshire (his original home) for a friend’s wedding. A lot of wedding party people moving about the country today—most of them sitting next to me. Joseph had to wait for some two and a half hours on us at the airport. We caught the Hampton Inn shuttle and were eventually at our first destination.

Unpacked, we headed back downstairs and got Jimmy, the shuttle driver to haul us over to Jeveli’s Italian joint where we had a filling meal—not much taste involved, but filling just the same. If you go lookin’ for Jeveli’s, it is right next to the Neptune Laundry and across the street from Boston Car Keys. While we were waiting on our chow, the upstairs of the café unloaded. It looked like forty guys pored out of the room and all resembled members of the Boston Mafia I had seen detailed on the Whitey Borger trial updates over the last month—a gruesome looking bunch.

Wednesday

After breakfast, I placed a call to Sherman D. Roberts—a friend from Stephan F Austin High School and Texas A&M University. We hadn’t seen each other in forty plus years and decided to get together for lunch sometime in the middle of the day.

0900 hours, the Old Town Trolley picked us up at the Hampton and we headed out to re-discover Boston. Thinking we would ride around and determine the best areas to visit after getting the lay of the land.

Our first stop was Paul Revere’s house (built in 1680 and bought by Revere in 1770), most of which is original; well the frame is. From here, we walked over to the Old North Church (real name - Christ’s Church). I looked around and found, by accident, a pew that Theodore Roosevelt had sat in during 1912—as much as I admire TR, I had to sit in this pew for awhile, at least during the guides lecture. One side note, the church had the oldest pipe organ in the United States.

Back on the trolley, we searched for a stop near a transit point so we could meet up with Sherman. Finding one, we were in Cambridge’s Harvard Square waiting on Sherman to show.

Sherman arrives and directs us to his Natasha’s favorite pizza joint and we order lunch. The slipped some tofu into my salad, but I managed to eat around it and didn’t become sick. We spent an hour or so catching up on mutual acquaintances and who-shot-John before Sherman gave us a personal tour of Harvard Yard. We even snuck in the back door of the chapel—front was locked—and looked over the inside. Amazing to see some of the places you have only read and heard of all your life.

 

Sherman D. Roberts

Back on the trolley, we visited Faneuil Hall, Quincy Market (oldest market in US) and the downtown Cheers replica tavern killing some time before time to head to the ballpark. While drinking a beer in Cheers (replica), a couple from Nova Scotia sits down near us and we strike up a conversation covering baseball and hockey. One odd point, because of where these guys lived, they had to go north to get south. They were really interesting.

We soon found the blue line train (nice and new) to Fenway Park, switched to the green line (old and crowded) and walked the gauntlet of vendors for several blocks to arrive at our designated gate. Inside finally, I bought myself a Boston Red Sox cap, a couple of dogs and a coke.

Here to see the Red Sox take on the Baltimore Oriels, we climb up the tunnel to field level, and then 34 rows up to our seats—noses began to bleed—and found ourselves just six rows from the top. Huffing and puffing, we made it.

Soon we are joined by a bunch of college guys from Canada wearing purple shirts (2 had on red). Turns out they were a groom’s party. They made racket during the entire game, unmercifully picking on the Baltimore players. Just after the purple shirts got under way, one of Joseph’s former associates, Kim, joins us for the game—she now resides in the Boston area.

Baltimore starts out the game like they are the team leading the division instead of Boston, scoring in the first inning. Then things loosen up a bit and both Baltimore and Boston score in the 3^rd.  Through the 6^th inning, we have seen two home runs over the Green Monster (one by each team – Machado-Baltimore and Davis-Boston). Baltimore leads going into the 7^th, but fail to score. Boston ties the game in the bottom of the 7^th causing fear of extra innings to set in.

 Fenway Park

 

 Green Monster

 

 The Game is on!

Boston’s Mike Carp pinch hits for third baseman Bogaerts and smacks a Texas Leaguer to shallow left just over the outstretched glove of the Baltimore third baseman scoring  Jarrod Saltalamacchia  and sending Stephen Drew to third. Carp is replaced by pinch runner Will Middlebrooks, who stays in to play third in the top of the ninth. But that’s where the rally ends with Boston ahead. The Boston closer Koji Uehara comes in for the 9^th and three outs later the game is over.

Even though the Orioles seemed to be able to put runs on the board at will, I had the feeling that the Red Sox were never out of the game and felt they could do what it took to win.

We made our way out of Fenway and ran the gauntlet one more time to get to the trains—worse now than getting to the park. The Green Line was really crowded but room cleared out when we switched to the Blue Line for the trip out of downtown to get to the Hampton. We were finally in the sack at 0045 hours.

Thursday

We made it downstairs for a lazy breakfast and caught the shuttle over to Wood Station for another trip into Boston; this morning heading for the U.S.S. Constitution.

The swabbies lecturing the ship tour were all in the 20 – 22 year old range, but did a fantastic job of telling their stories. The ship and its accompanying museum are very much a class act.

