Great Baseball travels of 2006...

Left: Great American Ballpark

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Back home from one of the wildest sports trips of my lifetime. The fact my wife tagged along with me throughout (and rarely complained) made the journey even harder to comprehend. Plus, the fact I was traveling with a broken rib, discovered early last week, made the journey even more zany.

As for the rib, it's not too bad, it's a non-displaced fracture of one of my left ribs. I would like to say I broke it while water skiing or something exciting, but, no, I injure myself in unglamorous ways these days. After taking that spill on my wet garage floor last November and spraining the LCL in my right knee in the process, I took this even one better. On the Thursday after 4th of July, I was straining as I was leaning over a trash bin in front of our house, trying to gently set an old potted plant in the bin and keep it from spilling. Why I was being so careful when filling a trash bin escapes me, but that's what I was doing. As I stretched and leaned over the edge of the cast-iron (I think it was cast-iron) bin, I heard something pop on my left side. I thought I merely strained something in my side, so I went about business as normal for the next few days with a persistent side ache.

After a few days, however, it wasn't getting any better, so I decided to go to the doctor, who immediately ordered x-rays. Next thing, they were telling me one of my ribs was broken! Good news was that it wasn't likely to get further injured unless I went out to play football or something, and so as long as the pain was bearable, I could probably be okay and go on our trip as planned. Still, I shortened the trip a bit on both ends, while stitching together the appropriate sky miles on Delta (it's a hassle maneuvering between "Sky Saver" 25,000 miles and "Sky Choice" 50,000 miles), all around a Saturday morning flight from Detroit to BWI which I found on Northwest for an astonishing $59 one way (thanks to Southwest Airlines for forcing NWA to compete with it on one of the same routes!).

Part of the re-configuring and assembling the Delta miles correctly meant that if I wanted to leave Wednesday morning instead of Tuesday and still use only 25000 Delta miles (and not 50000) to get back to Cincinnati, I would have to leave from Las Vegas or San Francisco, and not Orange County or one of the Southern California airports. I did the quick math in my head and realized the cheapest alternative (always my first option) was to rent a car and drive to Las Vegas Wed. morning, in time to catch the 12:30 PM flight from LAS to CVG. We had not driven to Las Vegas in 2 years and my wife was surprisingly up for this added twist to our adventure. But we had to pick up the car in Long Beach on Tuesday night, as Orange County Airport was flat out of rentals. So, we drove to LGB last Tuesday night, listening to the end of the All-Star game on the way, and we had our car to drive to Las Vegas Wednesday morning to begin our adventure.

I also decided that staying through Wednesday, July 19 as first planned was probably a bit much, but I had to jump through some Delta hoops once again to make the miles fit. Presto, instead of flying out from Philadelphia on Wednesday morning, we found Sky Saver flights for only 25,000 miles out of Washington National on Monday afternoon. Which was fine, as now our rental car from BWI on Saturday would be only a 2-day rental at a much lower rate than 4 days and an extra drop-off charge at Philadelphia Airport. I feel like I should write a book on how to make these travel pieces fit!

Our first stop was Cincinnati, the secondary Delta hub, where I had connected numerous times over the past few years but hadn't stepped out of the airport since 1994, when meeting Dan and Paul for the Kentucky Derby. The flight to Cincy was actually kind of exciting, being that we drove to Las Vegas early Wed. morning to catch the flight. We even had time for a quick stop at the Luxor Hotel before heading to the airport and the new Delta terminal at McCarran. The flight was now shorter than from Orange County, too, so good all the way around.

Cincy proved to be our only multi-night visit of the trip, though we actually stayed near the airport in northern Kentucky. And, though I have played this tune before, I think we might have found a place to eventually move. Northern Kentucky proved a real delight, and we went out looking with a realtor for homes on Thursday afternoon. Check the link above for a look at this incredible bargain!



This particular property, on over 7 acres, really knocked our socks off, priced under $500K. Wow! And it's only about 20 minutes from Cincy airport!

