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Down the Stretch They Come

Busy weekend in the land of Zen...full of strange things and stranger thoughts. Best to take it chronologically, I suppose.

Dateline: June 4, 2004

Another day passes at work with little event, save a farewell luncheon for one of our coworkers. My lot is to make Greek salad and bring cookies. Both were green, which was great for the salad (which drew rave reviews), but not for the cookies (which I bought at a store because they looked cool; they were kinda foul).
By noon we had 8 large pizzas, two bowls of salad, hundreds of cookies, chicken wings, crab dip, 8 pounds of cheese, a dozen large bags of chips, something called cherry delight, brownies, more chips, pretzels...in short, enough food to feed an army, for an assembled group of 50 or so. Weight Watchers alert!!!

At any rate, I had plans to see the Orioles and Devil Rays later in the evening. Naturally I arrived at the ballpark around 5:30 (two hours before game time), drank a couple beers, ate some food, and snapped a few pics. The seats were great (see the nice view), and 11 of my buddies from work were supposed to come, and they did.
Did I mention it was raining?
The rain did not stop at all. By the third inning out of our dirty dozen only I remained, which meant I got to see some pretty crazy rain baseball. Case in point, in the bottom of the fourth inning, the O's had the bases loaded (Matos on third, Bigbie on second, Hairston on first), with Melvin Mora coming to the plate, at the time leading the American League in batting average. A dangerous hitter, certainly the most dangerous in our lineup right now. A shot of the scene as Melvin came to bat (note the Tampa Bay pitching coach, catcher, and pitcher huddled on the mound, which seemed to happen once every three batters during the game). One pitch later....

...GRAND SLAM!!! 403 feet into the bullpen! The rain-besotted fans went nuts, high-fiving perfect strangers and generally making a ruckus. Oh, and they were standing, too. My thought at the time, aside from (a f*cking grand slam!!), was that there sure seemed to be a LOT of Orioles near home plate.
That wasn't the first or even the most exciting grand slam I've seen live, even this year (thanks to Chone Figgins and the Angels), but it's a special moment nonetheless. It was also the O's first slam of the year (it only took 55 games).
Pitching was a mess because of the incessant rain, as was fielding, to a certain extent, which I'll address a little later since it became our ruin not too much later. All told, the Orioles came back from a 5-0 deficit to lead 6-5 at the end of five innings. So between the last two games I've seen, the Orioles have overcome 14 runs scored against them. Not shabby. Eventually, in the top of the ninth, the O's led 7-6. Julio Lugo of the Rays reached base on a single, and Rocco Baldelli strode to the plate. He hits a shot into right center field, where the closest Oriole was about two zip codes away. Easy triple, I thought...then Luis Matos makes the smartest play of the night:
He does NOT pick up the ball. Turns out the ball was wedged under the fence in right center, which by Camden Yards ground rules is a ground rule double, advancing all runners by two bases. So now it's second and third with no outs. Not too much later the Rays tie the game at 7-7 and here I am thinking...ok, yet another extra-inning contest. In the rain. I think about leaving...but don't.
The 10th inning goes without too much fanfare, except for a ball Miguel Tejada hit to the warning track which was almost, but not quite, a walkoff home run. Mike DeJean comes in to pitch the 11th, and with his track record this year I'm pretty certain the game is lost (although he did have three straight scoreless outings prior to this one).
The rain had picked up by now...and as much as anything else, that was to be our undoing. The first batter hits a ball to Miguel Tejada, who makes a decent catch and promptly falls over. One wild pitch and a hit later, the O's were down 8-7, which was the final score. I think back to my prediction of the O's record for this year (79-83) and wonder how a team which can come back from 5 and 9 run deficits, only to lose, can stay close to .500. Considering that our three biggest offensive additions are not quite in stride yet, it's still possible. On another note, I think the O's left 13 runners on base, which, along with the league leading number of walks we've given up, has been a constant this year. Baseball can be damn frustrating, but like any other addict, I won't give up my fix. I drove home dead tired, and only a late call to my friend Jacquie, with whom I was going to a wedding Saturday, kept me from a short slumber.