After our visit, we are back on the trolley and heading for the tea party ship anchored in the downtown harbor. We had been there in 1979 and wanted to get another shot of Joseph tossing the tea over the side. The re-enactors conducting the tour were fantastic at their jobs as well—these guys made the adventure well worth the time spent. And yes, I got a shot of Joseph  tossing tea!

Joseph in 1979

Joseph in 2013

Departing the ship, we felt ready and energized enough to take on the Red Coat Regulars ourselves.

Soon, we were again on the trolley, this time headed to Beacon Hill. When the driver found that we were getting off at 8 Beacon Hill, we were serenaded to “Where Everybody Knows Your Name”—everybody on the trolley singing.

Down the steps, we enter the real Bull and Finch Pub (Cheers) and start with a beer. Having not eaten since breakfast, we decided to have dinner here. Patsy orders a pinini, Joseph goes for a Reuben and I take the Norm Burger Challenge—ya gotta live sometime, I’ll show them.

Man, that burger was big. It stood about eight inches tall on the plate which was full of fries also. I dug in and got after it. I managed to do the burger in and the beer also but had to go wash up after finishing. Back from the hand washing, I found that I had been inducted into the “Norm’s Burger Society,” complete with a certificate and all—waitress told Joseph that very few ever finish the burger and even fewer clean the plate completely. What an honor! And all I had to do was bite, chew and swallow.

Norm Burger Society Meritorious Achievement Award

To walk off the eats, we walked across the street and strolled around the adjacent end of the Boston Commons (America’s first public park). We felt right at home with all the pigeons, squirrels and ducks.

Heading back downtown, at one of our station changes, I noticed we were at the Scollay Square Station at government Center. I had been singing a portion of the Kingston Trio’s 1959 hit M.T.A. all the time during or adventures around Boston and now here I was right in the middle of the song:

“Charlie’s wife goes down to the Scollay Square Station every day at a quarter past two,

And through the open window she hands Charlie a sandwich as the train goes rumbling’ through!

Did he ever return?

No. He never returned!

And his fate is still unlearned. (Poor ole’ Charlie)

He may ride forever ‘neath the streets of Boston,

For he’s the man that never returned!”

Scollay Square Station (at Government Center)

Arriving back at the Hampton, this effectively finished the Boston portion of this years’ Grand Stadium Tour II. We had now been to a game in the oldest Major League ballpark—Fenway Park—what a thrill!

Now, it’s on to New York City.

Fenway @ 100

On the 20^th of April in 1912, Fenway Park opened its doors for the first time to Major League Baseball. Today marks the one hundredth anniversary of that occasion—that is 100 years for you that are numerically challenged. Fittingly enough, the Red Sox’s opponents on that day were the New York Yankees. Again, today’s Red Sox opponent will be the New York Yankees—100 years later. In 1912 the Red Sox won and the rest is history, right up to today.

I have never been to a game at Fenway—have always wanted to but so far the stars have not aligned—far too many armadillos in the back yard is my best guess. So, I’m guessing this desire calls for the formulation of that great American nostalgic undertaking—a Road Trip. Maybe I can talk my son into a short jaunt to the New England area in the near future. I would really like to take in a game at Fenway. I think my son may have already been there; he’ll probably let me know just as soon as he sees this peace. I was in town (Boston for those MLB challenged out there) one weekend when the Red Sox were in town, but was accompanied by a bunch of fuddy-duddies that were not baseball fans and the opportunity escaped my reach—I have been told that there are six or eight Red Blooded Americans that aren’t MLB fans out there some where.

How often do you get to be connected with history? The chance to watch and feel the tingle of a game (any game for that matter) being played in a stadium that reaches back into history one hundred years should not be looked on with the slightest bit of trepidation. If ya got the chance, take it,

I have encountered the opportunity to do so several times over the span of years I have been walking this Earth and have never regretted taking the chance any of those thrilling times. Sometimes it has to become a memory that comes back to you later when you realize that the chance of it ever happening again is now gone forever. Twice while stationed in the New York area in the early 80s my wife Patsy and the kids, Joe and Stephanie, had a like opportunity. A visit from my parents, Dutch and Anne from Texas, found us at the top of the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty on the same day. Both of my parents are no longer with us, but Man, what a memory? The other opportunity that I will never forget was the trip the wife, kids and I took into Manhattan one weekend and rode the elevators to the top of World Trade Center #1. Walking out on that observation deck and realizing you were a quarter mile closer to Heaven was amazing—but never again!

Watching the news on CBS this morning, they had a segment on Fenway @ 100 and Erica Hill ( a self professed “life long Yankee fan”) said that she had attended school in Boston and her dad had reminded her not to root for the Red Sox, but her impression of exiting the tunnel to gaze upon the grounds at Fenway took her breath away. This also got me to remembering back.

