MY ALL-STAR ADVENTURE PART IV

The All-Star Game has been a mid-summer tradition since 1933, when a sports reporter for the Chicago Tribune thought it would be great to get the days best Major League Baseball players to get together for a showcasing of the stars for the World’s Fair in Chicago, which is the first (and to my knowledge) only positive thing that the city of Chicago has ever produced for society. The game was played at the first Comiskey Park with the American League defeating the National League 4-2. After that summer, a tradition was born.

Voting has changed here and there, but the game is still referred to as “The Fan’s Game” because of the massive amount of weight put on fan voting. This is great as the players that the majority of people want to see usually make the call. This also creates a negative effect as players having great seasons, but are not as well known, are sometimes overlooked (see stats for Ian Kinsler for 2009 as opposed to Dustin “I can’t hit the high fastball” Pedroia who was voted in). Either way, the game is the greatest spectacle and the greatest collection of baseball stars any fan will ever see in their entire life.

The game traditionally has periods where one league dominates the other. From 1962 till 1983, the National League went 19-1 in that 20 year span. However, recent fortunes have been reversed as the National League hasn’t won the game since 1996 in Philadelphia. Because the game traditionally flip-flops through the decades, the overall records are fairly close with the National League barely clinging to a two game lead in the overall standings.

2009 in St. Louis was supposed to change all that. But a miracle catch at the wall made it clear that a National League victory may not be in the cards.

PART IV: LOOK MOM! I CRAPPED ALL-STAR TICKETS!!

All-Star Game day started as any other day. I woke up at the early hour of 10:30am (someone find me a job so I have a reason to get up in the morning), went for my usual three mile run and spent the rest of the day at the pool. I had essentially given up on a set of game tickets finding their way to me, but in my heart I still had a feeling something was going to happen (that feeling ended up being heartburn, but in my gut I KNEW I was going to get to go).

As the day grew shorter, my hopes started to fade away, to the point that I made plans with friends to go watch the game at a venue of their choosing. I wouldn’t say I was heartbroken, just disappointed that I wouldn’t be able to fully experience what I had waited my entire life for.
After an early family dinner, I went to the bathroom to clear my head along with various other body parts. (For those of you expecting a string of poop jokes here, shame on you. I’m really anal about stuff like that. Jokes like that are just absolute crap and they are below me. I turn a brown eye to fart jokes. No ifs, ands or butts about it.)

About two minutes into my work, my little brother comes running up the stairs completely out of breath. In between sucking in air, he managed to belt out, “MARTY…(huff, huff,)…DO…(huff)…YOU….WANT TO…(huff, huff, huff)….GO TO THE ALL…(huff, huff)….STAR GAME?!?!

“Umm…duh, I want to go to the All-Star Game,” I responded. “Can you please go get me some toilet paper? I only have one square. Not a single extra square to spare.”

“WELL MOM’S BUYING TICKETS,” he belted out.

“Yeah, sure she is Dan.”

“NO! SERIOUSLY! SHE’S BUYING TICKETS RIGHT…NOW!”

“Yeah. OK, Dan.”

“NO! WHY DON’T YOU BELIEVE ME? WE’RE GOING TO THE ALL-STAR GAME!”

“You’re crapping me Dan!”

“NO! I’M SERIOUS! MOM’S BUYING TICKETS!”

By this point you get the picture. Turns out my brother wasn’t full of it (and by this point, neither was I). I quickly hopped in the shower, put on my Albert Pujols jersey and my St. Louis Cardinals All-Star cap and we headed down to Busch Stadium with less than two hours until the scheduled first pitch.

We parked in my favorite lot and walked quickly towards the stadium. My jaw dropped when I saw the massive amount of people still trying to get into the stadium. Apparently President Barack Obama was throwing out the first pitch of the game and that required extremely heavy security, which meant walking through medal detectors just in case Al Qaeda showed up to see some baseball.

After getting our tickets from the will call window, my brother and I took our place in the long line on the opposite side of the street from the stadium where I began talking with two guys in front of me. My mom went off elsewhere to see if there was a shorter line anywhere around the stadium. She found one, called me, and we moved and got into the stadium within five minutes. The guys I was talking to decided to follow us to the shorter line as well. To those two guys, you’re welcome.

The time was 6:45pm. Busch was buzzing with anticipation as the night’s festivities were scheduled to start in approximately 20 minutes. We headed for our seats, which ended up being on the first base side, loge section. Not bad seats considering we didn’t get the tickets until about two hours until game time.

Waiting for us on our seats were commemorative seat cushions with the All-Star logo on it. Something told me that even if there was a walk-off victory that night, not many people would be throwing their seat cushions in celebration. I considered it for a brief moment though.

The opening ceremonies began roughly on time. As each player was introduced, the anticipation grew more and more thick. When it came time for Albert Pujols to be introduced, the crowd erupted into a three minute frenzy. Pujols seemed to be overcome with emotion and was all smiles the rest of the night. The same went for first time All-Star, Yadier Molina.

With the teams introduced and the honorees of MLB’s Go Beyond campaign receiving their recognition, it was time for Stan “The Man” Musial to make his grand entrance to Busch. Unfortunately, the appearance of the President took away from what was supposed to be a grand welcoming and thank you to Musial. On behalf of St. Louis, Stan, we love you and know you deserved better. It’s a shame that we can’t do it all over again and won’t get the chance to make up for a lost opportunity.

After Musial’s grand ride down the right field foul line towards the infield, it was time for Obama to make his appearance wearing a White Sox jacket in Cardinal Country and 1980 acid-wash jeans. He is so trendy!

