Fourth of July Double Headers

In baseball past, the 4th of July was a popular day for double headers. I remember one strange one in 1984. The Giants played the St. Louis Cardinals in a double header at Candlestick Park. The strange thing was that the starting time of game one was 10:30am. I went with Mike and the then future Mrs. Scott. We were dating at the time, and she wasn't a big baseball fan yet, in fact not one at all, so she brought a book to read.

Many More Stories To Come

I was viewing my topic list that I still want to write about. I have over sixty stories on that list that I count as major experiences that I still want to write about. This doesn't include posts about players, stats, current events, ballparks, history, etc.; just stories. I can't believe it. I'm just scratching the surface of baseball things to blog about. Hopefully I won't run out any time soon.

The Riot

There's a double header I attended back in 1988 (Dodgers/Giants at Candlestick) that I simply call "The Riot." A co-worker of mine was there and he recalled his version of the story to me just last week. It was great to hear it from him, because as he recounted it to me, I realized that unlike many fishing stories, my version hadn't grown each time I've told it. As I tell the following story, please be reminded that I am not exaggerating as to what happened.

The Giants hosted a rare double header against the Dodgers in July of 1988. Rare because they usually draw well and don't need a double header. The late 80's/early 90's saw the peak of fan rowdiness and unruliness, contrary to some moralist traditionalists that claim it is still getting worse. Well this night was tops I've ever experienced.

First, there were 50,000 extremely rowdy Giants fans in attendance for this twi-night double header. It started hours before the game in the parking lot. "Beat LA" and "Dodgers suck" chants were breaking out all over the place, and it lasted all night long. The second game went extra innings, so it was a truly long night indeed. The Dodgers swept, winning both games by scoring in the late innings, which infuriated the orange and black throngs.

Beer sales must have hit an all time record. There were tens of thousands of completely drunken fans. Plastered out of their minds. Normally, alcohol sales are cut off in the 7th inning of a game. But during the double header, sales weren't halted until the 7th inning of the second game. Liquor bottles sneaked in by the fans were lying everywhere, and you could hear one drop to the concrete every few minutes. Bathroom lines were hundreds of fans deep, and once inside, a drunken party atmosphere prevailed. There were fights in the stands every inning or so. The police were out in force, by the dozens, and they were wearing full riot gear. Helmets, shields, batons and combat boots. Every few innings a fight was bad enough that the riot cops descended on the fight, jumping in head first and pummelling people with sticks and such. Fans would rise to their feet to view the fighting. Dodger fans were being physically assaulted just for being Dodger fans. It was very ugly, especially in the bleachers. Rowdiness was anticipated, as the grass area between the bleachers and the chain link left field fence (where fans would pour out to shag home runs) was barricaded off and stayed this way for the rest of the year.

A mob mentality ruled the crowd the entire evening. Drunkenness, profane chants, you name it. An especially active group of rowdies were sitting behind the Dodger dugout, heckling and screaming at Dodgers on deck and those who returned to the dugout after making outs or errors. Not only did fans throw Dodger home runs back onto the field in game one (emulating the bleacher bums at Wrigley Field), but the fans had become so drunken and unruly in game two that they were even throwing back foul balls hit by the Dodgers. "Throw it back" chants broke out upon every Dodger foul ball. It became a really foggy evening as well (this could have been Halloween) and one pop fly was lost in the fog by a Dodger outfielder as it fell for a hit.

One foul ball hit by a Dodger behind home plate was caught by a Giants fan. I usually watch fans after they catch a ball to see how they react. Well, the Dodger batter got back into the batter's box, and this fan started sprinting down the aisle toward the field. He hurled a major league fastball at the Dodger batter, missing his ear by about six inches as the ball scooted across the infield. Within seconds, the entire Dodger dugout had climbed into the stands and started kicking the crap out of this fan. Riot police again descended into the mess and body slammed this fan to the concrete before escorting him off in handcuffs. With the Dodger players in the stands, fans by the dozens were hurling their beers at the Dodgers. Showers of liquid, debris and profane abuse were raining down from everywhere. They retreated to the field, where the deluge continued. The game was stopped and it took several minutes to clean up the mess and restore order. Special announcements were made before games the rest of the year because of this incident.

