The traffic heading toward Oakland and the Network Associates Coliseum was actually not bad. It was briskly moving as much as rolling in first gear can be. The sun was warm but not hot. However, there was a grass fire near the Toll Plaza and we were a few cars behind a Cal Trans crew towing a tar machine thingy.
I felt like Ralph Wiggum.
This wasn't the worst part. Most of us had been smart enough not to eat much during the day or drink too much. The worst part about going to a game is having to go to the restroom. They're generally not that clean and you really want to limit time away from the game itself. This is also true of traffic. There's nothing worse than being bumper to bumper with a necessary trip to a restroom preemping nay ideas of a lane change.
Our capable driver was beginning to succomb. Three exits from Hegenbergr Drive and we all knew there might be bursting.
When someone is violently angry about their pending situation, you know they really have to go.
In any case, with the threat of wet car mats behind us we parked in the lot across from the Coliseum. Sure it's a grocery store parking lot, but we usually buy seeds and water from the store before heading over. The cost of parking is an outrageous $10 at the games. We only pay $7 for tickets. But, that's not really the point. If you park across the street and hoof it in, you usually end up on the freeway before people who parked in the parking lot. Further, like most stadium lots, there are no distinct lines to follow and establish definitive lanes. The resulting Lord of the Flies episode with SUV's becomes so irksome we would rather risk a parking ticket (not one in 10 years) than sitting behind a stereo with wheels (are all Honda purchases co-sponsored by Hip-Hop music or something?) for 20-30 minutes.
We passed a few scalpers on our way to the Will Call booth. One being arrested and the others rather frantic to get rid of their tickets before Selig and Fehr could change their minds.
We wandered right in though gate B and were surprised by the lack of people. The A's were coming home with the Al West lead after a 15 game winning streak and gained a half dozen games on the mariners and Angels. We grabbed our seats in right field and proceeded to go in search of garlic fries. By the time we returned there was still an echo of emptiness occupying the Net. Probably less than 2 thousand fans milling about. Though, most were dressed in green and/or gold. Some putting their outfield banners in place and the invariable 'greed & money, hey, look at me I'm on TV' pre and post strike signs.
Now, to anyone who has watched the A's on TV in the last few years, this is common knowledge. There are specific division of fans sitting in the bleachers. The leftfield seats are were the drummers sit, though they have been relatively low key in the last few months. We fully expected a drum kit and flaming, spinning drum sticks to come rising out of centerfield just behind the fence by this time in the year. Possibly even having an overhead spinning drum kit, like Tommy Lee. Maybe are marketing ploys are a bit too advanced. Also in left are the flag waivers. Instead of keeping these on their front porch they bring them to the game making it appear as though a color guard convention has just broken out. Some wave in tune to the various player chants, others just wave after big hits or plays in the field.
Right field is a different story. We routinely sit in right due to the fact that the A's have more left-handed hitters and generally were going to hit more balls into the right field stands during batting practice. A free ball is a free ball. Often we are able to enjoy the game without much of the arcane idiocy so common in the cheap seats. Last night was different. We were engulfed by the guy wearing sneakers with no socks, denim shorts a Rod Woodson Raiders jersey with an inch thick gold chain necklace. Oh, and he had a mustache. One staff member noted that he was headgear away from looking like one of the Village People. Before the first inning he had clearly passed his limit for beer. Or maybe he was just stupid. Either way we all did our best to ignore the fact he and his friend had no idea who was pitching, why the A's don't like the Net after Al Davis had it renovated, or why coaches can't seem to be able to run the triple option in the NFL.
As game time approached, fans began to bulk up the lower seats and began to look like a decent crowd. The outfield was in horrible shape from the game the Raiders played Thursday. Clay Wood, the A's field guru, did an excellent job for a sub-24 hour turnaround. But, there were visible patches of dead grass and some of the advertising signs around the field were not in place with less than an hour before first pitch. If anyone has ever tried moving sod, you know that it's a pain just to move it. Imagine moving it, getting new sod and placing it-a baseball fields worth in less than 24 hours.
There was no BP because of the field change, but, also because the Twins might have been late getting to the ballpark. We passed two unmarked buses a few miles from the Net and someone swore that they saw Dustin Mohr's head. Either way, there were no females on the bus and that usually is a sign that it's the visiting teams bus.
If that above it true, the Twins had less than 90 minutes to prepare, dress and stretch for the game.
The first player out of the clubhouse and on the field for pregame was Tim Hudson. There was a loud applause and a chant of "No Strike" from the fans as Huddy began to stretch.
MLB frowns of fraternizing before games between opposing teams. After yesterday, I'm not sure that anyone would be getting fined. And the players were generally happy to see each other. Which just made what happened later in the game even worse.
As the digital clock struck 7:00 and Public Address Announcer Roy Steele (the guy Jon Miller of ESPN and the SF Giants calls, "the voice of God") gave way to the Fox Sports pregame a video played on the Obey-O-Tron screens that was very, stirring. You can show a video of grass growing and if you put the Who as the accompanying music, it's going to be good. Baba O'Reilly was blaring from the speakers in a way that made you welcome any residual effects of your inner ear vibrating, as the Who often does. It showed pictures of the A's from their inception and gradually progressed from black and white photos to video to color video. The editing was first rate and there was a significant fade-to-black when the teams' era shifted and/or the team moved. By the time Rickey Henderson was being shown things began to pick up. The great players were noted and the managers. The A's bats were shown pounding the ball in chorus with the chord changes, as if Pete Townsend was standing, wind-milling on his Les Paul in the seat next to you. A countdown followed up to 15 and paused before going to black that made everyone in the stadium gulp, gasp and rub away their goose bumps.
