Took... me out to the Balllllgammmme.....
May. 19th, 2021 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogPretty late night for the old guy last night, and the buttocks are rather dragging. Somehow scheduling a 3 p.m. appointment for the next afternoon seemed like a better idea when I made it than it does now, given that I have toothpicks holding up my eyelids.
But it was all for a good cause: after finishing an afternoon of petition preparation and such, I got to downtown Rochester right on time to rendezvous with the holders of the seats, presented my vaccine record and ID, and was waved onto holy ground for the first time since two Septembers ago:
More than half the ballpark was reserved for vaccinated fans, which meant we were free to be maskless except in aisles and concessions. And concessions, there were. A few of the specialty stands were closed, but beer was plentiful, although Conehead and his fellow aisle vendors were still off work. I sought out the one thing I will only eat at a Rochester ballgame:
Garbage.
Unofficial garbage, since Nick Tahou's Hots are the rabid trademark owners of the original Garbage Plate™, a late-night concoction of meat, hot sauce, home-fried potatoes and macaroni salad, all held together by a thin thin 16 millimeter shell of grease and served on a paper plate guaranteed to leak said grease through the plate, your pants, your seat and down to the center of the universe. Therefore, the knockoffs: the Sloppy Plate, the Messy Plate, but here at the home of the team that actually brands themselves as The Plates (with Nick's blessing) most Tuesday nights, they serve a smaller version in what they call the Trash Can. No burgers or dogs in there, just the other ingredients with your choice of chili, hot sauce or onions on top.
Mongo like beans. The container is plastic but meant to be kept as a souvenir, complete with the dent in the bottom of the can. Here it is at its permanent office home, emptied and covered:
The menu: that one can, two beers, and mandatory eighth inning ice cream, a tradition since 1967.
Opening ceremonies for Opening Night were their usual pomp, with the teams lining up on the foul lines, a resident from Strong Hospital singing the anthem to cheers of thanks for her service, and at last the needed cry of playyyyy balllll! Emceeing the festivities was the Wings' longtime GM Dan Mason. We'd never met-met before, although we'd emailed a few times. And there he was a few innings later, working the crowd (respectable but not a sellout) and I got my host Scott to take a pic of me with the Hardest Working Man in Not The Show Business:
Other names from the night:
Bottom of the first, this guy came to the plate for your Rochester Red Wings-
- and promptly Illudium Q-36 Blasted a homer over the right center field wall. Naturally, I called out, NOW THAT! WAS AN EARTH-SHATTERING KIEBOOM!
The opponents, farmhands of the hated Yankees and lost descendants of the Maine Guides, brought their own well-named dude to the party:
Socrates Brito, who we just hoped wouldn't get into an argument with an umpire or we'd be there all night. Instead, Soc struck out, entitling the whole crowd to claim a free taco at any participating Rochester area Taco Bell today. Except for those of us who don't live there (Mighty Taco tried and failed in the 585, alas), or even any like me who didn't have the mobile ticket on their mobile.
Unnamed, though, was my favorite find of the night:
My next row buddy. Three years old and at the first game he remembers. I didn’t get to my first until I was pushing eight. He cooed and fist-bumped with me, Scott and Scott's kid who I've known since that age. I told him to pay attention to the game; in two years, he’ll be answering mom and dad’s questions like I was in my third year at Shea.
----
Finally, a few leftovers from last night, all in this last photo montage:
- Pregame moment of silence and scoreboard tribute for former Red Wing manager Joe Altobelli, who passed earlier this year. He eventually got a callup to the Big Birds and won as many World Championships (one) as that loudmouth Weaver did in Baltimore in many more tries. Joe also has a statue in the stands behind the left field foul line.
-I found the moved plaques from Norton Street honoring Morrie Silver, who led the drive to save the team when the Cardinals dumped the franchise and original ballpark. That yard was renamed in his honor.
- The new nest is still named for Frontier, the bankrupt descendant of Rochester Tel, but the fight song still homages Silver. I sing the second verse as “Here come the Red Wings, they play at Frontier which will not buy fight song rights, Frontier’s bankrupt, in debt very deep, they’re real sleazy and also cheap!“
- Despite COVID, the team still put on a bunch of promos on field and scoreboard. No kiss cam, and no obviously set-up “surprise“ marriage proposal, but they did do a nice observance of Scott’s friends Jason and Melanie on their 19th anniversary.
Unseen in those, I had to leave before the ninth because of cat issues back home (since resolved), but that meant I got to hear the Mets' Bench Street Irregulars, and the last of their seven different relievers, put a second straight win over the hated Braves in the books! (The Wings lost, as they've done in all but two games this year so far. Um, Let's Go Wandering Bisons?)
----
The final note of yesterday was a sad one, which I didn't hear until this morning: our dear dog walking buddy Ursula, last seen by us (and here) on Sunday, went to Rainbow Bridge yesterday. She was over 14, could barely stand, had lost her bowel control and much of her will to live. It was time and she is out of pain and at peace, chasing squirrels with Ebony, Jake and all those we walked with on trails with her over the last five years.
But it was all for a good cause: after finishing an afternoon of petition preparation and such, I got to downtown Rochester right on time to rendezvous with the holders of the seats, presented my vaccine record and ID, and was waved onto holy ground for the first time since two Septembers ago:
More than half the ballpark was reserved for vaccinated fans, which meant we were free to be maskless except in aisles and concessions. And concessions, there were. A few of the specialty stands were closed, but beer was plentiful, although Conehead and his fellow aisle vendors were still off work. I sought out the one thing I will only eat at a Rochester ballgame:
Garbage.
