Before I climb onto my platform and start bitching and moaning about another topic, let me first say this:
Thank you all for the many nice comments throughout my last series of posts on the story "Big League". Some of you were under the impression that I was writing about taking my own son to his first Major League game. This actually was not the case. The story for the most part was fiction, but some of the events of the day were based on memories I had of my first game.
My mom and dad took me to my first game at Candlestick Park 30+ years ago to watch the Giants play the Padres. It was a beautiful sunny day and the Giants did win the game as I recall. I remember being so excited to go to the game that I literally was sick before hand. I know we drove across at least one bridge, but I'm not sure which one(s) it was. Got to go down to the field and meet a couple of the Giants pitchers, and although I don't recall, I'm sure I got to enjoy a hot dog too.
The comment Eric made about the Giants not winning, but that he had fun anyway, came from a similar comment that my own son made recently. Like the father in the story, I too was blown away by the grown up tones of someone of his age.
So again, thank you! I'm sure another story will jump into my head and beg to be written. When it does I'll be happy to share it.
You are all an incredible bunch of people. I feel fortunate to call you friends.
Now for the Jeckle side of Hyde.
Back in September of '07 we did a job for a contractor at an elderly care facility. We were told by the project manager of this construction company that there was water damage to the ceiling in the dining room at the facility. It would require two layers of 5/8 inch sheetrock on the ceiling that was ten feet tall. It would also require several other sheets of rock to be installed on a drop down soffet.
No problem, we negotiated the price and scheduled the job. We loaded the 24 sheets of 5/8 inch sheetrock into the truck and delivered it to the jobsite.
Now for the problem. When we got ready to install the rock, we discovered that it required two layers of 1/2 inch rock instead. This meant we would have to load all of the 5/8 inch material into the truck and take it back to the supplier, purchase the new material and restock the job all over.
I called the project supervisor and explained the problem and that this would be an additional $400.00 for the labor and restock fees. He agreed to this and told us to proceed.
This is the part where I should have stopped everything and made him put this conversation in writing, but because time was of the essence and I trusted him, we continued. Go ahead . . . say it . . . ”MORON”.
Fast-forward five months. We were paid for the original contract amount, but never for the change order. (the additional amount) I have had numerous conversations with various people at the construction company. Every one of them resulted in the same story; we will look into that and get back to you.
If you’re getting the aroma of bullshit wafting across your nose right now, you’re not alone.
For some miraculous reason, not once have they received any of my faxes, or emails. Strange! Oh, and did I mention that the project manager that hired us no longer works for the company?
Well I’ve decided to write this one off. I’m tired of dealing with them, so I have copied my final email to them for your enjoyment.
Somehow I don’t think I’ll be seeing any payment from them now (not that I ever would have anyway)
Joey,
Apparently you have no intention of every paying for this change order, so I guess you win.
Just another case of a large company bending the little guy over and putting it to him up his back side!
Please know how disappointed I am with your company. How convenient for you that Dan no longer works for your company and that you were able to drag this out for five months so there isn't any way of him being available to speak the truth into this matter.
I have spent entirely too much time chasing your deadbeat company around on this.
Please consider this an invitation to kiss my hairy white ass!
Now run, don't walk to the next poor small contractor that you can screw and let him know how much you don't care.
Pathetic!
Friday, March 7, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Big League - Part 6 (conclusion)
Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. I have finally wrapped up this story. (Scroll down for parts 1-5)
I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and hope I"ve brought some smiles to your faces along the way.
The End
I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and hope I"ve brought some smiles to your faces along the way.
Part 6
“See, I told you not to give up too early.” Eric’s mom assured.
Not wanting to miss an opportunity to razz his new friend, Eric turned around and said to the man, “Do you smell that?”
“What’s that short-fry?” was his response.
“That is the smell of sausages cooking!”
Chuckling again, the guy replied, “Don’t count your chickens before their hatched.”
“Let’s not get too carried away young man,” Gail told her son.
The guy leaned forward and told her, “Don’t worry mom, he’s alright. We’re just having some fun.” Extending his hand to her he said, “By the way, my name’s Wes.” Then he directed the last part of his comment to Eric, “Besides, a lot can happen in two innings.”
The top and bottom halves of the eighth inning came and went without any more runners crossing the plate and the Rockies were now down to their final three outs.
A lead off walk and a stolen base had the home crowd a little uneasy. The next batter ripped a line drive past the first baseman for a single and the runner on second advanced to third. The Giants were faced with runners on first and third with nobody out. Another base hit would tie the game.
After running the count to three and o, the pitching coach decided it was time to visit the mound and see if he could calm his closer down a little. It seemed to work because the next pitch hit the outside corner for a strike. The pitch after that, was a little higher up and the batter caught just enough of it to foul it off into the screen behind home plate. The following pitch, a high arching curveball was fouled away again, but this time it was heading straight at Eric and his parents. The young boy had lost interest in wearing his glove some time ago, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The ball was coming in too fast for him to react in time and besides, he wouldn’t have been tall enough to reach it even if he had been ready for it.
