Following the exultant success of doubleheader baseball in Seattle, I roused myself with some difficulty to make today’s game
However, on the agenda for today are:
- Hogan
- Trant
- the incomparable Kristen
- Ichiro
- Beer
Any two of these menu items would be sufficient for normal wake up reasons, but today I’ve ordered a full spread. Kristen calls to confirm in the 11th hour (literally), and I make my way down to the ballpark. A brief stop at Joe’s (pictures coming, I promise), then I’m into the Beer Garden.
Somehow, I walk right by Mark and Eric. While scanning the crowd for them to arrive, I discover that they already have done so. Sadly, neither Kristen nor Ichiro are present, but I make do with option # 5 while we wait.
And wait. Kristen is running late, but none of us know that, and her phone is on the fritz. The Chicago 2 enter in time for Mark to get some teriyaki, and I eventually capitulate to my need for baseball. I leave K’s ticket at will call, and in I go.
Of course, I’ve missed nothing, because the first inning goes by so fast, they might has well have mailed it in. I visit briefly with the boys, and make my message drop.
Mariners offense seems somewhat taxed by the double bill, but the game gets remarkably better when a good-looking blonde with drinks in her hands comes by and asks if the seat next to me is taken. Luck for me, it’s Kristen, and I am spared a hard choice. Sure, the beer helps, but consulting my chart, I’m 3-5 if she sits down.
No contest, really.
Ichiro hits number 8 into the stands, and everything gets better. Yay, Ichiro.
In fact, Ichiro has a hell of a day at the plate, reaching base and scoring in every attempt after the first inning. 53 on the month, and counting. 3 more, and he has the Mariner record, but not the MLB one. Maybe next month, Ichiro. The Magnificent Bastard will retain his title.
For now.
At the stretch, Kristen learns that beer sales stop at the start of the 8th inning. Stirred to action, we set out for the ol meetin’ place, stopping along the way for a double helping of Silver Bullets.
Once again, good clothes open all doors. Especially when worn by good looking women, and we quickly grab space along the rail to watch the final pitches. Ron Villone comes on in relief, his 44th appearance this year.
Not bad for a “washed up junkballer.” He’d get some more starts this year, but with the season as bad as it is, these new kids are going to get a lot of innings. Plus, he gets a contract bonus if he makes one more start. Sorry , Ron. You’re just too good. you should suck, like Ryan Franklin. then you’d get a contract extension.
It bears note that while the M’s are now 4 in a row at home, they have been behind in every game on this home stand. Specifically, the Kansas City Royals, (the worst team in the AL) have taken an early lead on Seattle in every game of this extended series.
Further, the TAMPA BAY DEVIL RAYS SWEPT US AT HOME.
I know I’ve mentioned this before. but it still sucks. This home stand is the Edgar & Ichiro show, with a side dish of Randy Winn and Bucky Jacobsen. otherwise, it’s an offensive train wreck., in both senses of the word
Lucky for me, I’ve had a small trickle of money come in lately , which in turn translates to a larger trickle of beer. More of a flow, really, but not quite a gusher. Oddly enough, Beer = Single, and Single = Beer. What Irony.
Mariners win, but that’s not the end of the day.
The promise of more beer leads us back to Sluggers, where Mark and I have spent many a drunken hour. Kristen confesses her desire for fried chicken and open wheel racing, which leads Eric and I to nominate her for “coolest sports chick ever.” Then she picks up the bill, which brings the convention to an incredible close.
Motion Carries. Now, if we can just get her into a jersey….
Mariners Win, and in the process climb up 4 games out of the gutter. they’ll still be eliminated by next Sunday, but hey, that race has een over since Opening Day.
After protracted and painful planning, the Ricker and I manage to drunkenly settle on a start time for today’s doubleheader madness. Braving the challenges of Saturday afternoon Parking, we descend in full force upon SOdo, determined to wreak our vengeance upon the worst team in the American League.
Whichever one that happens to be. The Mariners aren’t out of the woods yet, and every indication has them going deeper in in search of the witch, a prince, and to slay the giant.
