Well, it was quite a trip.
Funny thing about trying to duplicate a previous success... you just can't count on it, you know? Last year we were at baseball activities 12+ hours a day.
This year it didn't work out like that. Oh, we saw three games in three days. We showed up early, visited some new parks, bumped into a pro ballplayer in the airport... But really, we ended up getting in about half as much baseball as we'd planned.
***
Hood was running late Friday morning, so we made our plane with no time to spare. They were boarding as we walked up.
(Notice how I didn't give him any grief about it?)
The flight was uneventful. We got our rental car, a sweet Nissan Altima, and hit the road for Tucson. Really, for a while there everything went well. Whenever we needed to see a freeway exit, or end up on the correct side of some landmark, we did.
The drive from Phoenix to Tucson is about 90 minutes of desolation. Mountains, cacti, sand... I like the looks of the place though, I really do. There's a harsh, majestic beauty about the place. I like mountains.
Tucson Electric Park is the spring training home of the Chicago White Sox. I liked the southwestern-style design of the place, but it didn't do much for Hood. We checked out the park, then grabbed a couple hot dogs.
Lo and behold, Rangers GM Jon Daniels was in line behind us, answering questions from another dog patron about his education. Daniels would have looked about 21 to me if he hadn't been flanked by a couple guys who looked to be about 16 each. They couldn't help but make him look older, Clearasil posse that they were. Daniels had a hardcore golf course tan going on, and he answered the questions gamely. We didn't bother him. Nice to know he's gotta stand in line for a dog just like everyone else.
Our seats down the third base line were pretty good. The sun quickly became an issue. We'd walked in with no sun screen, and Hood, in his hasty departure that morning, had brought no cap. I'm not bad about getting sunburned, but the back of my neck got a little red. Hood was worse.
***
Juan Dominguez looked pretty good for a change. Quick-working Mark Buehrle did too. Joaquin Arias, playing in place of WBC-delayed Michael Young, looked great at short. Not much bat, but a slick fielder for sure.
***
After the game we headed to Tempe to catch the Arizona Sun Devils hosting the Oklahoma Sooners. We chatted with Sooners radio broadcaster Chuck Kelly and statistician Mike, just like last year. The Sooners ended up losing a real nail-biter. It bothered Chuck for days.
I'm a Longhorn. Seeing the Sooners lose doesn't exactly break my heart.
***
During the game that special kind of fatigue set in, that kind that comes from pushing way too hard on too little sleep. Four innings in I was ready for it to zip along at a faster clip. No dice. It went about three and a half hours. Then we helped Chuck stash his gear for the next day's broadcast.
We hit an In and Out Burger, and let me just say for the record that this chain is either (A) vastly overrated or (B) they happened to have a collective off-night during my first visit. The burger was nondescript and covered with... thousand island dressing? Hasn't McDonald's already cornered the market on this?
And the fries, which I've since been told are fresh cut from gen-yoo-wine potatoes on the premises, tasted like cardboard. Weird. I didn't finish mine.
***
We hit the hotel at 12:30 or 1am I guess. Hood desperately wanted a shower, but discovered to his chagrin that the shower was broken. Hoo boy.
He tried three times, if I recall, to get the front desk to do something about it. At that time of day it was clear that a quick fix wasn't forthcoming.
During the third call is when all hell broke loose.
The woman who answered suddenly blurted out, "Oh my God there's a fight breaking out!"
Hood heard glass breaking, and someone yelled, "Call 911"
Hood let her go.
***
We went to our window, and a few dozen people spilled out the front of the hotel, yelling, gesturing, and posturing at people still inside. Some ran to parked cars and took off, some ran back inside. Soon we heard the sirens, and seven police cars showed up. No lights.
That's when a lot of people scattered. A couple peeled out, making circles around the parking lot. One, in fact, had a passenger hanging out the window, and we both figured we were about to witness a drive-by shooting.
A police helicopter showed up though, swinging to and fro across the property, shining a spotlight down.
Things steadily calmed down, and Hood opted for a bath.
***
We'd stayed up too late, and sort of shot ourselves in the foot as far as getting to a ballpark early. Chuck wanted to join us. We hit Denny's for a good breakfast, then drove out to the Rangers/Royals complex in Surprise.
We arrived around 11:30am, and not much seemed to be happening on the back fields. Chuck hadn't brought his good walking shoes and wasn't keen on covering the whole complex like we were.
So be it. We went inside early, and meandered through the gift shops and just took in the park while the visiting Diamondbacks took BP.
***
It was quite cool to hang out above the Rangers bullpen and watch Kevin Millwood warm up. The weather was nice, and we had sun screen! Hood wore the Sun Devils hat he'd purchased the night before.
***
We couldn't stay through the whole game, as Chuck needed to get back to Tempe for his broadcast. It actually worked out okay for us, as we had a fantasy baseball draft scheduled for 6pm.