I have written here in the past about my early trip to see the Cardinals play the Dodgers in 1951 and the thrill that was to me—eight future Hall of Famers on the field that day. On equal stance within my memory vault is another trip in April of 1979 that three of us from my Army days (Dick Ellis, Mike Longwell and I) stopping off on our way back to West Point at Yankee Stadium to buy a scalper’s ticket to see a Yankee game that evening.

Upon arriving on the scene of Old Yankee Stadium—not the New Yankee Stadium on today, the Old Yankee Stadium, the House that Ruth built—we happened upon a group of cops who just so happened to be members of the same National Guard unit we had visited just that same day. They parked our van on the street right in front of the stadium and promised us it would be safe and there when the game was over—they watched it and it was there when we exited for our trip home.

But—I need to get to the memory—the best and most amazing part of the entire night was not the game, who was on the field or any specific play that night. No, the thrill was exiting the tunnel and first casting my eyes on the playing field of Yankee Stadium for the first time. Your breath departs your body or you forget to breathe; whatever it is, you are stopped dead in your tracks. I’m not sure you heart beats for a moment or two. It is a feeling you have to experience; one can not adequately describe. It has to be lived.

If you have the chance some time today, take a moment and dig into your vault of memories and dredge up a connection with history. See how it makes you feel. I recommend the trip. Leave me a comment describing your discovery. Your day will be the better for doing so. Take my word for it.

Considering adoption

Night before last, I was struggling to stay awake—way past my normal bedtime—to watch the outcome of the St. Louis Cardinals and Milwaukee Brewers baseball game. The National Pennant and a trip to the World Series was on the line for the Cardinals, if they could remain ahead and take the NLCS at 4 to 2 games. It was getting tougher as every pitch seemed to take the game deeper into the night. Both teams were scoring runs and pitching changes were coming every inning. Man! I didn’t ,think I was agonna make it to the end.

My wife, Patsy, decided to knuckle under at the end of the 5^th inning with the Cards up by a score of 11 to 6. She went upstairs to bed to read for a while and doze off when the occasion seemed right. I, on the other hand, felt that the occasion was right to watch the game until the end—why start if you’re not gonna finish?

Both teams seemed determined, as they should have been, to score as many runs as they could and stretch the end out as far as possible into the Milwaukee evening. I don’t begrudge them that—that’s as it should be.

No more runs but still pitching changes came over the next half inning. After singing God Bless America and taking his 7^th inning stretch, Little Gus ambled his way upstairs. He likes to be on his pallet at 10 PM sharp—if he’s up much later, he is impossible to deal with the next day.

I really didn’t like it when Gus deserted, but Otis was still downstairs with me and looked to be in it for the long haul. He understands the game pretty good—well, he understands the going to get the ball part, but isn’t very obliging with the handing it over after the fact part. But, he was at least still on the same level of the house with me.

The last of the 7^th came and went. The 8^th started and Otis was still awake and watching intently. The Cardinals added another run, making it now 12 to 6—I thought at he time that would keep Otis enthused. I did see him nod a couple of time in the bottom of the 8^th, but there he stayed.

I’m not sure if Oti heard something from the second floor or not, but after the commercial break and just as the Cardinal 9^th started, he lopped off and disappeared upstairs—not to return that evening.

The loss of my last compadre really ticked me off. But, there I sat—six outs away from the World Series. If the Cards could just stop scoring; maybe it could be over quick.

An out here and an out there and the Cards were down to the bottom of the 9^th and still leading 12 to 6. Just three more outs—but still closing in on 11 PM. It was becoming harder and harder to remain awake and fully cognizant of what was taking place. I was trying hard to do so even as alone as I felt—I just had to sit through three more outs. Every pitch seemed to drag on and on.

Then quicker than you can say: “All alone am I, ever since your goodbye,” it was over. I looked around for somebody to celebrate with and again realized that “All alone am I, ever since your goodbye.” What a downer!

I watched just the slightest bit of the jumping around on the field, turned the TV off and made my own way upstairs.

Did anyone welcome me into the bedroom. Patsy and Little Gus did not even move a muscle. Little Otis raised up onto his front feet and stared just the slightest. I told him to lay back down and he quickly did—usually he gives me some teenager-like guff, but not this time—he just looked the part of the tired puppy.

What disappoints me is that I was left behind, deserted—all by myself—to watch my favorite team in all of professional sports to win their way into the World Series all by myself. That’s right deserted—left all by myself.

 

 Little Gus

(2 & ½ years, 37 lbs, almost-male )

Loves: Me, neck rubs and children (especially those his height)

Believes: Squirrels can be caught

Terrified of: rides in a vehicle

 

 Little Otis

(just barely over 1 year, 40 lbs, almost-male)

Loves: Me, the day and the night

Believes: the world is his toy

Terrified of: Garbage trucks

It is for this reason alone that I am strongly considering putting up for adoption two of the best friends I have. I can’t count Patsy in this offer because she says I can’t. But if I could, it would be my three best friends. Any takers?