Thursday night was time for the Reds and a first visit to Great American Ballpark. We enjoyed the late afternoon on the riverfront, though the Kentucky side seems more commercialized. We walked across the bridge to the Newport Levee, a nice entertainment complex on the Kentucky side of the river. If there is one complaint I have about Great American Ballpark, it's that the Cincy side has no similar entertainment venue on its side of the river. Perhaps one is in the works in the area between Great American Ballpark and Paul Brown Stadium, but for now, the stadiums are a bit removed from the city, and there is no real integration with the surrounding downtown (as in Baltimore, Detroit, Wrigley Field, etc.).

Other than that, I found little to complain about at Great American Ballpark. A must-see is the attached Reds Hall of Fame, which is a gem. I can't think of an American team, except for perhaps the Green Bay Packers, with anything similar. All I could think of in the same team Hall of Fame league would be the FC Barcelona Museum in Barcelona, Spain, which is another gem. The Barca museum is much better than the Real Madrid and Arsenal museums, and the Reds version is right there neck-and-neck with Barca.

The crowd at Reds-Rockies was a very well-mannered and respectful audience. They know baseball in Cincy, and it was refreshing to see how the scoreboard operator wasn't incessantly "working" the fans in the schlocky manner it is done in many parks. The baseball generated the entertainment. The setting of Great American is very peaceful, too, looking out over the Ohio River to the rolling hills on the Kentucky side. This park doesn't have as many bells and whistles as does Detroit, Houston, or one of the other splashier new parks, but it is a fine baseball palace. Food choices were unique and plentiful, including my favorite Skyline Chili. The prices were not too bad, though the tickets were more expensive than comparable ones in Pittsburgh and Kansas City.

All in all, Great American is a must-see, especially with that Reds Hall of Fame attached.

After our second consecutive breakfast at a nearby Waffle House on Friday morning, we left our palatial Days Inn accommodations and motored north in our modest Chevy Cobalt on I-75, on our way to Motown. (I had also traded in the first car rental for another Cobalt, with the 2-day CVG rate and 1-day rate and dropoff in Detroit a much better deal than a 3-day rental with a dropoff at DTW--don't ask why,that's just how it added up!). I had never made that trip up the western flank of Ohio, and it was a very pleasant journey. Dayton and Toledo provided big city landmarks along the way, and I also was astounded at how close Bowling Green U hugs I-75 (the football stadium is adjacent to the highway!). BGSU is only about 20 minutes south of Toledo, so now I realize how heated that Mid-American rivalry between the Falcons and Toledo Rockets must be!

The ride up to Detroit was only about 4 hours, and we checked into our luxurious Comfort Inn near DTW airport. Then, we headed straight into Motown, and for the first time I sensed apprehension on my wife's face. She had only been to Detroit when connecting at the airport, and this was her first up-close look at the bombed out, hulk of a city. Driving into town on I-94 past the world's biggest Uniroyal tire was about as much excitement as poor Dolores had that afternoon. As I turned off the freeway heading into downtown and headed to the Corktown area, she was horrified by the neighborhood, and looking at old, battered Tiger Stadium, still sitting alone, was depressing. The place appeared in worse condition than it did the last time I came by in 2004, with vandals now having harmed the vacant place, and the old stadium looked sad, knowing its days are numbered. Regrettably, they will be tearing it down soon.

For my wife, that was only the beginning. She looked nervous as we drove deeper into downtown, though in fact the city starts to improve the closer to the Detroit River and Renaissance Center one goes. I parked the car in a desolate looking lot adjacent to Lafayette Coney Island, the famous hot dog/chili dog restaurant, and my wife had fear in her eyes. "You're not really going in there," she said.

"Yes I am," I blurted, "it's the best chili dog in the world! Aren't you going with me?"

My wife gave me a cold stare, but being only a few steps from chili dog bliss, my destination was clear, and she sensed my resolve. I was not about to leave her in the car alone, but I sensed the threat of doing so would hop her to attention.

"They serve quick, and we'll only be a few minutes," I said. "You can either come with me or stay here in the car."

Amazingly, with no complaint, she hopped out of the car and joined me, though criminals being led to the gallows wore happier expressions.

Once inside, my wife mostly looked down at the well-worn formica tables in this no-nonsense establishment, afraid to make eye contact with one of the customers or passers-by, lest they be criminals. Surprisingly, she even had the guts to raise her head and order a hot dog--but only with mustard. I should have warned her that this would insult the proprietors, who prided their chili dogs.

