Baseball Across California
Listed in:Last week, I announced that I was going on a trip that would take me through two baseball games (thankyouthankyouthankyou so much to Bob Timmermann of The Griddle). I tried to squeeze in as much sightseeing and pleasure cruising as I could while I was in southern California, but since a big reason for driving down was business, I always felt time pressure, and so I was unable to go a couple places I wanted to stop (Pebble Beach) or even take pictures in some places I did visit (Pasadena, San Luis Obispo, the aforementioned Monterey). However, much fun was had, and here's the rundown...
(Click to enlarge the pictures.)
Saturday, May 19
My buddy, Michelle, and I went to the A's-Giants game in Oakland. One of the things about the Bay Area that outsiders tend to misunderstand is how we express our passions, especially when it comes to sports. In my experience, east coasters and midwesterners think that because Giants fans don't despise A's fans that Giants fans therefore don't love their team as much as, say, Yankees fans love the Yankees. Furthermore, as a corollary, east coasters tend to think that because we're not as pushy and loud about about our teams in neutral contexts, we must not love them as much.
While I'm amused that the average New Yorker thinks he knows how I feel about the Giants based on how often I wear a Giants cap, there's a very real anger that brews whenever those prejudices bleed into opinions of the region and our collective worth. For instance, anyone who says west coast fans are "soft" and implies that east coast fans are "hardcore" has no damn clue what he's talking about. We don't boo our own players unless there's some kind of extraordinary circumstance, but you can be sure that whenever Mike Piazza, Paul Lo Duca, or Tommy Lasorda comes through, they get booed because they're forever Dodgers. The classic San Francisco bleacher jeer is even based on insulting the Dodgers. Let's say the Giants are playing the Phillies. If I'm sitting in the left field bleachers and yell at Pat Burrell, "What's the matter with Burrell?", fifty fans will respond, "He's a bum!" On the other side of the fence, fans are well advised to refrain from going alone to a Dodgers game while wearing Giants paraphernalia. As my Dodger fan co-worker put it, "Sometimes, the homies decide they're gonna tell you where you are." Personally, if my team isn't playing, I think it's bad form to wear the team colors. Just as when I went to Petco Park, I refrained from flying the Giants flag.
ANYWAY, Michelle and I had the pleasure of watching Dan Haren and Matt Cain take the hill. Just as much fun was the back and forth between the Giants and A's fans. Chants of "Let's go Giants!" would be met by chants of "Let's go Oakland!" Fans stood up and tried to rally their fellows. The gentleman pictured in the black jersey kept standing up to wave his arms, brush his shoulders off, and generally exhort the Giants fans to be louder. Once, an A's usher came over to ask him to sit down, and he mockingly put his hands behind his head and fell to his knees. The gentleman in the green A's shirt had the seat next to him and may have even come to the game with him. There were many such cross-team groups, and I especially wish I'd gotten a picture of the two guys walking up the ramp together, one wearing an orange Jack Clark jersey and the other wearing a green Rickey Henderson jersey. For my contribution to the noise, I managed to get many of my Giants-fan comrades sitting near us in the second deck down the right field line to join in heckling, "What's the matter with Kendall?"
One last thought: I'm not sure if I've emphasized enough that the Bay Area is different from all the other two-team markets in that though we're passionate about our respective teams, the inter-team rapport is remarkably strong. For instance, we saw a grandmother decked out in A's gear happily taking her orange and black clad grandson out to the bathroom. Where else would you see this sort of harmony? I can just imagine some yahoo Mets fan trying to argue how disgusting that picture is.
Monday, May 21
I got to Los Angeles Sunday night, and checked in to the Hollywood Motel 6, conveniently located one block away from the vastly overrated Hollywood Boulevard. After spending Sunday wandering Westwood and the UCLA campus for the first time, I made my fabulous return to Dodger Stadium, having been away since 1986. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of the Dodger Stadium experience, let me describe a place that is equal parts sublime and infuriating.
