Today was a little far removed from the warm weather and carefree attitude I had in those months, but this game still gave me yet another day to remember. It's even in the running as the best day I've ever spent at a ballpark.
Unfortunately, this was probably going to be the last one of the year for me. Yes, September just started, but the Cubs were home for only one other weekend, when I would be busy working at the brand new Hancock Stadium.
To my great surprise and excitement, I wasn't quite as preoccupied as I thought I would be. This weekend was relatively light on the homework side, and I even had a couple days left to get some of it done. Thanks to a canceled class this Friday that allowed me to flee Normal a little early instead of having to put up with Wrigley on a Saturday.
Even with all the sadness of the season ending, this specific game is becoming my new favorite tradition. Kyra now has an apartment at Loyola, and she lets me stay with her on the eve of whichever game I'm attending. The next morning is just a 20 minute El ride to the park. In addition to the baseball, I get to be a cool city kid for a few days and have my commute to the game cut down by about 40 minutes.
A Ballhawk always needs a good breakfast if he wants to have a successful day in the Bleachers!
I don't think Kyra could be more supportive. As long as she doesn't have to waste time at games with me, she's all for encouraging me to do what I love. It's not that she doesn't like baseball; BP is just a little long sometimes.
I was happy as a clam as I walked to the Loyola station. Heading to Wrigley on a perfect day like today was the best way to unwind and take some time off before the semester got really hectic.
Like always, I bought my Bleacher ticket before game day. However, I wasn't able to track down a season ticket from my list of usual sellers. I tried not to think about the time I would lose by not having a VIP seat. I mean, could it REALLY make that much of a difference?
I hoped for, and expected, the best case scenario in terms of crowd size. It was a work day afternoon, and the Cubs were just as bad as predicted. There was no reason that more than 25,000 should show up.
The regular seat cost me 23 bucks on StubHub. I was more okay with that than I typically would be because the printed ticket allowed me to make an extra copy like I do when I go to US Cellular.
My fake seat would put me right behind the Brewers dugout. You won't see me wearing it, but I brought along my navy blue jersey and matching hat. If I could somehow get down there, I was essentially guaranteed a third out ball. I was sure of it.
This wouldn't be as easy as it is at the Cell, though. Because the Club Box sections are so small, they keep close tabs on fans sitting there. I'd have to stay in that exact seat. I wasn't sure if I wanted to risk getting caught. It really depended on how the first part of the day played out.
I walked around to center field around 10:30, almost an hour before gates opened.
I had no idea what to do with the extra time. I sure didn't feel like wasting an hour standing in a line all by myself. I'd be sure to get back over here as soon as people began to line up, but until then, I could do anything I wanted. So, I moved one block west.
I've mentioned Dave Davison in BaseBlog plenty of times before. I've seen him in the Bleachers here, and even more times on the South Side. However, the street is his natural habitat. I wanted to see him work in his regular environment for once. Plus, if I was going to waste an hour, I may as well spend it trying to get a ball. That was pretty unlikely because of the experts that surrounded me, but it's better than not doing anything.
 |
| I realize hat's awful contrast. That's what I get for not taking two from this spot. |
It made contact about three feet to the left of an aisle entrance. As soon as it made bounced off, the metal plate with the '302' aisle marker fell right off. Just dropped right to the ground. I couldn't stop laughing. Ten minutes later, some employee came over and hung it back up with a couple pull ties. That was even funnier. I realize now that it was a had-to-be-there sort of thing, but it was very funny to me at the time.
No balls were actually hit out, but Moe Mullins convinced some ushers to toss a few over the edge for some kids. I knew who Moe was too. He may be one of the most legendary guys out here. He's caught over 6,000 balls from just standing OUTSIDE the stadium. He's definitely created a league of his own with the rest of the people out on the street when it comes to Ballhawking.
With about half an hour to go, I decided to head over to the gates. There were a few people on the left field side, but I was still able to be first in line on the right field side. It wasn't long before two groups of people showed up.
The first was three women, who looked to be around 25. They initiated the small talk, so I politely conversed with them. They had never been in the Bleachers, so they were asking me all sorts of questions. After some time, the next group showed up that consisted of four guys around the same age. One of them saw my glove, and asked if I ever caught one here. He had no way of knowing, but I laughed at his utterly clueless remark.
