Post by MSBNYY on Aug 26, 2006 7:51:17 GMT -5
Toronto 2002
By MetsSuckBalls
It’s hard to believe it’s been 13 months since Toronto 2001. It was equally hard to believe that after all this time, we were once again primed to invade Canada for another weekend of chicanery and fun. But when the end of August hit, and the Yanks went on the road, the Creatures were poised for that annual trip.
Toronto 2001 was such a great time that a lot of people wanted to be involved in 2002. In fact, you can expect more than one column this year. Bleacher “funnyman” Grover will enlighten all with his stories and experiences north of the border. The main reason for 2 columns is that Grover and I had different trips. I’ll try to avoid overlapping as much as possible, and let Grover do his thing.
I guess the best way to start this column is the same way I started it last year—by thanking Kwik. This trip seems to be Kwik’s annual headache. He made the contacts in Toronto, collected the money for the tickets, booked a big block of rooms, got the tickets, and made sure we all had the tickets. Kwik also had to deal with all the cancellations that happened because of the strike/people changing their minds. I’m sure I speak for everyone who went by saying thanks.
THURSDAY—
Last year, my flight was at 7am, and I had to be at the airport by around 5am. This year, being wiser, I booked the 9am flight. Despite that, I wanted to get to the airport fairly early, so Ignorant Evan and I had a car pick us up at 6:15am. We were there before 7am, so all was going smoothly. I had thought Baloo was on our flight, but I later learned that he took the flight before.
It’s hard to imagine having a flight from hell on a one hour flight, but I managed it. In the wake of September 11, flying is not a very comfortable experience. It doesn’t help when you have a stereotypical Arab on your flight. I first saw him in the waiting area, decked out in his white garb, and his beard, carrying a briefcase. It didn’t help that he was pacing while waiting to board. I’m sure I’m not the only one he annoyed, and I was very happy when he was stopped and given a thorough search before he got on the plane.
Due to rain, the plane hadn’t even arrived at Newark by the scheduled boarding time. So there ended up being a 20 minute delay just to board. If that wasn’t enough, we sat like schmucks on the runway waiting to take off. You don’t know how pleasant it is to hear the pilot announce that there were 16 planes ahead of us. It was even better about 10 minutes later when he announced that there were 27 planes ahead of us. But at least there was a screaming baby behind me kicking my seat. The only stereotype missing was a fat chick sitting next to me.
The flight finally took off after waiting an hour and a half. Thanks to the weather, the takeoff was very turbulent. Not a very pleasant way to start a vacation, but it did smooth out. We spent more time waiting on the runway than in the air. After we landed, Evan got his bag, and we looked for a taxi to the Skydome. On our way out, we saw our Arab friend joined by about 10 of his buddies. It looked like a bin-Laden convention.
We got to the Skydome around 12:30 and checked in. At this point it was time to head to my favorite Toronto eatery, East Side Mario’s. On the way there, we heard the familiar sounds of Domi’s rape whistle. We greeted our bleacher brethren, who were changing some of their real money for monopoly money and loons. Domi, Justin, Grover, and Tom were in that group. They wanted to go to the Lone Star Café, and also told us that we could get our tickets in the hotel. While they went to eat at Lone Star, Evan and I doubled back to the hotel. Steve, Midget Mike, Vinny and Jimmy were all there, and we got our tickets. Those guys went to Lone Star, while Evan and I went to East Side Mario’s.
Those who read last year’s column might remember that in addition to the food, I enjoyed the beautiful waitresses there. Well, there’s been some turnover in that department. There are more waiters now, and the waitresses don’t rate as high on the lust meter. But the food was still d**n good, and a real bargain compared to NYC.
After Mario’s, we met up with everyone at the Lone Star. The group had begun to take shape, as Diggety Dan and CBC Guy joined the fray.
Naturally, the talk was over the looming strike. The idea of a strike had really put a damper on the trip, and I think it cost us about half our crowd. As it was 25 people made the run, but it could have been closer to 60. In addition to money, people just didn’t want to go for one game. It’s ashame, as a lot of good people were missed, and of course, ended up missing out.
After the Lone Star, some of us doubled back to the hotel to hit the pool. On the way to the Skydome, we noticed a very unique monument. It seems the Canadians took it upon themselves to honor people killed in the line of construction duty. This seemed to be a serious monument, but the causes of death had most of us laughing our asses off. For example, one guy was killed while jumping from a train about to collide with another train. Another guy was killed when a piece of wood lodged in his brain. There was a blank plaque, so next year I think it might be funny to create our own monument. “Tom Brown—died of a heart attack while laughing at this monument.”
Anyway, we finally made it to the pool as Evan, Diggety Dan, Vinny, Jimmy and myself all enjoyed a good swim.