Tickets in the Nose-Bleed Section – Part 3

Monday

Up early and on to our last breakfast at Granny’s, we soon had loaded our destination into Lady and were on our way to East St Louis, IL.

After making a pit stop—my two compatriots need many—Dilin, no longer riding the shotgun seat was required to serve up the pimento cheese sandwiches and peppers. Eating on the roll saves a lot of time—ya gotta make up for those to-numerous-to-count pit stops. I gonna get me a big Coke bottle to carry with me when I go with these two again.

Half way to St Louis, I convinced the guys that we could make a quick side trip to Taylorville, IL. I was living in Taylorville as a small child the last time I had seen the Cardinals play. That was in the old Sportsman Park in 1951—Sportsman came prior to the now torn down Busch Stadium I, a long time ago.

Within no more than thirty minutes we had reached Taylorville, had taken a picture of the welcome sign, searched for the likely location of the trailer park next to the rail road where I resided in ’51 and were back on the road—all with no luck whatsoever. I can remember running to the rear of the trailer to watch out the big window as the trains would roll by. At times it felt like they passed forever.

I’ll probably never return to Taylorville also; there isn’t much going on there. I did see some oil wells pumping on the way into town but had no way of knowing if they were the results of my Dad’s exploration efforts in ’51—one can only surmise.

Taylorville, IL - my old, old home town (1951)!

Besides the trains of Taylorville and a trip to the capitol and statehouse in Springfield, the other main memory I have is the trip that August that my family and another family of close friends on my dad’s crew that we all took to St Louis to see the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Cards play baseball. My dad and I discussed that trip over and over right up to the time that he passed away—it always felt just like it was yesterday. That day we only saw the Cardinals on the field—they won by the way—but while making our way to our seats in old Sportsman Park, the Dodgers came out of their dressing room and passed right in front of us—we coulda reached out and touched them. One by one as they made their way to the dugout tunnel my dad would point and name each one as they made their way by: Roy Campanella, Pee Wee Reese, Jackie Robinson, Duke Snider, Don Newcombe, Ralph Branca (threw the shot heard ‘round the world), Preacher Roe, Gil Hodges, Carl Furillo, Dick Williams (rookie in ’51, but the A’s manager in ’72 & ’73 World Series) and the rest. I can still close my eyes, lean back and see them as they walked right there in front of me. You probably have a memory of the like that all you have to do is close your eyes and it’s right there—fantastic, huh?

We found the motel and decided to use our included-in-the-price drink tickets almost right away. We had a beer apiece (Dilin had a Mountain Dew wantabe) and talked with the guys at the bar for some time prior to heading back to the room to decide on the next day’s activities—lots of choices

Tuesday

Down to the breakfast buffet (also included in the room price), we load up and finalize our day’s activity schedule. Deciding last night that the St Louis Metro system is a pretty good alternative, we get directions and head that way. No parking fine today; we’re gonna take the Metro ($7.50 each) and park free at the terminal.

A cool ride across the Mississippi and we detrain at the arch metro station. A short shady walk and we can see the arch from the side—really impressive. We are missing the cooler temperatures of Chicago and Michigan already; it is a bit warmer in St Louis than we were expecting.

We do the tourist thing and get a lot of pictures of us and the Arch of the Americas. You’re there, ya gotta take pictures.

The Arch of the Americas - Gateway to the West.

That's my grandson, Dilin, leaning on the Arch.

We walk up the hill and circle the Old Court House; another impressive building right on the mall with the arch. Past the court house we find a bus stop and start our wait—the busses run every thirty minutes and we had seen the previous bus pull away just prior to us arriving. We just happen to be waiting on the corner that is the centerfield gate for Busch Stadium right behind our stop—just where we need to be in six or so hours.

A short wait and bus ride later we exit at the northwest corner of the Anheuser-Busch Brewery plant—this is a big place and we later learn that our tour will encompass seven blocks. We have three more blocks to trudge up hill to get to the welcome center, tour start and hospitality room (the tour end). Inside we find we have only ten minutes before the next tour.

Joseph & Dilin getting ready to tour the Anheuser - Busch Brewery

Our guides gather us and we’re off to see the Clydesdales; wouldn’t ya know they’d start there?

Beechwood aging vats.

Next comes the Beechwood aging room, a room kept at a cool 50ºF—this was really a relief as the further south we had come, the warmer the days. I think the guide said there were sixty vats in the room with each holding some 3600 barrels of beer. They asked the question if there was anybody in the group that thought they could drink that much beer. As you might expect there were some takers—maybe they thought they were gonna give one to them. Then the guide clarified the length of time required: each vat held the equivalent of 220,000 cases of beer and a body would have to drink one bottle of beer every hour, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 (6) days a year for 137 years to drink up the 3600 barrels in just one vat. Of course everyone gasp on queue. From the aging vats we moved on to the mash tanks, another impressive showing. As you walked through the yards you noticed that every thing had the Anheuser-Busch symbol on it—everything.

