Designated for Assignment, Part III: Harrisburg Senators

Ah, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Gateway to the...umm...well...it's kinda near Hersheypark, I guess. While Harrisburg has many admirable qualities, proximity to other major metropolitan areas is not necessarily one of them. It's about an hour and a half away from Baltimore, and probably about 3 hours from both Pittsburgh and Philadelphia. Everywhere else is pretty much inaccessible...kinda like being in Little Rock, Arkansas: Well, I'm kinda near Memphis...*sigh*...or I guess I could go to Tulsa...*sigh*...oh, nm.

Anyway, Harrisburg just happened to be the next stop on our tour of minor league ballparks. It became the next stop pretty much by default: I had planned on going to Salisbury, MD, but we figured traffic would be absolutely horrible due to the Memorial Day weekend, and the Harrisburg Senators just happened to be playing the Bowie Baysox (AA affiliate of the Orioles)!

Sweet, I'll get to see one of our top pitching prospects: Jake Arrieta!

Oh, wait. He pitches on Friday. I get to see Bobby Livingston. That's...almost as good...*sigh*.

Turns out he pitched a pretty good game, but enough about that - let's get to what everybody flocks to my blog to read about: what kind of crazy crap the Senators have outside their ballpark!

An old bridge!



Skeeball!



Batting Cages!


Psychedelic Dentists!



An old red shed that is used as a ticket box office!


Batting Cages!

Seriously, I have to hand it to the Senators: they give you some awesome extra-curricular activities to play with. There's a whole arcade area that is outside of the stadium that has a collection of old-school stand-up video games, try-to-get-the-claw-to-grab-the-toy games, skeeball lanes, and all other kinds of token-operated fun. None of these diversions holds a candle to the batting cages, however, which are available to anyone (12 pitches for a buck) and come in baseball and softball versions with speeds from 35 - 90mph. Yours truly stepped in the 55mph cage and promptly made a fool of himself. I blame the fact that I was wearing sandals, my loose and floppy batting helmet, and the fact that I suck at baseball.



The stadium itself is an interesting design - there are assigned seats behind home plate and along the third and first base lines, but all of the rest of the seating is general admission bleacher seating. And there's a lot of it. What is weird is that in front of the bleacher seats, which go all the way to ground level, is the concourse where everyone walks to get food/play on the Senators Slide/get autographs from the poor sonovabitch who got stationed in the autograph booth that day, and then in front of the concourse is another section of assigned seating. It's not unlike a moat of people. We liked sitting in the front area as it kept us well away from the riff-raff and common folk of Central PA.




We were lucky enough to attend during "Superhero Day", which basically consisted of the cheer/energy/lame-o squad dressing up in ridiculous superhero costumes and the scoreboard operators blasting old animated clips of 60's-era superhero cartoons in between innings. And also Diego, from the Nickelodeon show. I think the most bizarre event of the evening occurred when the Senators switched pitchers and the scoreboard operators took that opportunity to play a clip from the Diego show, which consisted of a small leopard singing a cheery song about how much bigger and stronger he was getting every day. The players looked a tad on the bewildered side.

They also are strongly in the running for most bizarre/awesome inter-inning gimmick: a human hamster race!



did i mention they had batting cages

I have to say that I really, really enjoyed Harrisburg's stadium, except for the fact that they currently name the park after a bank, and are planning on changing the name to another bank - Metro Bank Field or some such B.S.. They are in the process of renovating it, and it should be really great after they get done, but so far I have to say that with it's combination of small-park feel, extra-curricular activities, great scoreboards, separated 'elite' seating sections, and the fact that you can get a tall draft of Yuengling, I'm liking Harrisburg the most out of all the stadiums we've been to so far.

Designated for Assignment, Part II: Frederick Keys

Our journey to all (or most) of the minor league ballparks in the DelMarVa region continued last Saturday to the lovely provincial town of Frederick, MD. The Frederick Keys, the Orioles' single-A affiliate, have been playing at Harry Grove (ha) Stadium for as long as I've been alive, and from the looks of the stadium, for as long as anyone in the organization has been alive. It is the first of the ballparks that we're going to that I have actually been to before, but it was when I was but a wee boy, so I don't remember much of my original trip.

The night didn't get off to a great start - although we found the stadium with no problem and parked in the Keys' spacious (and free) parking lot, as soon as we got out of the car it started raining. I immediately threw a fit as I was sure that things were not going to go my way that night (this happens more than you would think), but luckily the rain stopped by the time we got to the entrance and never came back.

