On to Football

For the second year, Barbara has invited me down to see the matchup of the Washington  Redskins and the Philadelphia Eagles. Football is not something I watch, but again, accepting seems a nice way to spend time with her and Gail, the most avid of football fans.
In preparation, I follow the Eagles season,  knowing that they have been losing badly. The fans who care are disgusted and dismayed. And now that the Phillies season has collapsed, there is nothing to look forward to. So, after last year's trouncing, I assure Barbara that the Redskins are a going to win, that I will be  happy to cheer with her, as I have no real feeling of love for the Eagles (yet)

Barbara, Gail and Tobie spreading out

I drive down the night before  being well aware that for a 1:00 game, she will be leaving for the stadium at 9:30 am. Gotta get a good spot to tailgate! the morning begins at 8:00 am. at the gym with my brother, then Barbara and Gail arrive to pick me up with all the Redskins gear in tow: Coolers, tables, chairs  Redskins plates, a Redskin drink cooler, lots and lots of great food. The weather is spectacular-the sun bright and warm. I look forward to my second pro football game.

Eagles van complete with built in TV

When we arrive at the stadium, I am shocked to see hundreds of cars and tents already set up. How could it be that it's only 10:30 and we are already late? We set up our lunch, chatter about family gossip, and I am off to forage deep into Redskins tailgating territory. For, well beyond the Disabled parking lot are the hoi poloi, rauscously grilling, drinking, playing beanbag toss, drinking, dancing, drinking.


Our seats are in the 1st level on the 30 yard line, a perfect view. As we settle in, I take stock of our neighbors. To the left, in front and behind us are solid Redskins fans. To our right is  a family of Eagles fans and several rows in front are two others. We are quite outnumbered and for the most part outshouted, but as we are soon to find out, not outplayed.

Seems that this will be a standing only game. Even before the game starts, the people in the first rows stand up, forcing everyone else to stand as well.

Last year's game was a running and long throwing game, where Michael Vick showed how agile and sharp he could be. I enjoyed watching his grace. This game is a short passing game where every yard  is well fought and it takes the whole quarter to get down the field. Much to my surprise, and apparently the Redskins, the Eagles take early control of the ball and don't let go, holding on for 11 minutes of the first quarter. After two touchdowns and a field goal, I am nervous about even looking over at Barbara to see her reactions.

Meanwhile, the rowdy crew behind us unrelentingly shouts barbs at the Eagles, and soon enough, even starts to bark at the Redskins quarterback, Rex Grossman. "We want Beck, we want Beck". (the alternate quarterback) Throughout the first half, Grossman throws several times without a receiver in place, and the number of interceptions and turnovers is astounding. I'm enjoying learning more about the game, glad also to glance over on occasion to the Eagles fans nearby, who smile, appropriately thrilled at the 20-0 situation, cheering, but never noisy or obnoxious.

All is well and good.

The fourth quarter: The 'gentleman' Eagles fan stands up, turns around and barks at the Redskins fans behind him, "If you don't f-ing stop pouring beer down my back, I'm going to kill you". I don't hear this threat, but I hear the retort "F- you, I didn't mean it, it was an accident". And then out of no where, the Eagles fan slugs, I mean really slugs the Redskins fan.

Barbara scurries out of the way, but the only place to go is in our laps. There we are in slow motion, watching a brawl unfold in front of our eyes. I think that this cannot possibly go on for much longer, their  friends will be able to separate the two (or is it three now) in the fight. I put up my hand to hold the Eagles fan at bay while he falls backwards, still throwing punches. No one seems to be able to stop this, and there are no stadium workers in sight. I realize that I could get hurt as well, so turn and shout  for someone to text the management as this fight continues.

It takes many long minutes for any official to show up. By that time, the Redskins fan who so politely responded "F-you" has a bloody face, the 'gentleman' is being taken away, and we are left with two blood spattered seats, a stunned group of fans, and at least 10 different versions of what has just happened.

We try to watch the rest of the game, which by this time has changed the Redskins' fortunes with the entrance of the alternate quarterback, Beck, who manages to get the ball down the field for a touchdown, and two field goals. Our attention, though, is on this scary and bizarre story, each of us having our own eye witness account, and each wondering how this could have happened.

Then I remember the tailgating grilling, the drinking, the bean bag games, the drinking, the dancing, the drinking. And the permission that fans feel they have to shout anything they want at the players, at the other fans. I've heard and seen bad behavior, but even this event was shocking.