All in all, it was a scary night. I could feel it in the air. Even though I was a season ticket holder - and Giants fan - sitting in the most prime of box seats, I still felt like something could happen to me at any time. If it weren't for being such a baseball fan, and having a few beers in me myself, it would have been a good thing to just make it home as quickly as possible. My co-worker felt the same. And that's the reason I call this double header "The Riot." See the box scores for game 1 here, and game 2 here.

My 1986 Season

My 1986 season was a special one for me. I went to 173 regular season games in 11 different ballparks. People have asked me how I could have gone to 173 games when there are only 162 games in a season. Well, the baseball season is actually 179 days long (or was back then). Twenty six weeks (26 x 7) minus 3 days off for the All-Star break = (182-3=179). My basic pattern, with a few exceptions, was to go to every A's home game and every Giants home game, then travel to other ballparks on days off. (Note: for metro markets with two teams like New York, LA, Chicago and San Fran, baseball tries its best to schedule each team with opposite home/road schedules to give teams the best shot possible at the highest attendance plus minimizing radio and TV conflicts. 1986 for example saw no A's/Giants home games on the same day.)

I had a job working for my then future father-in-law out of his house. He allowed me to more or less make my own hours, so I would work a day shift for night games, and work a split shift for day games. I didn't start the season with the idea that I would go to so many games (I went to 64 in 1985 and 36 in 1984). I just went to each game I could, which happened to be every day for the first few weeks. Late in April I realized that I had gone to every game so far, and only then did I decide I would make an all-out season. Over all, I missed only one A's home game and six Giants home games (two three-game series); I was in other cities during these days.

Over the winters in the 80's (pre-internet) I made it a practice to write to every team requesting their schedule for the upcoming year. I made a master schedule and planned my traveling from that. My greatest trip was a whirlwind 8 games in 5 days in 5 ballparks with a friend. May 4, there was a double header at Candlestick vs. Montreal, May 5 we flew to Chicago and rented a car and drove up to Milwaukee to see the Brewers play Seattle. May 6 and 7 were "double headers the hard way." Both the Cubs (vs. Dodgers) and White Sox (vs. Yankees) were home on the same days (a rare occurrence), with the Cubs playing day games and the Sox night games - another four games in two days. Then, an early morning flight on May 8 landed in Oakland at 10:30am for a 12:15 A's game vs. Milwaukee. Whew! The only A's home game I missed was on May 7. Other trips included a three game series with the A's in Seattle in April (missed a Giants series), and a trip to Montreal at the end of the season vs. the division champ Mets (missed a Giants series) with a layover in New York to see the Yankees play the Blue Jays. Down and back day trips to Anaheim, LA and San Diego on days off were also regular during 1986.

It was a whirlwind season full of amazing memories. I still have stories to write about staying in the Mets hotel in Montreal and the trip to Seattle, as well as the 8/5/5 trip. Stay tuned.

My Altercation With Pete Incaviglia's Mother

I what I can only call my greatest game as a fan with all the weird stuff that happened, it was capped off with a truly bizarre incident. It was near the end of the 1986 season, the A's were in the tank, school was back in and it was a mid-week day game. Of the nearly 1000 games I've attended, it had the lowest attendance of all of them. I personally counted it at 1603. There were only 33 people in the bleachers and one lone fan in the third deck. He found a better seat downstairs in the 2nd inning.

The Rangers beat the A's that day 4-0, with all their runs coming off three home runs, two of them by rookie star Pete Incaviglia. Since school was back in, no kids with gloves were there, and with only 33 people in all the bleachers, I shagged all three home run balls. All the scoring in the entire game went home in my backpack that day. How many fans can claim that? Wow.

