(no subject)

Popcorn! Peanuts!

My wonderful wife, the beautiful careswen bought us tickets to go see the St. Paul Saints play this afternoon, as her anniversery gift to me.

I'm thrilled.

I love baseball.

I've loved baseball since I was a kid. I played ball in the sandlot, in school, and even walked on to my college team. I played high school ball for a pro scout. I was a pretty good high school pitcher and adequate at firstbase.

I love baseball.

But not major league baseball.

I once loved major league baseball. I grew up in a family of Detroit Tiger fans. I grew up talking about such great players as Norm Cash, Denny McLain, Mickey Lolich, and of course, Al Kaline. While living in Oklahoma I listened to pro ball on the radio, staying up late to hear games played by the Houston Astros and Texas Rangers, two teams that, for the most part, stunk during the seventies. But they were my teams.

I loved major league baseball.

But major league baseball changed for the worse. When I was a kid a working class kind of guy could still afford season tickets in a decent part of the park. Players made good money, but you could still identify with them as working stiffs.

Then the money got madly out of control. Players changed teams yearly, so that you really weren't cheering the team's players on, you just cheered the guy in the right uniform. Every year at the All-Star game George Steinbrenner would show up with a U-Haul truck and a fist full of inflated contracts. There was a strike. There was another strike. There was a lock-out.

Then it happened. My beloved Texas Rangers won their division, and were play-off bound for the first time ever. Then there was a strike, and post-season was canceled.

That was it, I was done. My love affair with baseball ended. I've seen no reason to love the major league again. I'm sure the Twins are fun to watch, but...

... but I still love minor league baseball. I love the goofiness, the small parks, the weird mascots, and especially the player's that don't make a gazillion dollars. I loved the old Oklahoma City 89ers. I can't wait to see the Saints.

I don't care if the Saints win or lose, I just want to go to the game, watch players who play because they also love the game, eat crappy ballpark food, and sit among other fans.

I want to regain that childhood love, if just for one night.

(no subject)

Popcorn! Peanuts!

My wonderful wife, the beautiful careswen bought us tickets to go see the St. Paul Saints play this afternoon, as her anniversery gift to me.

I'm thrilled.

I love baseball.

I've loved baseball since I was a kid. I played ball in the sandlot, in school, and even walked on to my college team. I played high school ball for a pro scout. I was a pretty good high school pitcher and adequate at firstbase.

I love baseball.

But not major league baseball.

I once loved major league baseball. I grew up in a family of Detroit Tiger fans. I grew up talking about such great players as Norm Cash, Denny McLain, Mickey Lolich, and of course, Al Kaline. While living in Oklahoma I listened to pro ball on the radio, staying up late to hear games played by the Houston Astros and Texas Rangers, two teams that, for the most part, stunk during the seventies. But they were my teams.

I loved major league baseball.

But major league baseball changed for the worse. When I was a kid a working class kind of guy could still afford season tickets in a decent part of the park. Players made good money, but you could still identify with them as working stiffs.

Then the money got madly out of control. Players changed teams yearly, so that you really weren't cheering the team's players on, you just cheered the guy in the right uniform. Every year at the All-Star game George Steinbrenner would show up with a U-Haul truck and a fist full of inflated contracts. There was a strike. There was another strike. There was a lock-out.

Then it happened. My beloved Texas Rangers won their division, and were play-off bound for the first time ever. Then there was a strike, and post-season was canceled.

That was it, I was done. My love affair with baseball ended. I've seen no reason to love the major league again. I'm sure the Twins are fun to watch, but...

... but I still love minor league baseball. I love the goofiness, the small parks, the weird mascots, and especially the player's that don't make a gazillion dollars. I loved the old Oklahoma City 89ers. I can't wait to see the Saints.

I don't care if the Saints win or lose, I just want to go to the game, watch players who play because they also love the game, eat crappy ballpark food, and sit among other fans.

I want to regain that childhood love, if just for one night.

Back From The Game

Saints 3 Winnipeg 2

Saints won on a bottom of the ninth two out double to centerfield. It doesn't get much better than that. 7000 screaming minor league fans. A pig that brings out baseballs to the umpire. Wackiness between every inning. Did I meantion it was Renn Night? It was great, and I can't thank the lovely careswen enough for bringing me to the park. I plan to make an annual pilgrimage to Midway Stadium from now on.

The St. Paul Saints are my new favorite baseball team. They have renewed my belief in the goodness of the Great American Pastime.

Heck, maybe I'll even give the Twins a chance.

In Peace
Michael

Back From The Game

Saints 3 Winnipeg 2

Saints won on a bottom of the ninth two out double to centerfield. It doesn't get much better than that. 7000 screaming minor league fans. A pig that brings out baseballs to the umpire. Wackiness between every inning. Did I meantion it was Renn Night? It was great, and I can't thank the lovely careswen enough for bringing me to the park. I plan to make an annual pilgrimage to Midway Stadium from now on.

The St. Paul Saints are my new favorite baseball team. They have renewed my belief in the goodness of the Great American Pastime.

Heck, maybe I'll even give the Twins a chance.

In Peace
Michael