Queens

On Resuming

Not Shea Stadium, 2025

Friday, May 10, 2025
Chicago Cubs vs. New York Metropolitans
Not Shea Stadium
National League
Queens, NY
7:15 PM

Outside the Game:
After a season's absence trying to organize my life situation to an acceptable degree, I decided to take the plunge and head back to the ballpark from my new, old place.

I dallied with the thought of driving to Queens for about two seconds, and then considered taking in the train, which would be too time inflexible coming home, or would involve me driving and parking in Hoboken (again raising the specter of driving), and then conceded to the inevitable and decided to try and take the bus right by my house to the stadium. This would end up right at Port Authority, where it would be a quick 7 ride to the park, and really, how bad could even the bus be on an early Saturday afternoon?

The answer is what made me largely abandon the bus as a means to commute. Firstly, on the weekend, NJ Transit combines two bus lines into one, nearly doubling the commute time, but that was factored into their scheduled timing. But even with that, the bus ended up arriving over twenty minutes late for no appreciable reason other than incompetence. No traffic, or accidents, or construction would justify it.

At any rate, the good news is that I was eventually and tardily dumped into Port Authority, where there is a direct connection to the 7 trains, which still managed to transport me to the park a half hour before gates opened. I took a quick walk around to see the receding of the chop shops to progress and the pre-game "Street Party" going on before attaching myself onto one of the longer-than-expected lines by the right field gate. I soon discovered this to be because of a bobble-head giveaway that evening. But at least I was in the shade while I waited.

Heading home was similarly disappointing, and not just because of the game result. After boarding a 7 train that the passengers were assured was an express, we soon found it to be a local, elongating the commute. Back at Port Authority, it took a couple of tries and nearly being locked in a gate--which was opened to enter but not to exit--to find the correct berth for the bus home, as well as a bonus miserable 20 minute wait in the muggy heat, thirsty and sweaty. But board the bus we did eventually, and it had the two-route path home as well, but I eventually was dropped off a block from my house, where I quickly grabbed a drink and a much-needed shower before bed.

The Stadium & Fans:

Center to home, Not Shea Stadium

In my involuntary one-year sabbatical, there were a lot of little changes to the Not Shea. The museum, for some reason, was ousted from its home to make more space for the already sprawling team store, with the Hall of Fame plaques relegated to pillars at the top of the main escalator, by the lineup board. The Shake Shack finally ousted Blue Smoke to take over the entirety of that center-field pavilion for itself. I'm not sure if it lessened the lines at all.

The restaurant on the club level was no longer reservation-only and was open to the masses, and to be honest, I can't remember which member of the cola wars owned the current Coca-Cola Porch the last time I was there. Mr. Met & his wife were taking photos as soon as gates opened now, and the aforementioned "street party" special event was a DJ, some food stalls (one run by Mookie Wilson's family), and merch. So, you know, whatever.

It was a good Friday crowd that kept faith until the end, but they went home without anything to cheer about.

At the Game with Oogie:

The first Shack in a while

I went straight in the right field gate to Shake Shack and landed my first Shack of the year, then did my normal bumming around and photography before shouldering my way into the team store and trying to track down what happened to the museum. I had a supplementary pizza & pretzel before the game started in the luxury level. I honestly can't be bothered to learn the new names anymore. Caesars? Smirnoff? Whatever. I had pizza.

My seat was on the third base side at the top of the bronze level. There was a lovely old couple sitting next to me, and a gaggle of Japanese fans in the row in front of me, clearly here to watch the Cub's Suzuki.

The Game:

First pitch, Cubs vs. Metropolitans

The Metropolitans, flying high for most of the year, of course started their first rough patch as soon as I show up for a game, contesting a match with the playing-over-their-heads Cubs. But you can blame anybody except Baty, who went 2-4 with five RBIs in an attempt to single-handedly win the game despite the ambivalence of the rest of the team.

The Cubs struck first and early. A leadoff single, an error on a stolen base attempt, a walk, a single, a walk, and another single brought home two runs, giving the North-siders an early 2-0 lead. New York went uninspiringly in order, as did Chicago and the Metropolitans in the second. The Cubs opened the third with a double and a single to extend their lead to 3-0. New York got an odd hit-by-pitch followed by a catcher's interference that went nowhere in their half of the frame.

Chicago lead off the fourth with a home run to pad the lead to 4-0, but the Metropolitans finally got something going with two singles and Baty home run to center to close the deficit to 4-3. The Cubbies only had a stranded single to show for the fifth, as did New York. Chicago finally went in order again in the sixth, while the Mets stranded a leadoff single that stole their way into scoring position.

The Cubs went in order again in the seventh, while New York left a single and walk on the basepaths. The eighth heated up again as Chicago strung a series of walks and singles into two more runs to open up their lead to 6-3. In the bottom of the inning, the Metropolitans got a man on base for Baty to hit another one out, closing the lead again to one run at 6-5. The Cubs went meekly in order in the ninth, as the Mets erased a leadoff walk with a double play and couldn't get the batting order around to Baty again, ending the game at a 6-5 loss.

The Scorecard:

Cubs vs. Metropolitans, 5/10/25. Cubs win, 6-5

I was trying out the new Frixion erasable pens for the first time at a park, so I went to use the regular program scorecard for the first time in a long time.

Using the new heat-erasable ink actually went a lot better than I expected, and scoring the game involved a lot less paraphernalia, so this may be something I move to going forward, even if the cost of pens over pencils is appreciably higher.

The game itself had few things of note. An infield single in the top of the first was nearly a great 5-3 putout and was noted as such, and in the bottom of the third, an F-6 putout was erased on a catcher's interference, awarding the batter a base.

And that was pretty much it.

The Accommodations:
Clifton of my heart

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

Stand-Alone Trip

Tupper Lake

On Rescuing Some of the Summer

Thursday, June 30, 2022
Latham, NY

Outside the Game:
With a four-day weekend on the offer, I decided to do a little more to limp my way towards 200 stadiums--a mark I had intended to hit three years ago at this point--by taking in a little of the Empire League of Professional Baseball, a last-chance, no-frills league that has been scraping by for nearly a decade in the farthest regions of New York's Adirondacks. It is a pretty far drive, but all the stadiums are bunched together once you get up there, so I decided to go halfway the night before and then head the rest of the way up to grab two of the parks, with the hope of doing the other two the next weekend, where a freak vacation had been inserted by my employer, which wasn't necessarily unwelcome, but certainly unexpected.

