Friday, September 30, 2011

Home Is Where Your Broken Mangled Diseased Heart Is


I spent the last two nights in a square, padded, red room, being forced to consume my meals through a tube, because I and every other Boston devotee choked throughout the entire month of September. I aimlessly shambled around campus Wednesday night belting hit breakup songs such as “Bust Your Windows” and “Before He Cheats” praying that Theo Epstein would speed down our poorly sheltered SoCal streets on a moped and hand me corked bat. Then Curt Schilling stopped by to calm me down and we dyed our socks in tomato sauce and made a collage out of household products that come in 2004s (the 2008 championship was a merely an extra Neil Diamond album in the stocking of a spoiled brat.) The authorities finally pinned me down and accused me of being Kevin Millar – I had planned not to shave until the Red Sox made the playoffs – and placed me in solitary confinement, where I had time to dwell on the fact that I vigorously rooted for the Yankees (!) for once in my life only for them to shove their payroll in a blender and pour the result down into the sewage pipes while Robert Andino (?) of the Baltimore Orioles (?!) ended my faith in 9-game leads and my hopes and dreams as a human being. But I’m okay now.

Before the Red Sox’ monumental collapse and evaporated October contention, my original intent this week was to follow up on the very first piece I wrote over a year ago – a personification of the thirty Major League Baseball stadiums and an appropriate guide for the non-fans who wish to know which one they are allowed to enter, in order to eradicate any further disgrace of the sport. Looking back at that expose I realized three things: 1) what a weirdo I was, 2) I am still that weirdo but a seasoned and surprisingly objective weirdo…and 3) it would perform wonders on my credibility if I actually visited all of these theaters, as my Brooklyn shove-it-in-my-face Acting professor Mary Joan calls them. It is now my new dream (or pending more aneurisms, my bucket list) to travel cross-country and do so, and with any luck I will get through this blog without breaking down and…EVAN LONGORIA! REALLY? YOU’RE A DESPARATE HOUSEWIFE AND NO ONE EVEN GOES TO YOUR GAMES! OBJECTIVITY…seriously…I’m over it. The stadiums I have been to so far:


Dodgers Stadium (Los Angeles Dodgers)
What I said then: “You appreciate simplicity and tradition. And in spite of your Mannywood, size doesn't matter to you. Kudos! And you don't need to be aware of the circumstances of the contest – just quarrel with the San Francisco fan three rows down and you'll fit right in.”
What I say now: I’ve been to several Dodger games now and cannot say that much has changed at all, and even with Manny Ramirez being traded last year and leaving prison last week, they still had the dedicated section of Mannywood with the ridiculous dread-wearing Holly-smokers that most likely remained in their seats to urinate in between innings. A Dodger dog is still an average frankfurter with a catchy name, and I absolutely love sitting in an upper tier and still feeling like I’m at the baseline. As one of the older and smaller stadiums left, barely renovating was the smartest business decision the McCourts ever made. And although I have never witnessed a brawl with Bryan Stow status – may he continue to rise in his recovery – that latter notion is endlessly true. And between that and the Raiders-49ers preseason shooting a month ago, why are Californians so angry and restless? Can’t we be like the Disney Ducks of hockey and just get along while we suck?

Angel Stadium of Anaheim (Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim; also coupled with the Texas Rangers and Oakland Athletics)
What I said then: “You guys are actually decent people, but freakishly annoying at the same time. You are overly wordy to overcast the sunshine of your unoriginality. You also have some unhealthy fascination with the West.”
What I say now: Accurate. My expectations briefly increased as I saw how beautiful the stadium looked from the outside, but the scanning of my ticket was the extent of my excitement for its aesthetics. They do have that random mini-golf mountain beyond centerfield, which is also nice to look at, until it spews fireworks during homeruns and I mourn the ozone layer. They heavily rely on popular culture (references to the A-Team, constant replaying of Beyonce’s “Halo”, and a rally monkey…yeah, I don’t get it either) to get across that they are still the Angels despite their confusion with the rest of their title. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me if you prefer to go by the state, county or city, but you can only pick one! My GPS imploded trying to find you guys and you owe me a new one! But I thank you for allowing the Athletics (an irony supported by their record) to rally past you in the ninth inning on Sunday during your own postseason quest that the fans, quite frankly, could have cared a little more about – it was sadly the highlight of my September.

Orioles Park at Camden Yards (Baltimore Orioles)
What I said then: “You are Puck from Glee. When you decided to shave your Mohawk, the [lesser] non-fans decided they can beat you up to attain validation in their own lives. Just park your car on Eutaw Street and sneak out early.”
What I say now: As a tourist, I adored Baltimore – my mouth still waters from the best crab cake sandwich I ever tasted. It was invigorating to walk to the stadium from the Inner Harbor, past the birthplace of Babe Ruth, and down the aforementioned and renowned Eutaw Street, and I lovingly did so with my girlfriend as we hilariously flabbergasted sidewalkers in our matching Red Sox and Yankees T-shirts, respectively, that we bought in their mall for an Orioles contest (see, I’m more complex than you imagined). And after receiving yet another T-shirt as a promotion of a pitcher whom no one knew and wasn’t even playing that day (Jake Arrieta), the sensation from walking through and being immersed in their cutely exhibited history of accomplishments that they stretched as much as they could get away with and all the way to Cal Ripken Jr. of last century was as advertised for a sports enthusiast. It is a shame that their spunk and pride don’t translate into wins against the Chicago White Sox, and one of the best locker room speeches in cinema – Al Pacino in “Any Given Sunday” – is heart-wrenchingly wasted night after night (although they have no problem eliminating Boston from…I’m calm, don’t worry).

