Saturday, September 30, 2006

PNC Park: Roadtrip Report and day 2 photos

PNC PARK: the review

This ballpark has been at the top of TBF’s out of town park visits wishlist since it opened. It was pure coincidence, mixed with boredom and a paycheck rich with overtime hours that sent us to Pittsburgh this particular weekend.

TICKETS: The Pirates have a ticket resale option for season ticket holders, but since Pennsylvania law prohibits selling at any kind of markup, there isn’t a lot of inventory. We did, however, get great behind-the-dugout seats that way.  There was a reasonable selection on eBay as well, and we bought front row outfield seats from a season ticket holder.  If it hadn’t been the Mets, I understand it wouldn’t be that hard to get a ticket. Besides the Mets, the big competition this weekend was Jack Wilson bobblehead night (EVERYONE gets a bobblehead! Everyone! Even people showing up at 8pm!) and Pirate Parrot Build-A-Bear day on Sunday, both of which would have drawn a big crowd even if the Mets weren’t expected to clinch.

FOOD:  TBF has been salivating over the concept of Outback in the Outfield for as long as I have talked to him about baseball. That said, it’s $150 for a table for four, without the food.  We had planned on takeout, since they do advertise Outback at your seat, but all you can get is a hamburger, cheese fries, and a blooming onion. Instead we opted for the onion to go with excellent barbeque from Manny’s BBQ, the purview of former Pirates pitcher Manny Sanguillen, who does indeed preside over the area and signs autographs. I opted for a handshake and a sweet inquiry if he would let a Mets fan eat his food.

Sunday we opted for the famous sandwiches from Primanti’s, which I have known about since the last time I was in Pittsburgh and friends who were locals took me there after a concert. They might be slightly bigger at the actual restaurant, but they were fresh and delicious. The guy in front of us in line was ordering sandwiches for Gary and Keith. It wasn’t until we got back that we heard that this had been a big on-air thing.

THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER HEAR AT SHEA STADIUM:
“Yuengling! Cold Yuengling!”

The only other food item we consumed were two Lemon Chills on Sunday, which were 75 cents cheaper than Shea, as well as BIGGER than their Shea counterparts. They also had strawberry flavored. This is our #1 food consumed at the ballpark so it was a big deal.

No food allowed into the park, and you’re technically only allowed one sealed bottle of water no larger than 24 ounces. Our liter bottle got a little bit of hassle the first night, but security waived it since it was sealed. On Sunday, no one ever looked at us sideways.

THE PARK: This is a real city ballpark with a view of downtown that’s absolutely stunning. You can see it from everywhere, not just the cheap seats or the good seats. They could have built another level of bleachers in the outfield, but it would have blocked the view. No matter how nice the New Shea is going to be, it’s still going to be a suburban ballpark.

ACCESS: Park for $5 downtown and walk across the Roberto Clemente bridge. We didn’t have any trouble parking at the lot closest to the bridge, but we also got there 2+ hours beforehand. There’s a Starbucks and a 7-11 one block away from the bridge.

BULLPENS are easily viewed from ramps near the outfield.

BATTING PRACTICE: we got anywhere we wanted to before the game, except for the $200 seats, which are a very small section behind home plate. The outfield gate opens half an hour before the other gates do, and if your tickets are season tickets, you can get down into the lower seating bowl before anyone else does. Very sweet deal that got us in prime location for BP on Saturday.

MASCOT REPORT: There is the Pirate Parrot, who reminds me of the Philly Phanatic (the same shape, I guess), but who is very acrobatic, does backflips, dances around a lot. There is also an actual Pirate. I thought the Parrot was a reasonable mascot, and appreciated its trash talking (as it were) on Sunday, when they were on top of the Mets dugout, took a hat off of a fan down front, made rude gestures at the hat, and then wiped it on its parrot behind.

PARK TRADITIONS: the pierogie races are l-a-m-e. They are somewhat like the Cascarino’s Race to Shea, in that most of the race takes place on the screen - and then they cut to the park and run from the left outfield corner to the finish line at first base. Majorly unimpressed. I did not purchase pierogie dolls.