Soon, it was time for batting practice, and we headed over to the game. Picture taking had commenced. Bald Vinny also found the time to get Steve Karsay one of the highly popular Section 39 t-shirts. We moved closer to our seats, which were in right-centerfield, very close to the bullpen. Throughout the game, we were trying to get info on the strike. All the news said it was looking good, but many of us, myself included, were of the mindset that unless they announced a settlement, the presumption was that they were not playing. Smartass comments came to the bullpen as we were talking about the strike. Karsay at one point turned around and gave us a sign that said things would be ok. Still, no settlement.
I’ll keep the in game comments brief, since I’m sure they’ll be covered in Grover’s column. But roll-call was successfully done all four games, and the bullpen visibly laughed at many of the things we did. Last year’s 7th inning rendition of “Blue Jays, are gay….suck…on…my balls” made a nice comeback, and we had a lot of fun with the infinite use of sound effects by an overzealous Canadian Layton.
My first Yankee game live was on September 2, 1979. The Yanks beat the Royals 6-5 in extra innings on an Oscar Gamble walk-off HR. It was a very exciting game, and a great first experience. Since then, I’ve been to many games, but one thing was missing. I never got a ball. The closest I ever came to catching a Yankee ball was on the day Dave Righetti pitched his no-hitter, when a foul ball landed right next to my sister. She didn’t even go for it. Since then, nothing really ever came close, except in 2000. That year, I was in the stadium early for batting practice, and lo and behold, a ball landed in the bleachers and I got it. Midget Mike was there, and encouraged me to throw it back. It was after all a shot from an opposing player. To be honest, I always felt that if a Yankee doesn’t hit the ball, I don’t want it, so I threw it back.
This weekend, between batting practice and the game, I ended up with 5 baseballs. I gave 3 away, but kept one thrown to me by Mike Mussina on Thursday, and of course, I kept the Jason Giambi HR ball that was hit in the last game. I’ll get to that story toward the end of the column.
Another point about last year—as I’m sure many remember, it was during the first game of last year’s trip that I commented to Vinny that Soriano had warning track power during batting practice. He went on a tear that weekend, and continued to hit like that even to this day, where he’s putting up an MVP caliber year. I’d like to take full credit for Soriano’s power surge as my comment is what turned the kid around. Yeah. That’s it. Anyway, in an effort to replenish Soriano’s power, I renewed my commentary during batting practice. Soriano hit 3 HR over the weekend. Thank you.
The game ended in a Yankee defeat as we all bid them goodbye until next year. We were hoping that a strike could be avoided, but prepared for the worst, despite the good hints coming from NY.
I ended up in Vinny’s room, with Vinny, Jimmy, Debbie, Nicole, Midget Mike, Steve, and Evan. Vinny, Steve, Midget Mike and Jimmy were taking their stress medicine. I’ll leave it at that.
At this point, it was time to go out and bar hop. On the way out, we ran into Knoblauch. Believe it or not, he was wearing his infamous gay jeans. I got a picture of it, and can imagine what it was like to have his jeans made fun of internationally. I can picture a random Canadian walking up to him and saying, “Those are some gay jeans, eh?”
CBC Guy led the way for me, Evan, Tom, Chaz, Scott, Gabe, Justin, and Domi. One of the more interesting events that took place on the way to the bar was running into a guy playing bagpipes. Unable to stop ourselves, we rushed and took a picture.
CBC Guy took us to a place called Shoeless Joe’s. They might as well rename the place Serviceless Bar. There was one bartender in the whole place, and she was a Canadian pregnant dog. Gabe had to repeat his order 4 times. Chaz couldn’t even get a beer, and was forced into the ultimate humiliation of playing pool against me. Chaz won when I scratched on the 8 ball, though I did knock in the solids first. Watching us play pool is like watching two retards dance. It’s not pretty, but it can be entertaining.
Anyway, it’s not hard to make Tom mad when he’s been drinking. You put in a lousy bartender, and the nuts’s going to hit the fan. This bar was actually like 2 bars in one. There were two rooms, connected by a doorway. Each section had a bar. One bartender, two sections. It made for very slow service. There are three things you don’t do in this world. One--never start a land war in Asia. Two—never bet with a Sicilian when death is on the line. And three--don’t deny Tom his beer when he wants to drink. This bartender not only was bad at what she did, but she gave the group attitude. Despite a large group, it was a normal night out, and people don’t get one tab. You want a drink--you buy a drink. When told that we would all be paying for drinks separately, the group was greeted with a look of disgust, and a comment to the tune of, “you have got to be kidding me.” We left the bar shortly after that, but not before Tom tried to read her the riot act. But sadly, she turned and walked away just as Tom was getting started.
CBC Guy took us to some other bar, where we sat around and jabbered over the baseball issues. We also managed to get into political discussions, and even took a few stabs at Canada. 54-40 or fight, I say.
It was past 1am at this point, and some of us were hungry, so CBC Guy took us to some late night sub/pizza place. In there, some crazy old guy started talking to us. He told us how he was the one who suggested that the Skydome be placed near the CN Tower. He also talked about the baseball labor issues, and how he would solve him. Finally he mentioned how he planned Carter’s rescue invasion of the Iranian hostages. We ended up calling him the Mayor of Toronto. Well, that’s the gist of Thursday.