Fenway Park (Boston Red Sox)
What I said then: “Honestly, you are flawed and you need serious help. But you are persistent and accept adversity. You are extremely unique, and the Pesky Pole is a strong indication of your...cup size. And as long as you can appreciate years of suffering and know common terms such as THE GREEN MONSTER, you are welcome. And Neil Diamond flows through your veins.”
What I say now: My irrational Massachusetts-induced Tourette's aside, there is arguably not a venue in baseball superior to Fenway from standpoints of architecture, originality, significance and environment. Okay I promise I’ll stop but come on, it’s a sexy stadium, and we really are all insane. I vacationed in Boston during my high school spring break of 2007 to witness Asian phenom Daisuke Matsuzaka – the second-worst 100 million dollars ever spent, only topped by Michael Vick – pitch in his home debut. Preposterously, he showed great promise for our future in that outing, but the offense sputtered with just one lonely hit off of King Felix Hernandez and the Seattle Mariners (another irony – that one hit was a double by J.D. Drew). Nowadays, Matsuzaka is just another hurler on the roster who failed to even be a third quality starter behind Josh Beckett and Jon Lester after Clay Buchholz’s injury, and once-Savior and manager Terry Francona is the erroneous scapegoat. Anyway, in spite of the grungy surrounding community, a major contributor to my college plans was once Fenway, but I learned not to base my education solely off of sports…USC also has pretty fountains.

*I have not had the opportunity to see Yankees or Mets games since they both acquired new homes, so to speak, but I am counting them regardless (and readers, feel free to purchase tickets for us next season)*

Citi Field (New York Mets)
What I said then: “You ever-so-badly yearn to be included in your older brother's limelight, and you continuously fall on your ass. So I guess an apple a day....”
What I say now: The debates over whether the Red Sox or Mets are the worse franchise have ensued (and the Cubs are so defective that they were not even invited), but at least we have next year to find out if we will choke TWO years in a row. By the way, the one Mets contest I remember attending as a child was a series the last weekend of the season…and a loss to the Atlanta Braves…why is it that for every baseball game I go to, the away team always wins?!

[New] Yankee Stadium (New York Yankees)
What I said then: “Economics shmeconomics! You city folk hate the farm and want to see money grow on infrastructure. Disparity is the only trend you'll follow.”
What I say now: There was a period of time after writing this blog where I thought that maybe, and just maybe, I was being too cruel and too prejudiced as a journalist – there is no denying the intangibility of Yankee stadium (at least the old one) with the late Bob Sheppard announcing Derek Jeter’s at-bats and Kate Smith’s vibrato-rich “God Bless America” during the seventh-inning stretch, and Brett Gardner actually started his career with the Yankees, so that’s something – but now I forever rescind that momentary guilt. A 200 million dollar team salary and you couldn’t squeeze out one more win? A 603-save closer in Mariano Rivera and he couldn’t pitch one more inning? A chance for another 100-win season in a meaningful series and Joe Girardi and the Bombers couldn’t go for it like their inflated egos deserved?

Shockingly, I don’t believe it was a conspiracy to purposefully lose to the Tampa Bay Rays just so the Red Sox wouldn’t make the playoffs, but I’m still in disapproval of New York’s decision to selfishly rest their top players. It’s the same thing as a struggling or terrible club tanking the rest of the way to secure the #1 draft pick. I can hardly understand not wanting to risk your team’s health when you’ve already clinched home-field advantage for the American League, but I personally would rather momentum heading into October while preserving the integrity of the game for those who still have to earn their spot. But with all of the complaining over and done with at last (eh…), the battle of baseball stadiums over the addition of a new World Series banner will play out as followed:

Divisional Round: Detroit Tigers over New York Yankees
This is not a pick of bitterness, but unlike the Pinstripes, the Tigers didn’t stop playing baseball this week. Plus they have Cy Young shoe-in Justin Verlander, so if the Tigers can steal either Game 2 or 3, then Verlander will do the rest.

Texas Rangers over Tampa Bay Rays
This pick, on the other hand, is a tad more lemony, but Texas now has postseason experience after last year’s WS loss, and Tampa perhaps exuded too much of their energy to reach this point (and Rangers fans at least remember to be present at their games).  *ALCS: Tigers over Rangers*

Philadelphia Phillies over St. Louis Cardinals
What’s easily lost in this past week’s action is how the Braves endured a symmetrical wild card collapse in the National League at the mercy of the Cards. Philly, meanwhile, suffered their worst losing streak of the season after assuring their bid, but reignited recently as they helped eliminate Atlanta, and no matter what they dastardly possess the wickedest roster of both leagues. Say goodbye to Albert Pujols, Missouri.

Milwaukee Brewers over Arizona Diamondbacks
The D-Backs were an impressive last-to-first story in the NL West, but I still  study their depth chart and end up with migraines over how they hell they pulled 94 victories out of their dry asses. I’m going with the bigger star power, outstanding home record, and mobile kielbasa. *NLCS: Phillies over Brewers*

World Series: Phillies over Tigers
It’s the best pitcher versus the deepest rotation and I have to side with the latter. Cliff Lee was ace of the Rangers when they succumbed to the Tim Lincecum and the San Francisco Giants’ staff because he was the only reliable pitcher, and Verlander will undergo that exact fate as Lee reverses his. I know it’s a boring prediction, but it’s not a homer prediction. Now let the tasers and tranquilizers resurface!