It wasn’t out of reach for Wes tough. Much to his own surprise, the man dressed in a Rockies jersey and cap ended up with the souvenir in his hands.
After poking her head up from behind the seat in front of her, Gail checked to make sure her son and husband were ok, and then looked back to see Wes holding the ball high over his head for everyone to see.
“How did you catch that?” Eric asked in amazement.
“I don’t know,” he said, “I just reached up and there it was. Here, you want to take a look at it?”
Stretching out his hand, Eric eagerly said, “Yeah!”
After giving it a thorough examination and showing his mom and dad the scuffmark where the bat had made contact with it, he handed the ball back to his buddy and said, “Thanks.”
He couldn’t believe it; he had got to hold a baseball that was hit by a real big league player. He quickly put his glove back on just incase another one was hit in his direction.
Another ball was hit all right, but not in the direction Eric or any of the other Giants fans had hoped for. This one was heading about three hundred and seventy feet, just over the right field fence, a couple of rows deep. It was a three run shot that put Rockies up by two and the Giants still didn’t have anybody out.
This brought the Giants manager out of the dugout. He was tapping his right arm as he made his way to the mound, which signaled it was time for a pitching change. There were many in the stands who would argue this change should have happened a couple of batters earlier, but what was done, was done.
The decision to replace his struggling pitcher proved to be a good one. The first two batters who stepped into the box went down on six straight strikes and the third hit a line drive to the shortstop to end the inning.
Now it was the Giants who were down to their final three outs.
Roger looked at his son and said, “Well, what do you think? Do they have three more runs in them?”
“I hope so dad.”
Gail enthusiastically said, “Sure they do!”
She continued, “You know what we need to do don’t you?”
“What mom?”
Taking off her cap and turning it inside out she said, “We need to put on our rally hats!”
Following his mom’s lead, Eric grabbed his hat and contorted it into its new design.
“Look mom,” he said, “If they get one more run for each of our hats, adding his father’s to the total, they’ll have enough to win!”
Gail pointed out to the crowd and told her son, “Look at all the other people with their rally hats, think how many runs that’d be.”
Eric scanned the stadium and exclaimed, “They’re gonna slaughter ‘em!”
Wanting to tease, but not crush his young friend, Wes leaned forward and said, “Don’t forget about the chickens hatching.”
“I won’t,” he replied.
The bottom part of the line up was due to hit, so the Giants opted for some offensive changes in hopes of generating some quick action in the batters box. Their first, ninth inning hope, swaggered up to the plate and with a slight adjustment to his cup, he was ready.
The first pitch came in high and tight causing him to stumble backwards so as to avoid being hit. Boos rained down onto the field from the fans as the batter righted his self. He dug in with his right foot like a bull getting ready to charge. The next pitch zipped in at his knees and as he made contact with it, everyone jumped to their feet. It was a long fly ball. The center fielder raced towards the fence as fast as his legs would carry him. Reaching the warning track, he stopped and the crowd watched in agony as the ball dropped into his glove.
A simultaneous sigh echoed across the park while the fans took their seats again.
“Ten more feet,” cried Roger, “Ten more stinking feet and that one would have been out of here!”
Taking the roll of the father, Eric patted his dad on the back and said in a consoling voice, “That's all right dad.”
Reaching around to give his son a squeeze, Roger replied, “Thanks buddy.”
You could see the anxiety in Gail’s body language as she clenched her fists. She wanted the Giants to win, but more than that, she didn’t want to see her son heartbroken if they lost.
“Strike!” was the call from the home plate ump.
”Come on . . . come on” Gail heard herself mumble.
The fans started stomping their feet and clapping their hands in unison as an encouragement to the hitter.
“Stomp, Stomp - CLAP! . . . Stomp, Stomp - CLAP!” thundered from the stands.
“Strike!” again was the call.
Eric heard someone a few rows away yell, “Where’s your cup and a cane ump? That was a ball!”
The crowd had paused for a moment, and then began its rhythmic cheer all over again.
Moments later they screamed as the batter connected with the ball and sent it into the gap in left. The left fielder charged after the ball as the runner rounded first. He grabbed the ball with his bare hand and planted his feet for the throw to second. The runner never looked up, instead he laid out and slid into second hoping his legs were faster that the outfielder’s arm.
The second base umpire stretched out his arms to either side and hollered, “SAFE!”
The place exploded into a frenzy as they watched their chances come back alive. The big screen on the center field scoreboard added to the excitement as well, showing the replay several times.
Next up was a left-handed batter who laid down a bunt on the very first pitch catching all of the Rockies off guard. It was beautifully placed, rolling just inside the first base line. By the time the pitcher reacted and picked it up, the runner had advanced to third and his throw to first was too late.