The A's took the field and there was a genuine atmosphere of impending history in the air. It was thick and pungent. Or maybe it was the collective garlic breath in our section. Either way...
Huddy's first pitch came at 7:07 and his second landed over the centerfield wall at about 7:08. Jacques Jones sucked the air out of the joint faster than a former President at Oxford.
Huddy recovered after allowing the leadoff homerun and following that up with a first pitch single to Christian Guzman. Koskie grounded into a fielder's choice and was then erased on a strike 'em out, throw 'em out double play.
Now, leadoff homeruns are cool. We watched Rickey Henderson do it for years. One staff member remembers a Tigers game a few centuries ago when Bob Welch lost a perfect game, no hitter and shutout on the first pitch to Tony Phillips. So, what Jacques Jones did in the top of the first made Ray Durham's lead off homerun in the bottom of the first just a return of favor. In the background somebody heard a banjo.
In the top of the second Torrie Hunter led off with a strike out. Doug Mientkiewicz singled and after a Bobby Kielty strikeout A.J. Pierzynski and Huddy began an epic duel. Pierzynski fouled off a half dozen pitches and worked the count to 2-2. On the 9th pitch it looked like Huddy won the battle. About the time the ball was leaving the infield one of that staff mumbled, "you can break anytime T Long". A long pause filled the air. A headfirst dive. An idiot Official Scorer.
A double to left center scored a run. Pierzynski was caught trying to stretch at third.
Long got such a bad break on the ball, it wasn't even in the category of a jump, or a break, really. Was he lulled to sleep by the long at bat or the first ball hit to the outfield after no BP, no fly shagging and a day off?
Who cares?
The play deserved an error as Long didn't even touch the ball when he dove and it scooted passed him.
Ugh.
Dye struck out to lead off the bottom of the second. David Justice then smoked the first pitch he saw to right center. Bobby Kielty needed about two more inches of leather after turning and reaching for the ball as it hit the wall. Justice was on his horse before he touched the first base bag and wound up on third with a triple.
Mark Ellis would single him in, knotting everything at 2-2.
From our view in right field, Kielty had been playing about even with the second base bag, maybe a step or two toward the line, but not much. He was a good twenty yards from the right field foul line (and the football chalk lines were still visible, so we're not exaggerating). He didn't have much of a play on the ball and probably should have played it off the wall and held Justice to a double.
What makes the situation awkward is the moron sitting a few seats away. He had made it his personal pledge to, 'get on Kielty". None of us understand this behavior. Especially toward a guy like Kielty who hits .300 and plays for the pro-rated league minimum. If anything, we should be sympathetic. After all, the A's and Twins are as similar as two similar things in a pod.
There were several problems with the moron in question:
First he was wearing a Yankees jacket and had been warned by the mustache police that he would be lucky to get out alive. Not when the moron was around, mind you, when he went to get something to drink. Isn't it just like a Raider fan to threaten the wind?
Second, moron-boy made racial comments that didn't seem to make sense. You're sitting in a section that is rather Caucasian and you're going to disparage Kielty about being white?
Third, nothing the moron made sense. Nothing. There were no original comments that could be attributed to anything other than a junior high education level. We were beginning to take bets on whether potty-pants or stupid face were going to be used as 'insults'.
Fourth, he had his 'girl' with him who started to chime in.
Fifth, there was a ten year old a few feet from him. Had the kid not been with his parent we probably would have gotten security. But, if they are going to let it go, we were going to just tune him out.
Sixth, he was a skinny, buck-fifty weighing jackass with an earring and stone washed denim jeans. We felt sorry for his friend and his girlfriend who were actually quite nice and did a better job of ignoring him than we could.
Seventh, questioning a guy's race, trans-gender dressing habits and sexuality are just not ballpark insult PC. There are accepted minimums and as Eddie Izzard points out, "most transvestites fancy women".
As a group we agreed to tolerate the individual because of the strike, it was the first game we had been able to attend in awhile and of course, we didn't want to be the 'jerks' for mentioning the fact that he was bothering most everyone in the proximity.
We're all for good-natured razzing. But, some of the bleacher creature dumbasses need to realize that these guys hear a lot worse in Chicago, New York and Boston so anything the manage to put up isn't really worth the stress on the vocal chords.
Example: greeting a player and mentioning that it's going to be a long day, noting that the guy is hitless in so many at bats or that he has a bad track record against the team. This actually can be funny and moderately insightful. It shows the fan paid for a program and game insert and know how to read. Simply shouting, "you suck" really is pathetic. It's not even Bush League; it's Jones Junior High Bullshit.
We digress.
The topper of the night was in the bottom of the 7th, most likely a gesture to save the fan further embarrassment, Bobby Kielty raised an waved with the back of his hand at another unintelligent call form the moron. It had been almost a full inning without the moron and all thought he was done.
Sometimes things just seem scripted.
Ray Durham sent a sinking drive into very shallow right that Kielty probably should have hailed a cab for. Kielty was at full speed in three strides and was able to get to the ball. It popped out of his glove. Now, Luis Rivas sure didn't seem to occupied with the thought of going after the ball and Mientkiewicz couldn't back peddle fast enough.
The rest of the outfield bleachers now, chimed in with their chants and idiot remarks. It's funny, we were watching the same game and we thought Kielty made a great play just to keep Durham at second.
INCOMPLETE-WILL FINISH AFTER PYROSPECTACULAR TONIGHT.
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