"You mean you only want mustard on your hot dog?," they asked her. After all, I had ordered three of the real deal chili dogs for myself. "No chili? Are you sure?"

My wife stood firm, however, an admirable stance. I could get her into Lafayette Coney Island, but darned if I was going to get her to eat one of their chili dogs!

After one of the fastest meals of our life, we went back to our car, my wife certain that a bullet would be whizzing by any moment. Though I am not naive enough to think any area of Detroit is safe, this block didn't seem so bad. I have been to worse places, and the courthouse was literally across the street. There are not going to be any riots breaking out around Lafayette Coney Island.

We then drove under the river to Windsor, Ontario, which was the first time my wife had ever stepped foot in Canada. Downtown Windsor is a little schlocky, a lot of tacky souvenir shops and such, but there is a wondrous hotel and casino (Detroit, by the way, has three major casinos of its own these days), and it seems safer than Detroit. The guard at the Canada border was a bit incredulous, as our second rental Chevy Cobalt (yes, I had two of them on the trip, one blue and one silver) had an Alabama license plate, and explaining that we were from California and had driven up from Cincinnati (Kentucky, actually) with Alabama plates seemed to disconcert the guard. Until, that is, I produced the two Tigers tickets and told him we were on a baseball trip, and that we were just playing tourist in Windsor for a few minutes before the game. Now satisfied that we were harmless, we proceeded.

Interestingly, when we came back into the USA, a black border guard who resembled officer Smitty from Sanford & Son practically waved us through when we showed him the Tigers tickets!

As for Comerica Park, it was my third visit, and I give the city of Detroit a lot of credit. They have revitalized the Greektown portion of downtown with the new stadium and the Lions' Ford Field, which is adjacent. It integrates nicely with several renovated city blocks around the ballpark. Festive pre-game hangouts dot the area, including the wondrous Hockeytown, a three-story fun-fest across from the main parking lot, and Chris Chelios' new restaurant (Chelio's Chili Bar) beyond the right field entrance.

The ballpark itself is a bit gaudy, with Tiger statues and Tiger faces festooned everywhere around the place, with the obligatory Ernie Harwell photos thrown in for good measure, but it is a fun place, including a carousel and ferris wheel for kids and all the food choices you could ever want. The deck in right field reminds a bit of Ashburn's Alley and of a similar deck at Turner Field Atlanta. This place has all the bells and whistles...probably too many.

The park is okay for watching, but it's not the best of the new ones. Cleveland, for example, is a more "vertical" park, as the top decks seats are closer to the field. At Comerica, they have pushed the upper decks a bit further back, all to accommodate the top section of the first deck and its lounge chairs, an unnecessary addition. Sight lines, therefore, are somewhat like the Phils' new ballpark, which is big for a new stadium.

There was a deluge before the game which seemed to keep the crowd a bit subdued, and it drizzled off and on throughout the night, but the place woke up once the game began. With a capacity crowd excited how the Tigers are flying in the AL Central, the place was very animated, though the underdog Royals put up a great fight. My wife even made a prediction for the record books when she called Angel Berroa's home run (Angel Berroa?). As she is known to do, my wife began to cheer for the Royals, as she didn't particularly like a know-it-all Tiger fan sitting nearby.

This is a different side of Dolores few people get to see. And it is the same Dolores who, a few years ago, when watching a Real Madrid game at the famous Bernabeu Stadium in Madrid, began to cheer vocally for the visiting Valladolid side, drawing looks of contempt from Real Madrid's ultras. Amazingly, she doesn't seem to care. For the record, we didn't see that side of her in Cincinnati. She was actually cheering for the Reds, because, according to her, that's her new favorite team.

To Dolores' dismay, the Tigers won in dramatic fashion, 10-9, on Carlos Guillen's homer in the bottom of the 9th, but by that time we had retreated to the beer hall downstairs as I didn't want her to cause a commotion with the rabid Tigers fans. After the game came a spectacular fireworks show, better than the ones we saw on 4th of July. All in all, it was a fun night, and even my wife admitted as much, though she exited disdaining the Tigers because of that one know-it-all fan sitting in front of us.