The Giants now had the tying run on first and the winning run at the plate.
This brought the Rockies coach to the mound along with the infielders. After a brief meeting on strategy, the umpire walked out and broke up their pow-wow getting the game back under way.
Two pitches later, the new batter hit a roller to the third baseman. The runners had traveled too far to their respective bases for a play on either of them so he fired a shot over to first for the easy out.
Another run had scored, but the Giants were down to their final out now.
The runner on second took a few steps off the bag, but kept a watchful eye out for a pick-off play. The last thing he wanted was to be caught napping and end up being the final out.
Eric, like many of the other fans, was standing, too nervous to sit. The whole ball game came down to this last at bat.
”What a position to be in,” Gail thought, ”if the guy at the plate gets a hit he’s a hero, if he makes an out he’s the goat.”
After taking the first pitch for a called strike he swung at the next one to cross the plate. This one landed in the stands a little ways past first base. The count was now o and two bringing the fate of the game to one last strike. The next pitch was a low slider that went in for a ball.
“Come on baby, you can do this.” Eric whispered.
The fans watched in disbelief as a 94mph fastball shot by the batter, too fast for his swing. Just like that, the ball game was over. The Giants had lost by a score of seven to six.
“Oh maaaaan!” was Eric’s reaction.
Gail immediately went into ‘protective momma bear mode’, saying things like, “It’s ok sugar,” and “It’ll be all right.”
Eric looked up at her and said something that just about floored her. He said, “It kinda stinks that they didn’t win, but that’s ok, it was fun anyway.”
She stood there speechless. “Did this little boy of only eight years really say that?”
Then, without any prompting, Eric turned around and stuck out his hand to the gentleman he’d had so much fun sparring with and said, “Congratulations Mr. Wes, good game.”
You could have knocked either of his parents over with a feather.
Wes too, was taken aback by the words and composure this little boy was showing and as he was shaking the lads hand an idea came to him.
“Young man,” he said, “the house I live in is kind of small, and I don’t think I have enough room anywhere for this ball I got today.” Pulling the ball he’d caught earlier from his coat pocket, he continued, “Do you suppose you have a spot at your place where you could keep it?”
Eric starred at the ball for a moment then looked at his parents who both nodded in approval. “Are you serious?” he asked.
“You’d be doing me a tremendous favor.” He said as he gave a wink at Roger and Gail.
“You bet I do!”
“What do you tell him?” Gail asked her son.
“Oh yeah, thank you, thank you very much!” Eric said.
“Your welcome Eric, just promise me you’ll take good care of it for me.”
Whatever sting there might have been from seeing his team lose the game had just evaporated in an instant.
This truly was a day Eric would remember forever.
Not wanting to miss an opportunity to razz his new friend, Eric turned around and said to the man, “Do you smell that?”
“What’s that short-fry?” was his response.
“That is the smell of sausages cooking!”
Chuckling again, the guy replied, “Don’t count your chickens before their hatched.”
“Let’s not get too carried away young man,” Gail told her son.
The guy leaned forward and told her, “Don’t worry mom, he’s alright. We’re just having some fun.” Extending his hand to her he said, “By the way, my name’s Wes.” Then he directed the last part of his comment to Eric, “Besides, a lot can happen in two innings.”
The top and bottom halves of the eighth inning came and went without any more runners crossing the plate and the Rockies were now down to their final three outs.
A lead off walk and a stolen base had the home crowd a little uneasy. The next batter ripped a line drive past the first baseman for a single and the runner on second advanced to third. The Giants were faced with runners on first and third with nobody out. Another base hit would tie the game.
After running the count to three and o, the pitching coach decided it was time to visit the mound and see if he could calm his closer down a little. It seemed to work because the next pitch hit the outside corner for a strike. The pitch after that, was a little higher up and the batter caught just enough of it to foul it off into the screen behind home plate. The following pitch, a high arching curveball was fouled away again, but this time it was heading straight at Eric and his parents. The young boy had lost interest in wearing his glove some time ago, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. The ball was coming in too fast for him to react in time and besides, he wouldn’t have been tall enough to reach it even if he had been ready for it.
It wasn’t out of reach for Wes tough. Much to his own surprise, the man dressed in a Rockies jersey and cap ended up with the souvenir in his hands.
After poking her head up from behind the seat in front of her, Gail checked to make sure her son and husband were ok, and then looked back to see Wes holding the ball high over his head for everyone to see.
“How did you catch that?” Eric asked in amazement.
“I don’t know,” he said, “I just reached up and there it was. Here, you want to take a look at it?”
Stretching out his hand, Eric eagerly said, “Yeah!”
After giving it a thorough examination and showing his mom and dad the scuffmark where the bat had made contact with it, he handed the ball back to his buddy and said, “Thanks.”
