BaseBlog: Game 8- Journey to America's Heartland

For our first plan, Brent was going to make the drive down when we decided to visit Sean and Matt. Over the past year he had made many trips to ISU, and that was pretty much the half way point. It would be a piece of cake. He’d pick me up and we would have a good time catching up en route to Edwardsville.

Before we planned this particular trip, he was the one with the good car. Sadly, the 1995 Silver Ford Taurus didn't make it through the winter. In February, we added a 2006 Cubbie blue Saturn Ion to the Mortenson garage. Since he was nice enough to come with me and embrace my Ballhawking, I volunteered to drive.

Same license plates; the Taurus will never be forgotten

June 13th finally came, and we got on the road at 9 AM. I really don’t have much to say about the drive down. Nothing too special happened, but it was filled with lots of baseball talk. I learned a great deal about Eminem, too.

We arrived at our Ramada a little early, and got to check in at 1:45. It wasn’t the best quality room, but it was more than fine for us.

After driving the whole way, I was tired enough for a nap. I wanted to be as alert as possible come 5 o'clock. It was pretty hard to relax; this was a big thing for me. I was about see the crown jewel of ballparks in the Midwest, that housed a winning team to boot. (Brent and I both agreed the Cards are the Yankees of the National League).

We got to the MetroLink no problem, but I was bothered by the little things. Did I need to pay for parking? Would I get a ticket if I parked in the commuter lot? (That’s happened before). Where and how did I get on? How often did the trains come? Obviously I hadn’t researched well enough.

Thanks to a very nice lady at the ticket window, all of those questions were answered. Like a typical tourist, I said “Get me to Busch Stadium”. They actually have a special ticket because so many fans take it to and from the games. It was a round trip, and I was told we would be corrected if we tried to go the wrong way.

I don’t get to take other city’s mass transit all that often, but I always like to compare them to each other. They have two lines; Red and Blue. Both cross into Illinois, and split once they get back to Missouri to make a stop at the airport.

Instead of a third rail, they have cables to give the cars a charge. I didn't think trains were still built that way. As for the inside, with the exception of a few more windows and walls, it looked exactly like the El back home.

Our ride was about 25 minutes, and it would drop us off RIGHT in front of the stadium. I anxiously looked out the window the whole time, hoping to get my first glimpse of the downtown skyline.

At this point it was getting even more real to me. Not just baseball, but the fact that I actually made it. That’s the ACTUAL St.Louis Arch; the one I learned about in third grade and seen on TV hundreds of times. I can’t even tell you how many times I looked up at it in the distance and smiled, just because I was seeing it in person.

It was only a couple more minutes until I found myself standing in front of a massive brick wall.

It was really something. It was huge, yet fit in so well. It still looked brand new, despite this being it's seventh season.

First thing we did was walk around to home plate to get some good pictures. I-64 ran no more than 50 feet away from the wall on the first base side. Due to this, there wasn't much room to move back before the ramps blocked your view.

Here’s the view down the third base line to my left:

And what I saw right inside the gate at home plate:

We wanted to walk all the way around, but that wasn't possible. There was part of the stadium and a metal fence blocking us. We determined it had to be the player’s parking lot, so we went back from the way we came.

We passed an individual statue of the greatest Cardinal of all time, Stan Musial.

Then past the third base gate and ticket windows.

Right next to the gate was a mini sign for the year the stadium was finished and opened.

(It's not important, I just like the idea).

Once we got around the corner, there were smaller statues of other Cardinal greats.

This next part is what I thought was the coolest thing they had on the outside. Near left center field, there was a plaque showing where both Busch's stood. I love when teams and stadiums acknowledge this, because the old stadium was a really important place to some fans. A ton of Cardinals history took place there, so it makes sense to commemorate it.

As the plaque says, the foul line was marked on the sidewalk. (The next day, we were coming from the parking lot beyond right field. I noticed some brown paint, and it took me a second to remember taking this picture the day before. They also included and marked the entire infield, even that far away from the new place. Very, Very cool in my opinion).

There was a small memorial for the late Jack Buck, who should be included in the group of best baseball announcers of all time.

There was a gigantic gate in center field, and that’s where I decided I wanted to go in. It was almost entirely open out here, so you could see a whole ton more inside.

Thankfully the ushers inside decided to help the fans out. They told the line that these particular gates wouldn't open until 6 PM, half an hour later than expected. Everyone then scattered, and some went to the third base gate. It was only 5:15 and there was virtually no line. Brent spotted a walkway above an intersection and we headed up there to get some much better pictures.