Bottle Line #34 - there's some beer being bottled here!

Eventually we made our way to the bottling building. This is where we saw the speed at which the finishing machinery could move. This was very impressive. From bottling and casing the product went into an underground 10 acre warehouse which by-the-way held only an eighteen hour capacity of inventory. This place never shuts down and the lead time through the factory of a bottle of Budweiser is between thirty and thirty-one days. They said: “Not to worry. There’ not gonna stop.”

Loaded onto busses, we were transported back to the start where we were invited to sample two glasses of any of the product produced at the facility—and try it we did (Dilin had a Pepsi). Next we hit the gift shop—ya gotta get stuff for those that didn’t come along—do that we did.

On the street again, we walked around the massive facility and found our bus stop to wait out the heat that continued to develop. It took a full forty minutes for one of those busses that run every thirty minutes to show.

Waiting on our ride!

We found seats together but couldn’t hold on to them long as they were designated for removal should a wheelchair rider need access—five minutes into the ride, there was one. We had a map showing the route and thought we were in great shape. About twenty minutes into the ride—stopping at almost every corner—I saw the edge of Busch Stadium out the window about two blocks away. Joseph said we were gonna circle around and drop off right beside it. That’s the way the route map looked also.

Well, that was just the most wishful thinking of our day. The ride continued on and on; continually getting farther from our destination the longer we were aboard. We saw some parts of town that the St Louis Mayor has never seen nor the sanitation department or the police department I am sure. We stayed right in our seats until we had a chance to gather closer together. At that point I am not sure where we were but we still had some thirty more minutes until what I figured was the turn around. We’d just ride it all the way back if we had to do so. On and on we rode—Mr. Toad would have been envious; he surely hadn’t had such an adventure.

Mr. Toads wild ride.

Just about the time we thought we were at the end, suddenly we were. The driver pulled into a Metro stop where we could board the train back downtown. We were just about worn out and completely at the mercy of the St Louis Metro System—I think they knew they had us by the short hairs all along. In any event, we beat feet to the train platform and stood in line to board. Back in the air conditioning, we were again happy and cool campers.

No more than fifteen minutes later we were standing across the street from the Stan Musial statue waiting on the light to turn so we could cross the street and go inside. First I had to have a picture of me and the statue of my favorite ball player of all time—actually a tie between Stan and Willie Mays.

Howard in front of the Stan the Man statue

As soon as the gates opened, we were in and looking for the best stand to buy a stadium bought ball cap. We decided on the fan store and spent much more in there than we should have, but what the hell, it’s only money? Decked out in our new finery, we head for the other side of the stadium where our seats are located.

Climbing the escalators we go up. Second deck and another escalator. Third deck and there’s another one. Finally we arrive at our fourth deck destination and now we have to climb to the next to last row of seats. I looked over the row behind us and nearly had my head taken off by a jet that had recently left the St Louis airport. If you squinted your eyes just right, you could just barely make out the trains and cars below us on the street.

One row from Heaven.

But our view of the playing field was fantastic. It was gonna be a great night for baseball.

The view of St Louis skyline from our seats. Notice that we're above the scoreboard line!

We watched batting practice and didn’t miss anything. Not a sole showed up to sit on our row, making it all the better. The guys went down to get some eats and brought me back a couple of dogs and a souvenir cup. It’s sitting on the counter behind me as I peck this out.

Just before game time the Farmers Blimp flew by just below us. There was a good breeze blowing but we ended up being blocked from it when several ticket holders showed up with seats in the row behind us—just this side of Heaven.

Farmers Blimp was at the game

Here we are to see the Los Angeles Dodgers play the St Louis Cardinals. I hadn’t been to a Dodger-Cardinal game since that time back in 1951. But I’m here now and ready to see it.

The Dodgers started off like they were on fire, scoring three runs in the top of the 1^st inning. The Cardinals put up a goose egg.

Another hit for Pujols - see the ball off the bat.

The Dodgers came out in the 2^nd and scored another four runs. Again, the Cardinals put up a goose egg. I began to really look forward th the 3^rd inning—things just had to get better; the Cards were still in striking distance. In the top of the 3^rd, the Dodgers only got one run and now lead 8 to 0; but things looked just a bit better—they only scored one run.

7 to ZERO going into the bottom of the 3rd inning!

In the bottom of the 3^rd, the Cardinals put up another goose egg. The 4^th was still better; the Dodgers failed to score but so did the Cardinals. In the Dodger 5^th, they managed to get back into form and scored three runs. The Cardinals managed another goose egg.

Through the 5^th inning I had not been feeling well at all and thought just maybe I was suffering from altitude sickness—we were sitting just one row below Heaven. The longer I thought about it, I realized that it wasn’t anything to do with altitude; the Cards were trailing 11 to Zero; it was the Cardinal pitching staff that was making me sick—tonight they stunk! From that point on, it was just any old ball game—an important one to me, but still just a ball game. Nobody scored for the next three innings and the both teams put up two apiece in the ninth—the Cardinals even using one of their shortstops, Schumaker, to throw the last inning. The game ended 13 to 2 and had an attendance of 37,062. Come to think of it, the wishful thinking of our earlier bus ride pretty much matched the wishful thinking of the Cardinal pitching staff!

