Mets

My trip to NYC to see the Yankees was so enjoyable I decided to keep my eyes open for an opportunity to go see the Mets.  As luck would have it, I found a beautiful day with a deal on a ticket on bobblehead day.  An empty seat on the bus sealed the deal.

Queens was the only borough I had not visited so I planned to spend some time in Flushing Meadows Park before the game.  But the bus was an hour late so I just went straight to the game and back.

I was absolutely delighted with my time at Citi Field; it was the best non-Camden Yards MLB experience I remember having in a long, long time.

The stadium was great.  The food was so local -- so Queens -- I ate more than I should have.

The crowd carried some old-school enthusiasm.  For example, just up the row from me was a 13ish year old boy.  He was at the game by himself (at least until the 8th inning) dressed in blue and orange with a cowbell and towel.  I sort of imagined him saving up his paper route money and riding his banana-seated Schwinn to the game.

While waiting for the bus home, I ran into three guys in Orioles garb.  They had been in town for the Os - Yankees game that afternoon then came across town for the Mets game that evening.

Future Goals!

Yankees

I don't root for the Yankees.

You're welcome.

But I will confess that I did once.

It was last year.  I found an unusually cheap ticket to a game in Yankee Stadium and a reasonably good deal on a bus ticket to Manhattan.  I had the day off.  The Mrs. was out of town visiting her parents.  The weather forecast was for sunshine.

And it was a bobblehead night.

Now, you don't have to ask me twice to got to NYC.  I absolutely love the city.

So I rolled into town, had a late lunch at Ellen's Stardust, and spent an hour or so people watching in Central Park before catching the subway to the Bronx.

Years ago, the first time I went to NYC, I remember walking down Broadway and thinking, "I'm walking down Broadway.  THE Broadway.  ME."

It was the same kind of thing at Yankee Stadium.

And after enjoying the crowd and the stadium, and the setting, I could see why the team has such a loyal following.  Not me, but I could see people getting taken in and remaining loyal.

So, as is my custom, I rooted for the home team.

That's all you'll get from me, Yankees, until I get back to your stadium again.

Milwaukee

A few years back I was able to attend a game in Milwaukee.

My brother lives in the area, we were driving through, and the Brewers were at home.  This was a good combination.

This was our first time at the new stadium, but not my first time at a game in Milwaukee.

I had been to several games at County Stadium in the '80s when visiting my brother's place.  One of the more memorable games came in celebration of his 30th birthday.

My parents and I were on our annual visit and, while we were there and unbeknownst to him, my other siblings and their families arrived in the night to have a surprise party.  The next day (or the day after, maybe) all the "kids" went to a Brewers game while my parents stayed home with their grandchild.

The only thing I missed on the last trip was the closing of the dome.  It was open for the entire game.  When we got to our car, we turned around and saw that it was closed.

Next time, perhaps.

Generational

Baseball goes back at least a couple of generations in my family.  The picture above is of the county's championship team in the early/mid 20th century.  Both of my grandfathers were on that team.

My paternal grandfather had a light blue pickup truck about the color of blue in this baseball figurine's shirt.  I remember him sitting in the truck in the driveway at the farm on weekend afternoons listening to Tigers games.

My grandparents from both sides were lifelong neighbors on farms about a quarter mile apart.  My dad said that as a kid he could sometimes hear my maternal grandfather's voice hollering out from the other farm when a serious game of ball was being played.

I couldn't hit a ball with a bat if my life depended on it.  But the game somehow still ended up somewhere in a few of the genes.

Bobble

It's time for confession.

I've picked up a bit of a bobblehead addiction.

It started out innocently.

When I was a child, my oldest brother had a half-dozen or so of the old fashioned bobbleheads in his room.  My memory says that he had a Detroit Tigers player and a Cleveland Indian mascot, among others.  I loved to go in there and make their heads bobble and see which one would go the longest.

I was exposed to these vices again as an adult.  I caught one as a promo at an Os game a few years back and liked seeing it on my desk.  The heads of the new one didn't bobble in the same fun way as my brother's bobblers did, but it was still pretty neat.

For a couple of years, I tried to catch a bobblehead promo at Camden Yards and ended up with four of them:  Matt Wieters, Chris Davis, Adam Jones, and Melvin Mora.  Going to the bobblehead giveaway game became a bit like a floating holiday.

Then came last year.

I was in Kansas City on bobblehead night and caught the game.  A few weeks later, I had the chance to go to a game in Philadelphia.  I debated going but, when I saw it was bobblehead day, I went and got one.

From there it became a bit of a game.  I already had an Orioles bobblehead game on my calendar and had wanted to catch a Nationals game, so I found the date for one of their bobblehead nights and found my way to DC.

I started to check out bobble nights at other stadiums within striking distance.  Yankees tickets are expensive so I didn't have much hope.  But on a whim I checked and found a cheap nosebleed seat on the bobble head night, snagged a bus ticket, and headed for the big apple.

I had so much fun on that trip that I checked out the Mets schedule and, BINGO!  Back on the bus I went later that summer.

So with six bobbleheads in one summer, the addiction set in.

This year I put every bobblehead game, MLB and MILB, within shot of where I live or anyplace I might happen to be between now and October on my Google calendar.  Clearly, I won't get to all of them.

But I can try, can't I?

Fightins

I decided this year to try out some MiLB action.  We have several teams in Maryland an a few just across the boarder in other states so, why not?

Of course, my first adventure into MiLB was a bit further away.  The family and I were on a day trip into Pennsylvania so we decided to catch a game in Reading that night.

It was a bobblehead night so that made things all the better.  (More about that in another post.)

Though I hadn't been to an MiLB game before, I had been to plenty of ballgames outside of a major league stadium.  My teenage daughter, however, had not.  The nosebleed section was shockingly (for her) close to the field and she got to see how the lower deck people live.

The antics between innings were fun, if not a bit bizarre.  The hot dog throw and the chair races a bit over the top but otherwise provided some entertainment not present in the more formal setting of the majors.

The catch of the night happened in the stands.  The batter hit a popup that went into the stand behind home plate toward the third base side.  The ball landed in the ice bucked carried on the head of a vendor standing in the aisle.  Give that man a prize!

I cannot close the post without noting the national anthem.  Rather than being sung, it was played by a 13 year old girl on the violin.  The solo was outstanding -- perhaps the best rendition of the song I have ever heard.

Overall, a good time at the ballpark.  Onward to other MiLB teams.

Opener

I made it to my first game of the season.


Too many empty seats and too many in pinstripes for this ballpark.  A bit chilly.


But, hey!

Ow bout dem Os, Hon!

Coming from behind again this season and making it 4 and 0.  No complaints there, my friend.