I passed out business cards to all seven of them, and gave the usual lecture about what I do. The ladies were more interested than the guys, and all of the sudden were worried of getting hit by whizzing baseballs. "Just stay within 10 feet of me at all times and you won't have a thing to worry about", I confidently said.
My speech left me with only one more card in my wallet. I hardly ever gave them to strangers at games, so I was fine with that. I didn't get into as many conversations over the course of the season as I hoped, and simply didn't pass them out as freely as I thought I would. Little did I know, I would seriously regret getting rid of them so quickly.
The lines weren't bad at all. I was correct to assume that not many people would show up, much less two hours before the game started.
Even though the Cubs were hitting when I was on Waveland, they cut their part of BP short.
That was pretty disappointing. The good news, though, is that the cage wasn't being taken down. It was only a matter of time until the Brewers came out to hit. Until then, I went to look for anything I could find in left field, just for the hell of it.
As expected, nothing was hidden under the seats or in the basket. You can see the Brewers relievers over by the foul line, and that was going to be my next move. I took cover behind the wall to switch from my Cubs shirt and into my jersey before going back over. Hopefully none of them were paying close enough attention to notice the switch.
There were two balls in the basket's black hole that were very far out of reach.
After longingly staring at them for a while, another guy came over and struck up a conversation.
"You got anything to grab those with?"
"Well, even if I did, I know they don't like that stuff here one bit."
"Ken will be over here soon; he's got a cup that works pretty well."
He sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so I hung around here a little longer. He had a glove, but I didn't consider him any sort of direct competition.
Last season, or maybe even earlier this year, I would have walked away so I could continue working on my own. Thankfully, I've grown out of that. What fun would it be to isolate myself game after game? Every day at the park would be that much more interesting if I got the viewpoint of another fan, especially when it's someone I've never met who is trying to catch balls like me.
Just as he predicted, two familiar regulars came down my aisle a few minutes later. I instantly recognized them from the early entry group for the past three years. One of them had a grabber thing that reached down about four feet, and the other had his cup trick ready. Thanks to his quickness and (I'm assuming) good relationship with the ushers, he was able to pull it off.
Yes, that's my arm. I really wanted a picture, but didn't want to get him busted him and be exiled from coming here ever again by this small group of season ticket holders.
Anyway, let me introduce my new mystery friend. His name is Mark, and he's been a quasi-regular out here since 2008. He knows plenty of people here, but only comes out for about 40 games each season. Here he is standing on the front row seats:
We kept talking back and forth as the Brewers pitchers were finishing up. In the next 10 minutes we touched on BaseBlog, Ballhawking, our personal lives, and Wrigley itself. The only reason I didn't fully enjoy our conversation was because I still had no balls, and didn't want him to distract me and cause me to miss a chance. I halfheartedly answered him in between shouts to relievers. After all, the ball was a priority, and I felt like he would understand that.
It came down to one last guy chatting with a coach. I figured he'd blow me off like all the others, but he instead decided to let it fly from a good 50 feet away.
I was pleasantly surprised to see this ball was slightly different than all the other 60 in my collection. No, it wasn't a milestone or commemorative, but look what was on the back:
The Brewers intentionally put that mark on there and most of their other BP balls. They're one of the few teams that still do simple things like this in order to keep track of which ones are theirs. (Cheapskates? That's for you to decide.) It wasn't spectacular, but at least it's different.
I moved back and forth between right and left a few times whenever I felt like I'd been in one place too long.
For once, the crowds were actually cooperating and not causing me headaches.
The second one looks pretty bad, but working around people was pretty easy today. I would have expected this to better my chances, but it did just the opposite. All those people standing up were also trying to get their hands on a ball. The landing spot was easy to get to, but had a much higher population as the ball was coming in.
I would have expected this to give me a little bit of an advantage over a usual game, but this too did the opposite. Because things were easier, the performance gap between me and the experts was much bigger than if the seats were packed. In a crowded game, luck is a big factor because one can only move so much before being blocked by a sitting fan. By having an easier path to the ball, they were able to use their skills to their full advantage instead of just relying on mostly luck.
As I was waiting here for batted balls, I noticed this guy on the left turning around a lot:
Once he glanced in my direction, I made sure he saw me and I flapped my glove. He raised his hand to wave back. I would much rather have preferred a baseball than a friendly gesture, man.
