I'll grow old - but I won't grow up.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

The Ballgame Is Over!

When I was leaving the gym this morning, I couldn’t help but notice that there was a smashed TV set in the parking lot. It looked like it’d been tossed from a multi-story high window, which given that the Y building is only 3 floors up, isn’t really a possibility. Still, this bad boy was mangled up real good.

Seeing the broken boob tube made me wonder – is this the work of a disgruntled Houston Astros fan? Heh, heh. The ChiSox swept the ‘Stros in four. That’d be enough to turn an otherwise passive sports fan into a Television Killer, I suppose.

Not that I really care – unless the Mariners or Dodgers were in the World Series, I doubt I’d turn it on and risk missing “Lost” or something worthwhile. I used to be a huge baseball fan, but too many strikes and arrogant multimillionaire steroid-packed players turned me off from the game. Nowadays I’ll stick to World Championship Boxing and maybe the Super Bowl, if I’m home.

Growing up in Seattle, my sister, friends, and I used to go to lots of Mariner games. Tickets were only $2.50 for the 100 level outfield bleachers back then (or $1.50 for the 200 level, if you were really broke), and we’d have a blast watching the Mariners publicly humiliate themselves with their poor play. Trust me; the late 70’s and early 80’s wasn’t the best time in Seattle Mariner history – when their starting shortstop was actually praised in the local papers for reaching a .200 batting average, you know that something was wrong.

Still, it was a good time. I “somehow obtained” an entire case of 1979 All-Star Game ballots, so my friends and I spent countless hours punching out little chads for our favorite players. Vote early, vote often. We also somehow managed to usually receive duplicates of everything given away on promotion night - free Mother's Cookies was aight, but the best? That'd be bat night. Every kid wanted a genuine Louisville Slugger to bang on the Kingdome's cement floors.

We also made it a habit to pester/annoy/aggravate the Kingdome ushers as much as humanly possible. These were people they purposely hired to have as little sense of humor as possible. I sometimes wonder if their funny bones had been surgically removed; they were that stoic. But the way they dressed – in brown wool coats, black pants, yellow shirts, and brown berets (yes – actual berets) they looked like giant nachos, so if they couldn’t laugh at that, then there was no point.

In the Kingdome (an awful place if there ever was one) there was a small roped off gate near the first base foul line that was the ultimate holy mecca for all 12 year old baseball fans – if you somehow were able to cross the rope, you’d be into the “good seating” area – the reserved seats. So we’d usually do whatever it took to distract the usher long enough to let our buddies sneak around the rope. Probably 7 times out of 10 we made it, which is certainly a better batting average than Mario Mendoza ever had.

Once you were in the “good seats”, the goal was to get as close to the first base field as you could without ending up in someone’s seats. Because if a latecomer was to show up in the 2nd or 3rd inning and find you parked in his reserved seat, odds are you’d have to try to explain to the Humorless Nacho Ushers why you were there. This, of course, would be followed by the pointless patdown of yourself, looking for your “oops, I must’ve dropped it” ticket stub. Everyone knew that you didn’t really have a ticket to sit there, but we’d try the move anyway. (It’s the same one 19 years olds use when they’re carded trying to buy beer.) So we’d sit carefully, watching the game while watching the aisle to see if anyone carrying a King Beer and a Dog of Death (Kingdome hot dogs were notoriously bad) was eyeballing you and wondering why you were in their spot.

But baseball is now over for another season. I haven’t been to a Mariners game since about 1992, and I’m pretty sure that the outfield seats aren’t $2.50 any longer. The Kingdome was imploded a few years back, and there’s a brand new football stadium for the Seahawks in it’s place.

And although I’m not certain, I’d really like to hope that the new Safeco Field ushers got to choose new uniforms. And maybe are allowed to smile every now and then.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home