He couldn’t believe it; he had got to hold a baseball that was hit by a real big league player. He quickly put his glove back on just incase another one was hit in his direction.
Another ball was hit all right, but not in the direction Eric or any of the other Giants fans had hoped for. This one was heading about three hundred and seventy feet, just over the right field fence, a couple of rows deep. It was a three run shot that put Rockies up by two and the Giants still didn’t have anybody out.
This brought the Giants manager out of the dugout. He was tapping his right arm as he made his way to the mound, which signaled it was time for a pitching change. There were many in the stands who would argue this change should have happened a couple of batters earlier, but what was done, was done.
The decision to replace his struggling pitcher proved to be a good one. The first two batters who stepped into the box went down on six straight strikes and the third hit a line drive to the shortstop to end the inning.
Now it was the Giants who were down to their final three outs.
Roger looked at his son and said, “Well, what do you think? Do they have three more runs in them?”
“I hope so dad.”
Gail enthusiastically said, “Sure they do!”
She continued, “You know what we need to do don’t you?”
“What mom?”
Taking off her cap and turning it inside out she said, “We need to put on our rally hats!”
Following his mom’s lead, Eric grabbed his hat and contorted it into its new design.
“Look mom,” he said, “If they get one more run for each of our hats, adding his father’s to the total, they’ll have enough to win!”
Gail pointed out to the crowd and told her son, “Look at all the other people with their rally hats, think how many runs that’d be.”
Eric scanned the stadium and exclaimed, “They’re gonna slaughter ‘em!”
Wanting to tease, but not crush his young friend, Wes leaned forward and said, “Don’t forget about the chickens hatching.”
“I won’t,” he replied.
The bottom part of the line up was due to hit, so the Giants opted for some offensive changes in hopes of generating some quick action in the batters box. Their first, ninth inning hope, swaggered up to the plate and with a slight adjustment to his cup, he was ready.
The first pitch came in high and tight causing him to stumble backwards so as to avoid being hit. Boos rained down onto the field from the fans as the batter righted his self. He dug in with his right foot like a bull getting ready to charge. The next pitch zipped in at his knees and as he made contact with it, everyone jumped to their feet. It was a long fly ball. The center fielder raced towards the fence as fast as his legs would carry him. Reaching the warning track, he stopped and the crowd watched in agony as the ball dropped into his glove.
A simultaneous sigh echoed across the park while the fans took their seats again.
“Ten more feet,” cried Roger, “Ten more stinking feet and that one would have been out of here!”
Taking the roll of the father, Eric patted his dad on the back and said in a consoling voice, “That's all right dad.”
Reaching around to give his son a squeeze, Roger replied, “Thanks buddy.”
You could see the anxiety in Gail’s body language as she clenched her fists. She wanted the Giants to win, but more than that, she didn’t want to see her son heartbroken if they lost.
“Strike!” was the call from the home plate ump.
”Come on . . . come on” Gail heard herself mumble.
The fans started stomping their feet and clapping their hands in unison as an encouragement to the hitter.
“Stomp, Stomp - CLAP! . . . Stomp, Stomp - CLAP!” thundered from the stands.
“Strike!” again was the call.
Eric heard someone a few rows away yell, “Where’s your cup and a cane ump? That was a ball!”
The crowd had paused for a moment, and then began its rhythmic cheer all over again.
Moments later they screamed as the batter connected with the ball and sent it into the gap in left. The left fielder charged after the ball as the runner rounded first. He grabbed the ball with his bare hand and planted his feet for the throw to second. The runner never looked up, instead he laid out and slid into second hoping his legs were faster that the outfielder’s arm.
The second base umpire stretched out his arms to either side and hollered, “SAFE!”
The place exploded into a frenzy as they watched their chances come back alive. The big screen on the center field scoreboard added to the excitement as well, showing the replay several times.
Next up was a left-handed batter who laid down a bunt on the very first pitch catching all of the Rockies off guard. It was beautifully placed, rolling just inside the first base line. By the time the pitcher reacted and picked it up, the runner had advanced to third and his throw to first was too late.
The Giants now had the tying run on first and the winning run at the plate.
This brought the Rockies coach to the mound along with the infielders. After a brief meeting on strategy, the umpire walked out and broke up their pow-wow getting the game back under way.
Two pitches later, the new batter hit a roller to the third baseman. The runners had traveled too far to their respective bases for a play on either of them so he fired a shot over to first for the easy out.
Another run had scored, but the Giants were down to their final out now.
The runner on second took a few steps off the bag, but kept a watchful eye out for a pick-off play. The last thing he wanted was to be caught napping and end up being the final out.
Eric, like many of the other fans, was standing, too nervous to sit. The whole ball game came down to this last at bat.
”What a position to be in,” Gail thought, ”if the guy at the plate gets a hit he’s a hero, if he makes an out he’s the goat.”