FRIDAY—
Given the group of people I was traveling with, I tried to take various cautions to prevent some of the obvious hijinx. One such caution was to prevent a wakeup call. Baloo tends to get up earlier than most, and remembering last year, I figured he would then be our wakeup call—not necessarily as a prank, but just to find out what the plans are for the day. We ended up being out until about 2am that night, and to preserve sleep, I unplugged the phone. Only one problem—there were two phones in the room, I only unplugged one, and sure enough, at 9:20am, Baloo called to ask what was going on.
It was time to wake up anyway, so we learned that Baloo, rookie Kevin, Scott, and Gabe were going to take the Skydome tour. I figured it would be a good idea, since we would likely go on the field and see some cool things you don’t get to see every day. We were also told we could climb to the top of the Skydome, which was a great idea. I met up with the group in the lobby, and we proceeded to get coupons from the Concierge. Unfortunately, we were given some bad information. First, there were two tours. One tour involved seeing the inner workings of the Skydome. The other tour involved the catwalk. The catwalk tour cost twice as much, and basically was just climbing 600 stairs and looking around. Plus, our coupons were not good for the catwalk tour. The one funny part was the ticket lady took one look at Baloo and questioned whether he could make the 600 stair climb.
We ended up taking the regular Skydome tour. It started out with a lame movie showing how the Skydome was constructed. We got to see nerdy engineers plan. We got to see people build the dome. It was a classic cheesy movie like you would see in school.
The tour was done well enough. We had a tourguide carrying a microphone and he led us around the building to various areas. We got to see a luxury box, the press box, and some nice seats. We also saw some funny signs, like “no gang colors.” I wonder if the Section 39 t-shirts would qualify.
Stupid questions were constant. For example, we were in the nice seats in the 200 level, and some person asked how to get seats there. The tour guide responded with a straight face, telling the person that she simply had to buy a ticket to that section.
There actually is a Blue Jay Hall of Fame. In that Hall of Fame, there is a Roger Clemens jersey. Someone asked why they spelled CLEMENS wrong (it was spelled CLEMONS). The tourguide never noticed it before, and apparently neither have the Canadians.
We got to sit in the press box, where we were still looking for news on the strike. It was very frustrating to still not know, even hours after the deadline. While in the press box, someone on the tour actually admitted to being a Boston fan, and of course, we heckled him.
Meanwhile, we were disappointed to learn that we couldn’t go on to the field. The reason? There was a minor league game going on. There were literally more people in the Skydome on the tour than people watching that game. One of the highlights of the tour occurred when we were in the 500 level, near the top, behind RF. The tour guide was talking, when a hard shot was hit to RF. And, to our delight, the right fielder misplayed the ball. In the middle of the tour, we NYers booed. In fact, you could say we booed loudly. The right fielder actually looked up and waved, as he received more boos. I believe Scott shouted “you suck” for good measure.
The tour was near an end, and I felt it was time to ask a stupid question of my own. So as the tour guide was winding down, and staying to answer a few more questions, I walked up to him and said, “how come you guys traded Shawn Green for Raul Mondesi?”
He ended up responding how he wasn’t the manager or general manager, and those decisions weren’t his, but he believed that both sides wanted to leave their respective teams.
Finally, after the tour, a collective sigh of relief was let out as we learned that a labor agreement was reached, and that the 2002 season would be finished without a strike. It’s ashame that the strike caused so many people to miss a good trip, but we were going to have baseball.
After the tour, we went to East Side Mario’s for lunch. The meal, as usual was excellent, and Scott regaled the table with stories about what he planned to do at Filmore’s that night. I figure Filmore’s will be covered more in Grover’s column, so I’ll keep my talk of it brief. Filmore’s is a dirty, low class, disgusting, skanky, trashbag dive strip club in Toronto. In other words, perfect. The night before, Grover made up some catchy jingle for the place, and Scott loved it. This is a family column, so I’ll give the censored version: “Filmore’s, Filmore’s, gonna stick my blank in a dirty chick…” Well, Scott, being excited, was singing this song throughout the trip, no matter who the audience was. He was also doing a goofy dance to it, and before long, this jingle became the “When the Saints Go Marching In” of 2002, as the whole group was singing it at random.
Scott also had some interesting adventures with the hotel staff as well. It seemed he was not too popular among hotel plumbers. Scott leads the bleachers in stopped toilets as he accomplished the task 3 times. He managed to clog the toilet two times in the Skydome, and once in East Side Mario’s. Hotel maintenance had to be called. He apparently also puked in the tub. For further information on these events and a speeding incident, talk to Scott, as I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell all.
Lunch soon ended, and we walked back to the Skydome. There, we met up with almost the whole group. There were 17 of us, and we talked about the strike and took some pictures. We still had hours to go before the game, and we decided to head down to the Docks, a place in Toronto most noted for Go-Kart World.