After Pujols plucked the first pitch out of the dirt, it was time for baseball!

The American League (as usual) got off to a quick start, scoring twice in the opening frame off of 2008 NL Cy Young Award Winner, Tim Linceceum. However, this set the stage for a Cardinal to be the hero.

In the bottom of the third, with two men on, Yadier Molina singled up the middle that lead to two runs to tie the game. Prince Fielder, your 2009 Home Run Derby Champion, doubled down the left field line to give the National League a 3-2 lead in what was his only appearance of the game. Sorry Prince, but this was Albert’s night.


The lead was short lived as two innings later, the American League tied the game on a string of base hits. They eventually took the lead when Adam Jones of the Baltimore Orioles hit a sacrifice fly off of Heath Bell of the San Diego Padres. It’s so comforting to know that players on the Padres and Orioles, who live at the bottom of their divisions, ended up deciding who gets home field advantage in the World Series. This isn’t wrong at all.

Brad Hawpe of the Colorado Rockies tried to make the most of his All-Star appearance as he hit a long drive into deep left-center field. Somehow, Carl Crawford was able to bring the ball back on to the field and rob Hawpe of what should have been the game tying home run. It looked like the National League was done for again. But they got one more shot when St. Louis native and Philadelphia Phillies first baseman, Ryan Howard came to the plate with two men in scoring position and two out. But Howard decided to strike out on a ball in the dirt that would have hit him had he not swung, essentially ending all hopes for the National League.

Before leaving, Dan wanted to head to the Cardinal Team Store for a little souvenir. The place was a zoo and the inept cashiers were not helping the situation. As I waited in line to buy my over-priced Cardinal sandals, the young woman running the cash register was having a little trouble trying to run a debit card (she ended up charging a lady twice for an official jersey. How you end up doing this I have no idea. There was something missing in that cashier’s head. A brain perhaps?) She didn’t bother to tell anyone in line that she was having trouble until we had been waiting for roughly twenty minutes. After this, I give her the silent finger and find a new line, at which point she has finally solved her situation and begins taking other customers. I leisurely walk in front of everyone and demand that I be allowed to pay for my sandals immediately. I normally don’t do this, but ignorance just pisses me off to no end.

My aunt and uncle (the same aunt and uncle from Part II) ended up taking us home. As we arrived at their car they had White Castle waiting for us (like I said, they ALWAYS have their own food. They brought biscuits once for crying out loud!). We ate the sliders and traded stories from the night and then made the long journey home. As we shut the doors to their car and headed on our way, we immediately regretted the decision to eat White Castle.

Overall, All-Star Week 2009 was an experience I will never ever be able to forget. And how could I? For five days, the eyes of the baseball world were on St. Louis, the proclaimed best baseball city in the world. For a week, an entire city banded together for one common goal: Put on a great show for an entire nation. I believe we all did just that. Bud Selig himself stated in an interview that, “St. Louis is making a strong case to be the permanent host of the Mid-Summer Classic.” Thanks for the recognition Bud. Try not to wait another 40 plus years before you bring the All-Star Game back to the Gateway City.

Now, two weeks later, the lights of the All-Star Game are beginning to fade. The banners are gone. The media trucks have driven away and the logo painted on the field has almost been washed away. But being able to experience all of it first hand has helped me realize what makes the All-Star Game so special. For one night, your team’s place in the standing doesn’t matter. Trying to make that one trade to put your team over the top is insignificant. It’s a celebration of the game we grew up loving and playing and for one night, you’re allowed to go back to being a kid with Major League dreams again. It makes you just want to smell your glove, clothes your eyes and just listen to the sound of the ball hitting hard leather or here the sound of timber cracking. It’s baseball as we want to see it: A game instead of a business. You’re allowed to be 23 and go up to your favorite superstar and ask him to autograph your baseball.

If the All-Star Game taught me anything, it’s that I’m still a kid at heart. I still have the urge to go to batting practice with my brother and start shouting to players to throw me a baseball. I still want to bring my glove to a game, even though I’m in the upper deck. I still want to believe I can still make it to the Majors and play for my favorite team.

And to think, I would have never learned any of this without a trip to the bathroom.

THE END

MY ALL-STAR ADVENTURE PART III

In 1985, the All-Star Game was hosted in Minneapolis, Minnesota: The home of the Minnesota Twins. The game was played like any other All-Star Game, but the day before changed the face of the Mid-Summer Classic forever. This was the first year that the Home Run Derby was introduced.

Fans loved it. The game’s most popular players going head-to-head to see who could hit more homers and who could it a ball the farthest. Ken Griffey, Jr. gained his national fame at the event as he has won the derby an unprecedented three times.

No exhibition of baseball power had ever been packed into one such event. The year’s best home run sluggers swinging it out in an all out home run brawl to see who the best home run hitter was. At least, that’s what the contest was created to be.

Nowadays, the derby has become more of a pain to its participants (and its participants’ managers) as they risk injury and changes in their swing to generate more home runs. Because of this, it is becoming harder and harder to entice the game’s best sluggers to throw their name into the home run derby ring.

This was especially a problem at this year’s derby. The National League side was set easily as four first basemen quickly said yes to competing. Ryan Howard, Adrian Gonzalez, Prince Fielder and the face of Major League Baseball Albert Pujols all accepted their invitations to participate immediately. The American League side was a different story as several players all said no. The 2008 derby winner, Joe Mauer, decided not to try and defend his crown and the 2008 story of the year, Josh Hamilton, also decided not to compete (probably because he sucked after he participated in the derby). With only 72 hours left before the derby was set to start, the American League finally found it’s representatives: Nelson Cruz (relatively unheard of but a legitimate pick), Carlos Pena (can hit for power if he wants), Justin Morneau (are you serious?) and Brandon Inge (OH MY GOD!!! INGE?? HE’S NEVER EVEN HIT 30 IN A SEASON!). With the field completely set, it was clear that the derby in St. Louis would be one of the most disappointing in a long, long time.