I slogged my way through another day of work, getting ready in the background as the day progressed. I finished up on time and grabbed a rideshare out to my parents' house at around 7 PM, not hitting much traffic and handling some weekly responsibilities over here before heading out on the road before 8 PM-ish. I immediately failed to get gas at the first station I went to as a woman was having a heated argument with the attendant about the cash she handed to him, and it only seemed to be escalating. A short drive got me to another, quieter gas station and received a full tank of gas before heading irrevocably northward.

It was a mostly easy and uneventful drive, though a car with its hazards on and two trucks doing that inevitable blockage of all traffic during a slow-motion pass in both lanes created some situational delays. There was no combined no-hitter this time up, but I pulled into the hotel just a bit after 10 PM and checked in. Finding all the vending machines had been removed from the hotel for some reason, I turned on the air conditioning in my room full-blast and then went next door to the gas station to get some snacks, passing a half-dressed man sitting on the curb openly drinking a six-pack of beer that made me feel more concerned about the safety of my car. Prophetic in the wrong way, it would turn out.

I ate my snacks, hit the sack, and that was the end of Thursday.

The Accommodations:

Mictrotel Inn, Latham, NY

The Microtel Inn was remarkably like every other Microtel Inn I've ever stayed at: conveniently located, cheap, slightly grubby and worn out, but clean nevertheless.

Upon entering the room, a small bathroom was off to the right with a full tub, and the bedroom was a compact room with a half-desk sticking out from the wall opposite the bed, with the TV and closet next to it, with the curious little day bed next to the window that is the hallmark of Mictrotels, for some unexplained reason.

It did its job.

On a Delightful Evening of Awful Baseball

Municipal Park, 2022

Friday, July 1, 2021
Japan Islanders vs. Tupper Lake River Pigs
Municipal Stadium
Empire League
Tupper Lake, NY
7:05 PM PM 

 

Outside the Game:
I woke up early in the Microtel, blearily stumbling down to the hotel's breakfast bar, a disappointing spread of mostly cold items that nonetheless fed me enough for the day ahead, before I retreated to my room for more sleep.

I eventually relented, showered and packed up, heading out onto the road sometime before 11 AM. The remaining drive was certainly scenic, if a little terrifying in places. I would later be informed that these were mostly old stagecoach roads winding through the mountains that were dubiously upgraded to two lane car roads with no shoulders. Some road work necessitated the temporary installation of traffic lights, as the roads were reduced even more to single lanes, the practically of which was of great concern to me, but ultimately did not fail in their duties.

I arrived at my hotel--right off the main road, as most things in this area were--at about 12:30 PM. I paged the front desk manager, who was out in the pool with presumably his friends and family. He has able to check me in early, saying my room was right down the walkway from the Elvis statue, which should just about tell you what kind of place Gauthier's Saranac Lake Inn was--and that was just fine with me.

I dropped off my bags, made sure the AC was maxed, and took the suggestion of my host to walk down the road for lunch at a local burger joint that would serve me a complementary beer with my room key. Outside of being a Red Sox backer bar (based on the decor), the burger and beer exactly hit the spot, and I walked happily full back to the hotel. Said hotel was right on the lake, with most rooms looking over the marina, and featured free bikes and boats for use. Most of the boats were in ill repair, and I managed to screw up getting into a kayak and had to use a partially broken paddle boat to retrieve it. That soured me on the whole project, and I decided to head into town to see what I could see instead.

There was a small museum (my kryptonite, if anything is) in the old Saranac Laboratory, which told the story of the tuberculosis colony that originally was the town's claim to fame (run by a relation of Doonesbury cartoonist Garry Trudeau). The town-spanning resort has been reduced down to the restored laboratory building as a museum to tell the story. It was honestly fascinating, especially the little porches that the patients used to sit in. After finding out there was a carousel in town, I went directly there after the museum, immediately falling into a long chat with the mechanic who kept the thing running before taking my own ride on an otter. I had the merry-go-round to myself, and so an extra-long ride by the mechanic's wife, who was manning the controls.

An afternoon of activity behind me, I went back to the hotel to give my mother a call and take a nap before the game that evening. Tupper Lake was just shy of a half-hour away, and not only was there no traffic at "rush hour" that evening, there were literally no cars driving in my direction out west, with the barest smatterings of cars in the other direction--the beauty of the wilds near Canada. 

After driving right past it the first time (and taking a bit to find a place to turn around), I located the ballpark in a lakefront park, with a couple of middling signs being the only advertisement. I walked around the outside of the modest old-school park, taking in the gorgeous view of the lake and the various other park monuments to the mill that used to be on the site (hence the "river pigs" who corralled all the logs), before buying a ticket, grabbing some food at the small truck outside, and heading in for the game.

After the game (and much later than I was expecting), I found the nearby McDonald's closed for the evening, so I stopped at a gas station for some snacks to munch during the completely uneventful drive back to the hotel, the road even more deserted in the early night. The parking spaces at hotel, however, had filled up completely, so I ended up parking in something resembling an open space by the stairs, sprinted into my blessedly cool room, ate my snacks, and then finished off my scorecard out on the balcony overlooking the lake. Eventually, I packed it in for the night.

The Stadium & Fans: 

Home to center, Municipal Park

Municipal Park, I would later discover, was an old softball field that had recently been converted into this professional park--not some WPA relic that received a new paint job when the River Pigs moved in--and if anything, it made me feel even more positively about the park. It is a quaint wooden structure that could be mistaken for a local little-league field in an affluent neighborhood if not for the few signs that designate it as a pro endeavor. 

The main grandstand is a covered wooden area with deep seats that the locals adorn with lawn chairs that they bring from home, but I just sat on (with the assistance of my inflatable seat cushion). Chicken wire protects the patrons from foul balls, and there are ceiling fans in the rafters that for whatever reason weren't turned on during this sweltering game. A small metal bleacher runs down the first-base side, and a small wooden bleacher runs down the third-base line. Your only two choices for tickets are the covered grandstand or the open-air bleachers. A small wooden tower by first base houses the announcers and fronts the small scoreboard hung on its side, providing the barest of information. The only other structure was the park's rest room in center (that were surmounted by a group of local kids to watch the game in the later innings). The only concessions are a food cart outside the park that sells dirt-cheap ballpark staples.

The crowd started small, with mostly families and tons of pets, but as the evening went on, more and more people showed up, including players from Saranac where the other two teams in the league were playing that evening, just a half-hour away. The only entertainment other than the game was a booster club of two that beat a colorful, branded drum whenever the home team did something noteworthy.

