Thursday, July 2, 2009

Atlanta

On the Sum of All Fears

Turner Field
Turner Field, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Philadelphia Phillies vs. Atlanta Braves
Turner Field
Major League Baseball, National League East
Atlanta, GA
7:05 PM


Outside the Game:
With the afternoon game the day before, I had a full night's sleep to get me going groggily into the late morning. I ate some random bits of the breakfast buffet at the hotel and took a quick shuttle ride to the airport.

General Mitchell airport is perhaps the only municipal edifice named for someone drummed out of the Army on charges of insubordination. The small museum in the airport proudly attests to this fact. One of the other things that I enjoyed about this airport was the fact that it had a real, honest-to-god bookstore in the terminal, as opposed to the crappy little "Best Seller" stands that I had been plagued with for the majority of my airport sojourns. So utterly elated to have a real bookstore to browse through, I was almost late to my boarding.

Unsurprisingly, I would be taking Delta on my flight to Atlanta (and, why yes, they did serve Coca-Cola products on the plane, as well). I was seated next to a salesman from Montana on the way home for the holiday weekend, and he being a talker, we chatted for most of the duration of the flight. He was the first beekeeper I had ever met in person, so I actually found out some fairly interesting information about such things, including how one manages to stumble into the beekeeping business (his grandfather was a keeper, and he inherited his equipment at his passing) and what the heck you do with all the honey (keep it, sell it, and brew a wide variety of meads). His 9-year old was a wrestler, and as any self-respecting proud father would, he had several videos of his son in matches, including the state finals match that he won. I'll say this much: you begin to question your place in life when there is a nine year-old with an upper body twice your size.

The flight was on time, and after meandering through the thickets of Atlanta international as a result of being dropped off at a gate the furthest away from civilization, I got my shuttle to the Best Western Hotel at the airport.

Getting to the game proved to be an adventure. Without a rental for the first time, I was prepared to have to cab it to and from the stadium. I got a suggestion from the desk clerk to take the shuttle back to the airport and then take take the subway to a stop that had a "Braves Shuttle" out to the field. Why not?

The subway ride out to the Five Points station was not too difficult, but once exiting the subway, I was told to just follow the signs to the field shuttle, but that was a little easier said than done. There were plenty of signs for the shuttle, to be sure, but they were just either vague or contradictory. I just eventually stood around until I saw a group of people in Braves gear going in the direction of one of the signs and then followed them through the labyrinthine Atlanta Underground Mall and out the other end to the imperfectly hidden shuttle bus stop. The shuttle eventually showed up and whisked us slowly through Atlanta traffic to Turner Field.

Thankfully, the shuttles back stopped directly at the subway stop, and a short subway ride got me back to the airport, to the shuttle to the hotel, and by the time I got back to my room, I wished I had just taken a damn cab.


The Stadium & Fans:
Home to center, Turner Field
Home plate to center field, Turner Field

Turner Field was another relatively new ballpark, and tribute to the ego of one man, and "the longest continuously operating franchise in the major leagues," or so they like to claim in a pavilion by a statue of Hank Aaron. The stadium was made to be impressive, and it was laid out in an organized fashion.

If nothing else, it can lay claim to the best kids' area in the majors -- "Tooner Field," sponsored by Cartoon Network, features all the best-known characters from their shows in their full glory, including a life-sized Dexter mech.

The area out in the center field pavilion had specialty food, as well as hot dogs from around the majors. The interior hallways had games for kids and adults, in addition to a "Braves Museum and Hall of Fame," that cost some game tokens to get into. To be fair, the museum was quite well done, detailing the history of the Braves franchise (and evidence that crazy people such as myself have been doing detailed score cards for a long time now), their solitary World Series trophy, and a full-sized Pullman car that talked about baseball travel during mid-century.

It was also in possession of the worst place in the entire damned world. The Braves had a room dedicated to their 14 straight division titles. If I could define my closest approximation of Hell, it would be this vestibule to all my frustrations and hate. Traveling through it and watching the countless second-place finishes by the Mets, it was all I could do not to lose all hope to despair, except for the knowledge that at the end of their streak was a Mets victory in the NL East.