Nobody wanted to do it, which created a short power outage at Busch Stadium. Was this a sign of the end of the steroid era? You be the judge of that one. I’m not touching the steroid scandal.

PART III: HOME RUNS AND FUNNEL CAKE



I did not have tickets to this year’s Home Run Derby and I remained confident that tickets would fall into my hand before it was too late to go. I didn’t give up hope until Tuesday morning when I realized that the derby was over. But still, for the first time in my lifetime, the derby was being held in my hometown and I wasn’t going to miss watching it. I had been waiting years for this. And to make things even cooler, hometown hero Albert Pujols was favored to win. And how could he not win? He only had the pressure of an entire city and an entire sport on his shoulders. That’s nothing. This derby would be as easy as hitting a home run off Todd Wellemeyer.

I did, however, have tickets to attend FanFest one last time. My Uncle Milt had bought tickets several days before and had invited me, my brother and my cousin Joe, who just doesn’t like to do anything so I was shocked when I heard he was going. Normally, I would be ecstatic to go to a baseball related event. But in this case, my uncle’s tickets couldn’t get us into FanFest until 4pm. The derby started at 7pm. With the huge lines it took to do any activity, I knew that it would take a miracle to get me to the derby on time.

We arrived at FanFest about fifteen minutes early and, surprisingly, we were allowed to enter the America’s Center early. I was suddenly optimistic. Maybe the place wasn’t that crowded and we would be able to see everything in a short amount of time.

WRONG!!

The place was still packed. This was the fourth day of FanFest and the place was almost as packed as it was when I went on Saturday. Oh well. At least Cardinal outfielder, future all-star and destroyer of Major League dreams, Colby Rasmus was signing autographs today. I brought a ball and a pen this time. I was prepared to get an autograph.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared to wait in the line to get his autograph. Rasmus’s line spanned the entire length of the complex and then cued around several times. He was only signing for two hours and one of the attendants politely came up to me and said, “If you haven’t realized it yet, you are most likely shit out of luck.” At least she was honest.

So we decided to do what any disappointed fan would do: Get their face printed onto a baseball card. TAKE THAT COLBY RASMUS!! You can destroy my dream of playing in the Majors but you will NOT destroy my dream of having my face mass produced on a piece of cardboard!! HA!!
Apparently when you had your own baseball card made, they actually make up stats for you. As you can see by the stats provided below, I am awesome. I’m pretty sure that if I had gotten my chance to play for the Cardinals, my numbers would be close to, if not better than these.





The clock struck 4:45 when we were finished getting our baseball cards made. This wasn’t looking good. In an hour all we had done was get denied an autograph and have our picture taken in a baseball uniform. It was time to pick up the pace.

As soon as we got down to the interactive area, I immediately began asking my cousins what they wanted to do. Since Joe didn’t want to do anything, I began only listening to my brother, who wanted to go to the virtual batting cages. I had done these on my previous trip and had a little success as I hit a couple balls hard off of Andy Pettitte. But this time I wanted a different challenge. I wanted to make someone really hurt with my hitting prowess. I wanted to settle a personal vendetta against a Cardinal pitcher. I wanted to tee off on Todd Wellemeyer.




Todd Wellemeyer. Just hearing that name makes Cardinal fans cringe. This guy has gotten so bad that if I am offered tickets to a game that he is scheduled to pitch in, I turn them down. To make things worse, the Cardinals have four legitimate pitchers this year that give the team a chance to win every time they pitch. As for Wellemeyer, well, he gives the team a chance to create a miracle victory. It’s amazing. The team will give Wellemeyer an early lead, but it’s not good enough for him so he will give up some runs to leave the team down by one. I’ve never seen a great pitcher who hated pitching with the lead. Something tells me that pitching with the lead will lead to victories as the team that scores the most runs by the end of nine innings tends to win the game at least 100% of the time. You might have to double check my statistics on that though.


Back to my story. As I stepped into the batter’s box I stared down my opponent, just waiting to hit the first pitch I saw from him (or his virtual self in this case). I could see him quivering as I stepped into the batting cage. Of course it could have been a small gust of wind blowing the projector screen up a little bit, but for my self-esteem I will assume it was actually Wellemeyer shaking.

As Wellemeyer released the first pitch I knew I was going to crush it. The pitch came…BAM! I smash it right back at him for a base hit. I WON! I crushed Todd Wellemeyer. Of course I didn’t hit any of the four pitches I had left but for one glorious moment I proved my point that I could hit a ball off of Todd Wellemeyer……if he threw at 27 miles per hour.

The virtual batting cage took over an hour. Things weren’t looking good for me making it home in time to see the start of the derby. But it was OK. Pujols probably wouldn’t be batting until the end of the first round. And the first round takes almost two hours to do. We’d be home by then. I had no problem missing the first couple of guys. I just wanted to see El Hombre dominate.



Going with the theme of the day, our next stop at FanFest was to do Home Run Derby. The line for this was not too long and moved pretty quickly. We made it to the front of the line in about 25 minutes. Not too bad. I located a helmet and a good bat and prepared to smash the ball over the fence.

“I don’t want to do this,” said a familiar voice behind me.

