It Was All Over, Including the Shouting

2014 MLB Opening Week stencil on the field at Oakland Coliseum. April 2, 2014

On April 2, I caught the second half of a double-header between the Oakland Athletics and the Cleveland Indians. (The game had been rescheduled from the previous evening, due to rain.) I sat close the Indians’ dugout. The cheeks in my section’s seats were just as likely to belong to a Tribe fan, as an A’s fan. My people showed up well, and in respectable numbers. Even so, after the game I felt lucky to escape Oakland Coliseum with my Indians jersey intact.

What is UP with Oakland fans? Some of them are crazy, and I don’t mean in a zany, entertaining, endearing way. I suppose if I had to watch baseball in a dilapidated stadium with regular sewage back-ups and remnants of the Raiders’ gridiron still visible in August, I’d be bitter too. In fact, I have traditionally favored building the A’s a new stadium south of San Francisco, because they are an excellent team and lifting them up would be good for baseball. Now, I’m not so sure.

Forget the bleachers, it would seem that the nastiest A’s fans prefer to sit near first base, close to the visitor’s dugout — for maximum heckling effect. They don’t just ridicule opposing players; they also deride their fans, should they dare to cheer audibly. It’s as if they enjoy HATING the opposition more than they like cheering for their own team, which seems twisted and sad.

First baseman Nick Swisher joined the Tribe two years ago, and I’ve seen him play in Oakland before. Each time, A’s fans hurl hateful insults at him like I’ve never heard. I mean it, and I’m from CLEVELAND, where LeBron James committed his crimes against humanity. I understand justified vitriol of fans who have been wronged – but LeBron voluntarily took his talents to Miami in 2010. Since then, like most Cavs fans, I have pulled myself together and moved on.

Nick Swisher left Oakland six seasons ago, and not even by choice! He was traded to the Chicago White Sox in 2008, before again being traded to the New York Yankees. One particularly odious Oakland fan heckled Swisher over and over for his greediness, how much he got paid per strikeout etc., so I assume he thought Swisher had jumped ship to the Yankees for their deep pockets. Unfortunately this ill-informed joker didn’t shut up all night.

Another bad, bad fan sat nearby, solo. (I was also a party of one, but at least I have decent photos to show for it.) This guy drank a lot, and appeared to seethe even when the A’s led on the scoreboard – which was often. His favorite taunt? “You WEEEEEAAAAAK!” Not “you are weak” or “you’re weak”. But “YOU WEAK”. He even called Indians catcher Carlos Santana weak after he got a hit. A double. Whatever.

This sad little man belittled Santana with racist insults I won’t repeat here, because they honestly made me sick to my stomach. (I heard similar taunting, to a much lesser extent, at a spring training game in March.) As if that wasn’t bad enough, strangers around the idiot LAUGHED. I overheard another heckler say, “This guy is so funny, he could keep me going all night!” Oh.My.God.

I refuse to accept the “nervous laughter” defense here. If you are nervous try biting your nails, grinding your teeth or indulging in emotional eating like a normal person. Do not giggle or chuckle. It only encourages a bigot.

Meanwhile, Oakland Coliseum “Guest Services” personnel stood around looking bored. I still am not sure what services they provide.

Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. This last heckler also went after shortstop Asdrubal Cabrera a few times, but inadvertently referred to him as “Melky”. Such was the level of aptitude I was surrounded by. I was tempted to point out that Melky Cabrera is a different player who has never worn an Indians uniform, but the risk of a “they all look alike to me” comeback was just too high.

So it was only fitting that the Indians turned things around in the 9th inning, with the help of A’s pitcher Jim Johnson. Things got very quiet, except for an occasional insult redirected at Johnson, instead of my Tribe. The Indians won, 6-4. As I packed up my camera equipment, I couldn’t help but notice that the heckling mob had already dissipated. Guess they were worried about traffic on a chilly Wednesday night. In Oakland, California. At 9:30 p.m.

Funny, Nick Swisher appeared to find the post-game atmosphere quite comfortable. Very satisfying.

I could say “suck it”, but I won’t. Instead I’ll say, Roll Tribe.. and congratulations to second baseman Jason Kipnis, who signed a six-year, $52.5 million contract with the Indians today — one day after his 27th birthday.

I called it first: He’s a keeper. Happy birthday Jason.

Cleveland Indians second baseman Jason Kipnis celebrates the Tribe's taking the lead in the 9th inning at Oakland Coliseum. April 2, 2014.
Jason Kipnis, back when he was 26.

2013, or How Baseball Broke My Heart

A cha cha bowl, courtesy of Orlando's Caribbean BBQ at AT&T Park. (Photo by The Travelling Hungryboy)
A cha-cha bowl at Orlando’s Caribbean BBQ courtesy of The Travelling Hungryboy.

Over the past week or so I’ve detected a whiff of fall in the air, which always makes me a little melancholy.  Days are getting shorter, and nights are becoming chillier… except in San Francisco, where the exact opposite is true.  Even so, in clothing chains all over town, corduroys and wool sweaters in warm autumn shades have replaced flip flops and linen shorts.  Where did the time go?

The end of summer 2013 is especially blue for me as a baseball fan.  The San Francisco Giants – currently occupying the cellar in the National League West – have no chance of repeating last year’s World Series run.  And the Cleveland Indians are seven games out of first place in the American League Central, which means my dream of a Giants/Indians October throw down will have to wait at least one more year.

Over the weekend, I caught two of three games in the Oakland Athletics vs. Cleveland Indians series across the Bay.  Unfortunately/naturally, the game I skipped was the only game the Tribe won.