We managed to hail a bunch of cabs and arrive at the Docks. While a small group of us took pictures near with the CN Tower in the background, the majority headed straight for the Go-Karts. I always felt that go-carts were just mini cars. Since I drive a real car, they never really impressed me. But looking back at the fun everyone had, I regret not going on the ride, and I hope to remedy that in 2003.
About 12 of us went on the ride, while 5 of us stayed back and took pictures. The track was very narrow, so your place in the race was almost predetermined. Still, that didn’t stop our group from the kind of reckless driving that cost Tom his license in the real world. Scott was probably the biggest offender, as he scooted out to the early lead. Two laps later, he was still in the lead, driving like a maniac. As is the case in NASCAR, one of the keys is the efficiency of the pit-stop. The way this track worked, everyone bought 5 laps, and was given 5 tickets. Each time you finish a lap, you give away a ticket to the guy in charge. Those who were efficient at giving up their tickets ended up making up serious ground on their compatriots.
Scott didn’t just want to win this race, he wanted to destroy everyone, so despite a long and winding road, he drove recklessly. Naturally, this led him to spin out of control, and get stuck. When that happened, he was passed by a slew of bleacher creatures, and Big D took the lead into lap 3. But Big D got caught up in the ticket switch, and Diggety Dan took the lead with a Duke-boy like “yee haw.” The lead was never relinquished.
All the people in the race seemed to have a good time. But all things end, and so did the race. So we moved on to see the rest of the Docks. One of the highlights of the day was when we came across a ride that was a cross between a bungee jump and a pendulum. They would tie you in, and raise you to about 75 feet in the air. You would be let go, and swing to a roof, which you miss by inches. Of our group, Chaz stepped up and said the ride was calling his name. At our prompting, Chaz shouted, “I can see my house from here” as he was being lifted up. He screamed, “BONZAI!” as he was flying forward, and the group serenaded him with the Superman theme as he was flying through the air.
After Chaz’ experience, we all went to the mini-golf area. The group divided into 3 sets and the golf off began. Bald Vinny, Jimmy, Midget Mike, Knoblauch, and Suzy were in the first group. Debbie, Evan, Baloo, and Rookie Kevin were in the second group. The third group was rounded off by Chaz, Scott, Gabe, and Diggety Dan. It should be noted that Rookie Kevin had the best score of the day, and that Ignorant Evan, Debbie, and Baloo all had holes in one. Debbie kicked major ass on the back 9 I might add.
Soon it was time to go back but there was one problem. No cabs. We figured we needed 6 cabs to get us back to the hotel. Problem was--no cabs were coming. I went in to the main office of the place to see what could be done, and they pointed me to a red phone that was a hotline to a cab company. While I called 6 cabs, Jimmy had called 6 cabs too, so we had 12 cabs on the way.
Finally one taxi arrived. A group of four led by Bald Vinny tried to hop in. But there was a problem. The driver refused to take any of us. He claimed that he wasn’t called for our group, so despite the fact that 17 people were standing there, he refused to take anyone anywhere. Vinny tried to calmly explain to him that he had paying customers right here, and that 12 cabs were on the way and one would be able to take his nonexistent customers. Scott wasn’t too happy either and got into a less than subtle verbal shouting match with the guy. Meanwhile, our cabs started to arrive and I ended up in the second cab on the way back to the hotel. I don’t know how everything resolved, but we did see that idiot driver on the road, with no customer.
Fast forward to the game. Again, I’ll leave the main details to Grover’s column. This is the game we won. I sort of made friends with their version of Old Man 200, whom we called Old Man 300 in Canada. He ended up giving me a ball in batting practice. I got one the day before, so I gave the ball to Suzy.
During the game, some guy tried to yell something in Canadian, but his voice cracked. He was serenaded with “Time to Change” by the Brady Bunch. At the end of the game, Mike Thurman threw a ball to us and I caught it. This time I gave it to Bald Vinny, who was sitting next to me and never got a ball before.
After the game, it was decided that we would all go to My Apartment—the same bar/club I went to last year. Scott, Gabe, and Rookie Kevin went to Filmore’s.
I was with CBC Guy, Justin, Grover, Chaz, and Evan. Tom didn’t want to go in because he refused to pay admission for the right to drink beer on principle. Domi refused to go in because he refused to go to a bar that wouldn’t let him wear a baseball hat. They went over to Lone Star, and the rest of us went in.
Vinny, Dan, Jimmy, Midget Mike, Steve, Debbie, Nicole, Big D, and Knoblauch would later join us.
Since Grover was there, I will also defer to his column for the chicanery that went on there, which includes an inter-bleacher scuffle. The only other things of note would be Chaz’ not so bad Michael Jackson impression when Billy Jean was blasting, and Chaz and Evan going to the dance floor only to have their asses pinched by average looking chicks, according to them.
By now it was past 1:30am, and we began to trickle out. Chaz, Evan and I went back to that Mr. Sub/cheap pizza place to get some food, while the rest of the group headed out to either Filmore’s or House of Lancaster. It turned out that there was some special event at Filmore’s that night, and admission was $100 or so, and those that went ended up putting it off. After the food, it was time to call it a night, and call it a night I did. And thus, another day in Toronto ended.
