Or “Ask the guy who spent 6 hours at a professional baseball game yesterday.”
Friday, I got an email from the administrator of my academic program. There were 8 tickets available for the Sunday Astros game, made available by a rich benefactor whose foundation gives a large grant to our program. This happens a few times a year, generally on Sundays – said benefactor has a strong commitment to the local NFL team (he owns them). Email the administrator back, names go in the hat, and a ticket is awarded. 4 of these tickets are $300 a pop, 5 rows behind home plate. In my 9 years in the program, I’ve gotten them once, this year, and watched Roger Clemens pitch 8 innings of shutout ball. The other 4 are along the first base line, a little farther back than first base, on the field level, about 30 rows back ($45).
I entered, despite extremely pregnant wife and toddler in the terrible 2s. Despite a 3 hour respite to watch the Longhorns beat up the Sooners yesterday. Yeah, I’m a bad person, but it is playoff baseball. And my parents promised to help out today. And I got a $45 ticket.
We showed up at about 11:30 AM at the ballpark, and settled in. Bratwurst and a giant soda during the second inning. Quickly down 0-4 after a grand slam in the 3rd. Watched an anemic Astros offense get decimated by Hudson, and just waited for the end of the game. Backe is pulled early, relieved by the typical Phil Garner relief pitching by comission of Gallo->Rodriguez->Strickland->Qualls.
Well whaddayaknow. Hudson’s pulled and I remembered the Astros were hitting Farnsworth this year. Berkman grand slam, Ausmus homerun and it’s tied and our throats are raw and our hands are starting to hurt from clapping and we go into extra innings. Qualls pitches through the 10th, then 2 innings by Lidge, then 3 by Wheeler. Wheeler is caught by Raul Chavez, and there have been a lot of substitutions and I realize things are getting interesting when our catcher, Ausmus, comes out to play first. We get up and yell every time there is two strikes, every time there is two outs, every time an Astro gets on base. By the 13th, I phone my brother, who is watching, to ask who is left. His answer “No one but Clemens.” My friend has a date at 6 PM and he has to leave at 4:30. I tell the bastard (who drove) that there’s no way that I’m leaving and that I’ll find a way to get home (I live around 20 miles away). So Clemens comes in in the 15th and is awesome. People are leaving, but at the top of the 17th they announce that this is now the longest game in playoff history. Clemens is awesome, mowing through guys, making up for his bad start in game 1. And Burke hits a walkoff in the bottom of the 18th and I’ve never yelled so loud at a professional sporting event. It is 5:50 PM, and the game started at noon.
By the end, our 30 minute walk to the train and then to the car was necessary just for some decompression. I have no desire to watch baseball again for a year and I have no idea how I’ll key myself up for the NLCS against the Cards…