With the last out, we were down those escalators, across the street to the Metro stop and on the very next train to leave. We did draw a couple of strange cohorts to travel with. One guy was positive that the illuminati was in control of all the money and was out to get all us poor people. He was a real trick to have a conversation with and talked to us through the windows of the train even after we got off at our stop. No more than thirty-five minutes later we were loading into our vehicle for the short ride to the motel and a good night’s rest.

Wrap-up & parting comments

During the trip to the motel a thought struck my mind. Think of the differences of that Cardinal-Dodger game of sixty years ago and the games we had seen during our Grand Stadium Tour. It was a far, far away galaxy off from the games we saw in the previous couple of days. The times, they were different. In 1951, the President was from Missouri (Truman) and in 2011, the President is from Illinois (Obama); can you imagine that? In 1951, the game was played in old Sportsman Park and this year in the new Busch II as they refer to it. The scorecard I bought the first time cost a dime; this year it was $2.50 and still just a scorecard. I did buy a Cardinal yearbook the first time—only $0.50; this time, should I have wanted one, it would have cost me $15.00—that’s right, fifteen dollars and I hardly know anybody in the darn thing. In 1951, there was no 4^th deck or luxury boxes; in 2011, both are present. In 1951, the scoreboard was completely manual with real people on the back side hefting numbers into the spaces; in 2011, it’s all electronic was visuals (What would Enos Slaughter say about that?). Oh and yes the ballplayers of today make a quadrillion times more today than back then and most of them aren’t worthy to carry the shoes of those playing in 1951—most of whom had taken off time to go on that WWII field trip.

Significant differences, maybe; but the bases are still ninety feet apart. Even with all the conditioning and speed in the game today an infield out is still by about a step and a half—tell me that Abner Doubleday didn’t know what he was doing? The pitchers may throw in the 90MPH range and over 100MPH at times, but I will bet you that if any of the old timers were here to comment they would still fear Bob Feller or Sal Magile just as much as anybody throwing today.

But, in my judgment, the major difference is the number of quality ballplayers on any one team or in the majors totally. The additional teams has had a lot to do with the watering down of the available talent. In 1951, there were eight teams in either league; in 2011, the National League alone has that many and the American League has fourteen more—then 16 and now 30.

Consider this fact—I could be wrong but I bet ya I’m not far wrong if I am at all—I would venture to guess that in the five games we saw in the last few days, on the teams involved (New York Yankees, Kansas City Royals, Boston Red Sox, Chicago White Sox, Chicago Cubs, Los Angeles Dodgers and St Louis Cardinals—all quality teams and organizations) I would bet you that we saw only two future Hall of Famers—Derek Jeter (NY-Y & 3000+ hits) and Albert Pujols (StL – currently 442 home runs, 2000+hits, a real talent that is not questionable and just 31 years old). There might be a budding start that was not yet recognizable—just maybe I missed him. Maybe Josh Hamilton (TX Rangers) can continue to put up stats and move into this realm.

Hall of Fame inductees on left field fenced.

But in that August game of 1951, I saw for the Cardinals: Stan Musial (6), Enos Slaughter (9) and Red Schoendienst (2). A few other names you might recognize that was there that day was the backup catcher Joe Garaoligo (17), Harry Walker (38) and Peanuts Lowery (37)—recognize any?. On the field for the Dodgers that day was: Roy Campanella (39), Pee Wee Reese (1), Jackie Robinson (42), Duke Snider (4) and Dick Williams (38) (eventual inductee as the manager of the great Oakland A Teams of the 1970s). A few other names that might be recognizable from the Brooklyn team that played that day are: Gil Hodges (14), Carl Furillo (6), Wayne Terwillger (34), Don Newcombe (36), Ralph Branca (13), Carl Erskine (17), and Preacher Row (28)—all some great ballplayers.

All in all, I enjoyed every minute of the time I was able to spend with both my son and grandson on our little adventure. It was very special to have seen the Cards and Dodgers play in St Louis again after sixty years to the month.

I had such a good time that I have decided to make it a tradition and go see the Cards and Dodgers play every sixty years in August. I’m looking forward to the next time already; so much so that I have also decided that the next time the entire deal is on me.

Tickets in the Nose-Bleed Section – Part 2

Friday

Before leaving this morning we consumed our third ½ price breakfast buffet and checked out Joe’s company website for lodging in Chicago. Thinking we had a good handle on the situation we hit the road again.