I kept an eye on him for the next few minutes. I was pretty sure nothing would come of it, and was about to move once again. I stuck around a little while longer when I realized he hadn't gotten his hands on a ball since our interaction. The first one came to him, and didn't end up in my glove. I told myself I would wait for one more before forgetting about it.
When he got the next one, he immediately turned right around and threw it up to me in the 10th row. Simple as that. I didn't even have to utter a word in this entire exchange. With two in the bag, this day was showing some potential, and was only getting started.
Now that I was warmed up, albeit with two easy tosses, I was able to pinpoint my focus. I constantly scanned my surroundings in the seats and was still able to see every pitch to the guy in the cage. There were PLENTY of balls hit into the seats, and I was pretty happy with how I read them. I started to estimate the landing spots of homers I wasn't even close to in order to see how well I could read fly balls. I was using every pitch to learn something. However, as always, there was one terrible thing that will forever put a tiny damper on this day.
I floated around in this area for a lot of the time, trying to stay away from as much of the crowd as I could:
In addition to watching the pitches and hitters, I kept an eye on the regulars as well. I took note of how they made their adjustments, and moved around right along with them. I made sure to remember the positioning for each hitter as best as I could. Now that I applied past knowledge, I was able to give an honest estimate instead of completely guessing where the next ball would land. I typically don't analyze this much, but I was so in the zone that I wanted to do EVERYTHING right this afternoon.
Anyway, the bad part. A ball was coming in fast towards the seats, and I approached it like I always did. I was right in line with it, and just had to judge distance. I was in the pack and waiting for it at the landing spot, which was about four feet to the left and the row behind Castro:
I was waiting and watching, cautiously moving down rows ever so slowly as it approaches. Right before impact, one of the regulars flies out of nowhere into the middle of the group, and the ball lands right in his glove. He didn't shove anyone or anything like that. He just swooped right in the middle of everyone at the perfect time. In fact, I recognized that guy as this beer chugger:
I was frustrated in two ways. First, despite the experience from my entire Ballhawking career and the improvements I made today, I still can't keep up with the competition. I was really trying, but they still got the best of me. I'm not talking about just this one instance. It seemed like that was the case throughout the whole day up to this point.
Next, I'm a baby when it comes to getting hit. Whenever I'm in a situation like that, I pull up short EVERY SINGLE TIME. I've tried to stop doing it, but my natural reaction is to play the bounce and ricochet. I literally just stood there and watched this ball get taken away from me. This was the more frustrating of the two. How can I say I like to catch baseballs when I'm scared of the damn things?
That was the most eventful the rest of BP got. I had two, and was still going for plenty more. I just didn't know how yet. I found Mark and met up for what I figured to be the last time. My plan was to either get into my fake seat, or if that failed, get into the 400s for foul pops.
With the duplicate, I was able to get into the 100s without a problem. Still in my Brewers jersey, I wanted to go down the foul line in the Club Box sections for a warm-up ball. When I tried to get down aisle 36, a WORSE seat than I technically possessed, the usher stopped me.
"Your seat is down there," he said with a very skeptical attitude as he pointed towards the infield.
"Oh, well I was just coming to watch the Brewers warm up and try..."
"Nah nah nah, they're all done warming up. They finished at 12:40"
"So you're telling me they stay in the dugout until the game starts?"
I was pretty pissed. What kind of complete dumbass did this guy take me for to try to convince me that was the case? I really wanted to hear his response to my smartass comment.
"Well they come here right before the game, but you still can't be here; this isn't where your seat is". Okay, I'm not allowed to sit in worse seats than what I had, even for ten minutes. Cool, that makes sense. I would have left on my own before he even got the chance to ask me to leave anyway.
I wasn't going to win that battle. I went over to the infield 100s to scout out my fictitious seat.
Aisle 30 was a little ways to the right; I had to stay out of that usher's sight. While I was waiting, I snapped a picture of the two balls I had so far.
.JPG) |
| First (#61) on the left, second (#62) on the right. |
So I went here:
This was pretty disappointing. Not only did my plan fail, but now I would be stuck in a crappy seat like always.
Looking back, I really didn't notice at the time how empty the park really was. I got my wish with the small crowd.
I tried to forget about my failed plan and enjoy the game. It was truly a beautiful day, and I was at my favorite place in the world. Chris Rusin was on the mound for the Cubs, and this was the first time I was going to see him pitch.