I mean, seriously

But boy, it was gorgeous. Before nightfall, the lake was a tantalizing backdrop for the game, and it somehow became more amazing in twilight, and regal in the night's blackness. As far as locations go, you will not find a better situated park in all the world, and I should know. #humblebrag

At the Game with Oogie:
I was there before there was anything of a crowd and set up shop right behind home plate, running out to grab a hot dog after I had done my minimal walking around and photo taking. As I was scoring away, a local mom asked if I was a scout, and I explained my situation to her. She was a host family for players on both teams tonight, so she was here rooting in a neutral fashion.

Indie scoring

While the game on the field was a farce, I can't say enough about how amazing the vista was. Truly magical, even to this cold, black heart.

The Game: 

First pitch, Islanders vs. River Pigs

This game was literally--and pardon me for the technical term here--crazy pants. Mere words and language cannot properly express how little this match-up between the Japan Islanders and the Tupper Lake River Pigs did not resemble actual baseball. The Empire League is pretty thin on talented players (especially as their best players were shipped of as an all-star team for another independent league), and they are especially translucent on pitching and catching talent. The Japanese Islanders were an interesting "road warrior" team, featuring mostly Japanese players who came over to receive more practice and experience outside of the Japanese minor and industrial leagues. One of their players is a woman, one of the few female professional ballplayers in the world, this year joining just a pitcher/outfielder for the Staten Island FerryHawks as the only in US pro leagues this summer. But onto the "baseball."

The game begins with a walk and a stolen base by the Islanders, emphasizing immediately the lack of pitching and catching talent in the Empire League. Another walk followed, then two quick outs. But the fly out and a stolen base put the runners on second and third with two outs. A passed ball allowed a run to score and the runner on second to move to third. Another walk and a stolen base made it second and third with two outs, before a strikeout ended the damage at 1-0 Islanders. If the Japanese team scored stereotypically by small ball, the American Tupper Lake team scored stereotypically with a leadoff home run to tie the game. A walk and hit-by-pitch followed, but three straight outs ended the inning with a tie score after one. The second inning began with two more back-to-back walks. After a strikeout, a grounder recorded an out at second, but left it first and third with two out. A double steal resulted in a throw into the outfield, and another unearned run scored before a fly out ended the half with Japan up 2-1. In the bottom of the second, the River Pigs went in order, one of only three times it would happen for either team all game. The third inning began with a walk and hit batsman for the Islanders. The lead runner stole third and scored on a ground out to first, but two more outs left it at 3-1 Islanders. Tupper Lake led off the third with a single, whose runner then stole second and third on the non-existent arm of the catcher. A walk made it first and third, but Japan struck out the side to strand everyone.

In the top of the fourth, Japan had another rare inning of going in order. The River Pigs had a one-out single make it to third on a shallow two-out double, but everyone was again stranded by a strikeout to end the inning. The Islanders again went in order in the fifth, but Tupper Lake finally got their offense going. A leadoff single again stole second and third on the ineffectual Japanese catcher. With one out, there was a walk who promptly stole second. A single scored both runners and went to second on a subsequent wild pitch. But on a hit-and-run attempt, a double-play ended the inning with everything tied at three. Japan started the sixth with a single, but the runner was promptly erased on a pickoff. A two-out walk was stranded by a strikeout, and nothing changed. The bottom of the sixth is when the wheels came off. We begin with an error by the third baseman letting the lead River Pig batter on. Two passed balls got him to third. A walk followed, along with an immediate stealing of second. A single brought in both runs. A hit batsman followed, making it first and second with no out and two home. A double steal made that second and third, with a throwing error on the attempt scoring the lead runner. A walk made it first and second again with no outs. A double cleared the bases. Three straight walks loaded the bases and brought in the runner that started on second. A two-attempt strikeout (see below) got the first out of the inning. A sacrifice fly to right got in another run, and a strikeout mercifully ended the inning with seven runs on two hits. Think about that a minute. I'll wait. 10-3 Tupper Lake, by the way.

In the top of the seventh, the dazed Islanders only managed a two-out single that was stranded. A new Japanese pitcher in the bottom of the seventh did not improve things. Five straight walks brought in a run, followed by a sacrifice fly for another run, then two more walks to plate the mercy-rule run and put an end to this travesty at 13-3, Tupper Lake.

The Scorecard:
As you might expect, this league didn't have programs (or even handouts), so I was using the BBWAA scorebook for this eventful game.

Islanders vs. River Pigs, 7/1/22. River Pigs won, 13-3 by mercy rule.

I don't know where to even begin, but let's start with the fact that the Islanders were leading through five innings with two unearned runs and one run facilitated by a hit-by-pitch, one in each of the first three innings. The run in the second was notated to document that it scored because of an errant throw in the steal attempt by the trailing runner.

Then, there was the walk-fest. This is the only game I've been to where the walks (21) outnumbered the strike outs (15), and by a lot.

There were a bunch of plays for the River Pigs that received notes. An infield single in the bottom of the fourth was noted that it was off of the pitcher. A double-play in the bottom of the fifth was noted because of being caused by a hit-and-run attempt. A strikeout in the bottom of the fateful sixth inning was noted because the batter bunted with two strikes, hit it foul, and was not called out, though he would subsequently strike out anyway to restore the karmic balance. And, of course, in the seventh, we had the implementation of the mercy rule after a 10-run lead. I decided to record this by the normal double-slash line to end a game, with the ends connected a crossbar in the center as well. I'm not sure if there is an official symbol for it (I should really look it up), but that is what I went with.

But this game nearly broke my baseball brain.

The Accommodations:
Gauthier's Saranac Lake Inn is about exactly what you'd expect based on the name. It is a somewhat ramshackle family-owned hostel that has been there forever, and is covered in little memorabilia, with each room named, and old-style oval key rings issued to get you in and out.

The room was decently-sized, with a tiny bathroom on the left upon entry stocked with a gaggle of environmentally conscious products. The main room detailed the summer and winter appeal of the area, with two beds and a nightstand on one wall, and a dresser and TV opposite, with a little table and chairs along the far wall with the window overlooking the lake. A small balcony was accessible by sliding doors, with chairs and a small table out there for your enjoyment. 

The pool was out front, along with the bicycles for free rental, and the lakefront had chairs and boats for use as well, though as we established, in various states of repair. The owner was friendly and talkative, and it was about exactly what I expected in quite a good way.