It was Joe, complaining that he did not want to try and hit a home run over the wall.

“Joe, why don’t you want to do this? We just waited in line almost a half hour to try and do this. We’re already here, why don’t you just try it? It will be fun,” I explained.

“No,” Joe responded. “I don’t want to do this. I want some funnel cake.”

Funnel cake? FUNNEL CAKE? Why the hell are you waiting in line to hit a home run only to not do it and complain that you want funnel cake? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you decide you don’t want to take part. Instead, you are going to go get fried dough with powdered sugar on top. Joe, I will never EVER let you forget this moment. Consider yourself teased for life.

After hitting home runs left and right (I saw that if you just rolled your eyes at that statement) we, of course, went to go get Joe some funnel cake. Dan and I decided to get nachos instead, so we found a different line. After standing in line for about a minute, an older woman approached the two of us and handed us a white bracelet saying she was leaving and thought we could use this bracelet to get to the front of the line for every attraction.

YES!! A SKIP BRACELET!! Finally, we didn’t have to wait an hour to do a two minute activity. Lady, where were you when we first got there. It was 6:45 and we only had a little over an hour to use the bracelet. Too make things worse, the derby was going to start in about twenty minutes. If we moved fast enough, just maybe we would be able to see everything.

After scarfing down an order of supreme nachos and finishing off Joe’s funnel cake (he only ate three bites. Joe, you’re on FIRE!) we headed off to try the skip bracelet at the Steal Home Challenge, which timed how long it takes you to “steal home.” For those who don’t know baseball, it timed how long it took you to run 90 feet. To make things even more fun, you competed against two other individuals.
My brother and my cousin had a ball with this as they traded off the skip bracelet several times trying to beat each others best time. In the end, Joe was the big winner with a winning time of 4.80, just edging out my brother’s time of 4.81.

Seeing how much fun those two were having, I decided to take a stab at it. For those who know me, I am not a fast runner. I try to run three miles a day, but I take my time doing it as time has never been much of an issue for me (I try to concentrate on distance. It makes me sound like I’m actually in shape that way). Even with this fact, I was still interested to see how quickly I could run the standard distance between bases.

The announcer yelled, “GO,” and I took off like a turtle (I blame the order of nachos I had finished eating about 10 minutes prior. Whoever told me to eat the fattiest and heaviest thing before physical activity was clearly lying. I can’t believe I fell for it). However, I still managed to beat the two 50 year olds I was racing against with a time of 4.79. Not the time I was hoping for, but I would take it.

The victory came with a catch though. I somehow managed to sprain my neck while I was sprinting. Only I would manage to damage a muscle that I’m not using. Because of this injury, I still can’t look to my right without grimacing in pain. It’s OK though. All the things that are worth looking at I manage to keep to the left side of my body.

After stealing home, we did the Home Run Derby a couple more times, during which I hit a ball hard enough to break the net catching balls that went over the wall, at which point I smiled to the attendants and simply walked away with a self-absorbed grin on my face.

The time came to try and find Joe an All-Star Game pennant. I’m pretty sure that if we had bought him the pennant in the first place, he would have been ready to leave. One thing is for sure, Joe is easy to please. All it takes for him to have fun is a funnel cake and a cheap souvenir. We all ended up buying something. I bought a twenty dollar t-shirt, my brother bought an official All-Star Game baseball for the low, low price of $25, Joe got his pennant and my uncle bought a pair of tacky (yet awesome) Cardinal socks. All of us were satisfied with our purchases. Our wallets, however, were not.

By the time we had finished buying our insanely necessary purchases; FanFest was closed for the evening. It was 8pm. The derby had been going on for a little under an hour. It was OK though. Or so I thought.

I gave my girlfriend, Megan a call to get a status update on the derby. They were already on the fifth batter! How did I not see this coming? Nobody known for their power hitting was really taking part (with a few obvious exceptions) and for the first time in several years, a player (Brandon Inge) didn’t hit a single home run in the first round. I went into panic mode and started walking quickly to the car.

As we got on the highway I turned on the radio to listen to the derby, which by the way, is not nearly exciting on the radio as it is on television. Who would have thought that a glorified batting practice would actually sound like three guys broadcasting batting practice on the radio?

I started racing down the highway to drop my uncle off and catch Pujols’ glorious run towards the derby crown. My uncle reminded me of the speed limit. I lied and said I was only going five over. We were five miles away from my uncle’s house and they were going to commercial break before Pujols came to bat. I was panicking. This was one of the more historic events in St. Louis baseball history and I was going to miss it. I couldn’t miss it. I had been waiting too long and spent too much money on my new t-shirt to miss it. I refused to accept my fate.

Thanks to empty roads and not missing a single light, we pulled into my uncle’s driveway just as Albert stepped into the batter’s box to take his first swings. We all opted to watch the derby at my uncle’s and to witness baseball history together. It wasn’t the evening I initially had planned, but it was fun nonetheless.

Of course, we all know now that Pujols did not win the derby, which eventually went to Prince Fielder. In fact, Pujols barely made it into the second round. Regardless, it was still a moment that neither I, nor the city of St. Louis will soon forget. Our hometown hero stepped into the batter’s box at Busch Stadium with a grin on his face despite supporting all of Major League Baseball on his shoulders and still managed to hit eleven home runs (thirteen if you count the swing-off) all on about six hours sleep and with about 47,000 people expecting him to win the 2009 derby. No pressure. No pressure whatsoever.

As Prince Fielder hoisted the derby trophy over his head in victory, St. Louis was officially put on notice. There was less than 24 hours left in All-Star Week 2009 and I thought I was done taking part in all the events since I am unemployed and have no money.