Here's Aramis batting in the first:
He's old, most likely washed up, and I could care less about him these days. But whenever I see that stance as he waits for the pitch, I can't help but think of memories from just a few years ago when he was consistently one of the best and most important players on the team.
After Rusin worked out of a bases loaded jam in the first, Nate Schierholtz got the Cubs started with an RBI single. A few batters later, Junior Lake came up with the bases loaded.
Now, this homer was a particularly important part of my day. If you were looking closely and paying attention, you can see Mark barley miss getting his hands on the ball when it dropped to the ground. I couldn't believe I noticed him from so far away, and also couldn't believe this guy I just met was so close to a real game home run. Lake's first slam, none the less!
I thought about it for all of five seconds before I took off from my seat to go back out to the Bleachers. I knew I would be bored and unsuccessful in the upper deck, so why not go pick his brain about what was going through his head? Little did I know, this decision would change my entire day for the better.
I found him around this area in left, and told him I saw everything play out from upper deck. He gave me the whole rundown and how the situation played out. Apparently, he was mere inches from slapping his hand down on it, but wasn't able to reach out far enough around other fans to do it.
I couldn't help but feel bad for him. That was a pretty important ball, and he effectively botched it. Some of the other regulars were giving him a hard time about it too. Since he's the one of the newer guys, the veterans poke fun at him the most. He knows how to take a joke and always keeps a good attitude though.
While watching the game from out here, Mark introduced me to Ray, a fan I referred to the last three years as "Giants Guy". Ray always had a San Francisco hat on, and often wore a jersey to go with it. He also has a tattoo of the Golden Gate Bridge and this logo on one of his forearms. I've seen him around here ever since I started Ballhawking and coming to games early. He was one of the guys with the biggest presence who always chased after balls with 110% effort, and having the skills to back it up. Like most of the other Ballahawks here, I've wrongly grown a disliking for him based only on his success.
He and Mark talked while I mostly listened in. I was able to introduce myself when Mark told him I would be blogging about this game. Ray seemed like a really cool guy. He was very friendly and told quite a few interesting stories about his days out here catching balls. I also finally found out there's no other reason for the hat and tattoo other than he really, really loves the team.
I was just beginning to ask him for some tips on being in the Bleachers when Aramis made contact. All three of us looked up before Ray lets out an "...Oh, shit!" before bolting up the stairs.
Here's what happened next:
And guess what?
Ray is obviously the one in the blue shirt and grey hat in the aisle. Check out the video again to see how slow I was in starting to move up there. He may have looked a little silly diving all over the place, but he ended up with the ball. I would take that trade-off in a heartbeat.
For the third time in my last five games, I was extremely close to a game home run. Not just in the general vicinity, but literally just a few rows. This is getting way too weird, and I'm starting to think it means something. Am I really developing a completely subconscious state of knowing when home runs will land where? Probably not, but I can't get this close too many more times before actually grabbing one.
As soon as Ray grabbed it, he scurried back down to his backpack that was on the seat next to his. As slyly as he could, he opened the side pocket to pull out his dummy ball. After taking a step back, her wound up and let it fly.
It was so majestic seeing it sail from his hand back to the field. I'd never been that close to this tradition before. It's a little overdone and has way too much importance placed in it, but it's still a tradition. Most of the crowd cheered, but a few people realized the switch. They complained for all of five minutes before realizing nobody else cared.
Here's Ray with the real ball, shortly after things calmed down a bit:
That was a pretty unexpected. I suddenly got a lot more talkative and asked him about his collection and how he got started. It was so long ago now that I can't remember which number game home run this was for him, or his total ball count. This one was definitely not his first, and I DO remember thinking the number he said really impressed me. He spends almost all of his time at the same park (with the exception of a few trips to the Cell), so I feel that adds a different sort of challenge to keeping his focus day in and day out.
After a few more minutes, Mark asked, "So have you met the guys out on the street yet?" I obviously knew of Dave, and I've definitely heard of Moe before, but I wouldn't say I 'met' them. Together, we walked back to the walkway above Waveland as Mark yelled down to them "HEY! WE'RE COMIN' OUT!"
Hang on now. I didn't pay $25 to watch four innings and then go stand outside the park.
