This was my last game of the season, but first…
I GOT POWER AND CABLE BACK. Right before I left for the game. So, yay. Unfortunately school got power too >.<
Okay. So I took the train, as per usual, and then dashed down to the perfect corner spot by the tunnel on the third base side to get Reds autographs. I wanted a picture with Josh Fogg, and I wanted Micah Owings’ and Joey Votto’s autographs on baseball cards. I stood there watching Adam Rosales show off at third base for half an hour and then Jay Bruce came out. I watched him sit on the railing and talk to everyone around him, including Astros fans and little kids. He was smiling and laughing with everyone and I picked up my BlackBerry and decided to he|| with the fact that I was wearing my brown Astros Spring Training shirt, I was taking a picure with him. So I walked up to him and he smiled, and I said, “I’m gonna hate myself if I pass up this opportunity. Will you take a picture with me?”
He laughed as I handed my BlackBerry to the guy behind me and said, “Of course! Sure!” He hugged me with one arm and we took the picture, and I almost died being so close to him. He was one of the most geniuinely nice men I have ever met in my entire life. I then asked if Josh Fogg was traveling with them even though he was on the 60-day, and he apologized and said no, and I was sad. But then I thanked him for the picture and he smiled again… I have a new favorite baseball player. And as much as I hate to admit it, he’s nicer than Tulo. A lot nicer.
While I was watching Adam Rosales (“Rosie” according to the coaches), two players walked past me. One of them looked a lot like Luke Scott from the side, and as he talked to the other, I noticed he was using some unsavory language. Now, I’m not going to lie–I cuss a lot, but this guy is a professional and he was very within earshot of fans. However, I looked him up… and it was Joey Votto. Dang it. I was unhappy that I needed his autograph. I missed him when he went down into the dugout, but I was standing next to some guys who, judging by their conversation, used to play for the Reds, and they waved him over. I awkwardly stood right in front of him through their whole conversation and then asked him to sign the card, which he did. I do not like Joey Votto, but I did appreciate his signing my card. I should take a picture.
The game itself sucked. I screamed for Jay every time he went up to bat, and he struck out three times and lined out once. The guys in our section (who had heard my story) decided he was wondering where I was sitting and it was distracting him, and they thanked me for it. That’s just silly, because he has a girlfriend, but whatever. I adore him. And he’s only twenty-one!
I bought a 2009 Astros Pet Calendar, which is really cool because they benefit the Houston Humane Society, and there’s a ridiculously cute picture of Chris Sampson with CJ (his son) in his left arm and their dog in his right. I love that guy… I hope his elbow gets better soon 😦
Speaking of babies, Jack Cassel and his wife, which I didn’t know he had, just had a daughter! Congratulations!
I’m going to try to do a live blog for Sunday’s game. If it works out, I might do some for the playoffs, no matter who gets in.
I think this is the first blog entry I have started with something other than a sentence broken into halves.
So last night I got the chance to head to MMP on the light rail to catch the game. It was a rather efficient way to get to the park, except I had to walk through a couple blocks of seedy downtownness. Houston’s downtown is pretty sketchy.
It was a no-promotion game against the Reds, so I figured the crowd would be pretty small (30,000 paid, no more than 20,000 attending) but I got there at fiveish anyway. First in line, first into the Crawford Boxes. I ran through the rows hoping to find something in a cup holder or under a seat, but there was nothing, so I put on my glove and hoped to catch something.
Hour-and-a-half-long story short, I caught nothing. Despite my obvious femininity, the Reds players were hesitant to give a baseball to an Astros fan, and there weren’t many righties taking BP. A very nice older man, whom I met in the line and talked to through BP, offered me a home run that he caught if I didn’t catch anything, but I ran away before he could find me after they put the cages away because I felt bad if he just gave it to me. I did, however, mess with a few Reds. There was one particularly short and skinny player who threw a bottle of Dasani to another guy in the outfield, and the wrapper came off and landed in center. I looked at him and yelled, “Hey! Don’t litter!” and he cracked up. It was sweet.
I kept score and bought a pack of Topps and a plastic display cube for the Zack Parker ball, and then I went downstairs during the eighth inning to position myself to get a ball from Doug Eddings, the home plate umpire. I couldn’t decide which way the “out tunnel” was, so I picked home side–WRONG. He left through a tunnel right at the end of the away dugout. However, the most irritiating thing was the usher above section 122; I had been seat-hopping all night and nobody checked my tickets, but he told me he had to through the end of the game (bullcrap no. 1). He also told me that the umpire wouldn’t have any baseballs to give away (bullcrap no. 2), and that even if he did he wouldn’t give them out (bullcrap no. 3). Then he finally let me go sit but he made me sit on the right side and told me “not to get in anyone’s way.” Dude, I’m not twelve, okay? I’m a big girl.
So long story short, had tons of fun winning and screaming for Playboy-bunny-dating Hunter Pence, caught nothing, received nothing, had fun sorting through my new baseball cards.
Oh, and it’s really hard to eat and keep score at the same time.