The whole pirate thing gets to be a little over the top at some points. There’s a Diamondvision pirate narrator all full of ‘avasts’ and ‘matey’s and ‘arrrghghgs’ which got really old by the second day. I could not imagine seeing that every time I went to the ballpark.  The Pirates are referred to as the ‘Bucs’ (short for ‘buccaneers’) and everything is ‘bucco’ this and ‘bucco’ that, the homerun count is a ‘bucco blast.” A little too Disney for me.

That said, I would have expected to see a lot more skull and crossbones flags in the bleachers and around the park. You can get one on ebay for about $6 including shipping (I know, because I got one for my nephew’s recent birthday).  Kind of lame.

“It’s time to shoot some hot dogs, it’s time to shoot some hot dogs, it’s time to shoot some hot dogs - and catch yourself some meat.” Yes, the infamous PNC Park hot dog guns are true. This could not EVER happen at Shea because some drunk morons in the upper deck would make lewd comments about catching meat.

Wait, no - THIS COULD NOT EVER HAPPEN AT SHEA BECAUSE IT’S TOTALLY MORONIC.

Who would EAT a food item that had been SHOT at them? Clearly, people do, because they clamor to catch them.

The pre-game warmup animation isn’t of the actual team, but shows animated pirate ships firing at each other.  You see the Pirates’ ship taking down the Cubs and the Reds and the Cardinals, and then when they’ve sunk everyone else, aiming for the visiting team’s ship. This would all be very inspiring if one couldn’t turn one’s head and see the playoff pennants from 1909.

TBF and I both really appreciated that the seat upgrade promotion took place BEFORE the game started, and you were moved to prime box seats.

FANS: I was favorably impressed. They had spirit and attitude, but weren’t assholes. TBF manages to always attract the old-time baseball folks in a park, whether it’s the ushers or the concession vendors and those people treated us with warmth and good hospitality.  Even the guy at the box office on Sunday who, with a straight face, informed me that there were problems with our tickets - and right before I had a heart attack, continued with “Yes, we can’t let Mets fans sit that close to the field,” before handing us the tickets with a genuine wish to enjoy ourselves. They’re proud of their baseball stadium, and they should be.
They even brought brooms en masse on Sunday. Hey, I would’ve too.

WALK ON MUSIC: Jack Wilson uses “Jumping Jack Flash.” Someone else uses “Mother” by Danzig. There were one or two reggaeton songs. Xavier Nady is still using “X” by Xzibit. Other than that, nothing that notable. They did use “Worldwide Suicide” by Pearl Jam during the t-shirt toss Saturday night.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

pedro, shmedro

What’s got MG in a lather is THIS:

Not only is Bruce sitting in the House of Evil - in Steinbrenner’s personal seats no less - he’s admiring the wave, at least according to the caption.

But back to our main event. I made a comment on the Daily News blog earlier today that Pedro was this mythical creature to me this year. I saw 34 games in the regular season, and I never saw Pedro pitch once. It certainly wasn’t intentional; it just didn’t happen. And I realize I know [] this much about baseball, but frankly, I’m relieved in a way. I’m not happy that Pedro isn’t healthy, I’m just going to be happier not sitting there biting my nails while Willie tries to give him yet another chance to dominate.

[OOOOH! I was telling TBF the other day I’d managed to get through the entire regular season without using that word once.]

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Wednesday, September 27, 2006

a meaningful night in september

No, I’m not talking about Atlanta, the game we rushed home to watch, the one TBF insisted we needed to watch, it was going to be an important game.

Somewhere around the 576th home run, noting that TBF had retreated to his desk, I asked if we could turn off the $#@! game.

To add to injury, Bruce Springsteen is spotted in the crowd at Yankee Stadium. I am the one of the two of us who refuses to believe that Bruce is One Of Them. I almost made TBF a shirt with a quote from Al Leiter from an interview he gave Backstreets Magazinea few years ago (after Al was onstage with Bruce at Shea), about how Bruce really isn’t a Yankees fan. Unfortunately, we have enough connects down the Shore to know the truth.

The only bright spot of the evening was TBF wheeling and dealing, finding trades for our extra playoff tickets. We have NLDS game 1 AND game 2 now. He found a trade for NLCS game 1 that he will deal with tomorrow. He is doing this like an old hand, like he has done this for years—and he has, just in his imagination.