Mark knew what he was talking about, though. I asked him if he was POSITIVE that we would get back in. He assured me all of these guys use it multiple times a day to get in and out, so I trusted him.
Lo and behold, here I was. On Waveland Avenue after already being inside for BP.
 |
| That looks awful....Blogger is changing the contrast for no apparent reason. |
I went around that circle and met everyone, getting their first and last name to see if it rung a bell at all. I was sure that a few would sound familiar because of the story published in the Tribune just a few weeks before about the upcoming renovations and how Ballhawks would be effected. Mark himself was on the very front page, which is really cool, especially when it was related to Ballhawking. I didn't know as many of them as I thought I would. I wasn't aware at the time, but I really missed my chance to talk to some amazing people.
One of these guys mentioned a documentary that was made in 2005 about the experience on Waveland. It's called, simply, "Ballhawks." Watch the trailer here, and rent it on Amazon right here.
The movie focused on a very important time for this group. After the 2005 season was over, the Bleacher expansion project would significantly cut down on the amount of balls that flew out of the park. After seeing the movie and what it used to be like, I realize why this was such a popular thing when I was a kid. For most places in left field, if a ball went over the ivy, it would end up on the street. There were very few rows and obstructions to keep a ball inside the stadium.
The tone of the whole movie was pretty somber. Many of these guys weren't sure if it was worth it to come out in 2006 after the new seats were installed. Being six years in the future, I knew they would, but I could almost feel their fear, pain, and anger of this being taken away from them.
Anyway, my main point in mentioning the movie was because I really did meet a baseball catching pioneer. Moe has the most balls, but Rich Buhrke was the real legend. This season was his 53rd year standing on Waveland Avenue. FIFTY THREE YEARS!
The movie shows how he got to be basically the first person to come out to Wrigley every day and wait for baseballs as a boy in the 60s. I now feel dumb that I didn't know I was in the presence of greatness, but I'm happy I got to meet him anyway. Even in the movie, he says he's getting older and he doesn't know about his future out here, and that was seven years ago. I hope I can run into him at least once in 2014 to thank him for starting and cultivating the sport while keeping his routine the same after so many years and changes to the park.
So now I've met Ray and Rich, two loyal standbys who do exactly what I do in very different ways. It was now that I immediately started to regret all the cards I gave out before the game. When Mark was introducing me to everyone, he mentioned this blog. I was really mad I wasn't able to follow up by telling everyone where they could read my stuff. By now, I was in full interview mode, asking each new person any question that popped into my head. The cards were a lost cause, but I was still enjoying this opportunity as much as I could.
Mark's plan to get back in actually worked, which still surprised me. After spending an inning or so outside, we went right back in through the door we walked out of. It's extremely simple, but I don't want to publicly divulge the secret. Once you come to a game with me, you'll be able to see it for yourself! (I will give you a hint though - this ONLY works for people over 21.)
At this point, I wasn't taking many pictures. Screw the game, I thought, I was having a great time meeting icons and getting an insider tour of this park that only a small handful of people ever get. As we were walking back to left field from right (there's another hint), we stopped behind the last row in right center. Mark wanted me to meet a woman named Holly Swyers.
What's her accomplishment? She wrote a book.
She wasn't just a regular fan who could write well. And this was no normal narrative about the 2008 season, the year she began writing it.
Holly happens to be sociology professor at Lake Forest College, and began writing this book with the intention to use it in her classes. That's right - this intellectual Cub fan uses the behaviors of Ballhawks and the rest of the Bleacher family to study about the structure and functions of ALL HUMANITY. It's on textbook websites and everything. Totally legit.
I can't even express how cool that is. First of all, Holly is borderline crazy to think of this and be able to do research from her spot in right field. I'm very eager to read the book over semester break to see how she makes the strong connections in the environment here to other cultures and human interactions.
Secondly, even thought this was way before my time, I feel like this story is about me a little bit. I've become a member of a much smaller group of fans who call Wrigley home. I know the park like the back of my hand. I've discovered some tricks and secrets that most fans don't know about. And now, after today, I personally talked to and know a little bit about the characters of her story.
Holly may have been my favorite person of the day due to the devotion and obsession she has for this team and her desire to use Cub fans as an example for academic research.
We went back to Ray's spot once we got back to left field. I was so pumped up about everything, I asked Mark who else he knew. "Well, Ken is over on a rooftop...."