By MetsSuckBalls
It’s hard to believe it’s been 13 months since Toronto 2001. It was equally hard to believe that after all this time, we were once again primed to invade Canada for another weekend of chicanery and fun. But when the end of August hit, and the Yanks went on the road, the Creatures were poised for that annual trip.
Toronto 2001 was such a great time that a lot of people wanted to be involved in 2002. In fact, you can expect more than one column this year. Bleacher “funnyman” Grover will enlighten all with his stories and experiences north of the border. The main reason for 2 columns is that Grover and I had different trips. I’ll try to avoid overlapping as much as possible, and let Grover do his thing.
I guess the best way to start this column is the same way I started it last year—by thanking Kwik. This trip seems to be Kwik’s annual headache. He made the contacts in Toronto, collected the money for the tickets, booked a big block of rooms, got the tickets, and made sure we all had the tickets. Kwik also had to deal with all the cancellations that happened because of the strike/people changing their minds. I’m sure I speak for everyone who went by saying thanks.
THURSDAY—
Last year, my flight was at 7am, and I had to be at the airport by around 5am. This year, being wiser, I booked the 9am flight. Despite that, I wanted to get to the airport fairly early, so Ignorant Evan and I had a car pick us up at 6:15am. We were there before 7am, so all was going smoothly. I had thought Baloo was on our flight, but I later learned that he took the flight before.
It’s hard to imagine having a flight from hell on a one hour flight, but I managed it. In the wake of September 11, flying is not a very comfortable experience. It doesn’t help when you have a stereotypical Arab on your flight. I first saw him in the waiting area, decked out in his white garb, and his beard, carrying a briefcase. It didn’t help that he was pacing while waiting to board. I’m sure I’m not the only one he annoyed, and I was very happy when he was stopped and given a thorough search before he got on the plane.
Due to rain, the plane hadn’t even arrived at Newark by the scheduled boarding time. So there ended up being a 20 minute delay just to board. If that wasn’t enough, we sat like schmucks on the runway waiting to take off. You don’t know how pleasant it is to hear the pilot announce that there were 16 planes ahead of us. It was even better about 10 minutes later when he announced that there were 27 planes ahead of us. But at least there was a screaming baby behind me kicking my seat. The only stereotype missing was a fat chick sitting next to me.
The flight finally took off after waiting an hour and a half. Thanks to the weather, the takeoff was very turbulent. Not a very pleasant way to start a vacation, but it did smooth out. We spent more time waiting on the runway than in the air. After we landed, Evan got his bag, and we looked for a taxi to the Skydome. On our way out, we saw our Arab friend joined by about 10 of his buddies. It looked like a bin-Laden convention.
We got to the Skydome around 12:30 and checked in. At this point it was time to head to my favorite Toronto eatery, East Side Mario’s. On the way there, we heard the familiar sounds of Domi’s rape whistle. We greeted our bleacher brethren, who were changing some of their real money for monopoly money and loons. Domi, Justin, Grover, and Tom were in that group. They wanted to go to the Lone Star Café, and also told us that we could get our tickets in the hotel. While they went to eat at Lone Star, Evan and I doubled back to the hotel. Steve, Midget Mike, Vinny and Jimmy were all there, and we got our tickets. Those guys went to Lone Star, while Evan and I went to East Side Mario’s.
Those who read last year’s column might remember that in addition to the food, I enjoyed the beautiful waitresses there. Well, there’s been some turnover in that department. There are more waiters now, and the waitresses don’t rate as high on the lust meter. But the food was still d**n good, and a real bargain compared to NYC.
After Mario’s, we met up with everyone at the Lone Star. The group had begun to take shape, as Diggety Dan and CBC Guy joined the fray.
Naturally, the talk was over the looming strike. The idea of a strike had really put a damper on the trip, and I think it cost us about half our crowd. As it was 25 people made the run, but it could have been closer to 60. In addition to money, people just didn’t want to go for one game. It’s ashame, as a lot of good people were missed, and of course, ended up missing out.
After the Lone Star, some of us doubled back to the hotel to hit the pool. On the way to the Skydome, we noticed a very unique monument. It seems the Canadians took it upon themselves to honor people killed in the line of construction duty. This seemed to be a serious monument, but the causes of death had most of us laughing our asses off. For example, one guy was killed while jumping from a train about to collide with another train. Another guy was killed when a piece of wood lodged in his brain. There was a blank plaque, so next year I think it might be funny to create our own monument. “Tom Brown—died of a heart attack while laughing at this monument.”
Anyway, we finally made it to the pool as Evan, Diggety Dan, Vinny, Jimmy and myself all enjoyed a good swim.
Soon, it was time for batting practice, and we headed over to the game. Picture taking had commenced. Bald Vinny also found the time to get Steve Karsay one of the highly popular Section 39 t-shirts. We moved closer to our seats, which were in right-centerfield, very close to the bullpen. Throughout the game, we were trying to get info on the strike. All the news said it was looking good, but many of us, myself included, were of the mindset that unless they announced a settlement, the presumption was that they were not playing. Smartass comments came to the bullpen as we were talking about the strike. Karsay at one point turned around and gave us a sign that said things would be ok. Still, no settlement.