I don’t use ‘beautiful’ too much, but from this view, it really was.

We got some nice Sox fans to take one of us up there, too.

Don’t judge me for the shirt. Yeah, I bought it when they won. I felt like I should have appreciated it just a little bit in 2005, and I was only a stupid 8th grader. For the record, this is the third time I've worn it. The only reason it’s out now instead of a generic black shirt was so I could seem more like a Sox fan and possibly catch more balls. I was genuinely thinking I could go home empty handed; new park, new challenges, higher attendance. I was willing to take a few hours of shame to keep my streak alive.

We got back in line, and I was getting ready to go.

Not too many people, but a lot more than I was used to being behind. I just needed to relax.

There were 5 lines formed behind the turnstiles we could all see inside the gates. It would make TOTAL sense to open up just one of them right? Crap.

There was a rush to the gate. At this point, Easter Eggs were not an option. A good 40 people were ahead of me. I tried to push through, but wasn’t reckless about it. I handed Brent my bag to get checked, and after what felt like an eternity, I got my ticket scanned and started running in.

I picked the first possible aisle in left field and scanned haphazardly for eggs. I got down to the front row and tried to put a game plan together. So many players, so many people, and so much unfamiliarity for me. I waited for Brent to come help me with some names. We had John Danks, Matt Thornton, Jessie Crane and a few others in left center. They were quite a distance, and didn't seem to be responding to the crowd. Forget that.

Since I was currently in seats and the next section over was bleachers, there was a wall going all the way down the aisle to my left. I had to run up 15 rows, over about 10 feet, and then run down again, just to move 5 feet over. It was really difficult and time consuming to try to go back and forth. I didn’t want to miss anything, but I had to be sure of myself. The seats were crowded, and I felt trapped there.

(Don't get confused, I was actually over in those seats at this point. I was so shook up and all over the place that I didn't take any pictures).

(That fence you see above the bullpen kept going up and turned into the wall).

This is where I stayed to plan more:

Sigh…what to do.

I ran all around left field. I didn’t venture to right field just yet; I would have to take a good walk around the concession stand behind the batter’s eye, and I wasn’t willing to do that more than once. I was absolutely dying from the heat. In addition to sweating more than I ever have, I was nervous and running around. I was in desperate need of a water bottle, but I had balls to catch.

I thought I had a chance when one landed on the batter’s eye berm in dead center. The usher climbed over the fence to retrieve it, and I asked him nicely for it. He didn’t give me an answer, but yelled out to a kid first. He had him come over, and after a very shy little boy approached him, the usher handed it over. I was frustrated, but good for that little guy.

I did more running and panicking. I don’t even remember for how long. I apparently made my way back to left, and got a front row spot behind the Sox bullpen. I leaned over, and this is what I saw:

Oh boy. A prime glove trick opportunity.

Was I really about to try this? I looked behind me to see if an usher was watching me. I even walked up the stairs to try to ask someone if they allowed ball retrieving devices. Well, if I couldn’t find one when I was looking, then I must be okay. Plus, they would need to give me a warning before getting me in real trouble.

I went back down to the front row and sat down. I pulled the string out of my glove and untied the knots that had formed. A few people stopped talking and watched me. Once I had my string wrapped around my wrist multiple times, I stood up and dropped the glove over the edge. Five or six guys jumped up from their seats in the second row to watch my approach.

(Obviously, I'm the one with the backwards hat and grey shirt).

It was at a distance where I would have to knock it closer. I gave the glove a few back-swings, then dropped it with all the string I had. The tip of my glove barley hit the handle on that wheelbarrow you see in the first photo. I was confused for a second. My heart sank when I realized what happened. I was 3 feet short. I tried again and got the same result. I leaned over the railing a little bit more and let out some more string. Now I barley grazed the grass. By now I had 15 people watching. I had to try harder.

I untied my wrist and rewrapped the end of my string just twice around my index finger. I had to make a real tight fist; I would feel like a dumbass if I dropped my glove in there. I used every inch I had.

I swung it back and dropped it again. I missed the ball badly, but my glove hit the grass at a decent level. I could work with this.

It only took one good trap to drag it to a spot right below me. I pulled the glove back up to put the rubber band around and marker inside. Everyone had a question about what the hell I was doing, and asked it all at the same time when I was preparing. I explained the whole process, and then stood up to try for real.