***
We dropped off Chuck, then started setting up Hood's laptop for the draft. We'd hoped to do the draft from the hotel bar, but needed to hit Target for a longer extension cord in order to accomplish this.
That's when I got the text message from Henley: "Where are you?"
My reply: "Phoenix."
(Nyuk nyuk...)
***
Heh heh... start time was 6pm EASTERN... that'd be 5pm Phoenix time. Ah crap. SO, I gave Hood no grief about running late for our departure Friday, and he gave me no grief about screwing up the start time on the draft.
The draft went well enough. Once we got down to players we didn't care as much about, we set our teams on auto-pilot and hit the road for dinner at the Keg.
***
The wait was about an hour. We signed up, then started cruising around. I hit a CD store for an impulse purchase. I loved riding with Blues for the Red Sun by Kyuss blaring from the stereo.
***
We had a fine dinner. Hood ate a slab of steak that'd choke a panther, and I had pork ribs and chicken.
Only... wow. I dipped some chicken in the barbecue sauce, and ZING ZING ZING BOOM CRASH BOOM BOOM BOOM...
That barbecue sauce was loaded with some sort of liquor. Whiskey I'd guess.
The menu had mentioned nothing about this. That bite contained the most alcohol I've had since 1995.
I'm not losing sleep over it. I pointed it out to the waiter, who looked puzzled and insisted it's raspberry-based. Hood had had a taste, and he agreed it was loaded sauce. I didn't make a big deal out of it.
***
We had better intentions Sunday, getting up early and hitting the road for Diablo stadium (home of the Angels, oddly) in Tempe. It was rainy and cold, and no fan-friendly activities were going on. Crap.
Ditto for Phoenix Municipal Stadium, home of the Athletics.
So we headed into Tempe to do a little shopping and have some coffee. It was raining steadily.
***
We then headed to ASU to see if the Sun Devils would squeeze in a game. It didn't look good, as no one had put the tarp on the field overnight.
It went back and forth for a while, but finally the game was called.
Chuck struck his gear, and we headed to someplace called... Gordon Biersch? A place with lots of TVs and a fine chicken parmesan.
***
Chuck was headed to Vegas, so we agreed to take back a bag and a piece of equipment with us to save him some hassle. We all hit the airport.
This piece of equipment was an FM antenna built into PVC pipe. So I was walking through the airport with what basically looked like a four-foot pipe bomb.
They sent us to SUPER DUPER SECRET SCREENING or somesuch, where a frowning guy grabbed our stuff and sent us on our way with barely a word.
***
And this is where things started to go downhill.
See, there was this crazy rain going on in the DFW area. Soon we learned that our 6:26 flight would be postponed since, in fact, DFW airport was grounded. No departures or landings allowed at that time.
This was all so painful I can barely stand to recount it.
We sat around for almost three hours, reading newspapers, doing nothing. We saw Brewers first baseman Prince Fielder there; he was headed home to join his in-labor wife, someone told me.
We finally got on the plane.
Halfway home the turbulence started. We hit one of those crazy pockets that shakes the whole plane seriously, and the pilot got on the intercom to tell his crew that they'd "had better sit down."
It got rough. REALLY rough. We shook, we dipped, we quivered, we shuddered... that plane did all sorts of crazy things.
Hood started to look green, and he fetched a barf bag. I couldn't decide whether to try to distract him with chatter or leave him be.
I opted for the latter, thinking he'd need all his mental faculties to stave off you-know-what.
Lightning flashed here and there, people gasped, I heard someone behind me say the word "pray," and a five-year-old awakened by the ruckus began to cry.
It was hell, utter hell. Hood breathed deeply, tensed up, tried to summon strength.
He succeeded, even once he'd asked the time and learned he had about 45 minutes of this to endure. My hat is off to the guy.
***
The landing was no picnic. We hit the runway, and the rear of the plane slid wickedly to the right, then back to the left. Yes, we fishtailed down the runway. I thought we'd end up out in the grass somewhere. I don't know how the pilot straightened it out, but he did.
Worst flight of my life.
And the evening wasn't over.
***
We sat on the tarmac with no gate for an hour.
Then it took another hour to fetch our luggage, which was delivered via three different carousels.
I got home just before three a.m.
***
I called in sick, not eager to do my job--where every move has a price tag--on three hours of sleep.
***
I won't proclaim the trip to be a failure. We had some fun, and in the face of adversity, Hood and I were willing to improvise, quick to agree on plans, and never awfully pissy with each other despite the stresses we encountered.
Oh, and yes, we'll do it again.
If you've read this far, thanks for bearing with me. Wish I had a lighter, funner tale to share.
I have posted the photos on a Yahoo site; Blogger, it seems, wasn't equipped to handle a couple dozen images. Email me if you want the URL.