I’ll keep the in game comments brief, since I’m sure they’ll be covered in Grover’s column. But roll-call was successfully done all four games, and the bullpen visibly laughed at many of the things we did. Last year’s 7th inning rendition of “Blue Jays, are gay….suck…on…my balls” made a nice comeback, and we had a lot of fun with the infinite use of sound effects by an overzealous Canadian Layton.
My first Yankee game live was on September 2, 1979. The Yanks beat the Royals 6-5 in extra innings on an Oscar Gamble walk-off HR. It was a very exciting game, and a great first experience. Since then, I’ve been to many games, but one thing was missing. I never got a ball. The closest I ever came to catching a Yankee ball was on the day Dave Righetti pitched his no-hitter, when a foul ball landed right next to my sister. She didn’t even go for it. Since then, nothing really ever came close, except in 2000. That year, I was in the stadium early for batting practice, and lo and behold, a ball landed in the bleachers and I got it. Midget Mike was there, and encouraged me to throw it back. It was after all a shot from an opposing player. To be honest, I always felt that if a Yankee doesn’t hit the ball, I don’t want it, so I threw it back.
This weekend, between batting practice and the game, I ended up with 5 baseballs. I gave 3 away, but kept one thrown to me by Mike Mussina on Thursday, and of course, I kept the Jason Giambi HR ball that was hit in the last game. I’ll get to that story toward the end of the column.
Another point about last year—as I’m sure many remember, it was during the first game of last year’s trip that I commented to Vinny that Soriano had warning track power during batting practice. He went on a tear that weekend, and continued to hit like that even to this day, where he’s putting up an MVP caliber year. I’d like to take full credit for Soriano’s power surge as my comment is what turned the kid around. Yeah. That’s it. Anyway, in an effort to replenish Soriano’s power, I renewed my commentary during batting practice. Soriano hit 3 HR over the weekend. Thank you.
The game ended in a Yankee defeat as we all bid them goodbye until next year. We were hoping that a strike could be avoided, but prepared for the worst, despite the good hints coming from NY.
I ended up in Vinny’s room, with Vinny, Jimmy, Debbie, Nicole, Midget Mike, Steve, and Evan. Vinny, Steve, Midget Mike and Jimmy were taking their stress medicine. I’ll leave it at that.
At this point, it was time to go out and bar hop. On the way out, we ran into Knoblauch. Believe it or not, he was wearing his infamous gay jeans. I got a picture of it, and can imagine what it was like to have his jeans made fun of internationally. I can picture a random Canadian walking up to him and saying, “Those are some gay jeans, eh?”
CBC Guy led the way for me, Evan, Tom, Chaz, Scott, Gabe, Justin, and Domi. One of the more interesting events that took place on the way to the bar was running into a guy playing bagpipes. Unable to stop ourselves, we rushed and took a picture.
CBC Guy took us to a place called Shoeless Joe’s. They might as well rename the place Serviceless Bar. There was one bartender in the whole place, and she was a Canadian pregnant dog. Gabe had to repeat his order 4 times. Chaz couldn’t even get a beer, and was forced into the ultimate humiliation of playing pool against me. Chaz won when I scratched on the 8 ball, though I did knock in the solids first. Watching us play pool is like watching two retards dance. It’s not pretty, but it can be entertaining.
Anyway, it’s not hard to make Tom mad when he’s been drinking. You put in a lousy bartender, and the nuts’s going to hit the fan. This bar was actually like 2 bars in one. There were two rooms, connected by a doorway. Each section had a bar. One bartender, two sections. It made for very slow service. There are three things you don’t do in this world. One--never start a land war in Asia. Two—never bet with a Sicilian when death is on the line. And three--don’t deny Tom his beer when he wants to drink. This bartender not only was bad at what she did, but she gave the group attitude. Despite a large group, it was a normal night out, and people don’t get one tab. You want a drink--you buy a drink. When told that we would all be paying for drinks separately, the group was greeted with a look of disgust, and a comment to the tune of, “you have got to be kidding me.” We left the bar shortly after that, but not before Tom tried to read her the riot act. But sadly, she turned and walked away just as Tom was getting started.
CBC Guy took us to some other bar, where we sat around and jabbered over the baseball issues. We also managed to get into political discussions, and even took a few stabs at Canada. 54-40 or fight, I say.
It was past 1am at this point, and some of us were hungry, so CBC Guy took us to some late night sub/pizza place. In there, some crazy old guy started talking to us. He told us how he was the one who suggested that the Skydome be placed near the CN Tower. He also talked about the baseball labor issues, and how he would solve him. Finally he mentioned how he planned Carter’s rescue invasion of the Iranian hostages. We ended up calling him the Mayor of Toronto. Well, that’s the gist of Thursday.