After taking the first pitch for a called strike he swung at the next one to cross the plate. This one landed in the stands a little ways past first base. The count was now o and two bringing the fate of the game to one last strike. The next pitch was a low slider that went in for a ball.
“Come on baby, you can do this.” Eric whispered.
The fans watched in disbelief as a 94mph fastball shot by the batter, too fast for his swing. Just like that, the ball game was over. The Giants had lost by a score of seven to six.
“Oh maaaaan!” was Eric’s reaction.
Gail immediately went into ‘protective momma bear mode’, saying things like, “It’s ok sugar,” and “It’ll be all right.”
Eric looked up at her and said something that just about floored her. He said, “It kinda stinks that they didn’t win, but that’s ok, it was fun anyway.”
She stood there speechless. “Did this little boy of only eight years really say that?”
Then, without any prompting, Eric turned around and stuck out his hand to the gentleman he’d had so much fun sparring with and said, “Congratulations Mr. Wes, good game.”
You could have knocked either of his parents over with a feather.
Wes too, was taken aback by the words and composure this little boy was showing and as he was shaking the lads hand an idea came to him.
“Young man,” he said, “the house I live in is kind of small, and I don’t think I have enough room anywhere for this ball I got today.” Pulling the ball he’d caught earlier from his coat pocket, he continued, “Do you suppose you have a spot at your place where you could keep it?”
Eric starred at the ball for a moment then looked at his parents who both nodded in approval. “Are you serious?” he asked.
“You’d be doing me a tremendous favor.” He said as he gave a wink at Roger and Gail.
“You bet I do!”
“What do you tell him?” Gail asked her son.
“Oh yeah, thank you, thank you very much!” Eric said.
“Your welcome Eric, just promise me you’ll take good care of it for me.”
Whatever sting there might have been from seeing his team lose the game had just evaporated in an instant.
This truly was a day Eric would remember forever.
The End
Monday, March 3, 2008
Big Leauge - Part 5
I don't know about you all, but I'm looking forward to opening day!
If you're just tuning in, be sure to go back to part one and enjoy it from the begining.
The fourth and fifth innings proved to be more profitable in the runs column for the Rockies than the home team or crowd cared to see. The visitors had managed to score four unanswered runs during that amount of time and the once optimistic young boy was now starting to sit a little lower in his seat.
Gail had an idea. Nudging Eric, she said, “How about you and I see if they have any hot dogs to eat around here?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he lethargically answered, “I guess.”
“Come on sweetie, there’s still plenty of time left in the game. It’s not over yet,” she encouraged.
“We’re going to go get some dogs,” she told her husband, “should we bring back one for you?”
Raising his eyebrows and holding up two fingers, Roger indicated that’s how many he would like.
By the time Gail and Eric made it back to their seats the Rockies had taken the field again and the Giants had a runner on first with the count at three and one and nobody out. Everybody in the park knew the batter would be taking the next pitch all the way, or at least they thought that’s what would happen.
After a glance to first, the Rockies pitcher squared to the plate and released his best change-up. As the ball left his fingers, the runner on first took off for second. Sixty feet, six inches later, as the ball made it to home plate, it was met with a ”SMACK” of the bat. It shot over the first baseman’s head on its way into right field. The ball bounced just inside of the foul line and continued to roll all the way into the corner. By the time the right fielder picked up the ball the lead runner was approaching third and was being waved home. The right fielder, who had a rocket for an arm, threw a laser towards home, but it was slightly off line, allowing the runner to slide safely across home plate.
At the end of the play, the Giants had a guy on second and one run had scored. It was a beautifully executed hit and run that had the fans on their feet once again. The excitement of this play and the mustard laden hot dog that he was enjoying had brought Eric back into good spirits as well.
While the Whitakers enjoyed their ‘gourmet’ meal, the Giants were able to extend the rally and add an additional two runs to their total. These runs, along with the one earlier in the inning, brought the game to a tie at four apiece.
The top of the seventh would see the tail end of the Rockies line up, and as the Giants and their fans had hoped for, they went down in order.
“Do you know what time it is?” Roger asked his son.
“What?” Eric said.
His dad continued, “It’s time for the seventh inning stretch.”
“What’s that?” asked the boy.
Gail chimed in, “Remember the song your dad kept singing in the car this morning?”
“The Cracker-Jack one?”
Smiling, Gail continued, “That’s the one! Now’s the time of the game when the whole stadium gets to sing it.”
While she was finishing her explanation, the other spectators around them were getting up in anticipation of the coming song. The next thing everyone heard was organ music signaling the beginning of ”Take Me Out To The Ballgame”. From the numerous times his dad had crooned the lyrics on the drive to the park, Eric was able to easily follow along as they sung this mid game classic.