Dateline: June 5, 2004

This was to be another grueling busy day, more so than I'd bargained for, really, since a number of stars had come into alignment on this particular day and date in history. Five years ago, I went to another wedding on this very date, as the best man for my best friend Greg. That was a beautiful day, sunny, a little breezy, not too hot, not too cold, probably the nicest day of 1999. And it was a beautiful wedding, outdoors at the Cylburn Arboretum in Northwest Baltimore.
This time, I was making the now-familiar trip to Chambersburg to pick up my friend Jacquie, who was in the wedding as one of the bridesmaids. At 6:45 in the morning, after maybe 4 hours of sleep. In a driving rain. In unseasonably cool temperatures. After a stop at her mother's house to pick up the gown, we drove out to Hanover, PA, another 40 miles or so down the road. The trip took us through Gettysburg, and the US flag on in the town square was at full mast, although I didn't notice at the time since that was a normal state of events. We made it to the church with little trouble and I was soon making conversation with plenty of people I'd never met, which is always a little disturbing, if fun, as well.
It was a May-December wedding, with the groom being around the same age as the bride's father, which was different, and I'd heard that some of the family members involved had not approved of this union. For my part, not knowing the details, it seemed pretty sweet. It seemed like the bride wanted, for reasons of love, to take care of this gentleman in his autumn years. They were decent people, so I'm happy for them.
Being none too fond of weddings, really, I'd dreaded the prospect of this one and even thought of not going, but I did, and I'm glad I did. The wedding was far from lavish, which was a point in its favor, since lavish weddings seem to me to be a waste of time and money better spent on forming a foundation for the new couple's life together (although I have been to some really big weddings in my time, which usually ended with the consumption of too much alcohol). The ceremony was quick and to the point, but not without its poignant moments, such as when the groom and bride sat down to exchange their vows, owing to a hip condition the groom had aggravated recently. Some pics follow:

So bubbles seem to be in now, at least for indoor receptions. I rather wanted to sling some rice into the eyes of the newlyweds, but soap bubbles sting, too, and cause less collateral damage, so I guess I see the point. The food spread was pretty simple, but tasty, basically a few lunch meat, veggie, and fruit trays, with some other oddments mixed in, here or there. Again, simple and to the point, with no extraneous element to detract from the occasion, which was about two families coming together as one and having a good time of it.
Toward the end of the reception there were two events which occur at most weddings: the bouquet toss, and the garter thingy toss. The bouquet went to my friend Jacquie, which means in the superstition that she will be the next to get married. Hopefully so...she's a nice woman who deserves the best. The counterpart ceremony, with the garter thingy...was kind of interesting. All of the single men in the reception, myself included, were herded into place to await the toss. It came, and hit the ground with a soft thud. No one reached for it...in fact, I'd never seen such an assembly of singlemindedly single men at any other wedding. I think I spurned the thingy with my shoe at one point, but eventually one of the other men took possession of it. That was amusing.
I think the bride was corraled into doing these things, since she seemed a bit uncomfortable while she was tossing. To tell you the truth, I don't see the point of these superstitions, but then again, I never do. Oh well.