FRIDAY—
Given the group of people I was traveling with, I tried to take various cautions to prevent some of the obvious hijinx. One such caution was to prevent a wakeup call. Baloo tends to get up earlier than most, and remembering last year, I figured he would then be our wakeup call—not necessarily as a prank, but just to find out what the plans are for the day. We ended up being out until about 2am that night, and to preserve sleep, I unplugged the phone. Only one problem—there were two phones in the room, I only unplugged one, and sure enough, at 9:20am, Baloo called to ask what was going on.
It was time to wake up anyway, so we learned that Baloo, rookie Kevin, Scott, and Gabe were going to take the Skydome tour. I figured it would be a good idea, since we would likely go on the field and see some cool things you don’t get to see every day. We were also told we could climb to the top of the Skydome, which was a great idea. I met up with the group in the lobby, and we proceeded to get coupons from the Concierge. Unfortunately, we were given some bad information. First, there were two tours. One tour involved seeing the inner workings of the Skydome. The other tour involved the catwalk. The catwalk tour cost twice as much, and basically was just climbing 600 stairs and looking around. Plus, our coupons were not good for the catwalk tour. The one funny part was the ticket lady took one look at Baloo and questioned whether he could make the 600 stair climb.
We ended up taking the regular Skydome tour. It started out with a lame movie showing how the Skydome was constructed. We got to see nerdy engineers plan. We got to see people build the dome. It was a classic cheesy movie like you would see in school.
The tour was done well enough. We had a tourguide carrying a microphone and he led us around the building to various areas. We got to see a luxury box, the press box, and some nice seats. We also saw some funny signs, like “no gang colors.” I wonder if the Section 39 t-shirts would qualify.
Stupid questions were constant. For example, we were in the nice seats in the 200 level, and some person asked how to get seats there. The tour guide responded with a straight face, telling the person that she simply had to buy a ticket to that section.
There actually is a Blue Jay Hall of Fame. In that Hall of Fame, there is a Roger Clemens jersey. Someone asked why they spelled CLEMENS wrong (it was spelled CLEMONS). The tourguide never noticed it before, and apparently neither have the Canadians.
We got to sit in the press box, where we were still looking for news on the strike. It was very frustrating to still not know, even hours after the deadline. While in the press box, someone on the tour actually admitted to being a Boston fan, and of course, we heckled him.
Meanwhile, we were disappointed to learn that we couldn’t go on to the field. The reason? There was a minor league game going on. There were literally more people in the Skydome on the tour than people watching that game. One of the highlights of the tour occurred when we were in the 500 level, near the top, behind RF. The tour guide was talking, when a hard shot was hit to RF. And, to our delight, the right fielder misplayed the ball. In the middle of the tour, we NYers booed. In fact, you could say we booed loudly. The right fielder actually looked up and waved, as he received more boos. I believe Scott shouted “you suck” for good measure.
The tour was near an end, and I felt it was time to ask a stupid question of my own. So as the tour guide was winding down, and staying to answer a few more questions, I walked up to him and said, “how come you guys traded Shawn Green for Raul Mondesi?”
He ended up responding how he wasn’t the manager or general manager, and those decisions weren’t his, but he believed that both sides wanted to leave their respective teams.
Finally, after the tour, a collective sigh of relief was let out as we learned that a labor agreement was reached, and that the 2002 season would be finished without a strike. It’s ashame that the strike caused so many people to miss a good trip, but we were going to have baseball.
After the tour, we went to East Side Mario’s for lunch. The meal, as usual was excellent, and Scott regaled the table with stories about what he planned to do at Filmore’s that night. I figure Filmore’s will be covered more in Grover’s column, so I’ll keep my talk of it brief. Filmore’s is a dirty, low class, disgusting, skanky, trashbag dive strip club in Toronto. In other words, perfect. The night before, Grover made up some catchy jingle for the place, and Scott loved it. This is a family column, so I’ll give the censored version: “Filmore’s, Filmore’s, gonna stick my blank in a dirty chick…” Well, Scott, being excited, was singing this song throughout the trip, no matter who the audience was. He was also doing a goofy dance to it, and before long, this jingle became the “When the Saints Go Marching In” of 2002, as the whole group was singing it at random.
Scott also had some interesting adventures with the hotel staff as well. It seemed he was not too popular among hotel plumbers. Scott leads the bleachers in stopped toilets as he accomplished the task 3 times. He managed to clog the toilet two times in the Skydome, and once in East Side Mario’s. Hotel maintenance had to be called. He apparently also puked in the tub. For further information on these events and a speeding incident, talk to Scott, as I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell all.
Lunch soon ended, and we walked back to the Skydome. There, we met up with almost the whole group. There were 17 of us, and we talked about the strike and took some pictures. We still had hours to go before the game, and we decided to head down to the Docks, a place in Toronto most noted for Go-Kart World.
We managed to hail a bunch of cabs and arrive at the Docks. While a small group of us took pictures near with the CN Tower in the background, the majority headed straight for the Go-Karts. I always felt that go-carts were just mini cars. Since I drive a real car, they never really impressed me. But looking back at the fun everyone had, I regret not going on the ride, and I hope to remedy that in 2003.
