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.
.jpg)
.jpg)
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.
These teams were too good to need a white flag. When you are winning 100 games a season you don’t need to give up. You could make a case for Cal Eldred who, in 2004, made 42 of his 52 appearances when the game was within four runs. But his 3.76 ERA was pretty solid. 
.jpg)
.jpg)