It was a toss up for Eric whether he enjoyed singing the song more, or watching his parents act like kids again as they joined in with him and the others. Either way, a good time was had by all, and then a few minutes later the fans settled back into their seats getting ready for the bottom of the seventh.
The first two players went down without a fight, which meant number twenty-five was coming to the plate with two outs. His chances of seeing some pitches in the strike zone with two down were much better this time around.
Sure enough, the first pitch was a fastball to the inside of the plate. The left-hander took a cut at it, but his swing was a millisecond to late and the ball scooted past landing in the catchers’ glove.
“Stee-riiiiike!” yelled the umpire.
A collective groan resounded throughout the stadium as the slugger dug in for another attempt.
The next two pitches went by without so much as a flinch from him bringing the count to two and one. The fans were beginning to suspect he might be walked yet again, but the following pitch came across fat and right down the center of the plate. It must have looked like the size of a beach ball to him, and as soon as he made contact with the white leather sphere, everyone in the park knew this one was headed for McCovey Cove.
A few seconds later it was confirmed as the ball sailed over the right field fence and splashed into the bay just as so many of his had done in the past.
Eric went ballistic. More than anything else, this is what he had hoped to see. He was cheering and dancing and exchanging high fives with his mom and dad and anybody else that offered up a hand.
“Did you see that dad? That was so cool! Holy cow, he creamed that one!”
His excitement spilled out from every pore of his body.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he continued.
Eric was so busy in his revelry he completely missed the next batter who grounded out to end the inning.
The Giants were once again enjoying a one run lead with only two innings to go. If they could make it through six more outs without giving up another run, they would be able to put another one in the ‘W’ column.
****
to be continued
If you're just tuning in, be sure to go back to part one and enjoy it from the begining.
Part 5
The fourth and fifth innings proved to be more profitable in the runs column for the Rockies than the home team or crowd cared to see. The visitors had managed to score four unanswered runs during that amount of time and the once optimistic young boy was now starting to sit a little lower in his seat.
Gail had an idea. Nudging Eric, she said, “How about you and I see if they have any hot dogs to eat around here?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he lethargically answered, “I guess.”
“Come on sweetie, there’s still plenty of time left in the game. It’s not over yet,” she encouraged.
“We’re going to go get some dogs,” she told her husband, “should we bring back one for you?”
Raising his eyebrows and holding up two fingers, Roger indicated that’s how many he would like.
By the time Gail and Eric made it back to their seats the Rockies had taken the field again and the Giants had a runner on first with the count at three and one and nobody out. Everybody in the park knew the batter would be taking the next pitch all the way, or at least they thought that’s what would happen.
After a glance to first, the Rockies pitcher squared to the plate and released his best change-up. As the ball left his fingers, the runner on first took off for second. Sixty feet, six inches later, as the ball made it to home plate, it was met with a ”SMACK” of the bat. It shot over the first baseman’s head on its way into right field. The ball bounced just inside of the foul line and continued to roll all the way into the corner. By the time the right fielder picked up the ball the lead runner was approaching third and was being waved home. The right fielder, who had a rocket for an arm, threw a laser towards home, but it was slightly off line, allowing the runner to slide safely across home plate.
At the end of the play, the Giants had a guy on second and one run had scored. It was a beautifully executed hit and run that had the fans on their feet once again. The excitement of this play and the mustard laden hot dog that he was enjoying had brought Eric back into good spirits as well.
While the Whitakers enjoyed their ‘gourmet’ meal, the Giants were able to extend the rally and add an additional two runs to their total. These runs, along with the one earlier in the inning, brought the game to a tie at four apiece.
The top of the seventh would see the tail end of the Rockies line up, and as the Giants and their fans had hoped for, they went down in order.
“Do you know what time it is?” Roger asked his son.
“What?” Eric said.
His dad continued, “It’s time for the seventh inning stretch.”
“What’s that?” asked the boy.
Gail chimed in, “Remember the song your dad kept singing in the car this morning?”
“The Cracker-Jack one?”
Smiling, Gail continued, “That’s the one! Now’s the time of the game when the whole stadium gets to sing it.”
While she was finishing her explanation, the other spectators around them were getting up in anticipation of the coming song. The next thing everyone heard was organ music signaling the beginning of ”Take Me Out To The Ballgame”. From the numerous times his dad had crooned the lyrics on the drive to the park, Eric was able to easily follow along as they sung this mid game classic.
It was a toss up for Eric whether he enjoyed singing the song more, or watching his parents act like kids again as they joined in with him and the others. Either way, a good time was had by all, and then a few minutes later the fans settled back into their seats getting ready for the bottom of the seventh.
The first two players went down without a fight, which meant number twenty-five was coming to the plate with two outs. His chances of seeing some pitches in the strike zone with two down were much better this time around.
Sure enough, the first pitch was a fastball to the inside of the plate. The left-hander took a cut at it, but his swing was a millisecond to late and the ball scooted past landing in the catchers’ glove.