About 12 of us went on the ride, while 5 of us stayed back and took pictures. The track was very narrow, so your place in the race was almost predetermined. Still, that didn’t stop our group from the kind of reckless driving that cost Tom his license in the real world. Scott was probably the biggest offender, as he scooted out to the early lead. Two laps later, he was still in the lead, driving like a maniac. As is the case in NASCAR, one of the keys is the efficiency of the pit-stop. The way this track worked, everyone bought 5 laps, and was given 5 tickets. Each time you finish a lap, you give away a ticket to the guy in charge. Those who were efficient at giving up their tickets ended up making up serious ground on their compatriots.
Scott didn’t just want to win this race, he wanted to destroy everyone, so despite a long and winding road, he drove recklessly. Naturally, this led him to spin out of control, and get stuck. When that happened, he was passed by a slew of bleacher creatures, and Big D took the lead into lap 3. But Big D got caught up in the ticket switch, and Diggety Dan took the lead with a Duke-boy like “yee haw.” The lead was never relinquished.
All the people in the race seemed to have a good time. But all things end, and so did the race. So we moved on to see the rest of the Docks. One of the highlights of the day was when we came across a ride that was a cross between a bungee jump and a pendulum. They would tie you in, and raise you to about 75 feet in the air. You would be let go, and swing to a roof, which you miss by inches. Of our group, Chaz stepped up and said the ride was calling his name. At our prompting, Chaz shouted, “I can see my house from here” as he was being lifted up. He screamed, “BONZAI!” as he was flying forward, and the group serenaded him with the Superman theme as he was flying through the air.
After Chaz’ experience, we all went to the mini-golf area. The group divided into 3 sets and the golf off began. Bald Vinny, Jimmy, Midget Mike, Knoblauch, and Suzy were in the first group. Debbie, Evan, Baloo, and Rookie Kevin were in the second group. The third group was rounded off by Chaz, Scott, Gabe, and Diggety Dan. It should be noted that Rookie Kevin had the best score of the day, and that Ignorant Evan, Debbie, and Baloo all had holes in one. Debbie kicked major ass on the back 9 I might add.
Soon it was time to go back but there was one problem. No cabs. We figured we needed 6 cabs to get us back to the hotel. Problem was--no cabs were coming. I went in to the main office of the place to see what could be done, and they pointed me to a red phone that was a hotline to a cab company. While I called 6 cabs, Jimmy had called 6 cabs too, so we had 12 cabs on the way.
Finally one taxi arrived. A group of four led by Bald Vinny tried to hop in. But there was a problem. The driver refused to take any of us. He claimed that he wasn’t called for our group, so despite the fact that 17 people were standing there, he refused to take anyone anywhere. Vinny tried to calmly explain to him that he had paying customers right here, and that 12 cabs were on the way and one would be able to take his nonexistent customers. Scott wasn’t too happy either and got into a less than subtle verbal shouting match with the guy. Meanwhile, our cabs started to arrive and I ended up in the second cab on the way back to the hotel. I don’t know how everything resolved, but we did see that idiot driver on the road, with no customer.
Fast forward to the game. Again, I’ll leave the main details to Grover’s column. This is the game we won. I sort of made friends with their version of Old Man 200, whom we called Old Man 300 in Canada. He ended up giving me a ball in batting practice. I got one the day before, so I gave the ball to Suzy.
During the game, some guy tried to yell something in Canadian, but his voice cracked. He was serenaded with “Time to Change” by the Brady Bunch. At the end of the game, Mike Thurman threw a ball to us and I caught it. This time I gave it to Bald Vinny, who was sitting next to me and never got a ball before.
After the game, it was decided that we would all go to My Apartment—the same bar/club I went to last year. Scott, Gabe, and Rookie Kevin went to Filmore’s.
I was with CBC Guy, Justin, Grover, Chaz, and Evan. Tom didn’t want to go in because he refused to pay admission for the right to drink beer on principle. Domi refused to go in because he refused to go to a bar that wouldn’t let him wear a baseball hat. They went over to Lone Star, and the rest of us went in.
Vinny, Dan, Jimmy, Midget Mike, Steve, Debbie, Nicole, Big D, and Knoblauch would later join us.
Since Grover was there, I will also defer to his column for the chicanery that went on there, which includes an inter-bleacher scuffle. The only other things of note would be Chaz’ not so bad Michael Jackson impression when Billy Jean was blasting, and Chaz and Evan going to the dance floor only to have their asses pinched by average looking chicks, according to them.
By now it was past 1:30am, and we began to trickle out. Chaz, Evan and I went back to that Mr. Sub/cheap pizza place to get some food, while the rest of the group headed out to either Filmore’s or House of Lancaster. It turned out that there was some special event at Filmore’s that night, and admission was $100 or so, and those that went ended up putting it off. After the food, it was time to call it a night, and call it a night I did. And thus, another day in Toronto ended.