But All-Star Week still had one more surprise waiting for me. One that I didn’t discover until I had to go to the bathroom to take care of business.

To be concluded…

IN PART IV:
-I make plans to watch the All-Star Game with friends and then cancel them 20 minutes later
-I go to the bathroom empty handed and exit the bathroom with tickets to the All-Star Game
-I meet the President of the United States…..sort of.

BONUS BLOG! SO LONG CHRIS DUNCAN

Anyone who is an avid reader of this blog (which is everyone in the known universe) knows that I tend to pick on Chris Duncan quite a bit. Well not anymore. After hearing Tony LaRussa’s complaint that people are too hard on Duncan despite the fact that he has sucked for the last two and a half years. So I will abide by LaRussa’s request and leave Duncan alone.

This will be much easier than anticipated because Duncan was traded to the Red Sox. Let all of Cardinal Nation rejoice as left field can finally be patrolled by someone with a little more talent.

No offense to Chris Duncan (for once). He was a great power hitter when he first arrived on the scene, but since he injured his neck he has never been the same as his power numbers have decreased every year he has been in the big leagues.

I have no problem with a player playing through an injury. But if that player is injured to a point that his presence in the lineup hinders the team’s chances of winning, then it’s time to take him out of the lineup. This is an idea that LaRussa isn’t familiar with. It’s a shame that this happened to Duncan, but baseball is a cruel game. If you’re not tough enough to handle a trade and not tough enough to admit that you are hurt, then you aren’t tough enough to play baseball.

And now a note to the sports writers. Stop lambasting the fans for “chasing” Chris Duncan out of town. He got booed by the fans one time when he struck out on three pitches with the bases loaded against the San Francisco Giants (which I’m still angry about). Fans don’t have the outlet that the writers do. It wasn’t that long ago that all of the major writers were on Duncan’s back and questioning his health, so when you say that the fans are why Duncan was traded, don’t exclude yourself from that. You play as big of a part, if not a bigger part in this situation as everyone else. Don’t lambaste your fan base. It hurts your ratings and the lower your ratings, the more likely you are to be fired and me hired to take your place, which nobody but me wants.

To Chris Duncan, you are still appreciated in St. Louis and don’t think we forgot that you played a major part in the Cardinals 2006 World Series Championship. I for one will definitely miss you. I had so many jokes that I didn’t get to use.

MY ALL-STAR ADVENTURE PART II

One of the newest and most unique events during All-Star Week is All-Star Sunday. It is an all day celebration of baseball that includes the Future’s Game, which is a chance for minor league talent to showcase their abilities before a Major League crowd, and the Legends and Celebrities Softball Game, which is a chance for older players and B-list celebrities to show how desperate for attention they really are.

The Future’s Game breaks up minor league players into two teams: The America Team and the World Team. The World Team is comprised of any baseball player not from America, so essentially it’s like the United States takes on the world in the game that America invented. You would think that America would always dominate. WRONG! In fact, going into the 2009 game, America and the world were tied. Mark this in your calendars. For a time, America was on an even playing field with the world. But who would prevail this year?

The Celebrity Softball Game is the newest attraction to All-Star Sunday. It started in Seattle during the 2001 All-Star Game and has occurred ever since. The players insist they are playing for charity, but in reality, ESPN just needed something to put in their time slot immediately following the Home Run Derby on Monday night. I would have loved to be at that brainstorming session:

“Gentlemen, we need something to broadcast after the Home Run Derby.”

“Why don’t we just broadcast Sports Center?”

“No. The Yankees and Red Sox didn’t play today so that means nothing interesting happened in the world of sports.”

“Why not air a special All-Star version of Baseball Tonight?”

“Dammit, man! Your ideas make too much sense! We need something completely out of the blue!”

“How about we just get a bunch of old guys and unknown celebrities to play in a softball game the Sunday before the All-Star Game?”

“BRILLIANT!”

“And we can charge people 30 bucks a ticket to come watch this bull shit!”

And that’s how Erin Andrews landed her job with ESPN.


PART II: IT’S RAINING ON GAME NIGHT


The night after my experience at FanFest, I began doing what I normally do: Goofing around on the Internet looking at pointless YouTube videos until I realize, “Oh crap, I came down here four hours ago to just check my e-mail before bed!” It’s a good thing I got distracted (again) because I received a late night phone call from my girlfriend, Megan.

“THEY’RE HAVING A CELEBRITY SOFTBALL GAME TOMORROW,” she shouted over the phone.

“I know. Since when are you interested in going to see something remotely involving baseball,” I asked.

“This ISN’T baseball. IT’S CELEBRITIES!”

Something to note here. Megan hates baseball. Scratch that. Megan hates sports. Several times I have tried to get here to sit down and watch a sporting even with me and she can’t stand it. She dreads baseball season like St. Louis dreads the Rams: Just avoid at all cost. Since I’m a huge baseball fan, life is hard for her from April to September, and God willing till late October. Sorry Megan, but it’s only six or seven months out of every year.

Anyway, with this in mind, I was somewhat excited that Megan showed any interest in doing anything baseball. So without even questioning anything, I went ahead and bought two tickets to All-Star Sunday.

We left Sunday morning and parked in my usual spot: The City Hall Lot right across from the police station on Clark Street. I love this parking lot. It’s cheap, convenient and it’s only a couple blocks from the ballpark. Traditionally, there is an attendant at the entrance of the lot charging five dollars to park there (six dollars if there is an “event” at Scottrade Center. And by event, I mean the guy was charging an extra dollar and putting it in his pocket but got caught for selling crack. I still love this lot). However, there was no attendant there and the gates were wide open. This either meant, “Come on in and park for free,” or “Come on in and we’ll tow your car and ruin your day because you aren’t supposed to park here.” I parked there in the hopes that my 2000 silver Buick LeSabre would still be there when I got back.