The final score-Eagles 20 Redskins 13


Not sure I'll be invited back!

The moon, no rain, and a free set of Phillies postcards

The Ballpark is electric the day after the Phillies clinch the east division title. My goal is to arrive on time to cheer them on as they come onto the field. It is just as I expected-a standing ovation, loud and proud. We settle in and watch as Cole Hamels pitches a first strike. So far, so good. But all goes awry for the night when the Cardinals get hit after hit, and home run after home run, 2 in the first inning. Cole does produce some strike outs, but the damage has been done. It doesn't help that the fans have more energy than the batters who hit some singles and doubles, or hit almost to the stands, but can't seem to string anything together.

The 114 section leads a wave that manages rather lethargically to make it around the ballpark once-only to die as soon as the Cardinals hit a homerun. That is enough to dampen the fun spirit. Later in the game, the same section attempts a clapping rally and another wave, but it goes no where. Even the Phillie Phanatics monkeying around can't lift the energy.

Tonight I meet the Sunday game season ticket holders. In fact, the ticket I bought on StubHub was sold by the man next to me for a reasonable price. I'm learning more about how this works-season ticket holders oftern cannot get to games and many don't even bother to sell their tickets. Those that do might sell it at cost, but often more. Easiest to get tickets the day of the game when tickets often get discounted. Behind me another group of season ticket holders talks about playoff tickets, so I ask them how much they cost. Well, it is shocking how much people jack up the prices on the ticket broker sites, and then again how much the ticket brokers charge over and above that.  Stub hub charges 10% plus to both the seller and the buyer, and the buyer also pays a 5.00$ fee. Other brokers charge even more.

The end of the game 5-0. We have named it The Hangover Game. The best parts: the moon, no rain, and a free set of Phillies postcards.

A moment of silence

How Baseball saved my life

The final game of the 2010 National League Series was a disappointment for Phillies fans, and certainly there is an endless variety of ways to ask many questions. Why couldn't the Phillies connect to the ball? Why did Ryan Howard stop being the powerhouse that all expected him to be? What happened to the home runs?  These are the questions I will leave to the sports experts and commentators who get paid to make up answers. For me, the question  was this:, What about being in a ballpark with 46,000 people was an essential part of healing from a traumatic injury that had kept me out of work for 6 weeks, and in pain for much longer than that?

On March 21,  2010 an accident at home sent me to the trauma unit at Einstein hospital. Although I didn't know it at the time, the top joint of my finger had been crushed and the nerves severed so badly that the damage was irreparable. As you read this, you may shutter thinking about the pain-so then, multiply that and you will get a tinge of how painful it was in reality. My world became bandages and medications, neighbors and friends helping me clean and cook, family staying with me, and much much love. I created visualizations of light and warmth and gratitude to use as meditations, which when recorded became my lullabies to sooth me to sleep. Bathed in this gratitude  I went into surgery on March 31, thanking everyone in my path from receptionists, to the nurses to the excellent surgeon.

From the time of the injury through this surgery and for weeks to come, I did not know the extent of the damage, never knew that my life had changed permanently.

I only knew  that on  April 14, I had precious tickets in the 11th row of the 3rd base line in Citizen's Bank Park to see the  Phillies Opening night game with my friends. I only knew that whatever the pain, and no matter how difficult, that game was going to stay on my schedule.

My hand bandaged, my bag packed with vicodin and aciteminophen, I took my seat cradled between two of my favorite Phillies phans.  I couldn't clap because the impact on my hand was like an electric shock. But I could stand up and wave, shout and scream.

Oh,  how I learned to let go  and scream.

Not for myself, though. No, I shouted for a team, and for a city and for the start of spring and expectations for summer; for hope and for excitement; for the open air, and balls sailing high into the sky; for running and stealing bases, for sliding into home, for grace and green; for the sun setting over the Philadelphia skyline; for silly antics on the field; for the ceremonial first pitch and the actual first pitch.

For all that and more I stood up, hands waving, becoming part of the community of fans.

Surrounded by  45,000 others screaming and and yelling, too, I  realized that it was safe expected even to make noise,  a lot of noise.  That night and the rest of the thrilling season of cheering, yelping, stomping  saved my life .

And I needed that.

The 95% of my body that wasn't hurt needed that. For the summer and well into fall, the places in me that had become small  filled the vast ballpark space with the joy of winning, the excruciating pain of losing,  the excitement at seeing a no hitter,  the awe at witnessing the ballet of an elegant catch in right field, the naughty delight of cheering on a runner as he stole a base, the tickle at being part of a 'wave' that spread throughout the stands, the silliness of singing at the 7th inning stretch.