First, the parking situation is a disaster. For a Monday night game against the Brewers, traffic leaving the facility wasn't as bad as I'd feared it would be. However, getting into the ballpark was an exercise in insanity. First, for a 7:30 game, the parking lot opened at 5:20. For some reason, Dodgers officials have concluded that in Los Angeles, where a great deal of the customers will be driving to the games, it's a good idea to have them all arrive and leave at the same time. God forbid someone would want to have a tailgate party. God forbid someone (like me) would want to beat the crowds and arrive at 4:30. If that someone should drive up to the toll plaza and ask when he'll be let in (as I did), he'll be told to move along until 5:00 (as I was). He can try parking his car in the sketchy residential neighborhood surrounding Chavez Ravine while he gets some dinner (as I did), or he can wander aimlessly for half an hour, waiting for the gates to open. When he does return at 5:00, there will be lines of cars, parked in front of the gates, waiting for entry. He will sit for twenty minutes (like I did). He might call his father and be hear laughing as the older man recounts that the same thing happened with him and his father forty years before. In any event, it will be a frustrating experience.
Once inside, I watched the last ten minutes of the Dodgers' batting practice, and then the Brewers took the field. That's when things got interesting, as I realized that I could scratch my Uni Watch itches from the front row.
I yelled at Johnny Estrada to get Prince Fielder to wear his pants properly, but got no response. I still took pictures of the two of them, and was sorely disappointed to discover that, at least during BP, Estrada wears the crappy "painted on" all-in-one stirrup sock, aka the bastard cousin of the stripe-on-a-sock famously favored by Greg Maddux.
After I moved to the outfield, I got some good looks at the Brewers' caps, and even had a quick conversation with one of the players. Look at the three men pictured to the left: pitching coach Mike Maddux is wearing the official BP cap, but the two other men are not. On the right is Ben Sheets, and in the middle, definitely not wearing the BP cap, is manager Ned Yost!
Tony Gwynn, Jr., was the Brewers' starting right fielder that night. As he took practice grounders in the right field corner, I called out to him.
"Won't you get fined for not wearing the BP cap?"
"Hell no!" he yelled back. "The manager ain't even wearing it."
"What's wrong with the BP cap?" I called between grounders.
"They suck!"
"How so?"
"They just do."
This is the sort of thing that makes me happy.
A few final notes about the ballpark and the trip, and then I'm through:
1 -- The field-level seats at Dodger Stadium are padded.
2 -- Betting is explicitly prohibited.
3 -- Driving down I-5 was pleasant enough. However, all you crazy bastards that tailgated me on 101: I was on cruise control at 75... in the slow lane... and no one was in the left lane. Go around.
Comments
Yeah...I guess I'm not going to take any Mets stabs at your article. But...
...then again, the whole "What's the matter with __________. He's a bum!" chant is kind of lame. I'd never heard of it until I went to the Mets/Giants game. In my humble opinion, I think that all jeers should be short and poignant. I think the "bum" chant is neither. For example, in college, we played against a team that had a Bulgarian center on their basketball team. I learned how to pronounce "Who's Your Daddy?" in Bulgarian and let him have it all game. No one knew the wonders of the brilliance, but he looked over at me repeatedly during inbounds plays.
Oh, and you don't have to convince me of the saltiness of some Giants fans. I was definitely cussed out many a time and told to sit down everytime I got up and did my "Jose, Jose, Jose" chant. And...um...don't even get me started, oh noble one, about the opinions of the Giants faithful towards Armando Benitez and PETER HAPPY!
OK...I'm done now. Let's see how Lincecumquat does against the Mets tonight. He he he...
Posted by: paul | May 29, 2007 6:34 PM
Found your blog through a link at ESPN.com about the new hats. As a Dodger Fan I enjoyed your Dodger Stadium entry. Just wanted to give you a heads up, though - Dodger Stadium doesn't allow tailgating, since you made a comment about having enough time to tailgate.
Posted by: Cory Hughes | June 9, 2007 12:25 AM