But without Bernadette Peters, Seattle has to settle for the bat wizardry of Ichiro. Which is not so bad, really. Although a double bill of the red haired object of my desire would be nice on a Saturday afternoon.
Yes, okay. I like Show tunes. But don’t get any wacky ideas. I just like music I can hear and understand, instead of feedback enriched primal rage.
Deaf people are like that.
But back to the subject at hand. In the seats before the songs, and witness to the primal fury of Seattle baseball weather. Well, the pleasant , breeze enhanced mild agitation version. But you get the idea. I think.
Game One goes swimmingly, except for the part where Clint Nageotte again gets cramps and backspasms. Perhaps this is a sign of things to come. Like the three or four gallons of liquid that pour out of him everytime he takes the mound.
Unfortunately, I will not be replacing him in the lineup anytime soon. Even after several pounds of muscle relaxants, my curve is not there today. Neither are my changeup or fastball, as evidenced by my ridiculously poor showing at the speed pitch. That twinge I felt in my shoulder Thursday night is just as pronounced today as it was 15 years ago when I decided that pitching was not my path to glory. Turns out that bicycling isn’t either, but knee pain is something I can handle.
As we toe the cement line, Bucky hits #9. that Bucky. full of youth and vim. I used to be him. Except for the talent, ability, and career. But at age 28, we were remarkably similar in outlook and physique.
You make the call.
Eerie, isn’t it.
His own words say it best to me.
“I don’t know,” said Jacobsen, a first baseman in the Seattle Mariners’ camp. “If I were a fan, I’d cheer for a big fat guy named Bucky Jacobsen.”
Pure class.
The Big Man goes 2-3 in the game, with 3 RBI
The Lone Gunman (whose name I now change to “Lord of the Universe, All mighty Ichiro”), grabs hit # 203, and wreaks his own vengeance all around the field. Plus, they grant him IBB #11 on the year. Look out, Barry.
Not much else of interest, unless you like using the entire bullpen to shore up Nageotte’s injury. Cha Sung Baek was recalled between games, as Clint went on the 15 Day DL. Free Pepsi ™ abounds.
Perhaps the greatest beneficiary of Ichiro’s hitting this summer has been Randy Winn, who now stands poised to hit .300 with 80-85 RBI, both career highs. Hitting behind the best batsman in the Al has done wonders for his offense, which was already pretty good. It’s his defense that bothers me, and true to form, he flubs another one in the large center area of the outfield.
Ah, well. Can’t have everything.
M’s Win, staving off elimination for another day.
Game 64a
Given the early start, and prospective long finish, Rick and I managed to do the instant upgrade my section allows for game one. During the break, we left our nifty seats (against my better judgment), to seek out strange new barbecue, and new sauces. We boldly go to the Man, as we have done before.
I remain 1-1-1(0). I’ll elaborate another time
But although we get a free magazine during the journey, “our” seats get nabbed by visiting Ichiros. No big deal, I know a place with a great view. Plenty of good seats left.
Bobby is on the mound. I like Bobby, He’s what a pitcher should be. Plus, he brings with him a fan club, like Bucky and Hiram Bocachica. In quite possibly one of the the coolest things I’ve seen to date in Seattle Baseball, A group of fans make it out to every one of Madritsch’s starts, get tickets in the outfield bleachers, and dance around as they gleefully record his Strikeouts with big, cardboard K’s.
Why, it’s as if we had actual baseball fans in this town. Sure, there’s the sign lady out in Right Center, and the big guy who hugs the moose down the baseline, the flag guy, and my personal favorite, Superman Guy( outlined here as one of the best moments of the 2000 season). But aside from them and me, this town needs a sports enema.
Seattlites cheer pop-ups, and boo their own starting pitchers. They cheer louder for the Hydro races than they do for a no-hitter, and then there’s the drunken idiots (2 or 3 per game) that are just bound and determined to start the wave. Almost every baseball fan I know in this town either grew up in another organization, or has been a Mariners fan since 77. To these worthies, I dedicate this double header.