We didn’t push ourselves the next morning getting a late start on our next leg to Chicago. Just a small fraction of Missouri left, all of Iowa and a scoot across the top of Illinois was the plan. If you don’t know much about Iowa, all there is to the entire state is one corn field after another separated by very non-distinct small towns and extremely nondescript cities. Man, it’s just Corn – Corn – and Corn! Check out this link to get a clear picture of what I’m talking about: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyeY0hWU28I

Once inside the Illinois line—their welcome center was closed due to budget cutbacks—we plugged the hotel destination into Lady and drove straight to it. What a deal?

Asking at registration on a recommendation for a good place to eat, they handed us a small 10 page pamphlet listing 43 establishments in 12 categories: Breakfast, American, Chinese, German, Irish-American, Indian, Italian, Japanese, Mexican, Pizza, Stake houses and Seafood. We soon discovered that nothing was to come easy in Chicago—well almost nothin’. Taking the safe route, we chose from the American category a place called Jimmy’s Grill, plugged it into Lady and headed out to Naperville some 4.3 miles away. Being the start of the weekend, the small neighborhood streets were crowded with revelers out for a night on the town and let me tell you, they were celebrating. Finally at Jimmy’s and selecting to sit inside, we were seated immediately. We all went for sandwiches and were pleasingly surprised with the outcome.

Saturday

Up early, we chose Granny’s Restaurant off the breakfast list and again were well satisfied so much so that we ate there every morning in Chicago. Full, we started for downtown with the weather threatening Lady sent us on an avoid route to bypass a traffic problem. This worked out very well. Did I mention to always trust Lady? Having decided on visiting the Field Museum of Natural History first this morning: http://fieldmuseum.org/ in no time at all, we were there and parking; another $12 parking fine. This turned out to be a great choice. Their dinosaur collection is fantastic. We walked our a**es off in there—so much to see on the $87 entrance fine.

Dilin, Joseph and Sue (named for the lady that found her) at the Field Museum.

Upon exiting the museum, we headed straight for the street vendor for a Chicago style hotdog. You realize that you can never get too many hotdogs into your system? We had spotted this guy prior to going inside and again, it was just the right choice—the dog had a large pickle quarter inside, lots of mustard and relish, and some hot peppers but not more than it would take to put one under. Go-o-o-o-d!

Back into the truck we plugged the Comisky Park (US Cellular Field) into Lady and were on our way. Straight to the park with no problems, we parked after paying the $23 parking fine and had a walk of no more than a hundred yards to our gate. The third ballgame in four days—ain’t it great?

Once inside the park, we took our time purchasing our game hat and decided to wait a while before getting our ballgame hotdogs. I got a good Sox hat, applied it to my head and headed to my seat. Wearing my bright red Texas Ranger shirt and my navy blue Sox hat, I received more than a few stares—one guy even stopped me and ask what was up. I simply told him that “I was conflicted.” He just stared at me as I walked away.

New Comisky Park (or U S Cellular Field if you like).

One odd quirk that I noticed about Chicagoans at both that night’s game and the next night also: they don’t seem to pay any attention whatsoever to the seat number on their ticket—as long as they are close, everything is OK. It’s OK up until the ticketed seat holder shows up and wants his seat—this guy must be an outtatowner— because even then the original sitter still doesn’t necessarily go to his//her assigned seat; they just take the next seats that suits their fancy. Consequently there seemed to be constant movement—just maybe some of them never sat in their ticked seat the entire evening.

Now we've seen it; the Rangers playing an away game.

As far as the game went; the Rangers seemed to have taken the night off. There were lots of subs in the lineup and very, very few hits. I guess they didn’t get the word that we had taken all this time outta our busy schedule and the great expense we had incurred just to see them on the road—it was like they really didn’t care that we were there at all. The Rangers lost to the Sox by a score of 3 to 2; both teams having 8 hits and Chicago with one error. Brent Lillibridge scored from 1^st on a double to the left field corner by Alex Rios in the bottom of the 8th. The Rangers’ Ian Kinsler did have 2 homeruns in the game providing the only runs scored by the Rangers all night including the leadoff homer of the game—it all looked good at that point. Even through the 3^rd (2^nd HR in consecutive at bats) it just seemed if they could get Kinsler up to bat enough times, they had a chance, but it wasn’t to be. There was just a hair over 30,00 at the ballpark that night; up a good 8 - 10K from KC.

Howard & Joseph - see the new stadium bought ball caps?

Howard & Dilin - new stadium bought caps all around.

Sunday

A big day ahead of us, up early and on the road we headed east and north just to see what we could see. Oh, there was method in our madness; we had plotted the day as far as we could take it. Very soon we had left Illinois and were pulling into the state welcome center for Indiana. You couldn’t have touched me with a ten foot pole. I had just finished a journey I had started some 63+ years ago. With setting my feet of Indiana turf I had now lived in or visited all 50 states. Man, I was elated and I told the guy behind the counter as I took my free state map just how delighted I was to see him today. He laughed and got right into the spirit of the day.

Finally, I had lived in or visited all 50 states!