“Stee-riiiiike!” yelled the umpire.
A collective groan resounded throughout the stadium as the slugger dug in for another attempt.
The next two pitches went by without so much as a flinch from him bringing the count to two and one. The fans were beginning to suspect he might be walked yet again, but the following pitch came across fat and right down the center of the plate. It must have looked like the size of a beach ball to him, and as soon as he made contact with the white leather sphere, everyone in the park knew this one was headed for McCovey Cove.
A few seconds later it was confirmed as the ball sailed over the right field fence and splashed into the bay just as so many of his had done in the past.
Eric went ballistic. More than anything else, this is what he had hoped to see. He was cheering and dancing and exchanging high fives with his mom and dad and anybody else that offered up a hand.
“Did you see that dad? That was so cool! Holy cow, he creamed that one!”
His excitement spilled out from every pore of his body.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” he continued.
Eric was so busy in his revelry he completely missed the next batter who grounded out to end the inning.
The Giants were once again enjoying a one run lead with only two innings to go. If they could make it through six more outs without giving up another run, they would be able to put another one in the ‘W’ column.
****
to be continued
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Big League - Part 4
Thank you all for the encouraging comments so far. I invite you to enjoy the next portion of the story.
”…and the home of the braaaaavvvve!”
With the conclusion of the National Anthem, the stadium erupted in a thunderous roar. Eric, not wanting to be left out, took this opportunity to let out a few hoops and hollers of his own.
A couple of minutes later the lanky left-handed Giants pitcher flung a 92 mph fastball across home plate for a called strike. The first pitch was in the record books and this ball game was under way.
The Rockies managed to get runners on first and third with only one out, but the next batter hit a grounder to the second baseman who scooped it up and flipped it to the shortstop. He in turn, stepped on the bag at second and gunned it over to first and completed a double play to end the inning. The crowd quickly jumped to their feet and cheered on the home team.
As the Rockies right-hander was taking his warm-up pitches, Roger spotted a vendor making his way down the steps shouting, “Peanuts! Fresh roasted peanuts here!”
Knowing no ball game was complete without them, Roger motioned to the gentleman that he’d take a couple of bags. A few minutes later, as the Giants' second baseman stepped into the batters box, another vendor came by peddling, “Ice cold sodas! Bottled waters!”
Roger thought, ”That’s pretty smart, send the guy by with the salty snacks, then wait a little bit and let another follow in his trail with cold beverages.”
Whether or not it was a deliberate marketing ploy, it worked just the same. Two cokes, a water and several dollars later, along with their bags of peanuts, the Whitaker family was now ready for the next several innings.
The next pitch was a slider that was hit sharply toward the third baseman. Catching it off of one hop, he easily threw out the player at first. The next two batters struck out and hit a fly ball to right respectively, and this meant the fans would have to wait until the second inning to see the all time home run leader make his first appearance at the plate.
The top of the second went by with very little action and Gail suggested Roger take Eric to the restroom before things got more interesting. Eric assured them that he was ok, but once they got to the men’s room he discovered they were right after all.
It was the bottom of the second and the next guy to step up to home plate needed no introduction. His name was in the papers almost constantly, and love him or hate him, he was still the guy who had hit more home runs than any other player in the history of the game.
Eric didn’t understand or even know for that matter, any of the controversy surrounding this man. All he knew was he was thrilled to death to see him in real life and with his own eyes.
The first pitch was low and outside. The umpire signalled ball, and the crowd immediately showered boos in the direction of the opposing pitcher. As far as they were concerned, every pitch to their coveted left fielder should be a fastball right down the middle of the plate so he could crank another one out of the park.
Unfortunately everyone, including Eric, would have to wait for another at bat to see if this would happen, because three strikes later he was headed back to the dugout adding another strikeout to his growing total.
The inning wasn’t a complete disappointment though, by the time the third out had been recorded, the Giants had scored one run on a sacrifice fly that brought the runner home from third.
“What do you think so far?” Gail asked her son.
“This is awesome!” he replied, “Are we gonna get to do this again?”
“Oh, I’m sure we will honey.”
There was an older gentleman, a Rockies fan, sitting in the row behind the Whitaker's who was enjoying some friendly banter with Eric. He playfully teased with the young boy saying, “I sure hope you don’t get to upset when my team wins.”
Eric, being pretty quick with a come back, responded by saying, “They’re not gonna win, the Giants are gonna smoke them like a sausage!”
His comment made the guy roll with laughter as did it Eric’s parents, and this type of jabbing would continue throughout the game, as each of their teams would do something noteworthy.
About the fourth inning, Gail looked over at Roger and said, “Can you believe what a gorgeous day it turned out to be?”
“It sure beats some of those cold, windy days I remember at Candlestick,” he replied.
“What’s a candlestick?” asked Eric.