I thought we were done with baseball for the night except TBF is updating me on the standings every 3 minutes, and we finally turn on the Phillies-Nationals game (which is still on as I write this, and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow). We find ourselves enthusiastically rooting for the Nats. TBF mocks the behavior of the Phillies fans that keep showing up on ESPN, and while they are Phillies fans, I do point out “Pot, meet kettle,” and that TBF looks like that on a random Tuesday night at Shea, much less at a critical road game, where he would likely be so unbearable that I would move several seats away from him.

Over at Faith and Fear in Flushing, Jason is threatening to head for the Brooklyn Bridge. The Williamsburg is closer for me.

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Tuesday, September 26, 2006

post-season ticket delivery: the saga

9/25, noon

TBF: “I called the Mets office and got the tracking numbers for our tickets.”
MG: “How did you get MY tracking number??”
TBF: “I had all your info, including your account number.”

9/25, 6pm
I am rushing into the subway to head home. I check the phone on my way down the stairs and notice I have had three phone calls from TBF. I assume there is an emergency on hand.
“Our tickets are on the way.”
“Can I get on the subway?”
“Yes”

The rest of the evening, TBF obsessively checked the UPS tracking system, informing me that our tickets had left Fort Smith, Arkansas, which is where the largest printer of ticket stock in the country is located (or so I was informed).
“You scare me,” I said.
He continued to smile that little smile, the smile that could only be described as GODDAMN, MY WORLD SERIES TICKETS ARE ON THE WAY.

9/26, 10:27am. email from TBF:
“updates
Both packages have arrived in Maspeth and are “out for delivery.” Maybe we can get them tonight.”

11:21am
“Tracking shows delivery was attempted for both packages. :)”

12:01pm, from me:
“fine. so call UPS and see if we can pick them up tonight at maspeth. we get there at 7:45 and camp”

[this is because our UPS facility gets lines around the block. they are only open from 7-8. if you are smart you get there close to 8.]

7pm, Zero Hour

We are in the car heading for the UPS facility in Maspeth, when we pass a UPS truck parked a half a block away.
TBF: “Maybe that’s our UPS driver?”
I pull over. “Go see!”

He returns 5 minutes later with two envelopes in hand:

We sat there huddled under the streetlight, reading every bit of fine print on the tickets, before I turned the car back on and we drove off.

Now, we still had to do the rest of our errands. However, now TBF does not want me to get out of the car. He wants me to stay with the tickets. We compromise by putting the envelope into my purse, while we walk around the grocery store discussing our new arrivals:

“If we sit in the upper reserved box for THE WORLD SERIES, we could bring a sign.”
“Is there a difference for photographic purposes whether we sit in the front row of the mezzanine reserved or the front row of the upper deck boxes for THE WORLD SERIES?”
“Which seats should we trade for THE WORLD SERIES?”

Every possible way we could work the phrase “our tickets for the World Series” into a conversation during a 10 minute grocery store visit, we did it. My god, we are a pair of sad, pathetic dorks.

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Sunday, September 24, 2006

an ode to section 12

Section 12. Row E. Seats 3 & 4.

It’s not so much my seats I want to celebrate here but the ones of the people around me, the section 12 regulars from Tuesday and Friday:

ROW E, SEATS 1 & 2: Julia & Miriam are two sisters from Middle Village. More than anyone else in the Tuesday/Friday crowd, I owe them a debt of gratitude. I am gregarious by nature and befriended the other T/F folks in the row behind me anyway, but having the girls - passionate fans but not number freaks - made it warmer and a little less lonely in those early days, when I would be text-messaging TBF throughout the games. Miriam kept score, and we all shared a love of Jose Reyes and Cliff Floyd (and Mike Cameron to boot). They always wore player number shirts to each and every game, and we shared binoculars to stare at the antics in the dugout ("Look! Reyes is dancing!") and to keep tabs at the various fights that broke out during the season (which always seemed to fascinate Julia more than the game). They are the only ones who I ever exchanged names with - we even got to know their parents (who sometimes took their seats).