After the game, the friend I sat with and I decided to try to get Incaviglia's autograph. We waited at the player exit, and since it was getaway day, the bus was inside the barricade. The players came out, and I yelled at Incavigila that I had his home runs and wanted an autograph. But he got on the bus. There was a large group of people in the exit area, obviously players' families. One woman came over to me and asked why I was yelling at Incaviglia and said that she was his mother. I told her that I caught both balls and wanted an autograph but he got on the bus. "Oh, that's great!" she replied, "I'm glad for you! I'm his mother, so I can get him off the bus for you. I'm his mother."

I agreed, and was grateful that she was so kind. She went over to the bus for a minute, then returned. "Oh, he's already seated on the bus and can't come out. But he said if I bring him a ball, he would sign it for you. I'm his mother." I was delighted. So I gave her one of the balls, and she took it. Suddenly, she said, "On second thought, I'm his mother. I want the ball." "Huh?" I replied. "I'm his mother, I'm his mother. I've been to every game he's ever played, little league, high school, college, and I have all his souvenirs and collect everything. I'm his mother!" She must have said "I'm his mother" about a hundred times. "You know, you said you would get him to sign it, but if you won't, I want it back" I said. "No, I'm going to keep it! I'm his mother!"

By this time the situation was completely out of hand. She was going to steal the ball from me. She was still within arm's length, so I reached over the barricade and grabbed it back from her. But she clutched onto it and wouldn't let go. We were having a tugging war over a baseball. Then she screamed for security! "Help, security! He's taking the ball away from me!" Unbelievable. Now, how's this going to look to security: a long haired bleacher bum is fighting with a player's mother over a baseball. The guard came over and she pleaded her case. But fortunately I had gone to so many games that I knew the guard personally. "Hey, Bob, I caught both of Inci's homers today and she's the one trying to steal it from me." He believed me instead of her, and made her let go. Man what a day. View the box score here. (At the time, the American League counted tickets sold as the attendance, not the actual number of people that were there. I'm the one reporting that number!)

Turn Out The Lights, The Party's Over

1985 was the worst season in Giants franchise history. Attendance had declined to near nothing and owner Bob Lurie, who was frustrated at the failure of the city of San Francisco to either build him a new ballpark or renovate the 'Stick, declared that Candlestick Park was not fit for baseball and that the Giants would not play there in 1986. Whether this meant an attempt to play at the Oakland Coliseum or to move the team to another city, nobody knew. What it did mean was that the last game that year would be the last game at Candlestick ever.

Kevin , Louie and I were at that last game. The Giants lost their 100th game of the year that day, and I bought the last hot dog ever sold (read the story here) just after the game. We decided that we would stay as long as we could; until we were kicked out of the stadium. People left, and the security did their sweep of the stands, just ahead of the cleaning crew. They started in left field and swept around the staduim toward right. We were told to leave, so we went down to the right field corner to buy some more time. We were told to leave again. So we headed up to the upper deck. Since attendance was so small that year the centerfield stands were essentially blocked off. But a gate held loosely with a chain and lock had a bit too much slack on the chain. So we slipped through and made our way to the upper deck in centerfield and hid in a tunnel. This particular tunnel had a crawlspace access in it, so when the security crew looked down the tunnel, he couldn't see us.

We watched the cleanup and the grounds crew water the field, then leave. We were the only ones left. We made it down to the field, ran around the bases and went into the dugout. We each used the toilet in the dugout. After our fun, we decided to leave. But we encountered a problem. All the exits were closed and locked. Oh, no. So we started trying to open doors to ticket windows and equipment rooms. We found one door unlocked. It was to a small empty room. This room had a light bulb in the ceiling with a chain. It was on. There was a rear door that led out of the park. We sang, "Turn out the lights, the party's over" as we exited. Yes, we locked the door behind us and turned out the light. Of course the Giants played at Candlestick in 1986.

