I felt like I should write something about this thanks for reading.
It was late Friday night and I was finishing watching the Rockies lose to the Phillies and I started thinking I haven’t done anything really stupid in a while. I had promised myself I WOULD make it to one of Ubaldo’s starts this season and it was beginning to look like I was running out of opportunities. Now my job is weird and unless I plan months ahead it’s tough to get a weekend off, but sometimes I randomly end up with a day off like last Saturday when Ubaldo was pitching. So of course I was thinking I have to drive to Philly. The problem is that I live in Cleveland and it’s about an eight hour drive to Philly, which would have been ok except I had to be at work at 8 am on Sunday. If I went through with this I would be driving to Philly just to watch the game and getting back to Cleveland at around 2:30am on Sunday. I posted the question should I go on the row as if I could expect to get reasonable advice from hard core Rockies fans who were probably thinking about driving in from Denver. Four hours later I was in a hotel room with a turquoise blue toilet and a bed shaped like an upside down rainbow somewhere on the Pennsylvania turnpike. I didn’t sleep well, but I was kept wide awake on the road by meditating on the brilliance of a 100mph fastball with movement. I got to the park five hours before the game started. At other parks that I have been to like Oakland or Kansas City that have stadiums surrounded by nothing except tailgating I have been good at getting invited by some random people to share a beer and some food. At Citizens Bank Park it is too hot to tailgate in July and they don’t allow it anyway so I was stuck is some crappy Irish bar with a bar tender whose underwear was sticking out of her very short shorts and a blue moon. I was still incredibly excited; this was my first Rockies game in over a year. I go to a lot of other baseball games almost like its routine sometimes, but there is something incredibly special for me about being at a Rockies game. I got butterflies in my stomach as I watched a few Rockies players play catch before the game similar to the ones I had when I went to my first game at Mile High. There actually were rumors flying around the stands, “I don’t think we can win today this guy is 15-1 and unhittable.” I was smiling and completely unprepared for what was about to happen.
I watched Ubaldo explode in the third. It was miserable, incredibly hot, and the Philly fans were throwing a party while laughing at me in my Rockies hat. I wanted to cry; I did cry, but no one could see me. I sat through the whole game, filled out my score card completely and then threw it away in hopes the game was a nightmare. I had plenty of time to think on the way home about why on earth I would do something like this. There are a lot of things I love about baseball. The bumper sticker of my life would read, “I would rather be at the ball park.” What I love most about baseball is being a Rockies fan. Simply stated they are my team; those guys are my guys. The relationship is dysfunctional at times I get mad at them, I often pray that so and so doesn’t come up to pitch, I make arguments that one of them should be traded, I scream at the manager as if he could here me, I even often threaten to throw my computer out the window as if that would make them win the game, but I will always root for them. That’s what I love about it; it’s a history unfolding before my eyes that’s full of heart breaks and sweet joy. To the average person it might seem like a horrible mistake to drive eight hours to go watch your team lose badly, but for me it’s just part of the journey. I hope next time I do it he throws a no hitter; I feel a little entitled.