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

2022 Adirondacks

Bronx

On Opening Up All of the Bronx

New Yankee Stadium, 2012

Friday, June 25, 2021

Oakland Athletics vs. New York Yankees

New Yankee Stadium

MLB, American League

Bronx, NY

7:00 PM 

 

Outside the Game: 

I'm not claiming to be uber-woke, or whatever the hell the kids are calling it these days, but I knew what "Juneteenth" was before last year. In college, I took a class on Reconstruction, which included reading Jubilee, a historical novel that rather prominently features the holiday. Why that piece of information hasn't drained out of my long-term memory like everything else is a question for greater powers than myself. But here we are.

My new company had the day off before Biden went nuclear and made it a national holiday at the last minute this year, and--frankly--for anyone arguing against it, exactly how racist do you have to be to oppose a new Friday holiday in June? There are guys in the Klan who have no problem with this.

At any rate, I had a day off work and nothing to do, and the Yankees were at home, so I decided to grab a ticket. This was made easier by a trick of fate that had today as the day that the Yankees would be opening up the stadium to full capacity. The hasty transfer over to 100% open had gummed up the works on the Website, and the phone lines at Ticketmaster were similarly down. I whittled away the morning and afternoon with some cooking, laundry, and chores before checking one last time before resigning myself to buying a ticket at the stadium.

Right before I was to head out at 3 PM, the Website started working again, I grabbed my online ticket, and I headed out to the light rail. The light rail took me to the PATH and then to the subway, with nothing much in the way. It was a little surreal to take this trip again, as with most things this year, in a way both completely familiar and alien at the same time. I was super early, but I had nothing else to do, and I half-consciously bounced along on my trip out the Bronx.

I emerged into the high summer afternoon with some time to spend. I walked around the stadium to check out the Covid setup before heading out the park they had built on the site of Yankee Stadium. In the intervening years, I've never actually had a chance to go there, so I walked out to the old Bat by the renovated LIRR Station and took in Ruppert Plaza, with its already weathered cobblestones of historic dates related to the old stadium, and Elston Howard Field on the site of the old diamond.

After some leisurely walking around, it was getting close to gate open time, so I made the short walk back over to the stadium, and placed myself on one of the socially distanced entry lines. There were no vaccination checks here, just standing in the baking summer sun until the trip through the metal detectors was over. The only excitement during the wait was allowing an older gentleman through to the front of the line, which mercifully provoked no outrage. And in I went.

At the end of the game, the crowd dispersed groggily into the night. The subway situation was crowded, but not packed, and I had an uneventful public transportation ride home, facilitated by being able to take the light rail home instead of a Lyft since it was still technically a weekday.

The Stadium & Fans: 

Center to home, New Yankees Stadium

New Yankee Stadium hadn't changed all that much since my last visit. Obviously, the Covid testing tents outside and the socially distanced entrance set-ups were different, but the facility itself hadn't changed much at all. While it was later on in the summer, and this night was the first where the stadium was at 100% capacity, there were a lot of the protocols that the Mets had in place (removing all tables and chairs, zip-tying unoccupied seats, etc) that weren't still in use, but I wasn't sure if it was because the Yankees had taken them away or had never implemented them in the first place.

The stadium wasn't close to full capacity, but that no doubt had to do with the fully opened seats being only available for purchase for a day or so. It was the most crowded game I had been to yet in two years, though, and the crowd, as with most Yankees games, were into the contest, even as the Yankees were going through a rough patch for the season.

New Yankee Stadium remains a pale shadow of what it replaced, and its windowless museum and the dead zone of concrete hallways sacrificed in the name of exclusive seating areas behind home plate are even more disappointing in fresh review. I hope they find a way of doing something useful with it.

At the Game with Oogie:

Scoring away again

Thanks to this being the first completely open game and the decision being made essentially within a day, there was a dearth of people who made advanced purchases of seats. My same-day purchase of a seat in the upper deck right behind first base was the only one sold in my (no doubt) newly opened row, as what I suppose to be the socially distanced seats in the rows in front and behind me were occupied. It was nice to have a row to myself, though not as nice as pod seating, but what can one do?

I wandered around the park right when gates opened, and I was able to hit both Monument Park and the museum with no lines. I got to see the most recent inductees to Monument Park since my last visit, as well as the half-hearted Pride flower arrangement that someone in corporate thought would be sufficient support for the LGBT community. I grabbed some fries in a helmet at some point, along with chicken tenders or the like. After hitting the team store, I just parked in my seat until the start of the game.

In keeping with my baseball this season, Jomboy Media was in attendance in a luxury suite down the third base side. I was able to pick them out with the zoom on my camera and send a photo to an amused Jimmy. The group of college-aged kids in front of me were talking about one his recent Breakdowns or other. I doubt they would have believed me if I told them I was messaging with him during the game.

The Game: 

First pitch, Yankees vs. A's

The Yankees were fighting to get back into the playoff race against one of their primary Wild Card antagonists, the Oakland Athletics. As seemed to be the regular this year, there was inclement weather earlier, but we looked set for gametime.

The A's got on the board early, with a two-out solo homer to right, putting them up 1-0, while New York went down in order in their half. Things cooled off in the second, with both sides sitting back down in order, but Oakland got back to work in the third, scratching in a run off a back-to-back double and single, extending their lead to 2-0. But in the bottom the third, the Yankees tied it up at two with a walk and a homer to right of their own, leaving us with a fresh game a third of the way in.

The A's stranded two runners in the top of the fourth, while New York went in order. Oakland wasted a walk at the start of the fifth, while the Yankees grabbed their first lead quickly in the bottom of the frame with a solo shot to right. They also just as quickly lost that lead in the top of the sixth, as the A's strung together two singles and a homer to bring across three runs and regain a 5-3 lead. New York stranded a runner on third after a single and a wild pitch for their part of the sixth.

Oakland threatened again in the top of the seventh, with runners on second and third and no outs after a single, hit by pitch, and wild pitch, but they left them on the vine to wilt. The Yankees squandered a single in the bottom of the inning. Both sides went in order in the eighth, and the A's left a single on the bases in the top of the ninth. Perhaps true to their form this year, New York ended the game by grounding into a one-out double-play to seal Oakland's 5-3 victory.

The Scorecard: 

Yankees vs. A's, 5/25/21. A's win, 5-3

Since this was my first time back at the parks after a couple of years, I decided to use the home scorecards again, which in this case is a one-page insert in the league's most expensive $10 program.