The Missing Piazza Trade

Back in May of 1998, I spent a week in the Caribbean with no access to baseball news. I flew through West Palm Beach (very close to Miami) and my return flight into Florida required an overnight stay. Obviously, I scheduled a Marlins game for that night. The Dodgers had just traded Mike Piazza to the Marlins before my trip. I was looking forward to seeing him play for his new team against the Mets.

I arrived back in Florida and was the only passenger on the shuttle from the airport to the car rental agency. The driver asked about my trip and I said I was going to the Marlins game. He said, "Oh, you'll get to see Piazza on his first trip back into town" after the trade. I replied that I knew about the trade, but what did he mean by "back" into town. I agreed that I knew that Piazza was traded, but what I didn't figure out for a few minutes - and what I had missed while in the Caribbean - was that Piazza had been traded a second time, to the New York Mets. The wild scenario in this case was that the Mets' first series after getting Piazza was a road series - back into Florida! He basically remained there, just changing uni's. I was shocked to discover this trade from the shuttle driver.

I made it to then Pro-Player Stadium. The Marlins had that infamous fire sale after winning the Series in '97, so the fans re-named the stadium "Semi-Pro Player Stadium" after the talentless team. This was hilarious. There were only 14,000 fans there that night, 10,000 of them Mets fans. They were rude and, well, New Yorkers. They owned the call-in show that night and spoke of the game as if it were a home game for the Mets. After a week in poverty stricken Haiti, I never felt so good to drink a Bud and have a sausage.

The Longest Drive Home

One of the greatest pennant races in my life took place during the 1993 season. The Giants and Braves were hot that year, the Giants' first year with Bonds, both winning over 100 games and entered the last game of the year tied for first place with records of 103-58. The Giants closed out their season with a four game series in Los Angeles against the hated Dodgers. The Giants won the first three and the Braves won the first two of their three against the Rockies.

I drove the nearly 400 miles down to LA to witness that fateful last game of the year and bought tickets from a scalper. I stayed with some friends - not big Dodger fans but they cheered for them nonetheless. The first three games of the series were amazing in that there were more Giants fans in attendance than Dodger fans. The last game, however, was fan appreciation day and Dodger fans had bought tickets to that game all year long. Still, there were at least 15,000 Giants fans there. Dusty Baker made a controversial decision to start young head-case Salomon Torres instead of veteran Dave Burba. The Giants were nuked, 12-1. Meanwhile the Braves completed a season sweep of the Rockies, winning all 13 games and the division on the last day. The Giants won 103 games and watched the playoffs on TV.

The long drive home was painful. There were thousands of Giants fans on I-5 for hundreds of miles. I stopped at a gas station and a rest stop and both places were packed with fans.

Candlestick Wind Tunnel

I recently wrote about how the wind used to swirl at Candlestick. It vaulted over the hill behind the park, landed in center field, slammed into the center field stands, split in two, and rotated around the park in each direction. On more than one occasion, the two flag poles just beyond the center field fence, which were about 25 feet apart, could be seen blowing full force in opposite directions. A mind blowing sight.

Candlestick Snow Globe

Candlestick Park was notorious for being windy. Not like in Wrigley Field where the wind blows either in or out, but it would blow in every direction at the same time. It swirled. The wind would come in over the hill behind the park and drop downward into center field. It would hit the enclosed center field stands and split into two, each half of the wind rotating around the stadium until they collided behind home plate. The result of the collision was wind that swirled in every direction, filling the rest of the ballpark.

One night it was very warm, about 70 degrees, and the wind was the strongest I ever experienced at the 'Stick. At a typical Candlestick game, all the hot dog wrappers (which then were 8" squares of wax paper) and other garbage would be blown by the wind and would collect in the front rows several inches deep. Most of the garbage would end up in the left field corner, sometimes a foot or two deep. On this night, the wind blew quite a bit of the garbage up into the air, and was quite a spectacle for the fans. Random flying shopping bags and hot dog wrappers swirling everywhere.

