OAKLAND ALEMEDA COUNTY COLLISEUM
I can't type that without hearing Howard Cosell's staccato pronunciation. It may be too much in the past, but with ESPN Classics, I hope you've been able to hear a little of the voice that gave definition to the NFL and Monday Night Football. But our trip to the Bay Area was about baseball, the BART, and a bad oyster.
Caroline had a convention in San Fran back in 1993. We pulled Courtney out of school and she accompanied us to the Fairmont Hotel for our three days. By this time our friend Cris Carpenter was a Texas Ranger. When we arrived at the hotel, Cris was pitching a whale of a game for the Rangers. I think he got the win.
While Caroline was at her convention, Courtney and I boarded the BART and went to an afternoon game in Oakland. A very nice stadium that is well adapted for baseball except for the huge foul territories. We got there early and headed, unimpeded to the rail to look for Cris. We surprised him with our presence and Courtney wearing a Ranger hat. His pitching coach, whose name escapes me now, and Cris came over to talk. Cris got in the game, but got shelled on this day. And in his next appearance if I recall.
I kept thinking of old Raider teams before they and their fans got urban or ghetto punk. And Cosell and Madden and Reggie and Catfish and those cool unis and their owner Charley Finley. It did have an atmosphere and beautiful weather.
The seats were good, the food was fine. A good day. Till Cris pitched. Overall I'd give the ballpark a solid B.
After the game we got back on the BART. We rode for awhile, and 13-year old Courtney tells me we need to change trains. No way, I thought. She pointed to a map, I looked across at a passenger within earshot and he nodded. I would really have gotten us lost. So ever since then Courtney directs me. Or Caroline. Or Scott. Or whomever I'm with. Hey, I know my limitations.
Except when it comes to eating. I love(d) oysters. I used to love to watch people eat their first raw one. If you haven't indulged and have a little hay fever, cold or sinus problem, just take a big sniff and swallow. That's what it's like. But I'd never got a bad one until that night. Boy was I sick for the next two days. One day, I managed to walk to a park across the street from the hotel and sit there with Courtney for about 30 minutes. That was it for that day. Except for getting real familiar with the Fairmont bathroom. It took me years to eat another of any kind. I still recall that trip and that time. I mumble a little prayer before I try them now.
I can't type that without hearing Howard Cosell's staccato pronunciation. It may be too much in the past, but with ESPN Classics, I hope you've been able to hear a little of the voice that gave definition to the NFL and Monday Night Football. But our trip to the Bay Area was about baseball, the BART, and a bad oyster.
Caroline had a convention in San Fran back in 1993. We pulled Courtney out of school and she accompanied us to the Fairmont Hotel for our three days. By this time our friend Cris Carpenter was a Texas Ranger. When we arrived at the hotel, Cris was pitching a whale of a game for the Rangers. I think he got the win.
While Caroline was at her convention, Courtney and I boarded the BART and went to an afternoon game in Oakland. A very nice stadium that is well adapted for baseball except for the huge foul territories. We got there early and headed, unimpeded to the rail to look for Cris. We surprised him with our presence and Courtney wearing a Ranger hat. His pitching coach, whose name escapes me now, and Cris came over to talk. Cris got in the game, but got shelled on this day. And in his next appearance if I recall.
I kept thinking of old Raider teams before they and their fans got urban or ghetto punk. And Cosell and Madden and Reggie and Catfish and those cool unis and their owner Charley Finley. It did have an atmosphere and beautiful weather.
The seats were good, the food was fine. A good day. Till Cris pitched. Overall I'd give the ballpark a solid B.
After the game we got back on the BART. We rode for awhile, and 13-year old Courtney tells me we need to change trains. No way, I thought. She pointed to a map, I looked across at a passenger within earshot and he nodded. I would really have gotten us lost. So ever since then Courtney directs me. Or Caroline. Or Scott. Or whomever I'm with. Hey, I know my limitations.
Except when it comes to eating. I love(d) oysters. I used to love to watch people eat their first raw one. If you haven't indulged and have a little hay fever, cold or sinus problem, just take a big sniff and swallow. That's what it's like. But I'd never got a bad one until that night. Boy was I sick for the next two days. One day, I managed to walk to a park across the street from the hotel and sit there with Courtney for about 30 minutes. That was it for that day. Except for getting real familiar with the Fairmont bathroom. It took me years to eat another of any kind. I still recall that trip and that time. I mumble a little prayer before I try them now.
posted by TQ @ 6:09 PM
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