My happiness with that development was quickly tempered when, as we were approaching the entrance, we saw men in their 40s clutching stacks of 5-6 Matt Wieters bobblehead packages. It was Matt Wieters bobblehead night, and while I knew that and was excited about the prospect of picking one up, it seemed a little bit too good to be true. I mean, baseball in Frederick, MD, fireworks night, and a bobblehead? Well, I suppose it was too good to be true, because the 40-year-old comic book guys got there early and snapped up all the bobbleheads, leaving hundreds of little kids in tears right there at the entrance.

Not to be deterred by this minor setback, my girlfriend and I set out to find the official Keys merchandise store which was, conveniently, right next to the entrance. After considerable internal debate and struggle, I got myself a flex-fit fitted batting practice hat, and my girlfriend got a very stylish Keys t-shirt.

Harry Grove stadium, like I said earlier, is old. It's not without it's charm, though - it is extremely utilitarian. Entrance. Merch booth. Bathrooms. Hot dog place. Popcorn. Field. There was a fairly large covered seating area behind the left field seats where anyone could go to eat at picnic tables, which was a very nice touch. I chowed down on my footlong corn dog which I could dip in my choice of BBQ sauce or Ranch dressing. Yeah, I said Ranch dressing.

The field is pretty small with rediculously high walls. In fact, I think the walls were at least as high as the York Revolution's "Arch Nemisis" which claims to be the largest wall in professional baseball. You know, if you can't trust independant league baseball promoters, who can you trust?


As you can see, we sat right behind home plate. They were fantastic seats, and the fact that we are able to get incredible seats for about the same price as any other seat at these games is quickly becoming one of my favorite aspects of this minor league excursion. The seats were so good, in fact, that we were sitting right next to the major league scouts, which were easily identifiable due to their Hawaiian shirts and "too cool to be at this game" shades.

The game was a good one between the Keys and the Wilmington Blue Rocks, a Royals affiliate out of Delaware whose stadium we'll be going to next Saturday. I got to see players that I actually knew and had heard about, like Billy Rowell, the O's prospect who I swear to god swung at every single pitch he saw that night, and Mike Moustakas, who has a funny name.


Both teams' uniforms pretty much sucked aside from the fact that they followed the contemporary minor league convention of wearing their socks pulled up with no stirrups. The socks aren't the older white sanitary socks like players used to wear under their stirrups, but rather a one-color sock that's more like a soccer sock than a baseball sock. Everybody wore those stupid things. Everybody, that is, except for the Blue Rocks' manager:


I mean, c'mon - doesn't he look classier than everyone else out there? Its no contest! It's even as though they're all standing around in awe of his awesome hosiery. Yeah, I said hosiery.

The highlight (or lowlight, depending on your point of view) of the trip came when we broke down and bowed to our craving: Chili Cheese Boardwalk Fries, served in a novelty helmet. Take a look at this beautiful specimen:
Is that American or what? Please note that the chili cheese fries could not be stuffed into a standard small novelty batting helmet - they had to make a larger non-Keys branded helmet to accommodate the full glory of the mixture.

The game came down to the last inning, and the Keys won it on a bases-loaded single up the middle by some guy who won't make it to the bigs, and then there were fireworks. They let the kids run around the bases afterwards, but the line to do it literally looked like the line to get on the Sidewinder rollercoaster at Hershey Park the summer that it opened, so I passed on that opportunity.

Good times in Frederick - next week, Delaware. Hey. We're in Delaware. *yawn*

And now, the Keyote and a chubby kid:

Not Everyone Should Have a Blog

Here is Shaquille O'neal's reaction to Manny Ramirez' suspension for testing positive to PED's, which he posted on his Twitter account yesterday:

"Dam manny ramirez, come on man Agggggggggh, agggggggh,agggggh." [sic, obviously]

Wow. You know, I certainly appreciate the man's candor and his attempt to put his frustrations down in what is an obviously difficult medium in which to convey emotion, but...did he really have to type, "Agggggggggh" three times?

Stick to being 7'-million and being in commercials with Ben Stine. Leave the blooging to su pofessunals.

Designated for Assignment, Part I: York Revolution

Sorry for the wait, ladies and gentlemen – I know you have all been sitting on my page hitting refresh for the last weekend waiting for my update. Well, wait no longer.