“That’s the name, or at least it used to be the name, of the place where the Giants played baseball when I was your age,” his dad told him, “It’s where the 49ers play football.”
Eric nodded in agreement, and then asked, “Why’s it called Candlestick?”
“I don’t know,” Roger said, “if I recall right, it had something to do with a type of bird or something.”
That was good enough for his son. ”If that’s what dad says it is, it must be true.” Eric thought.
Looking up towards the outfield Eric asked his father, “Are those candlestick birds dad?”
Fighting back the urge to laugh, Roger refrained from embarrassing his boy and simply said, “No son, those are seagulls.”
****
to be continued
Part 4
”…and the home of the braaaaavvvve!”
With the conclusion of the National Anthem, the stadium erupted in a thunderous roar. Eric, not wanting to be left out, took this opportunity to let out a few hoops and hollers of his own.
A couple of minutes later the lanky left-handed Giants pitcher flung a 92 mph fastball across home plate for a called strike. The first pitch was in the record books and this ball game was under way.
The Rockies managed to get runners on first and third with only one out, but the next batter hit a grounder to the second baseman who scooped it up and flipped it to the shortstop. He in turn, stepped on the bag at second and gunned it over to first and completed a double play to end the inning. The crowd quickly jumped to their feet and cheered on the home team.
As the Rockies right-hander was taking his warm-up pitches, Roger spotted a vendor making his way down the steps shouting, “Peanuts! Fresh roasted peanuts here!”
Knowing no ball game was complete without them, Roger motioned to the gentleman that he’d take a couple of bags. A few minutes later, as the Giants' second baseman stepped into the batters box, another vendor came by peddling, “Ice cold sodas! Bottled waters!”
Roger thought, ”That’s pretty smart, send the guy by with the salty snacks, then wait a little bit and let another follow in his trail with cold beverages.”
Whether or not it was a deliberate marketing ploy, it worked just the same. Two cokes, a water and several dollars later, along with their bags of peanuts, the Whitaker family was now ready for the next several innings.
The next pitch was a slider that was hit sharply toward the third baseman. Catching it off of one hop, he easily threw out the player at first. The next two batters struck out and hit a fly ball to right respectively, and this meant the fans would have to wait until the second inning to see the all time home run leader make his first appearance at the plate.
The top of the second went by with very little action and Gail suggested Roger take Eric to the restroom before things got more interesting. Eric assured them that he was ok, but once they got to the men’s room he discovered they were right after all.
It was the bottom of the second and the next guy to step up to home plate needed no introduction. His name was in the papers almost constantly, and love him or hate him, he was still the guy who had hit more home runs than any other player in the history of the game.
Eric didn’t understand or even know for that matter, any of the controversy surrounding this man. All he knew was he was thrilled to death to see him in real life and with his own eyes.
The first pitch was low and outside. The umpire signalled ball, and the crowd immediately showered boos in the direction of the opposing pitcher. As far as they were concerned, every pitch to their coveted left fielder should be a fastball right down the middle of the plate so he could crank another one out of the park.
Unfortunately everyone, including Eric, would have to wait for another at bat to see if this would happen, because three strikes later he was headed back to the dugout adding another strikeout to his growing total.
The inning wasn’t a complete disappointment though, by the time the third out had been recorded, the Giants had scored one run on a sacrifice fly that brought the runner home from third.
“What do you think so far?” Gail asked her son.
“This is awesome!” he replied, “Are we gonna get to do this again?”
“Oh, I’m sure we will honey.”
There was an older gentleman, a Rockies fan, sitting in the row behind the Whitaker's who was enjoying some friendly banter with Eric. He playfully teased with the young boy saying, “I sure hope you don’t get to upset when my team wins.”
Eric, being pretty quick with a come back, responded by saying, “They’re not gonna win, the Giants are gonna smoke them like a sausage!”
His comment made the guy roll with laughter as did it Eric’s parents, and this type of jabbing would continue throughout the game, as each of their teams would do something noteworthy.
About the fourth inning, Gail looked over at Roger and said, “Can you believe what a gorgeous day it turned out to be?”
“It sure beats some of those cold, windy days I remember at Candlestick,” he replied.
“What’s a candlestick?” asked Eric.
“That’s the name, or at least it used to be the name, of the place where the Giants played baseball when I was your age,” his dad told him, “It’s where the 49ers play football.”
Eric nodded in agreement, and then asked, “Why’s it called Candlestick?”
“I don’t know,” Roger said, “if I recall right, it had something to do with a type of bird or something.”
That was good enough for his son. ”If that’s what dad says it is, it must be true.” Eric thought.
Looking up towards the outfield Eric asked his father, “Are those candlestick birds dad?”
Fighting back the urge to laugh, Roger refrained from embarrassing his boy and simply said, “No son, those are seagulls.”
****
to be continued
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