The scorecard is split with the visitors on top and the home Yankees on the bottom, with a Yankees rosters along the top left and an Umpires roster on the bottom left. Pitching lines for both teams are in the center. Player lines are for 11 innings with a pre-printed diamond in each square. There are lines for ten players and replacements, with each player line ending in at bats, runs, hits, RBIs, and errors, and each inning column ending in runs and hits per inning. The six pitching lines track innings pitched, hits, runs, earned runs, walks, and strikeouts. It is functional and compact, as you'd expect from the marquee franchise in the sport.

There wasn't a lot out of the ordinary from a scoring perspective beyond some weird stats. There were a ton of strikeouts (19 total) for a game that really wasn't a pitcher's duel. All but one of the eight runs came on home runs. The only particularly interesting play of note was a 5-3 putout in the top of the second that got a gem (!) by virtue of Gio Urshella going to the tarp to nab and throw out the runner at first.

The Accommodations: 

Back at my socially-distanced apartment in Jersey City

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

Stand Alone Trip, 2021

Queens

On the Games Mattering

Not Shea Stadium, 2013

Saturday, April 6, 2013
Miami Marlins vs. New York Metropolitans
Not Shea Stadium
MLB, National League East
Queens, NY
1:10 PM


Outside the Game:
I had bought my tickets for this one the first day they went on sale. The Metropolitans have an incredibly above-average Opening Day record as long as I don't attend, so I always opt for Opening Day Weekend. And so it was the case here. Work again was making great inroads against my sanity, and the best cure I've found for such things is an afternoon at the ballpark.

The weather had finally been getting a little warmer, and with Friday's temperatures in the 50s, and Sunday threatening to hit the 60s, it seemed as though it wouldn't be a "huddle and freeze" on Saturday. Of course, at this point, I knew better. Not Shea is always 10 degrees cooler than the surrounding world, and in the shade, you can knock another 10 degrees off the chart, so I had on about three t-shirts and two pairs of socks, as well as bringing along the Mets fingerless "texting gloves" giveaway from last year.

Given my recent bouts with not sleeping well due to my inability to identify the mystery beeping in my bedroom between 4 and 6 AM every day, I was up, showered, and out of the house by 9:15. A long, if uneventful, subway ride later dropped me at Not Shea just shy of 11:30. For no appreciable reason, Cirque du Soleil had set themselves up in the right field parking lot at Not Shea and were having a show that day. I can't think of a worse place to hold a circus than a ballpark parking lot (especially this windy monstrosity), and I can't imagine how much worse the traffic and parking situation was with most of a lot covered by tents that needed parking of their own. But the Wilpons aren't hurting for cash, folks, really. We promise. This was a strictly cultural decision.

Those selfsame Wilpons continued their asinine policy of trying to show some value to season ticket holders by only letting them in 2.5 hours before gametime. But people with even more expensive club seats get to pound sand in the freezing cold until the regular gates open up. I wasn't able to sneak in to the early line, so I got on the commoners line and waited in the blustery cold for a half hour. Behind me in line were three Japanese fans dressed head to toe in Mets gear. My Japanese has gotten really rusty, as I only got about a third of their conversation. It looked like they might have had season tickets, so I tried to tell them (in English) they could go to the other line to get in, but they had the standard embarrassment about not being able to speak English well, so I didn't press them on it. And I couldn't get enough Japanese together to tell them in their own language, so we all humped it until the gates opened up and let us all (to be fair, quickly) in.

After the game, even I had to spend some time in the Caesar Club to warm up. Apparently, I had lost contact with some extremities that became re-acquainted with each other as I stopped at a counter to continue writing out my scorecard. After five or ten minutes, I made my way to the subway and got a seat on the Manhattan Express 7 and settled in to proving the card on the way back. I stayed on the orange down to 14th street to stop off at Forbidden Planet to pick up some magazine poly bags, and then bought them (and a bunch of other stuff, because that is the danger of going in there -- though I did have the fortitude to avoid going to the Strand next door) to the PATH and home.


The Stadium & Fans:

Home plate to center field, Not Shea Stadium

Except for the addition of the circus in the parking lot, Not Shea hadn't changed a whole bunch from last year. There were now signs everywhere touting the upcoming All-Star game in July, but they weren't changes per se. There's a new steak sandwich concession out in center by Shake Shack and Smoke, but since I went to the back early, I got my grub at the lineless Shake Shack. There was some martial arts exhibition before the game, and a bunch of other little stuff. They were promoting "opening week" a lot more than last year. I got my visit with Mr. Met before gametime and then went back to get AIS.

Casey

The crowd was a little sparse, but it filled in as the game went on. Eventually, everyone who could was sitting out in the sun trying not to freeze to death. There were a few Marlins faithful in attendance, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.

Crazed gunman

At the Game with Oogie:

First Single Shack of the Year

As always, I got seats in the Caesar's Club. Thanks to the downward price adjustments due to the Mets' recent performance, I decided to get tickets right behind home plate, as they now cost as much as the third-base tickets last year. What I didn't realize is that those seats would literally be right in front of the broadcast booth. There was just a cameraman between me and Gary, Keith, and Ron. Before the game, and during the quiet moments of the game, I could hear them talking. I really need to go and listen to the game broadcast to see if the viewing public could here me during my more, um, enthusiastic moments during the game. I took a couple of pictures of them, and eventually some people did call for their attention, which they gamely acknowledged. I know they are working, so I didn't try and bug them, but man, was it weird being that close to them.

I was in a section that was almost exclusively dads and their sons at the game, which is fine and how god intended things to be. Most of them bailed back to the heated Ceasar's Club during the game at some point. Most of them mentioned by incredible/crazy reluctance to leave my seat during the game.


The Game:

First pitch, Marlins vs. Metropolitans

This one didn't look like it was going to be a good one for the home team, but the Metropolitans managed to pull it out late.

The Marlins wasted no time in getting started, with a leadoff single to center in the first. Neise looked like he might get out of it, with two quick outs, but on the second out (a flyout to right), the runner advanced to third, and he was promptly driven home by a single to left before the half-inning ended. The Mets showed some surprising resiliency with a leadoff walk and two one-out singles to load them up. A sacrifice fly to right brought in the tying run before a fly-out to short ended the inning, 1-1.

The game sped up considerably after that. Both pitchers calmed down and got 1-2-3 frames in the second, and the Marlins scattered a walk and single in the third to no effect, while the Mets ditched a leadoff single in a double-play with nothing else doing in their half. The Marlins squandered two-out, back-to-back singles in the fourth, while the Mets had only a walk to show for their side.