I had to keep really still to make sure nothing would swing the glove. I got a few tries in, then Brent captured history.

I DID IT. This was unbelievable. Not only was I on the board for the day, but I successfully pulled it off for the first time ever; in front of a crowd, too! I got a couple compliments, but everyone that was watching was at least smiling.

(I got an adrenaline rush just re-typing that all).

All those pictures weren’t actually from the first ball. I snagged that first one behind Brent’s back when he wasn’t looking. I was so excited that I ran all the way back to him and showed him. He’s the one who thought of documenting the second one.

Oh yeah, by the way, I GOT TWO. The second one was much easier. I overall struggled less, and got it in less than a minute. This was one of the first photos I took, and you can see the ball right beneath the seats.

I was so relieved. My day was made, and essentially my trip as well. I was almost guaranteed a ball tomorrow. There was bound to be one within reach again. All I had to do was get right to work as soon as I made it in.

Left field was now pretty full, no matter where you went. There was a bunch of room in right to possibly move, so Brent and I wandered on over. That, and I wanted to get away from the ushers that could have seen me as soon as possible and waste my one allotted warning before getting thrown out.

We took the walk behind the scoreboard, and ended up in this spot:

The bullpen was just over to our left. With the way my day was going, of course I was going to check for one more ball.

Eureka!

This one was in the batter’s box by one of the plates, so I had to reel this one in too. Some little girl kept insisting I wasn't going to get it. She made it clear to her dad when I brought it up (to put the marker in) that I didn't get it. It only took me two tries to get it in the glove, and it came right up. The girl was silenced. As I was examining my latest catch, I turned to the girl, showed her the sweet spot, and with a smile, said “I got it!”.

I was now up to 3, and I couldn’t stop there when it was so easy. I saw one more, and it took me a while to decide to do it. First, I saw it would be harder to get to; it was super far and close to a wall, with not much room to move. Second, I would have to stand higher up on a ledge. Drawing attention to myself from security was the last thing I wanted to do. And finally, there really is a thing as being greedy...I guess. After my first one, a guy told his buddy “This kid just STOLE a baseball!”. He was right. I sort of felt bad.

I didn’t get to do the glove trick every day, and I was still testing it out in real situations. I was going to end up with a few balls one way or another, so I pushed aside the stealing comment. I gave it one last shot.

I got pretty close, but still didn't get close enough. The padded wall wasn't helping my back-swing either. “Look at that extension” Brent joked, treating it like this actually required athletic ability.

BP lasted only a couple more minutes. I waited for one last homer, but it never came. The Sox jogged in, and it was time to explore my new surroundings.

Our seats were at the tip top of the stadium behind first base, so we got to see both the field level and terrace level concourses. We took the long way around, which meant back around the center field concourse.

Here’s a good one from straight away center, right behind the camera guys.

The concourse was the standard series of artificially lighted tunnels.

I didn't like them at all, and I would rather walk outside and have views like this:

They had the scoreboards from Old Busch around the escalators that brought you to the top level.

I lost count of how many flights we went up. It was really a trek to finally make it all the way to the top. I wanted to pop out of the nearest tunnel, and this is the view we got.

Again, I don’t say it much, but this was even more beautiful than the outside. Opposite of downstairs, I LOVED the terrace level concourse. It was all open with tons of space.

After admiring the view, we headed to our seats in section 445. They were high up, but I felt they were the best seats in the entire place. You could see oversee all the action, as well as enjoy the skylines and the colors of the setting sun.

I went out to search for my scorecard. Since one stand sold out, I was told to go to the other side of the concourse. Right behind home plate, something caught my eye.

I was right in front of the letters to the front marquee. It was pretty freaky to look over the edge. I said it before, but the highway was REALLY close to the stadium.

I eventually found one and settled in. Lance Lynn was having a great season for the Cards, but I wasn’t too excited to see him. On the other hand, I was pumped to see Jake Peavy, who I still consider an ace for any team.

My picture of the first pitch sucked, so here’s the third pitch to Gordon Beckham.

I’ll make the game summary a short one; it ended 1-0. The only score was a 442 foot homer run by Carlos Beltran in the bottom of the 3rd.

The Sox only mustered three hits the whole game. Jason Motte nailed down the save, but it was a nail biter. Paul Konerko was up with men on first and third and one out in the 9th. He swung at this pitch….