Still, the best line of the night came from that unexpected source, Dolores. The message board always puts the faces of the players in the Tiger hats on the screen when they come to bat. Underneath the message board is a rotating ad board, and on one of those, Ernie Harwell himself is the pitch man, with a picture of 'ol Ernie, donning a Tigers cap, highlighting the message.

When this ad rotated in during one of the innings, my wife, not knowing Harwell from Adam, looked at it incredulously and said, "Hey, look how old that guy is on the Tigers!" She had mistaken the Harwell ad picture for one of the Tigers!

On Saturday morning we had a quick breakfast at Bob's Big Boy (my wife was thrilled, as they had closed the Big Boys in Southern California in the '80s) and headed for nearby DTW to catch that $59 flight to BWI, They offered an upgrade to first class for only $25 and we took it. After all, that made the cost only $84, still a good deal, and we could fly in some comfort. Detroit's Northwest terminal is one of the best in the country, with a new monorail system connecting the gates, lots of new shops and restaurants, etc. Other older terminals at DTW remain a bit dingy (the Southwest terminal I used the last time through was subpar) but this new Northwest terminal, which I had experienced briefly when connected through to London on a snowy February night just after it opened in 2004, is something special!

BWI is a decent airport, and they have even upgraded a few of the terminals (such as Southwest's), but Northwest still uses the older building, and they have moved the rental cars far offsite. It took a while to get our luggage and get the car, but it is a relatively short drive into downtown Baltimore and the Harborplace, near the stadium, and we killed those few hours walking around the harbor with what seemed like thousands of other visitors. The short drive also spared us time on I-95, which would rear its ugly head later in the trip.

Orioles-Rangers began at the odd time of 4:30 PM, but this was Dolores' first trip inside Oriole park at Camden Yards so I gave her the tour. An unexpected surprise was Boog Powell himself at his BBQ stand, signing autographs. I had actually seen Boog at the 1986 All-Star game and couldn't resist mentioning the same thing 20 years later...that we both had the same birthday of August 17! One of those useless bits of trivia from baseball cards in my youth, but it comes in handy once in a while, and Boog lit up like a Christmas tree when I mentioned the date.

"What year for you?," he asked.

"1958," I said. "You, me, and Diego Segui are all August 17," I added, remembering from my mid-1960s baseball cards that Segui was another with my birthday.

He asked what year Segui was born, and I said that I thought it was 1938 (I since found out it was 1937), and Boog seemed surprised. "Geez, I always thought he was younger than me." He then told me he was born in 1941. I walked away happy, knowing that no one else was likely to bring up August 17 or Diego Segui to big Boog the rest of the day and night.

Camden Yards is of course the prototype for all of the newer retro ballparks, and it is a comfy place to watch the action. Although I agree with Dan that the warehouse is an unnecessary accomplice to the park, that the resulting obstructed view of the downtown skyline and the inability of the Chesapeake breezes to penetrate the warehouse are negatives. I didn't have the attachment to old Memorial than Dan had, but I get his drift. Many of the newer retro parks are better than Baltimore's (Pittsburgh's, to be sure), but Camden Yards is still a pretty nice place. The food choices are unremarkable, however, just standard ballpark fare, though the hot dog and sausage prices were lower than I remembered and surprisingly good by comparison to some other parks.

There were loads of kids and families sitting near us, and as always I enjoyed the Baltimore baseball crowd. Dan fought north through I-95 traffic and joined us upstairs in the later innings. We both groused about giving Peter Angelos any money, but the surroundings and atmosphere were nice and the fans very happy as the O's whipped the Rangers 8-1.

Afterwards, Dan proceeded to take us on a comprehensive tour of Baltimore, which was a first for my wife (Dan and Ken Sokolow had showed me around a few years earlier). We saw almost every nook and cranny of the city and took a nostalgic spin by the site of old Memorial Stadium, where I had not been since just before it was demolished in 2000 (and when I saved a couple of pieces of chipped stadium brick from the facade of the old park). It was sad seeing that piece of land now occupied by a community center, and much of it still vacant. To think, this was once the hallowed ground of Unitas and Brooks Robinson, and now most of it sits empty. The remains of the old stadium are now part of an oyster bed out in the Chesapeake, but I saved some pieces of brick from the same fate, and they now sit, rather undignified, in one of my sock drawers.

Better my sock drawer than with oysters at the bottom of Chesapeake Bay, I say.

