Giants v. Brewers

by G. Sax

I went to Pac Bell and caught me a nice bit of weather for another Jason Schmidt win. I watched about as much of the game as I did when I went to County to see such stellar matchups as Brewers v. Tigers when they were still basement mates in the 90s. I spoke with one Brewers fan at the $8.00 beer line. She was nice but not nice enough to help the team win. I fell down up some stairs, and I wasn’t even drunk. I just had to pee.

Ol’ Ball Game

by G. Sax

That would be a helluva nickname, eh? “Ol’ Ball Game.” Skin all leathery from too much sun and smoke exposure. Lazy and fat like a spectator sport with lots of pauses and breaks. No matter. The Twins took 2 out of 3 from the Giants, I saw J.T. Snow launch a bullet into McCovey cove (his first ever direct hit), and I enjoyed some more quality time at the yard with the boy. This is the sort of shit life is made of. I could have done without the scalper jostling for my business on the Embarcadero (because, frankly, it scared the crap out of my son), yet it was nice to get two tix well below face value when I played like I was all disgusted by the seller antics.

Damn Y__________

by G. Sax

So I’m pouring apple juice into a souvenir water bottle from the Solano Steelheads 4th of July baseball game. Hunter was thirsty after hitting some balls down at the ballfield within walking distance of our home.

As I pour, I say to Hunter, “You know,” in that forlorn “you know” way that’s common of smiling older people on bad sitcoms and Disney Channel dramas.

“You know, the Steelheads don’t play this year. There aren’t any teams in their league at all. No Steelheads, no Yuma Bullfrogs, no Chico Heat, no Sonoma Crushers. It’s not just your dad that’s struggling in this economy. Entire baseball leagues are running out of money!”

To which my 8-year-old replied, “Not the Yankees.”

Black Sox

by G. Sax

I’m into coincidences, and it’s true that I get a lot of crazy-weird ones. You may think that you have tremendous life shining, but I bet I could trump you on any given week.

Unfortunately, my coincidences are rather trivial. I’d love it if I were watching a Jaguar commercial during a Jeopardy! commercial break and then like a week later be winning one after a five-day run as Jeopardy! champ, but it doesn’t work that way.

It’s more like back in 1993 when I thought the best thing ever would be to own a forest green Ford Explorer and a pearl white Lexus LS 400. I even put together a plastic model kit of the Lexus and was trying to find a kit for the Ford. Then I spent a few days housesitting for a doctor, and in her garage were the exact cars of my dreams parked right next to each other. It broke my heart.

But trivial, right? Right. Trust me, I think so, too. But I had a good one this morning.

So I’m wearing my Chicago Cubs Wrigley Field sweatshirt with an old Chicago White Sox red-white-blue fisherman’s cap from the year before they went to their popular black hats. Two different teams, sure, but the colors matched.

You know how your brain wanders around subjects quickly when you let it? Eventually, I’m thinking about old Comiskey vs. new Comiskey and how odd the names White Sox and Red Sox are in today’s culture of Wild, Heat, Avalanche, and Jazz. Then I think about the popularity of those Black Sox uniforms and if they have anything to do with the reputation of the team from a century ago or if it’s more to do with a hardcore South Side attitude. Then…

I thought about the socks themselves and seemed to remember that they actually do wear black socks. I thought that was kind of funny and ironic. And then I thought about lesbian sex or dildos or humping a black chick or something psychologists say guys think about like 5,000 times a day (and are probably right about).

Within the same day I’m watching one of those brilliant yet silly ESPN commercials where mascots wander office halls and sports figures are always in uniform. A White Sox player is sitting on a couch and pondering, “Do you think it’s weird that I play for the White Sox and wear black socks?”

Time doesn’t stop. Worlds don’t collide. But I’m glad I have this space to share my synchronicity.

Don’t even get me started on poker. It’s been a full month of pointers to me in Vegas losing everything I own. I’m fighting that one heartily.

Playoff Ball

by G. Sax

ALDS: Games 1 and 2
Working at home has many privileges, one of which is having the A’s/Twins game on behind you at two in the afternoon. You can’t get away with that at a lot of jobs. Maybe at a key shop. They always seem to have a transistor going at the old-style key shops. I love that.

Watching the Twins play like tee-ballers and then erupt with big bats to stifle the Amazin’ A’s was quite a joy. I didn’t bother with the second game for two reasons. I knew Tejada, Chavez, and Justice wouldn’t sit quiet for long—I’ve seen and heard my fair share of A’s games from my North Bay roost. Plus, I needed to focus a bit more on my work. Working at home has privileges, yes, but if you don’t remember that it is still work, you’ll be back on the fruit line.

ALDS: Games 3 and 4
Game 3 was an oucher. I don’t want to talk about it.

I was in a flu stuper for Game 4, but I still enjoyed it. I felt comfortable enough to doze off from the 6th inning on. I think scoring seven runs in the 4th helped break my illness.

ALDS: Games 5
So the Twins helped cure my flu with Game 4 and lured me into purchasing a new car with Game 5. I sat outside the dealership in my old car with the radio tuned to AM 1050 as I listened to the foul pop caught by Hocking to end the series in favor of my hometown team. Elated, I pranced back into the dealership for any come-what-may deal hurled upon me in the finance process. I’m paying $33/month more than I wanted to, and I was talked into one thing called GAP insurance that’s supposed to protect my loan, but for the most part I was a reasonable negotiator and kept my nose clean. But three days later I gave the car back. Four days later, the Angels downed the Twins in five. Fuckin’ car dealers, man.

Play(off) Ball

by G. Sax

I’ll admit it: I love baseball. I’m glad that they settled the differences, and I’m glad that I’ll enjoy ball in October. I celebrated with a Friday night journey to Network Associates Coliseum to see my bloodline Minnesota Twins take on my adopted Oakland Athletics. I went as a Twins fan, of course, and enjoyed an exciting game between Tim Hudson and Brad Radke. The Twins weren’t themselves though and lost.

Not liking the result, I went back on Saturday night with my son in tow—an A’s fan, go figure. Lidle vs. Lohse. The Twins caught some action and made it look good until the bottom of the 8th. Same result as the night before and the A’s tied a franchise record with their 17th win in a row. The fireworks following the game were fantabulous, making the repeat visit well worth the price of gridlock traffic.

Work prevented me from going out for the Sunday afternoon finale, but I had the local Fox Sports Net coverage on the tube behind me. Mulder vs. Mays. (Are these pitching match-ups starting to stink of a playoff preview yet?) It was looking like another miserable day to be a Twins fan until the homer dome boys took their show outside with three dingers in the top of the 9th. But Guardado gave up a walk-off, three-run shot to Miguel Tejada (MVP?), making me glad I stayed home.

The truth of it is the A’s need the wins right now. And being around to see 18 wins in a row from a local team is pretty cool. But I do hope the Twins snap out of their funk in time for a playoff rematch. Better yet, I hope we get the Angels. Let the A’s deal with their Yankee and Giambi demons in the first round. I’d like to stay an A’s fan while in the Bay Area. An early Twins exit by way of “Oaktown Mojo” might rekindle Bash Brothers hatred from the days when we shared a division.