The Marlins pulled ahead in the top of the fifth with back-to-back, one-out singles. A grounder to second started a double-play, but the Mets' Tejada threw the ball away, letting a go-ahead run come in. The Mets went in order in the fifth, leaving it 2-1 Marlins. The Marlins threatened again in the sixth, with a leadoff single followed by a walk. Neise managed a double-play ball to erase all but one of the runners, and then struck out the last batter to end the half.

The Mets bats finally woke up (or warmed up, given the day) in the bottom sixth. Back-to-back one-out singles were followed by a double from catcher John Buck to bring them both in and give the Mets the first lead of the day at 3-2.
That lead lasted a half-inning, as the new Mets hurler gave up a leadoff single, and the runner then moved over to second on a one-out ground-out to the pitcher.

Then was the most inexplicable play I've ever seen. The Marlins first baseman was up with two outs and the runner at second. He slapped a clean, hard single to right that sent the runner from second home. The throw from right was off-line, completely missed the cutoff man, and drew the catcher up the first base line. As the throw came into home, the batsman made the break to second, and the catcher, not having a play on home due to the speedy runner and the off-line throw, was preparing to throw to second. The scoring runner didn't slide, kept running--and plowed the Mets' catcher over as he tried to throw to second. This is clear interference, but since the interference happened after the runner had scored, the only person left to call out was the runner at second. In watching the coverage after the game, it wasn't just me who had never seen this before -- literally no one else had either, including the home plate ump. Nevertheless, we were all tied up again at 3-3.

Perhaps inspired by the play, the Mets went to work in the bottom of the seventh. After a fly-out to center to start it off, there was a walk. The runner stole second and the throw went into center, leaving him at third. The next batter tripled to bring him home, and a single after him scored that runner in turn. The was another steal, and another throw to center that left a runner on third with one out. The batter was then intentionally walked, and Joe Buck, the game's RBI machine and victim of the interference call the previous half inning, hit another sacrifice fly to bring in the runner from third. A ground-out to second ended the inning with the Mets up, 6-3.

The Marlins only got a single in the eighth, but the Mets tacked on one more with a two-out solo homer to make it 7-3. Parnell got the Marlins in order in the ninth, and the Metropolitans earned the win at that score.

The Scorecard:

Marlins vs. Metropolitans, 04/06/13. Metropolitans win, 7-3.

I bought a $5 program, but I went with the superior BBWAA Scorebook for my scoring. The story of the day, of course, was the runner's interference call in the seventh. ("INT-2 (9)" for those wondering. The catcher, as the interfered party, gets the put-out. I put in the number of the player who actually did the interfering, since the baserunner was the victim of the indiscretion.) That was the first interference call that I ever got to score. It was also so complicated that I had to put an explanatory note in to make sure I got the details right.

There was a failed appeal on a sacrifice fly in the bottom of the seventh that I also made note of. From a strict completeness sake, I also scored just about every way you can get to first or get a hit in this game (single, double, triple, home run, walk, intentional walk, fielder's choice, and error). I'm pretty sure I'm only missing catcher's interference (though I did have a runner's interference), hit by pitch (though there were a couple of close calls), and a ground-rule double. It was just that kind of game.


The Accommodations:
Homeboken

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

2013 Stand-Alone Trip

Queens

On the Difference a Month Makes

Not Shea Stadium, 2012

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Arizona Diamondbacks vs. New York Metropolitans
Not Shea Stadium
National League
Queens, NY
4:05 PM


Outside the Game:
I don't know what possessed me to go to a game on Cinco di Mayo, but it was almost a month to the day after my last game, the Metropolitans weren't doing nearly as badly as everyone expected, and Johan Santana was pitching. Saint Johan. Johan the Great. But not as of yet.

It was a 4:05 game, and it was unseasonably warm, so I decided why not. I puttered around and did my normal Saturday routine before heading off to the park. The subway ride out was uneventful, if full of other Mets fans taking advantage of the warm weather and the lack of collapse this far in the season to take in a game.

Yah, mule!

I was a bit worried about the ride back, but the game packed up early enough that the hard-drinking crowd wasn't out yet, and I was able to slip back to my apartment before the place turned into Barter Town.


The Stadium & Fans:

Center field to home plate, Not Shea Stadium

As mentioned, it was still a bumper crop of fans out to see the Mets perform way over their heads -- and not inconsequentially get a Tom Seaver Bobble Head. The stadium news of the day seemed to be that they gave the cops at Not Shea tactical Segways to ride around on, because if there's one thing that the cops need was another way to not have a walk two feet.

The feet of greatness

While grabbing lunch at Blue Smoke, I got to witness a rare occurrence. A panel in one of the huge scoreboards at the back of center field had gone out, and I got to watch them replace it. Those giant scoreboards aren't all one display, but a series of smaller synchronized displays, so that if one of them goes out, they don't need to replace the entire unit. This repair is apparently done by removing an adjacent "square" from the board, unplugging the damaged square, reaching out with a new square, and slapping it into place. Frankly, I would have though that the process would have been a little more high-tech, but there you go.

There were a bunch of people in cheesy Mexican sombreros, which I found a little inappropriate. I doubt they would be wearing novelty yarmulkes on Passover, for example. Everyone seemed to be happy with the Tom Seaver bobbleheads, at least. The "Veteran of the Game" was a ninety year-old World War II vet and his wife who were celebrating that selfsame birthday at the park. (They also subsequently won the Kiss Cam, which smelled of a fix, really.)

He welcomes you all.

The only other weirdness was the all-white version of the Blue Man Group that performed the national anthem. I'm pretty sure they mentioned the group's name, but I'm sure it didn't register at all with me.


At the Game with Oogie:

Score time

I was in the bronze Ceasar's Club seats this time, parked behind our majestic third baseman (who had his first 0-fer in what seemed like the entire season that day). The seat and view were exactly what I'd come to expect, and the fans around weren't annoying, so victories all around.

There was a family sitting to my right, and the father was fighting the losing battle of keeping his youngest daughter more interested in the game than in her Gameboy-thing. He eventually gave up and spent most of his time talking with his pre-teen son, who at least seemed engrossed in the proceedings on the field.


The Game:

First pitch, Diamondbacks vs. Metropolitans

I've not had stellar luck seeing Johan Santana pitch live, so I didn't have a ton of hope for this game. Still, the D-Backs went in order in the first, but so did the Metropolitans. Johan set down the first two in the top of the second before giving up a monster homer to center and then a double to left after that before closing it down. The Mets scattered a single and a walk, but the second ended with the score 1-0 D-Backs.