It was fun to see the Indians in person for the first time since spring training, but it was tough to sit silently as Oakland fans celebrated being only .5 games out of first in the American League West.  Having spent 2010 and 2012 cheering the Giants to the World Series, losing smarted.  I did not enjoy it… but deep down I’m happy for the As.  They are a talented, scrappy, underrated, red-headed-stepchild of a baseball team, with a crummy, dilapidated ballpark.

Can someone please get that team a new ballpark?  The flawed sewage system in the restrooms should be reason enough.  (My advice to ladies visiting Oakland Coliseum – schedule your potty breaks before the 6th inning.  Otherwise… YUCK.)

Today I picked up a couple of Giants tickets on StubHub, at bargain basement prices (relatively speaking).  Even though the team is zapping my strength, come October I’ll long for “summer” evenings at AT&T Park, wearing a ski parka and using a cha-cha bowl as a hand warmer.  I’ll fill the void with the NFL and the NBA, but I’ll really just be going through the motions – at least until the first winter storm drops buckets of cold rain on San Francisco.

Until then… some photos from my bittersweet weekend.

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Not The Giants’ Sunday Best

Tim Lincecum
Tim Lincecum

I caught Sunday’s San Francisco Giants game against the Oakland Athletics.  The weather cooperated, but the As did not.  They beat the Giants 6-2.

My seat was just to the right of the Giants dugout, deep in Larry Baer territory.  So while I’m pleased with the photos I took, I’d be a fool if I didn’t give proper props to location, location, location.

Sunday was my first time being in such close proximity to Tim Lincecum on the mound.  It was the perfect vantage point from which to watch him get creamed by Collin Cowgill.  Ouch.

It wasn’t Timmy’s finest hour… but I still had fun, and at those prices (ouch, again) THAT is what counts…

That, and scoring a Brian Wilson gnome!   I arrived one hour before AT&T Park’s gates opened, and waited patiently in line for one.  No small children were injured in the capture and taming of my gnome.

A San Francisco Giants promotional giveaway: Brian Wilson Gnome (2012)

Timmy Takes It On The Chin

San Francisco Giants pitcher Tim Lincecum has to cover home plate from time to time, and I always cringe when he does it.  These photos of his collision with Collin Cowgill in the fourth inning of today’s game against the Oakland A’s illustrate why.

Timmy’s ankle, especially in the second shot, stirred some intense flashbacks of last season’s Buster Posey collision at the plate.   And I could see his head snap back after Cowgill’s batting helmet struck his jaw.

Those few seconds when Timmy was face down in the dirt felt very long.  He’s a string bean.  But he’s our string bean.  And he’s tough.

My Diamond Level Best

Jack Hannahan

As a die-hard San Francisco Giants fan, I buy plenty of tickets to games each season from either the Giants, or StubHub.  I avoid keeping a tally because I don’t want to know the out-of-pocket – although it’s safe to say that Suze Orman would not approve.

This season, I decided to branch out and also buy a ticket to see my other favorite team – the Cleveland Indians – play the Oakland As.  Not surprisingly, As tickets are much easier to come by than Giants tickets, and the “best available” option online can be a blessing or a curse, depending on your budget.

My best available seat for Sunday’s game at Oakland Coliseum was on the Diamond Level.  The name suggested that I wasn’t going to be stuck in the bleachers, but you never know, right?  Maybe there’s also a Krugerrand Level or a Platinum Level?

Another clue?  The fact that you don’t really see signs for the Diamond Level anywhere in the ballpark, which I assume is intentional.   I had to ask five different ushers for directions, and each time was told cryptically to “turn left/right at the hat stand”.  It felt very prohibition-era, like I might be expected to know a secret handshake or password to get past the bouncer.

When I finally found the secret passageway next to “the hats”, an usher gave me directions to the bowels of the stadium.  (Perhaps the Diamond Level also got its name because getting there feels a bit like descending into the mines?)  I was then coached on protocol.  It was at this point that I began to understand why my ticket cost so much.

The walk to my seat was like slipping backstage at a Springsteen show – except it was very quiet.  The usher pointed to tape running along the floor, splitting the walkway in half.  I was to stay to the left, because players from the opposing team (a.k.a. the Tribe) would be walking back and forth to their locker room on the right.  I was advised not to speak to the players, and that photos are strictly verboten in the hallway.  In fact, I was not even allowed to carry my cell phone in my hand, because I might be tempted to snap an iPhone pic.

Are you kidding me?  The only thing separating me and lovable Jack “Super Mannahan” Hannahan would be a sliver of masking tape?  Sadly I passed Jack and Jason Kipnis on my way down… and dropped my head to stare at my sneakers.  I was nervous and shy, so I suppose I defaulted to Zoo Rules:  Don’t try to touch the player (he may bite!), make eye contact with him, or feed him your hot dog scraps.

Speaking of food scraps, food is free on the Diamond Level – well, given the ticket price I guess it’s more accurate to call it complimentary – through the seventh inning.  And they have LOBSTER ROLLS down there!  Food orders are taken, and food is delivered, by very handsome waiters.  Too bad no one told me all this in advance, before I bought a bratwurst up on the concourse.

As these photos attest, my seat was right behind home plate, a few yards from the on-deck circle.  Before and after the game, I could photograph players going to/from the dugout, which I’m sure they hate.  A few of them rushed past like they were running the gauntlet.

All in all, my foray into super-luxury seating was a blast, despite the game’s final score.  (The Tribe lost 5-1.)  I got the kind of photos I’d hoped for – not a ton of variety but amazing detail, like Justin Masterson’s facial expressions when he pitches.  I also scored one lobster roll, awesome ballpark nachos, two Sam Adamses, two bottles of water and a bag of peanuts (still in my purse).  Throw in some above-average Bay Area baseball weather and I’d say I broke even.

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