The skies were cloudy that day, but at first it looked like it was just going to be that type of day and nothing looked overly ominous. As I looked at the clock it was 12:20. I figured I would be home by 7pm.

I was dead wrong….

The Future’s Game started on time, at 1pm. The plan was that a half-hour after the game finished, the Celebrity Softball Game would start and be over about two hours later. However, nature had different ideas. The Future’s Game finished the top of the first inning and then the rain came pouring down like the Octo-mom’s water had just broke. And if you didn’t realize it was raining, the lovely people at Busch Stadium put this message on the scoreboard to tell you that it was.


Well, neither Megan nor I were very happy. When I looked at the radar and saw a large plot of green with a little yellow and orange mixed in with a purple center, I knew it was going to be a very long day, especially since I knew that purple rain is the worst kind of rain.

For four hours we sat through a delay. I would have taken this time to drink my fair share of Bud Light, but at nearly eight dollars a bottle, I could only have two.

Since there was no baseball to be played for a while, I decided it would be a good time to meet up with my Uncle Mike, Aunt Carol and Cousin Steve who were also enjoying the rain delay at the stadium. Unfortunately, they were sitting in the upper deck and Megan and I were down at field level. In order to get up there, we had to leave our covered seats and make the trek up three levels to get to them. This normally wouldn’t be a problem except it was raining and Megan was wearing sandals. I wanted to laugh at her but that would not be very loving of me. So I laughed in private and laughed while I wrote this sentence. Sorry Megan, but your misfortune was my entertainment.

We finished our wet trek up to the upper deck to meet my family members. Something to know about my aunt and uncle: They love to go to the baseball game. They normally have a season ticket pack and pack a cooler for every game so they have their own food and don’t have to spend five dollars for a single French Fry. The oddest thing they have ever brought to the ballpark was biscuits. Not to poke fun, but who brings biscuits to the ballpark? Other than the great alliteration between the word “ballpark” and “biscuits”, they just don’t fit. But hey, it’s a cheap alternative to a six dollar hot dog that tastes like I feel when Chris Duncan swings wildly at a ball in the dirt.

Anyway, with this fact, I was shocked when my Uncle Mike went to the concession stand to buy an order of supreme nachos. My uncle, aunt and cousin then acted as though they had never seen an order of supreme nachos before and devoured every single chip with four minutes. One minute later, my uncle bought another order of supreme nachos. However, everyone’s eyes were a little bigger than their stomachs as there was plenty left over when all three of them were full, which meant free supreme nachos for me. Suddenly a four hour rain delay didn’t seem so bad.

The Future’s Game eventually started again and if it was memorable for anything other than being delayed, it was because of the horrid defense played throughout the entire game. There weren’t very many errors, just really stupid plays, especially for Team USA. America took a 5-3 lead into the final inning, but pulled an Isringhausen and lost 7-5, giving the World a 6-5 advantage overall in the history of the Future’s Game. America, where has all the baseball talent gone?

The rain delay caused several people to leave the stadium early, so when the Future’s Game did start up again, there were very few people still in the stadium, which allowed all five of us to move down from the upper deck into the lower bowl closer to the field where we thought we would stay for the remainder of the game. You will find out later how wrong we were.

The Celebrity Softball Game started about 30 or 40 minutes after the conclusion of the Future’s Game. For some reason, I have watched every single one of these things since they first started in 2001 and there have never been anybody spectacular, but this year was kind of cool since it was being played in my hometown. Former Cardinal greats Ozzie Smith, Vince Coleman, Bruce Sutter and Lee Smith all played, along with a guest appearance by former manager Whitey Herzog.

On the celebrity side, Jenna Fischer (Pam from “The Office”), rap artist and hometown hero Nelly and, my favorite, former basketball coach and world record chair thrower, Bobby Night all participated.

Of all the celebrities involved, one in particular caught Megan’s eye: Brian Littrell of the Backstreet Boys (Backstreet’s back…..ALRIGHT!). I suddenly realized we would be staying after the game to try and get an autograph.

The game went on as planned with players teasing each other between plays. Nelly was the star of the game with a diving catch and a home run that cleared the temporary wall set up for the game and almost landed on the actual warning track in right field.

However, the game became insignificant when an usher decided to push us out of the seats we had found in the lower level because the people who bought those seats finally showed up about midway through the softball game. We were not happy. Especially since the row of seats behind us were completely empty. We attempted to sit in that row, but the usher said we couldn’t because we clearly did not have tickets for that section. He then tried to send us all the way back to the upper deck. This is what really gets me. The stadium is not even close to being halfway full and you are trying to send me all the way back to the upper deck? Mr. Usher, you have just proven why Busch Stadium Ushers are the worst ushers in the Major Leagues, you guys just aren’t on the same plain of reality as everyone else. If there is nobody sitting in that seat, it is up for grabs. If the person that bought that seat doesn’t show up, well too bad for them. They forfeited their rights to the seat so whoever claims it first owns it. Mr. Usher, get your head out of your butt and realize what the hell is going around you. You give those who actually know what’s going on and know proper stadium etiquette a bad name.

We didn’t go back to our upper deck seats. We ended up sitting in seats that were in the Redbird Club. Joke’s on you jerk!