Then a few fans in the front row got the idea to throw handfuls of collected garbage up into the air. This caught on and hundreds of fans started doing it. The result was an incredible scene and the fans were cheering wildly. Candlestick Park looked like a huge snow globe that was freshly shaken. It was so awesome I got the idea of selling Candlestick snow globes with a caption that had the word "snow" crossed out and "hot dog wrappers" written in. I never followed up on my invention and kick myself. It coulda sold thousands.

Reggie? Yawn...

During the 1986 season the then California Angels came to Oakland and one of the games was to be on ABC's Monday Night Baseball. Even though it was late in Reggie Jackson's career and he sucked by then, the media still gave him top billing as an attraction. So Kevin and I had a great idea for a prank. We saved up newspapers for a month or so and got together for a newspaper sorting party. When the game arrived, we stationed ourselves at each of the entrances to the bleachers and quickly gave each fan a single folded sheet of a newspaper and told them to act like they were reading it when Reggie Jackson came up to bat. We cut a tiny hole in each paper so the fans could really watch his at bat.

Well he came up the first time, and it was hilarious to see thousands of fans in the entire bleachers section from foul pole to foul pole reading newspapers! The message was that Reggie was washed up and boring. This was at a time that the networks decided not to show aberrant fan behavior like streaking and other things, so ABC didn't show us on national TV. But 40,000 other fans at the game saw us. It was worth every minute of prep.

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.

A Double Header the Hard Way

A few days ago on Wednesday, a rare occurrence occurred. The A's and Giants played home games on the same day, the A's a day game, the Giants a night game. Every off-season when the next year's schedule comes out, I check it to see if this occurs, and plan to buy tickets. This doesn't happen every year, as baseball's schedule makers make a point of scheduling teams that share a metro market with opposite home/road schedules. So the A's and Giants rarely play any home games on the same day, and it's even more rare for them to play at differing times during that same day. But this year it did. What a day it was.

I took the day off work, and took the train to both games. The A's beat the Angels in the afternoon, while the Giants squeaked by the Cardinals in 12 innings in the nightcap. That's 21 innings of baseball. Pujols and Bonds both went very deep, with awesome shots each. It was a cold windy day, and even colder night. It took a while to thaw out.

The A's game took only a bit over 2 hours to play, so I got to The City really early. I took in some BP from the knothole area in the first few archways until the gates opened, which is 2 hours before game time. Once in, the Giants were still taking BP, and I caught a home run ball in the bleachers, right in my glove. I didn't even have to move. I couldn't tell which player hit it, since they were wearing their warmup jackets.

I sat in the bleachers for the A's game, and there weren't that many fans there. There were enough vocal bums there for some good heckling. Garrett Anderson, the Halos' left fielder, was a choice target. A good time was had by all. I had a guy right in front of me and another behind me (on the aisle), and we talked some good ball all day. All of us had a bag of spits, and we even compared seed brands. The Giants game proved good for heckling the Cards' bullpen, too. To tell a pitcher that Bonds is gonna go yard on him, then to see it that inning is pretty fun. As an added all-time record, set by me and anybody else who went to both games, I saw all three Molina brothers - Jose (Angels), Yadier (Cards) and Bengie (Giants) start at catcher in the same day.

Scoreboard Triggers Nixon Thrashing

The wake of Gerald Ford's death brings to mind the most vicious verbal attack of another human being, living or dead, I've ever heard. It came just a few days after Richard Nixon's death. Interestingly, this hate-filled assault of Nixon, came in the left field bleachers at an A's baseball game. Oddly (or maybe not so) the assailants were those kind, compassionate, "tolerant" souls otherwise known as liberals, many from Berkeley. But the most bizarre aspect of this is that it was triggered by the routine operation of the A's scoreboard. Nixon's death came on April 22, 1994, and this incident occurred just five days later at the A's first game of a homestand vs. the Boston Red Sox. Many of my bleacher friends were hippies in the Sixties and had no loss of love for Nixon. Faces turned purple, veins bulged out of necks, and I thought some of them might have a heart attack. This started well before the start of the game and lasted for hours.