My girlfriend and I began our journey through the minor and independent league baseball stadiums in the DelMarVa region last Friday with a trip up to lovely York, PA. York is home to the Atlantic League York Revolution, an independent league team that has been around for oh, about two years. I was interested in this game particularly to see the level of play that is in the independent leagues due to the number of ex-major leaguers that choose (or have no choice but) to play in them. Guys like Dewan Brazelton, Hideki Irabu, Oil Can Boyd, Tony Batista, Shawn Chacone, Carl Everett…well, you get the idea. Anyway, it seems like a really interesting mix of guys you have never heard of and will never hear of and crazy flame-outs from the bigs. What more can you ask for to start a baseball road trip?

Well, I can tell you that the whole experience absolutely exceeded my expectations. The stadium was beautiful, the seats were great (and cheap), we got to see Von Hayes, and there was a monkey.

After work on Friday we headed up 83 to York despite a weather report that showed intermittent thunderstorms all night long. There was terrible traffic almost the entire way, but we got into York in plenty of time and set to work following the directions from Google maps. Well, it turns out that those directions were wrong – they led us to a warehouse district downtown whichwas pretty…umm…interesting, but not interesting enough to have a ballpark nearby. So I loaded up the ol’ iPhone and searched for “Sovereign Bank Stadium” and it gave us another address in NW York that was near some parks. Looked good to me, and we were off.

Well, all there was at that location was, well, parks. No ballpark, and nothing that looked like or indicated that there was a ballpark in the immediate vicinity. So Google has now given us two bum locations. How hard is it to point us to a professional league baseball stadium? How many of these things are there in York? So we went straight to the source, which is probably what we should have done in the first place, and checked the Revolution’s website, which told us that the stadium was exactly nowhere near either of the two locations we were told. Weird, but we assumed that they would know where their own ballpark was, so we took their word for it.

Turns out they were right, and we found parking in an abandoned lot across some very forbidding railroad tracks. We missed the first pitch, but it turns out we got to our seats at the right time, because almost as soon as we sat down, the batter hit a foul ball that nearly hit the fat lady that was sitting next to us. I was too disoriented - no, uncoordinated - to catch it myself, but I came damn close.

Sovereign Bank Stadium itself was a very pretty stadium – just built in 2007. There is a huge green wall in left field, which they call the “Arch Nemesis” – which only makes kinda sense because it is near Arch Street…but I still think it’s kinda a lame name. There was this old guy in the stands next to us who led what must have been the Revolution’s version of the Oriole cheer: he would stand up and yell “HIT THE WALL”.

Really, that was it…at first I thought he was saying, “HIT THE BALL”, which was a nice sentiment. You know, nothing too complicated for these independent league players, just HIT THE BALL. But no, he was telling them to HIT THE WALL, which is still a bit baffling but easier to say than HIT IT OVER THE WALL OR IMMEDIATELY TO THE RIGHT OF IT AND IN THE AIR.

The York Revolution themselves were a group of malcontents and thugs, consisting of guys named Brad and Tony who refused to shave off their goatees and bend the brim of their caps more than 2 degrees off straight across. I guarantee that if you were to see these guys in a bar you would immediately hate them, but these are probably the kind of guys who hang out at the Green Turtle to pick up Towson chicks, so you (hopefully) won’t run into them.

What made the team (and trip) worth it was the inimitable leadership of one Chris Hoiles – yes, that Chris Hoiles. As far as unemotional managers go, he was definitely one of the most unemotionalist. Basically he leaned against the rail for a bunch of innings, occasionally consulting with Tippy Martinez (the pitching coach, and yes, THAT Tippy Martinez) and then walking unemotionally out to the mound to switch pitchers. I don’t think that he said one word to any of his players or anyone other than Tippy Martinez the entire game. But like I said, the team was a bunch of losers, so I can’t say I blame him. He did have a nice-looking watch, however.