ROW F, SEATS 1 & 2: These were owned by a father from New Jersey, tall and lanky, who had an endless supply of red-headed sons of various ages. So in addition to his two seats, he would always have extras for the other kids, who would sneak into the section when it was empty. Of particular note were the adorable twins who were about 13 or 14, always wore the uniform of jersey and khaki cargo shorts, and talked a mile a minute because they were so full of baseball that they just needed to talk about. They were an absolute joy to be around.

ROW F, SEATS 3 & 4: Shared by a father & son. The son was a Springsteen fanatic, which gave us much to talk about in the early days of the season. They liked their beer and they kept a running commentary of deep baseball knowledge. Just eavedropping gave me access to facts I never would have run across any other way. They were obnoxious as hell and equally amusing.

ALSO FURTHER DOWN ROW F: Two cousins, one tall and thin, who would move around when he was nervous. The other was slightly more portly, quieter. They were funny and sarcastic and always talked to me as though I actually knew something about baseball, gently tapping me on the hat in greeting each night as they walked behind me to their seats. Sometimes the latter gentleman would bring an attractive, jersey-wearing blonde woman - I eavesdropped on them a few games and although they swore they were ‘just friends,’ you know they are the kind of ‘just friends’ that will hopefully give up on that pretext some day because they are a match made in heaven.

These are the people who kept me company until TBF came home, who cheered with me and debated with me, who kept me company through extra innings and through rain delays and Yankees games and endless Trachsel outings, the lonely souls who were there in April and May when we had the section to ourselves, spreading out across multiple rows. And they are the people I regretfully said ‘so long’ to this week, exchanging handshakes and hugs and ‘see you in the post-season’. These are people I would never have run into, much less spent any time with, in the course of normal life. I can’t say we’re friends - we didn’t even exchange names for the most part - but they were part of my life over the past six months. I saw them more than I saw my parents, which is probably not something to be proud of, but it is what it is.

It is sad in a way for it to be the end of this part of the adventure. It seems so long ago that I drove out to Shea on a snowy Tuesday to pick out these seats. But there are more games ahead, and another year after that.

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Friday, September 22, 2006

AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION.

TBF and MG sitting on couch a day or two ago, watching SportsCenter baseball highlights.

TBF: “Uh-oh, the Twins beat the Red Sox.”
MG: “Good”
TBF: “We don’t want the Twins to win.”
MG: “Well, I’m not rooting for the Red Sox. You can.”
TBF: “We’re rooting for the Tigers.”
MG: “Why? Because of your father?” [TBF’s dad is from Detroit.]
TBF: “Yes.”
*pause*
MG: “Well, I’m rooting for the Twins. They played a very scrappy game this year, came from behind, and their fans had a bad year with the threats of contraction.”
*silence, as TBF considers the monster he has created*
MG: “Can you argue with that logic?”
TBF: “Not really.”

[CLARIFICATION: I am NOT rooting for the Twins over the Mets should they face each other in the playoffs! Geez, people! :)]

Thursday, September 21, 2006

dedicated follower of fashion

Over at Pick Me Up Some Mets, Zoe unleashes her mighty power upon Photoshop and creates an imaginary store full of awesome clothes that real female Mets fans might like to see (and that male Mets fans might want to buy for their girlfriend, sister, or Mom).

[Don’t worry, we’ll both be writing about baseball again soon. Go look at the pretty pictures below if you don’t want to read our ranting.]

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PNC Park photos, day 1

We’ll just ignore what happened at the actual baseball game that followed the BP at which these photos were taken:

The entire set can be viewed here.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

real girls don’t wear pink

At my first Mets game of 2005, I made noises on the 7 train about how I wanted a Mets hat. So, at the very first merchandise stand we encountered, TBF happily accomodated this request. No, it was not the classic blue hat with orange button that Mr. Purist wears, but it was black and white and had the NY logo and was very MG (before she was MG), and I loved it.

But my hat is not a woman’s hat. And as I became more interested in acquiring Mets merchandise, I was appalled to discover what MLB and the Mets considered to be appropriate (or desirable) wear for female baseball fans.

Case #1: the dreaded pink hat

It’s not just the Mets who are guilty in this regard. Every MLB team - and I do mean EVERY - has the anemic, wussy pink hat. Even the Red Sox have pink hats. No real female baseball fan I know wears a pink hat (again, apologies to Zoe, who does rock the pink hat, and I do mean rock).