Johan scattered two long singles in the top of the third, and the Mets only had two base runners of their own in the bottom. Arizona threatened in the top of the fourth with a back-to-back walk and single with one out, but Santana ended that half with two fly outs.

It was in the bottom of the fourth that the Mets would do their damage. After a ground out to third to start the inning, two back-to-back short singles were followed by a walk to load up the bases with one out. Knowing this team too well, I didn't get overly excited, but Mike Nikeas singled to center to bring home two runs, and Santana bunted everyone over to make it second and third with two outs. Torres singled to bring them in before Tejada flew out, ending the fourth with the Mets up 4-1.

Not one to make this easy, the Mets looked to give it all right back. Two singles and a double in the fifth brought two home to make it 4-3 Mets, and the Mets only managed a single in their half of the inning. The D-Backs got a runner in scoring position in the sixth with a single and sac bunt, but they could not bring him in. The Mets did nearly the same in their half, with no change in score.

The D-Backs went in order in the seventh, and the Mets only managed a single. Parnell came in for the eighth and only let a single get by him, while the Mets went in order.

And then our "closer" came in. Owner of an ERA north of 6 and a 1-1 record, this was not exactly comforting. After getting the first batter to fly to center, Francisco gave up a walk, and the pinch runner promptly stole second. Waiting for the inevitable, I was pleasantly surprised as another fly to center and a strikeout proved me wrong and cemented the 4-3 Metropolitans victory.


The Scorecard:

Diamondbacks vs. Metropolitans, 05/05/12. Metropolitans win, 4-3.

Once again, I was using the BBWAA scorebook in three colors, plus regular pencil. There wasn't anything scoring of note, except that there were a lot of strikeouts (13 total), and the Mets went exactly 50/50 on swinging and looking. David Wright, who was hitting over .400 at the time, had one of his first 0-fer games of the year, and Frank Francisco, rocking a 6.97 ERA at this point, managed to notch a save without giving up a run.


The Accommodations:
Hoboken, as per usual

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

2012 Stand-Alone Trip

Queens

On All Future and No Past

Not Shea Stadium, 2012

Saturday, April 7, 2012
Atlanta Braves vs. New York Metropolitans
Not Shea Stadium
MLB, National League East
Queens, NY
1:10 PM


Outside the Game:
The first real game of the year -- it is all untapped possibilities and unfulfilled dreams. I awoke early on Saturday after not quite enough sleep to begin the slog out to Queens. After the necessary ceremonies and procedures, I set off into the Hoboken morning to begin the "mass" part of my transit. As I made each train switch, I was joined by more and more people obviously on the way to the stadium as well.

Finally on the 7 train, there was another gentleman sitting across from me. He had on the orange and blue, and had his own game bag and camera. We sat in silence for the duration of the ride, rising nearly at the same time to watch Not Shea come into view a station or so out. And then, as we exited, he dropped a conversational "Let's go Mets." And, in a reflexive responsorial, I gave him a "Let's go Mets" back in response, and off into the Queens morning we went.

After some fiddling around outside, it became clear that the Mets again were following the asinine policy of only letting season ticketholders in two-and-a-half hours before game time, as opposed to two hours before for everyone else. Hint to management: We're not going to buy season tickets for a "privilege" that was a right until last year, and all you're doing is pissing off your most ardent fans. Regardless, the announcement that the one open line was only for season ticket holders was made once, and a large number of us conveniently "forgot" that information quickly, got on the line, and were admitted without incident. Top notch work, there, Lou.

Fight for it

Say what you will about anything else, they really have gotten the post-game process down to a science. Everyone gets fairly comfortably and quickly herded up the big stairwells to the L trains, and the diamond expresses run frequently. I was able to dash onto one right before the doors closed and headed back to Manhattan as speedily as possible. I eventually made my connection to the PATH and fielded two inquiries from Mets fans about how the game went after they saw me working on my scorecard.


The Stadium & Fans:

Home plate to center field, Not Shea Stadium

The big news in the offseason was, of course, the inevitable dimension changes made to the outfield walls of Not Shea. The area in left has become the "Party City Deck." The thin strip of tables was populated during the game, though how the attendees were chosen for the honor is unclear. Nothing has been done with the new real estate in right, which is just some dirt behind the braces holding up the new wall by the bullpen. There were four home runs in this game, so something has to be said for the improvements.

There was also a refresh done to the Mets Hall of Fame and Museum. They had a new exhibit up for the Mets' 50th Anniversary, and they incorporated some elements from the Mets' two previous homes into the space, with seats and the dedication plaque for Shea Stadium and some seats from the Polo Grounds awkwardly propped up in front of a power outlet. Elsewhere, there were some tweaks to the exhibits, but nothing much more.

These are a few of my favorite things

Outside of the stadium, they added some more commemorative plaques for the 50th anniversary, and they ranged from the obvious (Mr. Met, the stadiums, the Home Run apple), to the pandering (Mets fans), to the bottom of the barrel (the neon figures at Shea, championship banners, the new Home Run Apple). Sometimes I really, really wonder if the people running this show even like the Mets at all.

The only other big change to Not Shea was the addition of the black "Kid 8" logo to the left field wall. In my yearly buying spree in the team store, they were also selling pins and magnets with the logo, all of which was going to support Gary Carter's charity. I've said it before, but Carter's death really hit me hard for some reason. So far, the ownership hasn't messed up their tributes, but I still await suspiciously. Miss ya, Kid.

The Mister

The crowd was copious, as you'd expect this early in the season, but there was an unpleasantly large Braves contingent in the audience as well. One amusing note is that the give-away for the day was Mets "texting gloves" (fingerless gloves sponsored by Verizon suddenly become "texting gloves"). The gloves were welcome on the slightly chilly April afternoon, but all the clapping for the day was curiously muffled, as everyone was trying to make noise while wearing wool covers on their palms.


At the Game with Oogie:

Cold scoring

The first weekend game of the season is filled with nearly universal goodwill towards man, as this early in the season, even the Mets aren't out of it yet. And that first visit to the stadium is always just potential and hope. And if you get there early enough, there is just more potential to be had -- such as walking right up to the Shake Shack and placing your order without a half-hour wait. And watching kids do an infinite loop at the wiffle ball field, taking their turn at bat and then immediately running back around to take their place in left field to start the rotation around again without an intervening line. Watching them, I had a transcendent moment as a gangly and seemingly uncoordinated-looking kid got his chance to hit off the tee and blasted one off the scoreboard in center to the amazed delight of his father, and then promptly headed off at full speed to third base.