From the state line we drove north into Michigan on our way to Benton Harbor where we planned to get a bite before turning south again down the shoreline of Lake Michigan.

Well, let me tell you this: there is nothin’ in Benton Harbor, Michigan I need to go back and see or get. The place is a shambles—rickety buildings, most boarded up and empty and all in a rundown state of repair. I’m not going back there.

Just south of Benton Harbor lies the great little town of St Joseph, Michigan. It was like coming outta the dark into the daylight from one to the other. Everything that Benton Harbor didn’t have St Joseph did. We parked downtown (free, no fine) and walked down the hill beside the water park across the street from their indoor carousel to the beach—a real nice beach (Silver Beach) operated by the county. We just sat there on the beach in the breeze and took in the day, temp @ 72ºF versus the Texas temp that day of 108ºF. After the beach, we walked back up the hill and had a bite at the Schu’s Grill & Bar—I had the salmon BLT and it was delicious with big chunks of salmon on it especially when washed down with Schu’s lager.

Lake Michigan's Silver Beach in St Joseph, MI.

On our way back to Chicago, Joe researched the parking for the night’s game—there is no parking at Wrigley Field; it’s in a neighborhood surrounded by homes and apartments. He discovered that we could park at De Vry University and take a shuttle to the ballpark for only a $6 parking fine and it covered both the trip to and back—what a deal? We loaded the destination into Lady and were on our way.

Lady discovered some obstructions along the route crossing the south side of Chicago but this time we ignored her and stayed on the original course—it ain’t a good thing to cross Lady. I think she made us pay for it. I would bet there was upward of 100,000 people caught up in that traffic jam. Finally we arrived at De Vry, paid our fine, got our chits and loaded the shuttle.

Some thirty minutes later the shuttle dropped us right beside the Ernie Banks statue just outside the main gate to the ballpark. We were there, but still had little idea as to what we were in for.

Dilin & Joseph in front of the Ernie Banks statue - "Let's play two!"

Wrigley Field - 1914 - ????

Wrigley Field, built in 1914 (Fenway in Boston was built in 1912) is quiet a sight; a real experience. We milled around with the crowd outside just taking in the sights and sounds of Wrigleyville then bought our hats and found our seats. We supposedly had unobstructed seats; that’s unobstructed unless you wanted to see the area in vicinity of 2^nd base—we couldn’t. On top of that, there were people constantly moving to get drinks and eats. Of course there was the always occurring, seat changing problem I previously mentioned. Like the Southside, the Northside inhabitants do the same. The ticketed seat holders at Wrigley got just a bit riled at the encroachers—read here, some hollering and shouting matches took place.

The welcome confines of Wrigley Field!

The guys retrieved me a couple of dogs and a tall Coke—my habit is to never leave my seat after I take it except to participate in the 7^th inning stretch. We hadn’t taken time on our way up to do anything but look.

Our unobstructed view, unless you just wanted to see what was happening at 2nd!

Rooftop seating on the apartments and homes across the street from Wrigley Field.

Our seats were the fourth through the sixth seats in on our row in the 4^th deck just two rows from the top. I casually mentioned to those sitting to our left as they crossed in front of me that that trip should be their last. Everybody complied with my wishes. Those immediately to our left never left their seats. Those just past them climbed over the back of their seats and crossed in front of the guys sitting in the row behind of us; some even climbing over 2 rows of seats to find their way out. Those just further down crossed in front of the people sitting further to our left and took the long way out to get grub. Sometimes ya just gotta take a stand.

Howard & Joseph (new Stadium bought ball caps) sitting 2 rows this side of Heaven.

The Red Birds hit back-to-back homers in the second inning (Jay & Molina) to go on top. The Cubs scored a run in the 3^rd; then the Cards got another run in the 5^th, a solo shot from Albert Pujlos; you could see the intensity he had from where we were sitting, even in the 4^th deck. The Cubs put up another run in the 5^th but still trailed 3 to 2. Then the Cards' catcher, Molina hit his 2^nd homer of the night, a two run shot moving the Cards up 5 to 2. They added one more run in that inning and that ended the evening’s scoring. Pitchin’ did the rest with the final score being 6 to 2 and the Cards out hitting the Cubs 14 to 7. Forty-five minutes after reloading the shuttle, we were on our way to the hotel.

Caught the ball of the bat of the Card's David Freese (3rd base) - But just wait!

Cardinals' Jon Jay scoring on his solo Home Run in the 2nd.

Yadier Molina (Cards' catcher) coming around 3rd on his back-to-back Home Run following Jay.

Ball coming off the bat of Albert Pujlos' Home Run in the 5th inning.

Before I forget, the attendance at Wrigley was 39,420 out of a capacity of 41,160. I don’t think the capacity includes the rooftop seating across the street from the ballpark. Good crowd!

The games in KC were completely reminders of AAA games and the game in Comisky was closer to big league but still had the little park feeling. Wrigley was all Big League; an experience I will never forget—ya have to be there to feel it.