The game ended in a 10-8 come from behind victory for the “National League” team. As Megan and I bid my family members farewell, it was time for the business at hand: Get Brian Littrell’s autograph. This was not as hard as I thought it would be as Littrell was signing just about anything passed his way. All we had to do was battle a couple of picture takers and a 40-something old woman claiming, “I feel like I’m 19 again,” which was odd because the Backstreet Boys were popular like 10 years ago, and if this woman was 40 now, she would be 30 back then. Sorry ma’am, you’re not fooling anyone. Just admit it, you liked the Backstreet Boys as a 30 year old working woman. To make things worse, she brought a copy of the Backstreet Boys “Millennium” CD. Maybe it was pre-empted and she brought it to get it signed, or maybe she always has a copy with her just incase she runs into a Backstreet Boy. Knowing this lady, I’m betting the latter.

After about ten minute of yelling, “Brian! Brian! Over here! I love ‘I’ll Be the One,’” we finally fought our way up to the front. Unfortunately, Megan did not come as well prepared as the 40 year old super fan, so she had him sign her game day program. To make things even more unfortunate, Littrell signed the BACK of the program instead of the front. Megan now has a framed advertisement for Taco Bell signed by Brian Littrell of the Backstreet Boys.

Overall it was a great day. We saw some of the Cardinal’s future and past stars. We ate free nachos and the Cardinals split a doubleheader with the Chicago Cubs to finish the first half of the season. It’s amazing what you can accomplish when there is a four hour rain delay.

As we got back to the car (which had not been towed), the clock on car radio read 11:15pm. So much for getting home by 7pm for dinner. It’s a good thing White Castle is open 24 hours a day!

In Part III:

-I make my glorious return to FanFest where my cousin Joe doesn’t want to do anything but eat!
-I learn just how popular Colby Rasmus is becoming.
-I race home to try and see Albert Pujols win the Home Run Derby.

Stay tuned…

MY ALL-STAR ADVENTURE

In January of 2007, Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig made it official that St. Louis would play host to the 2009 MLB All-Star Game. For many, this was a shock as year after year, St. Louis had been largely overlooked as a potential host for baseball’s Mid-Summer Classic, despite having one of the most faithful and farthest reaching fan bases in the entire sport.

For 42 seasons, baseball’s best players took the trip to other baseball cities for the ceremonial mid-season exhibition of the stars. In some cases, the game had been held in the same city twice since St. Louis last hosted the game in 1966. New York, Detroit, Chicago, Atlanta, San Diego, Seattle, Anaheim, Cleveland, San Francisco, Milwaukee and Minneapolis all hosted the All-Star game twice before 2009. Two teams hosted the game three times in the last 42 seasons: The Houston Astros and the Pittsburgh Pirates. In fact, America’s game took the Mid-Summer Classic to Canada twice (Montreal in 1982 and Toronto in 1991) before Baseball City, USA was ever considered to host again.

No team or city has waited so long between hosting opportunities. No team had been passed over more times than the Cardinals. Year after year, frustration built within Cardinal fans, who were just wondering when it would be there time to shine as the center of one of baseball’s most celebrated events.

All of this frustration exploded in the five days that were All-Star Week 2009. It seemed as though that all of St. Louis felt they had something to prove to Major League Baseball and the large amount of media outlets gracing the city with their presence. All at once, the city banded together to show that Cardinal fans are the most knowledgeable, most gracious and most deserving fans in the baseball world.

This isn’t the story of how the game came to the Gateway to the West or how St. Louis showed Major League Baseball how the All-Star Game should be presented every year, but it is a personal account of what took place during those five special days this July. Those five special days that Cardinal fans had been waiting over 40 years for. That special day that younger fans, like your’s truly, had been waiting their entire lives for.

PART I: THE FESTIVAL OF FANS

Since I first started watching the All-Star Game in 1996, there has always been one event that has always captivated me outside of the game itself. No, not the HGH Derby…I mean Home Run Derby, but the All-Star FanFest. It was a chance for fans to get closer to the game, to experience things that can only be experienced on the ball field, like hitting a homer over the wall or off the foul poll or making the game saving catch by leaping over the wall to rob the opposition of a home run, or in my case, calling your favorite play from your favorite team’s storied history.

On July 11th, my friend Ryan and I took off for America’s Center to experience “the world’s largest baseball themed amusement park.” For those who don’t remember the commercials for FanFest, Ozzie Smith was the spokesman of the event. He ended every commercial with, “I’ll see you at the 2009 All-Star FanFest.” When Ryan and I finally got into the door’s, we received the news that Ozzie was, in fact, not at the FanFest. This completely changed my view of Ozzie Smith. I now consider him one of the biggest liars in the history of baseball. If you tell someone that you will see them at the FanFest, you better be at the FanFest. No home run in Game five of the National League Championship Series can make up for this atrocity Ozzie. Shame on you. But since you’re a Cardinal legend, I might be alone in scolding you, so maybe I will let it slide.

Anyway, once you walked in to the America’s Center, you were greeted by the World’s Biggest Baseball, which had the signatures of previous All-Stars such as Roger Clemens, who humbley wrote under his signature, “The ROCKET was here.” Unfortunately his pen must have run out so I finished his sentence for him and put, “The ROCKET was here doing steroids.” At least Roger Clemens would be telling the truth at FanFest.

After defacing the World’s Biggest Baseball, we noticed a large crowd making a run for the second floor of America’s Center. Apparently Will Clark, whom became very popular during his short time in St. Louis for really sticking it to J.D. Drew for not hustling, was getting ready to sign autographs upstairs. We followed the crowd and had Will “The Thrill” sign our FanFest programs because we did not bring anything to be autographed.