"What about Al?", I asked, eagerly wanting to meet the regular I've known about the longest.
Al Yellon is the main editor for Bleed Cubbie Blue, the Cubs sector of the SB Nation blog network. He does an absolutely fantastic job of maintaining an active community while posting discussion topics about everything from ticket prices to sabermetrics of prospects in Low-A ball to 'This Day in Cubs History'. I've never approached him, but today was definitely the day to do it.
He and the rest of his immediate group sit in the very last row in the section next to the left field foul pole. I recently learned in an article he wrote that this spot is pretty sentimental to him, and he's sat there every year since the Bleachers were re-done and his old favorite spot was eliminated.
He was friendly and welcoming, but not very talkative to me. He was focused on the game and was discussing the current situation with who I imagine are other BCB members. It's amazing how much Al knows about the Cubs. If you're trying to imagine the most knowledgeable Cub fan alive, multiply that by fifteen and you'll almost be on Al's level.
Regardless, even though we didn't talk much, I let him know how much I liked the site. He loves Cub fans of all types, and has a standing open invitation for all BCB members to join him up at his perch if they're ever at a game. I'm sure he hears it all the time from random people like me, but he seemed to be sincere in his thank you.
One of the last people I met was named Ken, the very same beer chugger from the video at the beginning of the entry. In addition to that, he's also pretty famous for having a huge (and I do mean enormous) glove. He's been on TV with it a dozen times; I've seen it myself. Fortunately, he was nice enough to let me pose with it.
That may be my most favorite picture that I've ever taken. The arch in St.Louis, me outside of Yankee Stadium, the American Flag from the rooftop; all tied for second behind this. A sunny day at Wrigley Field, filled with meeting and talking to the people who I most wish I could emulate as a fan; the ones who are able to watch their team every single day and created their own little summertime family. This photo of me will forever be a memory of that.
Ken lives in the United building across Waveland beyond center field. "I've got a job that pays great, and gives me enough time off to come here every day. I realize how lucky and fortunate I am to be able to do this, and I never take it for granted." Wherever he works, I want to sign up.
For all the times I've seen him, he's never noticed me. I didn't expect him to since there's thousands of faces around him every week, but he still apologized. He doesn't avidly go for baseballs as much as just getting good at tracking them from spending so much time here. Remember, he's the one who put me over the edge in frustration during BP, so he's very good.
He was definitely my favorite personality of the day. He didn't immensely care about what was happening on the field. He just wanted to have a good time conversing with the friends he's made out here. He was particularly pissed when I was talking to him though. If you didn't notice, the spot where I took my picture with the mega-glove was almost exactly where the Ramirez homer landed. If Ken had not left to go to the rooftop for a few innings, he would have grabbed it on the fly without a problem. He sits in the same spot every day as well. I may join him here when I get back for my first game of 2014.
The game was beginning to wind down, and I watched the final pitches from Ken's spot.Thanks to the first inning, the Cubs were able to hold on to an 8-5 lead and win my last game of the year at Wrigley.
The VERY last person I met is known as Spock. Apparently, when the camera zoomed in on him one random day a few seasons ago, Len and Bob felt he looked a lot like Leonard Nimoy, and the name stuck.
He and Mark also told me he gets on TV quite a few times a season with the flag. I have no idea if I was on (and wasn't able to find out since WGN doesn't do replays), but still smiled the whole time we put it up.
Before leaving, Mark and I got a picture together:
Without him, today could have been one of the most boring days at a ballpark I've ever experienced. But thanks to his interest in my blog, I was able to have an experience I've only dreamed of. It was truly something I could never imagine happening to me.
For years and years, I've heard about then environment, the people, and overall culture of this one specific area of one particular MLB park. Slowly but surely, I'm becoming a bigger part of this group by going to more games, and now, meeting more people. I made some valuable connections today, and became just a little more entrenched in this culture here at the best ballpark in the world. I can't wait to meet up with all these people again next April and get the full experience of being included in this group.
STATS
- 2 balls at this game
- 30 balls total this season
- 20 consecutive games with a ball
- 62 lifetime balls
- Time Spent at Game: 6 hours, 10 minutes
- Total time spent at games: 105 hours, 45 minutes (Woo hoo!)
- 2 ball X 25,351 fans = 50,702 Competition Factor
No comments:
Post a Comment