The pink hat exists for one reason, and one reason only: So that the girls who get dragged to the game by their boyfriends have something to wear. The pink hat exists so that boyfriends or husbands (or heck, lesbian partners of girlie girls), who feel guilty that they have dragged their girlfriend to the game, can go to the team store and buy something to placate them: “Oh, it’s pink, it must be for a girl.”

Give me a break.

The pink is weak, the pink is boring, the pink is not reflective of most women who sit in the baseball park, and surely, MLB could get some real designers to make something more attractive for female baseball fans to wear. And it’s not just the hats: the same yucky pink is used on t-shirts, sweatshirts, you name it.

To quote Zoe, in an email exchange we had today: “I love pink, BUT AS AN ACCENT.”

Case #2: anything that implies that the only reason I am at the ballpark is because I want to bone David Wright

Have you seen this crap? No, really, have you seen it?

Any variation on “Mrs. Wright,” “Looking for Mr. Wright,” “Wright-aholic,” etc. The only thing resembling official bling on Mets merch is down this aisle, which, besides pandering, is also sized for a woman who clearly never eats any of the food at Shea Stadium (more on that below). In fact, the largest shirt would barely fit my 6-year-old niece (and her father is from Boston so she won’t be owning one anyway, not that I would set that kind of example for the young lady in any event).

[I could say something here about merchandise indicating my intent towards Mr. Floyd, but TBF reads the blog, and Zoe is likely to hunt me down and pummel me. Besides which, I still wouldn’t wear it for the insulting/pandering/etc. reasons mentioned above.]

Case #3: Real Women Are Not Cookie-cutters

If you are a woman and have ever tried on anything at Shea Stadium, you would be frustrated. It’s not entirely that the people designing this clothing gathered their opinion about what real women’s bodies are shaped like from Playboy and Budweiser ads, it’s that real women HAVE DIFFERENT SHAPES.

TBF and I just bought sweatshirts for the playoffs. Listen, I know : it’s a sweatshirt. For women, they had teeny tiny flimsy hooded ones that stopped at my bellybutton, or sturdy ones that will actually keep me warm in the upper deck next month - for men.

Guess which one I bought?

Zoe, on the other hand, had to buy a child’s size.

Listen, it’s not like I’m trying to walk into the Limited and trying to buy clothing that is inapropriate for a grown woman to wear. All women who are baseball fans should have choices.

Case #4: Other Teams Have Cool Stuff Designed For Women

I’d like a Mets jacket - I really, really would. But what they have is unattractive for a woman. So I bought a 1986 satin jacket on eBay and I go retro, which at least has some style and flair involved.

But I know other teams have items for women because I’ve seen female fans of these other teams wearing them, and I am envious, and jealous, and pissed off.

Forget that nonsense about “updating” “Meet The Mets” to make it more “inclusive” (a bigger crock of nonsense I have rarely enountered, and MG is a bra-burning feminist type) - be inclusive by giving me something I can buy and happily wear. Do you know how much money I would spend?

Wait, maybe it’s better that I don’t like anything in the store after all.

Zoe also has some words to say on this subject.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

tonight’s the night

I need to write about the game - or at least the experience of being at the game - but it is late and we didn’t leave Shea until 11.

After the game - and we were some of those fans who stood there for a long time, watching the post game celebration on the Diamondvision - we realized that the merchandise stands were open, so we stood on line at one and then the other, not wanting to leave without Those Shirts.  Suddenly I overheard, “The Mets are back out on the field, they’re letting fans in on the field level” and TBF finished paying for our shirts and we ran for it.

We couldn’t get anywhere near the cameras or the Mets dugout, but we still saw plenty - David Wright with a bottle of champagne in one hand and a cigar in the other, shaking hands with every cop and security guy on the field. A very drunk Oliver Perez. Reyes hugging everyone in sight. Shawn Green running around the infield with his kids. Floyd getting a chant of “one more year” from the crowd. And Paul Lo Duca running over to the hose behind the pitcher’s mound, and with an evil grin turning it on and heading for the fans on both sides, and then heading for the players - before the groundskeeper disconnected the hose to loud boos.

The cheers were still echoing into Flushing, rising above the glow of the stadium lights behind us, as we made the long trek back to the car.

View all the photos here.

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