HIT THE WALL

Of course the highlight of any minor league baseball game is the stuff that goes on between the innings. You know, the non-baseball stuff. The Revolution, I will not hesitate to say, have this facet of the game down pat. They feature, in no particular order:

- A man firing a cannon

- Not one, but two mascots, Reggie and Outfield

- An “Energy” team (yes, that was really their name – basically the interns who thought it would be cool to intern for a baseball team for the summer. Now they’re dancing a hoedown on top of a dugout whilst wearing a policeman hat)

- A man running around in a gigantic, blow-up monkey balloon

- Free Frisbees and t-shirts

- A “knighting” ceremony wherein the PA announcer announces in the worst British accent I have ever heard that one lucky kid gets to be Sir _____ for the night and everyone has to obey him. HAIL SIR _______

- HIT THE WALL

Oh, and I forgot to mention the best part: the fruit race! Here, to the delight of everyone, including me, they trotted out three small kids to run around the bases from first to home. That would probably be comical enough, but then they dressed them up in ridiculously oversized fruit costumes – hilarity ensues. Probably the highlight of the evening.

Plus, add in one comically oversized first base coach, and you have yourself an independent league ballgame.

It was a great time. I bought a York Revolution fitted cap – I think I’ll probably do that for each game I go to – and my girlfriend got herself a Chris Hoiles Revolution t-shirt.

* Note the novelty batting helmet ice cream cup. Classic.

So we’re off to a great start. You stay classy, York PA.

Next Up: HIT THE WALL The Frederick Keys @ Harry Grove Stadium

the Minor League Experiment

Well, I have a new summer project: I'm going to visit all of the minor league baseball stadiums in a drivable radius around Baltimore. Why minor league stadiums, you ask? Well, they're cheap, and so am I.

It's actually kinda sad how few minor league stadiums that I've been to considering how many are in the state of Maryland alone. I'm pretty sure I've only been to Harry Grove (heh) Stadium in Frederick once and I pretty much spent my childhood at Municipal Stadium in Hagerstown. But that's it - I have to go see Bowie, and Delmarva, and Aberdeen, and Waldorf just to get current on the stadiums in Maryland. Plus there's a few in Southern PA, Delaware, and West Virginny. So it will be a busy summer - I plan on going to one every weekend.

As of this writing, my wonderful girlfriend is acting like she's excited about the whole thing. I'll give her credit for that. Once we have to start driving 5 hours to see a shitty short-season A-ball team in southern WV though...well we'll see where we are.

But who wouldn't be excited about our first game: the York Revolution's home opener next Friday! Fireworks! Cheap seats! Fat men dancing in between innings! York PA! It's going to be great, I guarantee it. And the best part - we're sitting in the third row from the field on the first base side. Price: $10.

So I'll try to update the ol' blog when I get back from these trips with some pictures and info about the stadium and our fun-filled getaways. Something to look forward to. Oh, that and midgets in the batters box.

Where Your Humble Blogger Loses All Dignity

Well, I did it.

Let me take that back: They made me do it.

I never started out wanting an iPhone.

I never wanted to feed into the massive corporate machine that is Apple.

I never wanted to validate their closed architecture operating systems and regimented control over all third-party apps.

I never wanted to validate this guy:

But, alas, I did. But I maintain that it was everyone else who made me do it. It was LG, and Samsung, and Blackberry, and Palm, and Nokia, and Windows Mobile, and everyone else who just can't seem to make a phone that is even remotely in the same league as the iPhone.

I read plenty of reviews on the iPhone before I exchanged my LG Incite for it, and most of them basically said this:

Cons: Can't copy and paste text, battery life good but not spectacular...ummm...the case isn't aluminum anymore?

Pros: It is a phone that works right the first time and is actually fun to use.

Seriously - go read them for yourselves. I'm not saying the iPhone is perfect; no one is. But the crux of the issue is that the iPhone kicks everyone's ass on the features that actually matter to everyone. I mean, I kinda enjoyed having to edit the registry of my Incite to make it run Internet Explorer a little bit quicker, but in reality I'm much happier playing around in the app store and flicking between my home pages. I mean, I kinda enjoyed trying to figure out why the microphone on my phone would cut out after I loaded Windows Live Search, but in reality I'm much happier watching Shazaam do its crazy magical song-finding shit.

It pains me to write this, it really does. And when it comes to computers, I will always be a PC nerd because I like fucking with all that stuff. But I'm sticking with the iPhone because it works.


ooh plus it has a level and a flashlight~!

Commenta non Grata

So I learned yesterday that I had the ol' settin's on my settin's page set to have it that only registered users could post comments on my ol' blog-o-spherical page. Well, it has never been my intention to stifle creativity or constructive criticism - every one knows I take criticism extremely well - so rest easy tonight with the knowledge that as of 8:18 this morning anyone can post anything in the comments section.

Seriously, it's not even moderated. For now. Until you start criticizing me too much.

Enjoy.