Fun Night At The Ballyard

I went to last night's thrashing of the Mets by the Giants. It started out with deciding to drive to the game from work. A friend was also going and had to meet his family there so he hitched a ride. Another guy who lived in the City piled in so we crossed the bridge free in the carpool lane. We got there really early. It was a guy's night out with Mike and I. My good friend Shelly bought the other two tickets long ago and brought her dad.

It was Irish heritage night, so I opted out of my usual Lagunitas IPA and had a Guiness. It was also Tim Lincecum poster night for the first 20,000. I got there in plenty of time. I bumped into Shelly in the food line just before heading down to the seats. Her dad had an open container of pop corn which lasted for quite a few innings.

There were many Mets fans in attendance, with their usual machismo style of "bragging rights start before the game" swagger. A six run first shut all of them up. Funny how that happens. Anyway, it was a typical frigid San Francisco summer night, temps in the low 50's, foggy, with wind in the 30mph's. Overall, I had quite a bit of fun, what with the Giants win and an abundance of heckling opportunities of the Mets bullpen, what with all the scoring.

Pizza Face Down

One of the most hilarious bleacher stories happened to Mike. It's not one of those "you had to be there" stories. It was funny, period. One day, with a packed crowd in the bleachers, Mike went up to get something to eat. He returned with an extra large pizza and a drink. The pizza was so large that he couldn't carry it between his thumb and fingers, but had to center his hand under the box, palm up and fingers spread out to balance it. He had a drink in his other hand.

When somebody walks down the aisle in the bleachers with an extra large pizza, everybody notices. His seat was on the aisle, and trying to take his seat with his food items was a slight challenge. First, he had to put his drink down, so he set it on the ground under the bench. Then he could concentrate on the pizza. He wanted to put it on the bench first so he could get into it to give some pieces to other people. But with his hand under the box, he couldn't set it right down onto the bench. So he took both hands and grabbed each side of the box so that he could set it down flat and centered on the bench.

A pizza box is constructed with the bottom folding up to make the sides. The lid then has flaps that fit inside of the folded sides. Well, there was one small problem. It seems the person at the concession stand gave him the unmarked box upside down. What this meant was that when he grabbed the box by the sides, the lid's flaps were inserted inside of the sides. In one quick sequence, he moved his hands to the sides of the box. The lid, which was on the bottom, acted like a trap door under the weight of the pizza, and fell out, the pizza sliding out, toppings down, SPLAT! Right in the middle of the aisle! With everybody already staring at him, this made for one of the most embarrassing, and funny, events possible. We still bust up to this day.

Cast and Crew: Too Many Mike's

Aside from my good friend, Mike, there were other Mike's in the bleachers. One was a guy from New York, scruffy and wore an old faded Yankee hat. So we referred to him as "New York Mike." When asked one time where he got his hat, he replied, "in a gutter at the corner of 125th and Lexington." This Mike was there maybe '84-85.

Another Mike came along in '86. He was young - a high school junior, I believe. He had longish hair, and he was quite the athlete. He scaled the benches and steps far better than any of us already established batting practice ball hounds. So he kinda took over the shagging bragging rights. We called him, "Young Mike."

Then another came along in '87. He, too, was young, with a good glove, and was further competition for the ball hounds. He wore a new Yankee hat. So we called him, "Young New York Mike." Got all that?

Mike, New York Mike, Young Mike and Young New York Mike: Bleacher bums

Cast And Crew: 25 Years With Mike

One of my best friends, named Mike, I met while we were juniors in high school. Mike moved into the area and we became friends. This was 1981. In 1982, our senior year, we discovered each other's love for baseball, and specifically the Giants. I loved the A's, too, but Mike was born in San Fran and lived on the Peninsula most of his life, so he hated the A's even more than the Dodgers. That didn't keep him from going to numerous A's games. He simply rooted for the visiting team.

We've been to who knows how many games together between the A's and Giants. We've even traveled to a few other ballparks together; five total. He buys tickets from us every year, sometimes up to half of them, and we sit together for at least ten per year. We have 25 years of crazy, zany and hilarious memories together. I'll be writing about many of those.

Here's to Mike, a true friend indeed.