Started by the scoreboard? The gates would open two hours before game time in Oakland, and I was there early quite often to catch batting practice. Well, the scoreboard would be turned on early, the appropriate zeros filled in, and what seemed like tradition, the name of the visitor's leadoff hitter and his batting average would be shown, ready for the start of the game. Even though the managers had yet to give their official batting orders, if a team's leadoff hitter were fairly automatic, there was usually no reason not to show the name. This was the case on that day in Oakland. The leadoff hitter? Well his first name was Otis... and his last name? NIXON. See the box score here.

Yet Another Even Closer Non-No-Hitter

Okay, I wrote about Matt Cain's flirt with a no-hitter during the last week of April. Well, on Monday, he did it again. This time - Cain again - it was a no-no with 2 outs and 2 strikes in the 8th inning before Chone Figgins broke it up.

What was strange was that I didn't realize he had a no-hitter going until late in the game. A first inning run by the Angels kind of took my mind off a no hitter because of the run scored. Figgins led off the game with a walk. He stole second and when the throw from the catcher ricocheted off the runner into left field, he got up and never stopped until he scored.

All in all it was a great game, the Giants won, and we were happy. But it, yet again, wasn't a no-hitter. #%$&@!

Taking The Mound

While Jamey Wright was taking the mound last night for the Giants at Shea Stadium in New York, I was taking the mound at PacBell/SBC/AT&T Park in San Francisco. The Home Builders Association of Northern California's Sales & Marketing Council held their annual Marketing and Merchandising Excellence awards (our version of the Oscars) at the ballpark. It was a grand event. My firm had several finalists, including one project I worked on (we won!) and we had dinner in centerfield. We had complete access to the field, including dugouts and bullpen. First class all around. Barely visible is my Anchor Steam Beer, just above my left thigh, brewed in SF since 1896, and not visible is my red tie from the hall of fame (thank you Keith) or my wife from behind the camera phone. Technically speaking, I think I balked, but the night was a grand slam.

Deadbeat Lemon

Heckling a player for whatever reason is part of baseball. But when an in-law hands a bunch of bleacher bums the material, it can be a downright riot. That's what happened one night to Chet Lemon, centerfielder for the Detroit Tigers back in the mid 80's. Mike and I were there, along with the regular bums. Lemon was an easy heckling target because of his name. But this night it was his family life.

During the game a woman came down the aisle and stood against the rail down at the front row. She looked as if she really wasn't there to watch a game. Just standing there looking around at nothing discernible was a clue that she was out of place. We all noticed it. She then moved to the section on the other side of the rail, a bit closer to Lemon who was in centerfield. After a while, she began to call to him, trying to get his attention. It's quite obvious to any normal fan that you just don't walk into a ballpark and engage in a conversation with a professional athlete. Especially when he's on the field concentrating on the game.

I don't know whether Lemon heard her or not, but several of us asked this obviously confused woman if we could help her in some way. She asked us if that were Chet Lemon. Of course he was. "Yoo-hoo, Che-et" she called. We replied that she wasn't likely to get his attention that way; she wasn't yelling that loud anyway. So we called to him more loudly. "Hey, Chet, there's a woman here who wants to talk to you!" No reply from Lemon, of course. We realized that we still didn't know what she wanted, so we asked her. "Oh, I'm his sister-in-law." Okay, that helped us a bit. "Hey, Lemon, your sister-in-law wants to talk to you!" But for what reason? So we asked her. "Oh, he owes me $3000." The flood gates opened.

"Hey, Lemon, you owe your sister-in-law $3000! You're a deadbeat! Pay up, you bum!" We rode that precious gem the rest of the night.

A Bleacher Bum Is Born

Today, May 1st, is the 25th anniversary of my first game in the bleachers. I remember some of that game well. What happened that night would shape my baseball spectating career in a huge way, lasting forever.