While waiting in line for an autograph, Ryan and I began making small talk with a guy about our age. We asked if he was from around here, if he had tickets to any other events and just made baseball talk. However, we left out the important question of “What is your name”. Because of this, throughout the rest of this story, he will be referred to as goatee guy, or GG for short.

Well, GG apparently came to the FanFest alone. And apparently making small talk with him meant that we wanted him to follow us around the entire day. No offense to GG, he was a nice guy, but I was not interested in being followed by a complete stranger all day while trying to enjoy one of the more unique features of the All-Star Game. So Ryan and I somewhat ditched him in the main room by running into a crowd. However, we would continue to run in to him at a couple more attractions.

As we walked around the interactive center, we came across the “Call the Play” booth. I saw this and knew that this was my chance. This was the opportunity I had been waiting for. This was my chance to show the world that I could do play-by-play for the St. Louis Cardinals. And not just do play-by-play, I could make a legendary call on a legendary play.

Like any good Cardinal fan, I chose to call the play where Albert Pujols tees off on Brad Lidge of the Houston Astros to send the Cardinals back to Busch Stadium for Game 6 of the National League Championship Series. The original call was made by the Fox Sports secondary team of broadcasters, so I knew that I would be able to do a job somewhat better than them. However, I was at a disadvantage as I knew what was going to happen so the call was not as spontaneous.

I started off….OK. Not my best work, but I managed to make it interesting. The lady running the booth was somewhat surprised that I was able to start rattling off stats from almost five years ago (she clearly had never read any of my blog posts). As Albert stepped into the box, I began to calm down, just anticipating the moment that the ball left his bat and headed into orbit.

Finally, the moment came. On an 0-1 pitch Albert swung at a hanging slider that caught the middle of the plate. This ball was gone, and I mean way gone. Suddenly the excitement of that moment began to come back to me. The emotions I felt that night started rushing through my veins. Except this time I was going to let the world feel what I was feeling.

But I gagged. No words would come out. I saw the ball leaving the stadium (if the roof had been open) but I couldn’t speak. Finally, about five seconds to late, I was finally able to belt out, “AND HOLD OFF THE WRECKING BALLS TO OLD BUSCH STADIUM!! ALBERT….has…hit a home run.”

The excitement left me. I suddenly became very aware that people could hear every word I was saying and I was apparently speaking so loud that a small crowd had gathered at the News Channel 5 desk that I was “broadcasting” from. The moment was over and I didn’t really know how to feel about it, which is why I’m leaving it up to the readers of this blog. Below is the video of my broadcast. Feel free to tell me what you think. Feel free to be critical, but don’t kill the dream. This is the reason I went into journalism in the first place.

After attempting to call our own favorite play, Ryan and I were able to do two more activities before the place became incredibly crowded. We were able to do three attractions in the first hour we were at FanFest. In the next hour, we were only able to do one. Oh well. At least Taco Bell was giving away free Volcano Tacos, which kept us happy while we waited to take five swings in the virtual batting cages.

On our way out we came across Cal Ripken Jr. and his brother Billy just finishing their radio show. Of course, there was a mad dash to try and get Cal’s autograph (poor Billy, nobody really appreciates you) and we decided to be part of the rush. Ryan apparently had brought two baseballs. He handed me one to try and get signed. Somehow, Ryan managed to have one of the few existing baseballs that still say “Official National League Baseball” on it. Needless to say I felt stupid trying to get Cal Ripken Jr.’s autograph on a National League Baseball. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Of course in the end it didn’t matter as Cal signed about fifty autographs and then made a mad dash for the exit, leaving Ryan and I with nothing to hold on to but our blank balls. Feel free to laugh at the innuendo placed at the end of that sentence.

Overall it was quite the experience. I got an autograph from Will Clark, who also commented on my ability to catch a ball (he compared me to Alfonso Soriano. OUCH!), I got to make my first attempt at being a play-by-play announcer, I felt what it was like to see a baseball go over the fence (even though the fence was only 100 feet away which is about the equivalent of popping up to the second baseman. Shut up, it felt good!), and I got to face off against pitching ace and former HGH user, Andy Pettitte. All of this, of course, was done in a span of four hours. It was a good day.

FanFest is a fairly new attraction that travels with the All-Star Game. Some people scoff at the idea of a baseball theme park, but it really does get you in the mood to watch and play America’s National Pastime. It reinvigorated my love of the game, and reminded me of my days as a kid with dreams of making the big leagues. Dreams that recently died when I realized that there are several players now playing professional baseball that are younger than I. Thank you Colby Rasmus for killing my childhood dream. Then again, I think there is still hope for me. After all, Chris Duncan is still in the Majors despite the fact that he can’t hit, field, run, add or subtract and thinks he spells his last name like a certain donut shop.

It was a great way to open up All-Star Week 2009. But FanFest was only the beginning of what turned into a four day whirlwind.

In Part II of “My All-Star Adventure”:

-My girlfriend goads me into going to the Celebrity Softball Game, and then shows her undying

love for me by sitting out a four hour rain delay.
-My Uncle Mike buys two orders of supreme nachos in less than five minutes
-Busch Stadium ushers prove once and for all that they really are huge jackasses.

Stay tuned…

BONUS BLOG!!

Something I couldn't fit in but I want to share with the world. This is another video that Ryan and I made while at FanFest. It's an interview with Hazel Mae and Harold Reynolds of the MLB Network. Ryan compares Yadier Molina to a certain Iranian president (jokingly of course) and I can't help but start cracking up. ENJOY!