The Ride Home

It was around 6:15 when I started my return trip from Chambersburg. The post time for the Belmont Stakes was supposed to be 6:38 or so in the evening, and like millions of other casual horse racing fans, I was itching to see if Smarty Jones would be the first Triple Crown winner since 1978. I say casual horse racing fan...I know very little about the sport, aside from what I've gleaned and osmosed throughout my years in Maryland, which has historically been a hotbed for pony exploits. I do know that as I sat in my truck, listening to Smarty Jones smoke the rest of the field in the Preakness, that the other contenders for the race, Rock Hard Ten and Eddington, wouldn't factor in the decision, although they were the chic alternate picks on the lips and airwaves of various talking heads. Yet having seen War Emblem in 2002 and Funny Cide in 2003 fail to take the Belmont, I wasn't 100% confident that Smarty would carry the day.
Not being a very knowledgeable handicapper, though, I couldn't think of any other horse which was in the favorite's class. At least 2003 had Empire Maker, who was every bit as good as Funny Cide, and War Emblem was pretty much one-dimensional. Had I been at the Belmont, I would have bet every longshot, since they have a way of winning this particular race, or at least they have recently.
I was also concerned about my radio reception, which typically gives out when I cross back into Maryland on Route 81. As it turned out, reception wasn't an issue at all during the overcast day. The race began as I was about to make the turn to 70 East...and I listened.
Smarty Jones led after 1/3 of the race, although the fractions (times) were no threat to challenge Secretariat's remarkable record run in 1973. Smarty continued to lead the field by as many as two lengths, and I was hardly paying attention to other traffic, which was just as well because there wasn't too much of it on the road. He led the way down the back stretch...and it became a two horse race with one Birdstone, who I'd heard once upon a time was the top prospect 3-year-old for 2004.
He continued to lead until maybe 1/8 of a mile remained in the race, when Birdstone took the lead and kept it through the end of the race.
115,000 shrieking souls went silent. It was as if they'd all been mysteriously slain.
'Another one bites the dust', I thought, as I returned my attention to the highway traffic. The way I saw it...although I didn't see the race except in my mind's eye, Smarty Jones ran well. Second place in the Belmont is no mean accomplishment.
But it wasn't first place. No Triple Crown winner this year.
I wondered who was more disappointed: the jockey and trainer, the racing community, or the governors of Maryland and Pennsylvania? I'm still not sure, but I know that the prospect of a Triple Crown winner was a boon for racing. My thoughts ran a little like this: if Smarty Jones wins the Belmont, Pennsylvania and Maryland will likely pass legislation on slot machines, which despite their other features, would revitalize the sport in one of its strongest bases. It may still happen, but I doubt it now.
My thoughts turned to baseball's Triple Crown (offense), which hadn't been accomplished since 1967 when Carl Yastzremski turned the trick, a year after Frank Robinson did so for the Orioles. Before my time, obviously. Roger Clemens did it two years in a row during his career in Toronto on the pitching side, which is rare in and of itself. Among the many great hitters in the game today who was the most likely?
Barry Bonds probably tops the list, although he gets so many walks that the RBI lead would be hard for him to reach. He has led in all three categories at various points in his career, as has Alex Rodriguez. Andres Galarraga, should he return to baseball, has done so as well. I have doubts about both Bonds (RBIs) and Rodriguez (batting average) today. Albert Pujols may pull it off in the National League, and Manny Ramirez in the American, but after them, Bonds, and Rodriguez, I don't see very many possibilities.
The Triple Crown, in baseball and horse racing, is exceedingly hard to accomplish, it seems.

The King is Dead

Driving back through Gettysburg I noticed that the American flag was at half staff, signifying the death of someone important. Turned out to be Ronald Reagan, 40th president of the United States, accomplished politician and actor. They say a president dies twice, once when he leaves office, and once just like everyone else. Reagan's final years were heartbreaking, with the deterioration of his physical and mental health, no matter what one may think of his views or his place in our nation's history. My sincere condolences go out to the Reagan family in their time of mourning.

Dateline: June 6, Patterson Park Revisited

I'd written about Patterson Park in my inaugural Pen of Pantazonis entry. Today, which is not only the 60th anniversary of D-Day (one of the two greatest secrets in all of history, the other being the location of King Solomon's Mines), the annual Polish festival was held in Patterson Park. I try to catch that one as well as the Greek Festival which usually occurs the following week, although I have no hint of Polish heritage. For me, it's all about the pierogies!!! I love Polish food, what little I've had, so I make the annual pilgrimage to the festival for my fix of fresh pierogies and kielbasa.
I even got to see some old family friends (4 of them, a mother, father, and two daughters). A pleasant encounter, though brief. With the weather being overcast my stay at the festival was short. But my trek through the park, with camera in hand, was anything but. Few places on earth feel more like home to me than Patterson Park, odd because it has no roof, and walking through the friendly confines refreshes my spirit whenever I allow myself the pleasure. At once I'm 7 and 27 there, and, unlike many other instances, time has smiled upon the park. Without waxing poetic, or prosaic, much longer, I'll simply list the pictures below:

In short, a fun-filled weekend. I'd tackle D-Day, too, and my thoughts on that, but that would be a bit much for this go-round.

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If Calgary had won the Stanley Cup, this may well have been too much to digest even for me.

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