Unofficial garbage, since Nick Tahou's Hots are the rabid trademark owners of the original Garbage Plate™, a late-night concoction of meat, hot sauce, home-fried potatoes and macaroni salad, all held together by a thin thin 16 millimeter shell of grease and served on a paper plate guaranteed to leak said grease through the plate, your pants, your seat and down to the center of the universe. Therefore, the knockoffs: the Sloppy Plate, the Messy Plate, but here at the home of the team that actually brands themselves as The Plates (with Nick's blessing) most Tuesday nights, they serve a smaller version in what they call the Trash Can. No burgers or dogs in there, just the other ingredients with your choice of chili, hot sauce or onions on top.
Mongo like beans. The container is plastic but meant to be kept as a souvenir, complete with the dent in the bottom of the can. Here it is at its permanent office home, emptied and covered:
The menu: that one can, two beers, and mandatory eighth inning ice cream, a tradition since 1967.
Opening ceremonies for Opening Night were their usual pomp, with the teams lining up on the foul lines, a resident from Strong Hospital singing the anthem to cheers of thanks for her service, and at last the needed cry of playyyyy balllll! Emceeing the festivities was the Wings' longtime GM Dan Mason. We'd never met-met before, although we'd emailed a few times. And there he was a few innings later, working the crowd (respectable but not a sellout) and I got my host Scott to take a pic of me with the Hardest Working Man in Not The Show Business:
Other names from the night:
Bottom of the first, this guy came to the plate for your Rochester Red Wings-
- and promptly Illudium Q-36 Blasted a homer over the right center field wall. Naturally, I called out, NOW THAT! WAS AN EARTH-SHATTERING KIEBOOM!
The opponents, farmhands of the hated Yankees and lost descendants of the Maine Guides, brought their own well-named dude to the party:
Socrates Brito, who we just hoped wouldn't get into an argument with an umpire or we'd be there all night. Instead, Soc struck out, entitling the whole crowd to claim a free taco at any participating Rochester area Taco Bell today. Except for those of us who don't live there (Mighty Taco tried and failed in the 585, alas), or even any like me who didn't have the mobile ticket on their mobile.
Unnamed, though, was my favorite find of the night:
My next row buddy. Three years old and at the first game he remembers. I didn’t get to my first until I was pushing eight. He cooed and fist-bumped with me, Scott and Scott's kid who I've known since that age. I told him to pay attention to the game; in two years, he’ll be answering mom and dad’s questions like I was in my third year at Shea.
----
Finally, a few leftovers from last night, all in this last photo montage:
- Pregame moment of silence and scoreboard tribute for former Red Wing manager Joe Altobelli, who passed earlier this year. He eventually got a callup to the Big Birds and won as many World Championships (one) as that loudmouth Weaver did in Baltimore in many more tries. Joe also has a statue in the stands behind the left field foul line.
-I found the moved plaques from Norton Street honoring Morrie Silver, who led the drive to save the team when the Cardinals dumped the franchise and original ballpark. That yard was renamed in his honor.
- The new nest is still named for Frontier, the bankrupt descendant of Rochester Tel, but the fight song still homages Silver. I sing the second verse as “Here come the Red Wings, they play at Frontier which will not buy fight song rights, Frontier’s bankrupt, in debt very deep, they’re real sleazy and also cheap!“
- Despite COVID, the team still put on a bunch of promos on field and scoreboard. No kiss cam, and no obviously set-up “surprise“ marriage proposal, but they did do a nice observance of Scott’s friends Jason and Melanie on their 19th anniversary.
Unseen in those, I had to leave before the ninth because of cat issues back home (since resolved), but that meant I got to hear the Mets' Bench Street Irregulars, and the last of their seven different relievers, put a second straight win over the hated Braves in the books! (The Wings lost, as they've done in all but two games this year so far. Um, Let's Go Wandering Bisons?)
----
The final note of yesterday was a sad one, which I didn't hear until this morning: our dear dog walking buddy Ursula, last seen by us (and here) on Sunday, went to Rainbow Bridge yesterday. She was over 14, could barely stand, had lost her bowel control and much of her will to live. It was time and she is out of pain and at peace, chasing squirrels with Ebony, Jake and all those we walked with on trails with her over the last five years.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-20 09:46 am (UTC)I was disappointed to find that visiting our local AAA team was not anything reasonable for me this month: their COVID set-up involved "pod seating" of two, four, or six seats, with no empty seats allowed. H is Not A Fan of baseball; I can maybe get her to one game a year and odds are low of staying to the ninth inning. So… the only way I could see a game is to pay double.
But they were also smart enough to only release tickets for May, in anticipation of state requirements relaxing, so perhaps I'll see a game later in the season. (Though I don't have my usual "check to see when the Bisons are in town," given the division-only schedule this year, when I usually hope that somebody I'd recognize will be down from Toronto to get themselves back to 100%)
no subject
Date: 2021-05-20 11:27 am (UTC)Who are these "Bisons" of whom you speak? They are the Trentuffalo Schizos this year as we cleared Your Name Here Field for the Jays arrival. Their first tickets go on general sale in a few hours (Bison season holders, as well as Bills and Sabres for some bizarre reason, got first dibs). They're only doing a couple of homestands at a time, and the Yuckees are of course the hot ticket at over $200 a pop. I have friends much interested when Boston comes later in the month and they're expected to command similar numbers when they go on sale- and that's even before the scalpers scoop them all and double the price on Schmubhub.
Oh my gosh!
Date: 2021-05-20 01:05 pm (UTC)The Trash Can is wonderful. :D Here in New Mexico everything but everything is covered in Green Chiles (and sandwiches are served with a jalapeno--not a pickle--on the side.) :D I have to say I love it, but I also remember mid-Western foods with fondness, and when we travel back to Cincinnati, we generally come away 5 pounds heavier, LOL.
You did such a great job of describing everything here and your absolute delight at getting back to the ballpark is contagious!
Now *I* want to go!