Our tour around Baltimore after the game proved lengthy, and, hungry, we made our way back to Harborplace to eat, but it was now 1030 PM, and we still had a night of driving up I-95 ahead of us. My grand plan was to see a Yankees game for the first time in old Yankee Stadium on Sunday, July 16. For a time we even thought about staying the weekend in NY, but with most hotel prices starting at $300 per night, I came up with the ingenious idea of staying out in New Jersey next to an NJ Transit stop, and we could just train it into Manhattan on Sunday morning. Ingenious, perhaps, but driving north on I-95 almost 200 miles on Saturday night could qualify me as insane in some quarters. Nonetheless, the delay in Baltimore proved a blessing, as the normally choked I-95 traffic had cleared by the late hour, and we barreled up I-95 and across the Delaware Memorial Bridge and up the NJ Turnpike with little or no traffic.

Our destination was Iselin and the Metropark station, but first I had to find the Days Inn off of the turnpike, which was a bit tricky. After 1:30AM I found the Days Inn. Even by Days Inn standards (of which I am familiar), this was an unremarkable facility, but the accommodations were adequate for a quick night of sleep and a quick 5-minute drive to Metropark on Sunday morning, where for the princely sum of $12.50 per person, round-trip, we had our transportation into Manhattan for a day of fun.

Dolores had been a great trooper the previous few days, seeing baseball games in 3 different cities in as many days, an unprecedented occurrence for her (3 games in a whole season is usually a heavy dose for her, much less 3 in as many days in as many cities), but she had opted out of the Yankee Stadium experience before the trip, instead preferring to walk around Manhattan to browse and shop at the various Sunday street fairs and real stores.

We got into Penn Station at about 9 AM and walked up 7th Avenue past Times Square, to about 56th Street, where we had breakfast at a restaurant at the base of the Wellington Hotel that we had frequented before. Sunday is by far the best day of the week in New York, Sunday mornings in particular, when the city seems to collectively catch its breath from the night before. After, we walked up to Central Park and over to 5th Avenue, where we headed in different directions, and planned to rendezvous back at the lobby of the Sheraton Towers on 52nd and 7th at 4:30 PM. She was off to the street fairs and shopping and I was off to Yankee Stadium!

I had been by Yankee Stadium before but had never been to a game inside of the park, so this was going to be a real treat, and the climax of my trip. I walked over to Lexington Avenue and 60th and caught the 4 subway up to the Bronx. What an easy ride, in air conditioned comfort, no more than 20 minutes via the subway all of the way to 161st and the Yankee Stadium stop!

Since I had been by the place before, I was not surprised by some of the squalid surroundings. This was hardly Harborplace in downtown Baltimore, or the new area adjacent to PNC Park in Pittsburgh. The only redeeming thing about the area immediately around the stadium is that it has improved from several years ago. Still, it had its charm, and the fact I was at Yankee Stadium was treat enough.

I have been to games in New York.New Jersey before so I knew the old stereotype about the New York fans was a bit exaggerated. Sure there were some loudmouths but there are boorish fans almost everywhere, and I was surprised to see what looked like nearly as many tourists as hard-core fans at this game vs. the White Sox. Most every fan I encountered was good-natured, and many of them spent the day taking photos (a sure sign they were out-of-towners or first-time visitors). I arrived early enough to be herded (literally) into Monument Park, which was a bit too crowded with fans to really reflect on the place. But the atmosphere was mostly jovial and I found the Yankee fans to not be too annoying at all. Indeed, there was a hard-core Chisox fan in our section who enjoyed some good-natured ribbing from Yankees fans all afternoon, a game the Yanks eventually won 6-4.

Food-wise, it was pretty standard ballpark fare, though unlike the tickets, the food and drink prices didn't seem too exorbitant. Beer is pretty expensive everywhere; I opted for a soda in a souvenir cup for only $4, which wasn't a bad deal as I will keep the cup and use it in the future.