It was a Friday night Oakland A's game against the New York Yankees. Billy Martin was the manager, Billy Ball was promoted in ads, Rickey Henderson was an emerging star, and I loved the experience. I went with 12 other guys, mostly from a church group, but three were neighbors and longtime friends. I remember Ken and his brothers, and maybe two others.

We took the train (BART) to the game and sat in the left field bleachers. It was the second aisle from the foul pole, on the center field side of the aisle. This would not only be the section I would sit in for the remainder of my bleacher bumming life, but the same bench would be the usual parking space for my bum, so to speak. We yelled at the left fielder for the Yankees, and this would be the pattern forever. I also had my first beer that night (I was 17 - shhhhh) which would start a lifelong tradition, too.

Being "born" this way makes me wonder if it were always in the genes.

Yet Another Non-No-Hitter

I attended Monday night's Giants game vs. the Mets. Giants pitcher Matt Cain took a perfect game past one out in the sixth before Kaz Matsui squibbed an errant cue shot up the middle into center field. The one big event in my baseball spectating career I am lacking is the witness of a no-hitter. I feel its pain sometimes. For as many games as I've attended, I should probably have seen one by now. I'm past the odds.

My friend Mike, who I took in Monday's game with, has seen four in his life. One was Nolan Ryan's no-no back in the early 90's in Oakland. We were supposed to go to that game together - we were going to meet in the bleachers - but I ended my work day not feeling very well, so I went home and later became ill. My worst symptom by far was listening to the cursed thing on the radio. I also had tickets to Kevin Brown's no-no at the 'Stick in '97 while pitching with the Fish, but it was a day game and I had to work. My church pastor and his son were the beneficiaries.

I've flirted with seeing a no-no in person several times, including a perfect game with one out in the 9th by Eric Carmen of the Phils back in the mid 80's. Bob Brenly, of all goofs, had to hit a double to break it up. Well, I hope to see one, and soon, in my life, but I'd much prefer a Giants World Series victory.

Prom Night In the Bleachers

My high school prom night was a string of bad memories. But the kind of bad memories that make you laugh years later. I had dated a girl a few times, so without a steady or girlfriend I decided to ask her to my prom. She was a year behind me and went to a different school, but that shouldn't matter, right? So I asked her. She said yes!

Wow, that was great. Two of my best friends had dates as well. But then, just two weeks before the prom, my date bagged out. She made up excuses about not going to my school. "You should go with somebody from your school." Whatever. So, I asked another girl who was in my class who I heard didn't have a date yet. She said no, and that she was hoping a certain guy would ask her. I felt terrible. Then, some friends were naming off girls who had no dates yet. One friend suggested a certain girl and said I should ask her. I didn't want to, but his request turned into a rumor that was spread around school that she was going with me. She denied it and wanted no part of it. Okay, strike three.

With the prom fast approaching, and all of my friends going, I decided to go sit in the bleachers at an A's game. The prom was at a fancy hotel in downtown San Francisco, and my friends had limos and reservations at five-star restaurants. It was also prom night for many other schools in my area. I was resolute to not wallow in my rejectedness. Some other older friends that I had were going to the game so at least I would have some company. I took the train to the game.

But, the train runs down the middle of the freeway that leads toward SF. All I saw out the windows were limos and other cars with people dressed in tuxes and gowns. Oh, the reminder! Well, I made it to the game, and the A's were playing Cleveland, the worst team in baseball, now and all time. So what happens? Cleveland destroys the A's, scoring 15 runs (box score). My friends at the game decide to leave in the 7th inning. I was torn because of my never-leave-a-game-early policy. I would be left alone at the game. So, I made the guilty decision to leave with them.

So, the train breaks down in the middle of downtown Oakland (not a place you would want to be back then) and we're stuck for several hours. We finally arrived home at about 1:30 in the morning. This was a terrible night. But...

When I talked to all my friends about their prom experiences, wow. Their dates totally rejected them, were rude, didn't give them the time of day and made their nights miserable. They all spend hundreds of dollars for nothing. I only spent $2 on a bleacher ticket and train fare. I suddenly felt better.