Braves Museum
Worst place in the Universe

The upper deck area of the park was not neglected, and had some play areas and places with views of downtown. Amongst the items up there was the giant Coke bottle that was being retired this season. As part of the festivities, the first X-thousand fans got a voucher to get a replica Coke bottle of their own. (This bottle was actually filled with Coke, and I had to remove said cola before I was allowed to take it through airport security the next day, because, as we know, over three ounces of liquid hurts freedom, or something or other.)


At the Game with Oogie:
Dexter
I will crush you, DeeDee.

Oh boy, was this a doozy. Being surrounded by Braves fans constantly making that god-damned Braves chop all the time already made me need to actively control my impulse to pick a direction and start killing, but the cherry on top of this suck sundae was a woman sitting on my right in my row. She was from South Jersey, a Phillies fan, had recently moved to Atlanta, and seemingly the move had tragically resulted in her inability to shut her damn mouth. She had also been drinking, which she proudly proclaimed during her unending stream of "consciousness" monologue, just to keep it that extra dash of annoying. Every inconsequential thought that entered into her addled little brain from the friction of the two remaining working brain cells in her head seemingly broke the laws of physics in their speed from aborted inception to utterance: which Phillies players were hot, which one she'd most like to be friends with, how her hot dog tasted, how her family never answered the phone when she called (I wonder why, cupcake?), and on and on and on and on and on. I wanted to pull the gentleman accompanying her to the game aside, give him $100, and tell him to run -- I'd hold her off for as long as I could. It was the least I could do.

I was sitting in the upper deck behind home plate again, and despite the company, they were excellent seats, except for the bizarre fact that there was inadequate lighting as the sun went down. I thought it might have been just my area, but there were entire areas of the stadium bathed in shadows just barely lightened by the reflected glow of the field lights. It was so out of place, I can't imagine why anyone thought it was a good idea, or why someone hadn't noticed and resolved the situation yet.


The Game:
First pitch, Phillies vs. Braves
First pitch, Phillies vs. Braves

The Phillies playing the Braves. Outside of fervently wishing that everyone in the stadium besides myself would drop dead, to say I was conflicted would be a tremendous understatement. Once I saw that the Mets had won their game, I did the moral utilitarian math and decided to pull for the Braves, as they were still behind the Mets, and a win would be a game the Mets made up. And when I say "pull for," I mean it more in the sense of comparing Hitler and Stalin, in that while both monsters, one did statistically kill fewer people.

The Braves threatened in the second, but the game was scoreless until a two-run Brave homer in the 4th. The Phillies scratched two runs in the sixth to tie it back up, and although they came close to more in the subsequent innings, the score stayed tied until the bottom of the eighth. The Braves exploded for three runs that they were able to make stick in the ninth, nailing down a 5-2 victory. Lawrence Jones went 1-4.

The righteousness of my decision was ultimately validated by how upset the woman in my row was at the loss, and sanctified by a crying Phillies fan I passed on my way out of the stadium. Yes, cry; cry your tears of pain. Your wonderful sorrow fills my soul with black gladness.

I will say this: Bobby Cox is one hell of a manager, and everything Bobby Valentine aspired to be. It was rough keeping up with all of his moves on a cramped scorecard, but he kept pushing exactly the right button when he needed to, and it led to a win.


The Scorecard:
Phillies vs. Braves, 07-02-09. Braves win, 5-2.
Phillies vs. Braves, 07/02/09. Braves win, 5-2.

This was quite a scam. You get a free program on your way into the stadium, but you can only get a scorecard as part of the $7 program. And it doesn't get you much scorecard-wise - a flimsy one-pager that is 25% Coke ads. The area was stretched laterally, not horizontally, and frankly was just not spacious enough to score a NL game, let alone one where the Braves manager was swapping out the kitchen sink every inning or so. The biggest slap in the face was the totals column for Runs and Hits was indicated with a "R/H" in the area for those stats for the first inning. That's just sloppy.


The Accommodations:
Best Western
Best Western

My Best Western was right across the way from the airport, and I had an absolutely huge suite that I spent next to no time in. The various couches and chairs did provide nice props onto which to spew all the items from my suitcase, which I repacked and made the move to place all my few remaining clean clothes into the mesh pouch and the dirty clothes into the main basin of the suitcase.



2009 The Rest

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