As for the Yankee Stadium experience, it was a treat, though if someone was expecting more, he or she might be disappointed. Surprisingly, the sight lines were pretty good, especially up in the top deck (where I sat, in Tier 8 between home and 3B), where I felt closer to the action than at Baltimore. Still, the old history of the park has been pretty well hidden since it was remodeled in the mid 70s. We are left with some of the charm and some of the discomforts of the old park (such as the narrow concourses), but this is mostly a mid-70s park now. Without the monuments, and some of the old-style facade now adorning the rim of the park in the outfield, the modern Yankee Stadium wouldn't inspire much nostalgia. It's not the same place as it was in the days of Ruth and Gehrig and DiMaggio, much as Lambeau Field today is hardly the place it was during the days of Starr, Hornung, etc. Indeed, the best throwback about the park is hearing old Bob Sheppard still doing the P.A. as he has done since 1951!

I asked a few fans where the new Yankee Stadium would be built but no one seemed to know the answer. I suppose it will be in the park adjacent and just north of the current stadium, but they're going to have to condemn some other property nearby, unless they're going to put it exactly on the site of the old ballpark. And since I don't think the Yankees are planning on relocating to Shea Stadium as they did in 1974-75 when Yankee Stadium was rebuilt. I am assuming they are going to knock some stuff down and make room for the new park a few hundred feet north of the old one.

They could also use a rebuilt subway stop, which by NY standards is kind of dingy. If anything disappointed me about the day, that rickety subway stop might be it. Still, riding the subway is the only way to get too and from the game. I saw that traffic jam before the game and few places to park nearby and wondered why on earth anyone would drive to Yankee Stadium, when one can catch a subway from almost anywhere in town and get to the park the easy way.

Still, the trip to Yankee Stadium should be a pilgrimage for any baseball fan. The place isn't nearly as hostile as rumored, as most people there want to have a good time, as they do everywhere else. The train into Manhattan and hop to the subway should make it an easy baseball adventure for any fan within a couple of hundred miles. Painless and easy...as long as you don't drive to the stadium, that is.

We rendezvoused as planned at 4:30 PM at the Sheraton and had a late lunch/early dinner at the nearby Stage Deli and weaved our way back to Penn Station on foot. Late Sunday afternoon had become far more crowded with visitors and tourists than the morning hours, and I made sure to protect my broken rib as we careened through the pedestrians. Perhaps I should have done the taxi but we had walked so much the previous few days that we weren't bothered by the stroll down 7th Avenue, no matter how crowded it had become.

We had a good wait at Penn Station for the next train to Metropark but eventually we were on our way and reunited with our rental car (this time a boxy PT Cruiser) at Iselin. I remembered the last time I was at the Metropark station, the night of the 2004 Smarty Jones loss at the Belmont when we thought we had lost Doctor Al at the racetrack, only to hook up again at the station hours later!

The plan was to ride back down I-95 on Sunday night to Dan's house, where we would stay before heading to nearby Washington National Airport on Monday for the flight home. Unfortunately I-95 had other ideas. We were cruising southbound for much of the journey until just after the Delaware rest stop by U of Dee in Newark, when traffic stopped cold. This looked to be a major snafu and we decided that discretion was the better part of valor, determining that we should just stay the night nearby rather than fight the horrid traffic. We immediately turned around at the rest stop and headed back north to the Christiana exit, where several accommodations were available. For a change of pace we picked the Red Roof Inn, which usually rates a cut above Days Inn (by my experience, at least) and stayed the night in Delaware before heading south again on I-95 Monday morning.

The interstate had one last curveball to throw our way, stopping cold south of Baltimore around Laurel, jammed tight before even hitting the dreaded DC beltway. Eventually we made our way into Virginia and had time to have breakfast with Dan at our favorite Original Pancake House in Falls Church before heading to National Airport. I had flown from BWI and Dulles several times but never National, so this was a new airport experience, and it was surprisingly convenient and easy, with no extra security measures than usual.

So, there we had it. Four ballparks in as many days, a new record for me. In the past I had done 4 games in 3 parks in 4 days, and 5 games in 4 parks in 5 days, but never 4 straight days in 4 different parks. As for my wife, I would say that 3 games in 3 parks in as many days for her is a Dolores record that will stand for a long time.



The last treat of the trip? The flight home connected through our newly beloved Cincinnati, and gave me another chance to experience chili, this time the Gold Star variety, at the airport. A couple of cheese coneys and a chili burger later, and even the flight connections on this trip proved a joy.

And, tired as we are (and sore as I am), we can't wait for the next baseball trip!