I sprang for Caesar's club tickets again, sitting on the third base side in the redundant shade out of the April afternoon. The place was as packed as you'd expect, and one of the pin ladies was sitting in my section, which seemed a good harbinger of things to come. The only hint of discord was an older couple sitting in the row behind me who objected to the vicious and well-deserved plastering many of us were giving to Jason Bay. After a triple got past him in the sixth, I again shouted out my opinion of Bay. The gentleman took issue that no one could have made the play on that ball, to which I responded that fact didn't make my statement any less true. For the record, Bay went 1-4 that day, with two questionable flubs in the field.

(To be fair, as a human being and a baseball aficionado, I can't imagine what he must be going through. To spend your entire life devoted to one thing and become literally one of the best in the planet at that chosen task, only to watch helplessly as your talent slowly and inevitably slips away must be akin to being in a coma and having an out of body experience. That said, if he doesn't hit, sit his ass.)


The Game:

First pitch, Braves vs. Metropolitans

The optimism of the start of the season ends as soon as the game starts to be played, and, in this case, it was almost immediate. The Braves led off with a double past a badly out-of-position Jason Bay, and promptly moved him to third with only one out after a slow ground-out to short. You could feel the season deflating almost instantly. And it looked to be all over but the writing of the story when Dickey uncorked a wild pitch. But the ball didn't get that far away, and the season suddenly found a second life as the runner got cut down at home and the batter flied out weakly to a moderately awake Jason Bay to end the half inning with no damage.

The Mets went down in order until David Wright walked magnificently up to the plate as if some Grecian god and deposited a pitch over the right-center field wall to put the Mets up, 1-0. Each team had a scattered baserunners in the second inning, and outside of a minor Mets threat in the third, things went quietly. In the fourth, the Braves got people in scoring position thanks to a single and wild pitch, but the Mets ended the threat with no one across. In the bottom of the inning, Lucas Duda sent a one-out homer into center, making it 2-0 Mets. A further rally materialized with two outs after two singles and a walk, but Murphy flied out to left to end the escapade.

The Braves would get some back at the top of the next frame, where a two-out walk was followed by a two-out homer, making it 2-2. The Mets came right back with a one-out walk and a single, before a new pitcher came in to get a pop-out to third. But a Josh Thole single then brought in a run, making it 3-2, Mets, before a ground out to short ended the inning.

The Mets worked out of a two-out Braves triple in the top of the sixth before stranding their own men on second and third in the bottom of the inning. The Braves went in order in the seventh before Duda hit his second one-out homer of the game, making it 4-2 Mets. A couple more singles went for naught, leaving the score as stands at the end of the inning.

Both sides went in order in the eighth, and the Mets called on Francisco again to save it. In the best tradition of Mets closers, he endeavored to make it interesting, giving up a lead-off single to put the tying run at the plate before getting a quick strikeout and fly-out to third in foul territory. As the crowd raised to their feet, Francisco gave up a two-out single to center, putting the go-ahead run at the plate. The crowd more tentatively got to their feet again, but Francisco did, in fact, strike out the last pinch-hitter, finalizing a 4-2 Mets victory.


The Scorecard:

Braves vs. Metropolitans, 04/07/12. Metropolitans win, 4-2.

This was my first time trying out my new Baseball Writers Association of America scorebook. The scorebook had been subject of great praise from various writers over the years, and this year they went on sale to the unworthy public as well. The spiral-bound book had enough pages to score an entire MLB season in them, and had a convenient, compact design that was easy to use even while seated. It may have been a little on the small side with the boxes, but I think if I go to straight corner progression with the notation, there may yet be room to sneak in balls and strikes. As this was a Metropolitan home game, I was rocking all three colored pencils in addition to the regular graphite.

There were some scoring oddities of note. That wild pitch in the first inning lead to a run-of-the-mill "Caught Stealing 2-1" putout. Also, it was the Mets Neuwenhuis' first game in the bigs, so nearly everything that he did for the first time (at bats, hits, etc) was notated until I got bored with the process.


The Accommodations:
Hoboken, again

Addendum: 

Speaking of Hoboken, the Tuesday after I went to this game, The Baseball Project was playing at the legendary Maxwell's uptown. I found out about this appearance almost by accident, so it seemed fate dictated that I had to go. Since the "supergroup" is made up from members of the Dream Syndicate, Robyn Hitchcock, and R.E.M., it also most likely marks the very last time I will be the youngest person at a show in Maxwell's, and perhaps the first time that has been true for a good twenty years. Mike Mills was performing with them that night as well, making perhaps 50-75% of R.E.M. present, depending on how you want to do the math.

I only found out about the existence of this group last year when they played the Spring Arts festival in Hoboken. Upon consultation with everyone of baseball knowledge that I knew, it was determined that I was the last one in the world not to know of their existence. I literally bought up their merch table and proceeded with the "Baseball Project Project," by which I kept all their albums and nothing else on my iPod for the entirety of the baseball season. This lead to a couple of realizations about their work, such as in "Fairweather Fans," nearly all of them are, in fact, admitting to being the worst kind of fairweather fans, despite their lyrical protests, and in "Buckner's Bolero," I can only wonder what can they possibly mean about the real Doctor K pitching, because Gooden was miserable in the series.

Nevertheless, this was the first time I had paid to see a band in a good decade. Being in Maxwell's again sparked some pretty extreme deja vu, as it hasn't changed nearly as much as I did, and I couldn't help think about where I was standing in that same room in the countless shows I had been to over the years. As I settled in to the spot near the stage next to speakers that I previously held at an Archers of Loaf show in '95, the opening act was closing up and the slow switch to main gig began. Starting the customary half hour after their scheduled stage time, they came out and played for a good hour and a half, including encores. Mostly it was Baseball Project stuff, but the encores inevitably veered towards the hits from their main meal tickets over the years. Given the demographic of the crowd, the participants nervously looked to their watches as midnight approached, concerned with early work meetings the next day or paying overtime to annoyed baby sitters. I didn't get up the nerve to ask for "El Hombre" in the encores for fear of being clawed to death by forty-something soccer moms who really wanted to hear "Rockville" live one more time before they died.

And so it goes.

Click here to see all the photos from this trip.

2012 Stand-Alone Trip.