The first one ever in Safeco Field history. There have been 24 double bills held here in Seattle (going back to the days of the Pilots, who played 8 home doubles in their only year of existence), and ironically, the first one held in each of Seattle’s Ballparks has been against the Kansas City Royals.
Now that’s something. Even in the days when “lets play two” was a part of the official schedule, the double header was a magical thing. Finally, Mariners fans got to see one in all of its outside glory, right here in Seattle.
Including the panic when the rains came during the second game. Lucky for us, we have that nifty roof thing.
My friend Ryan (who is freakishly tall) has a few ideas to improve the experience of Seattle Mariners baseball. After I Cuban-up and buy the team, we’re going to implement a few of them, including his theory that Safeco field should have announced “rain delay threat games”. These games would consist of one night game a month (preferably in a series with a day game following) when the roof will not be extended, no matter what the weather. These games would have the same chance of cancellation as in any other stadium without a roof, and would let Mariners fans in on all the joys of a rainout doubleheader, without the madness of driving to Tacoma.
It bears mentioning that I once drove to Tacoma’s Cheney Stadium on three successive days, and was rained out in each trip. Two of those games were announced as Double headers. Ah, well, the beer was cheap.
Further, the M’s record with the roof extended this year is even better than their record in extra inning games.
Undefeated.
Madritsh and his boys put up 8 strong innings, with 8 K’s (PEPSI!), 7 hits, 3 B, and 3 ER. That’s not so bad. In fact, that’s pretty freaking good. But he had to turn over the game to Shigetoshi Hasegawa in the 9th, accompanied by my cries of pain and despair.
After the coin toss, good Shiggy comes out of the doors, and with a glimpse of his 02 self, closes the doors on KC. But then the two hitters I want to see least in the ninth inning come up to bat.
Bret Boone, Scott Spezio. For some inexplicable reason, the S.S. Spezio and his sub-mendoza average have been in the game for all 9 defensive frames. Bucky has been our DH, while Edgar rests his weary bones. Combined, the two first basemen have gone 1-7, and Boone has hit his expected 1-3. Expected, meaning that Seattle Sportswriters will once again point to the day as an example of veterans who give “clutch performances” when called upon.
Horse Hockey. His bat is almost as afraid of the ball as he is. Neither of them can deal with an inside strike, and they both back away from it like clockwork. But even a broken clock is right twice a day, and Boone edges up to .500 for the game with a ringing double.
An effort destined for failure, with Triple S in the on deck circle. At first, he is replaced by Edgar Martinez, who prompted a pitching change before Boone took his first cuts. But then, he is subbed out for Willie Bloomquist, as Bunting Bob suddenly remembers that the boy can play first base. Too bad he didn’t think of that 9 innings ago.
Also too bad, Bloomquist bunts three balls foul, which is exactly the same as missing them entirely. Down he goes, and Jolbert Cabrera comes to the plate.
I would like to take this time to point out to …. ah, screw it. You all know he sucks offensively. But he works cheap.
JC smacks one deep and far, scoring Bret and tying the game up. Now, it’s Edgar time, as he comes in to hit for Ramon Santiago, who graciously sits down and breathes a sigh of relief. Edgar pops out instead of the kid, and one batter later (cough**#1hitterstikes outdamndamndamn**cough), we get bonus baseball to go with our… bonus baseball.
A possibility I distinctly warned Rick about the night before.
With all sorts of records on the line, the M’s take the field three more times, until Randy Winn ends the madness with a 2 run homer, scoring (of course) Ichiro.
Take that, Bret Boone.
M’s win. Finally.
4 wins in a row at home is such a rarity that I have to look back to the first series with the Rangers at Safeco this year to find its match. In April, when Scott Spezio could hit.
Of course, the Mariners did do it on the road, but it involved sweeping the Pirates. No big challenge there, as I think everybody’s done it at least once this year.
Go figure.
Books
Kill your TV
Madness
Rants