And it helped to bring me into wholeness again.

That is why I am a Phillies phan.

3 for 3 Good weather, Good game. Good win.

On this last game of the 6 pack series that Peter and I bought in December (see blog post Dec 22), we are hopeful for a tri-fecta: good weather, a good game, a good win. After 2 days of solid rains that flooded Kelly Drive, each of us has packed our rain gear and umbrellas just in case. We know that the game will be played come hell AND high water because there just aren't any days to make up games this late in the season. Last night's chilly rain delay game makes tonight's nice weather all the more precious. When we arrive the sky is overcast,  but dry, with no sign of any downpour.

Good weather. 1 for 3.

This is an important game as the season comes into the 7th inning stretch. The pitching is well matched, so it is with anticipatory excitement that we stand up and cheer for Raul Ibanez' home run early on. The Braves match with a run and then surge ahead.

What happens in the 6th inning stirs up the crowd for the first time since the home run. Polanco hits a fly ball down the first base line. The right fielder dives to catch it, holding up his glove to show that he has made the out.. Victorino runs to 3rd, but looking back, thinks that it is the last out. As do we all. The Braves walk off the field, the Phillies prepare to change to defense.

But no! The umpires circle up to take a second look. Their decision: It was not caught, which means that there are still only 2 outs and the Phillies are still at bat.  We all go wild with disbelieve at this second chance, especially when it is followed by a rally  to put 3 men on base.

Okay, so it was all for nought, when Ryan Howard strikes out  for the 3rd out leaving the 3 men stranded. Still, this definitely gets our blood going again, which serves us well for the next half of the game.

There are other moments like this. Hits and disappointments, dynamic double plays, 3-2 counts that make me want to hide until its over, elegant right field catches,edge of the seat pitching duels. Section 431 collectively chanting throughout provides the musical entertainment along with great Latin music for Latino Heritage night.

All this  brings us to a tied 2-2 game going into the 9th inning. Are we looking at extra innings? The Braves are shut down by Madson and it is now our turn again.

Two men on base, Ross Gload comes to bat as the pinch hitter. He hits a lovely just-to-the -left-of-the-foul- line single.

Good weather. Good game.  2 for 3

The hit is enough to bring in another run making it 3-2 in the bottom of the  9th inning.

Good weather. Good game. A win for the Phillies.  3 for 3

But wait, there's more. I have not felt this end of the game exuberance since the playoff wins. We are all just giddy with delight, happy to see the brass band that serenades us after each game on our way to the subway. (Better heard here than seen)

Tonight I am prepared with some quarters for the basket to reward their persistence and fun spirit.

Then, just inside the subway station, we run into 2 Atlanta fans here from Alabama who joke around with Isaac about the coming post season. It is all smiles, good natured ribbing and a sign of good sportsmanship.

Good weather

Good game

A win for the Phillies

AND

Good sportsmanship

4 for 4.

Thanks Peter for a great season. (wink, wink, let's go to another game ...and what about the playoffs?)

Nature 2-Philadelphia 0

Few questions could start a conversation with a stranger with more immediacy last week than  "Where were you during the earthquake?" Whether in the subway or by the standing room only counters, chatting up the food vendors, or waiting in line for the bathroom, everyone  at the game had a story to tell. Admittedly, the most interesting were from people on higher floors in Center City. In fact, a friend who I saw the next day, was evacuated from  the 40th floor of the Comcast building, He definitely got the win.

I did feel the rumble in my first floor office, wondering if the students in the classroom next door were having a wild party. All the staff converged in the main teachers' room uncertain about what had just happened. And though the earthquake had lasted only a few seconds, it was as if we had experienced a devastating event. No books came off of shelves, no glasses crashed onto the floors. Still, an earthquake in Philadelphia? enough to keep us talking and even a bit anxious for the rest of the day.
Then just to keep us 'awake alert  alive enthusiastic' (thanks to my brother Marc for that delightful ditty), along comes Hurricane Irene with enough rain to wash out a few games, and to bring flooding to areas in the Delaware Valley.
Games postponed, roofs unhinged, creeks arisin' and the rain kept coming. Even Cliff Lee couldn't pitch his way out of such a storm.

Winning is Sweet

At the August 23 game I laughed more heartily than I had in a long time. Maybe it was the warmth of being with good  friends, the 15th row height of our 419 section seats just above home plate, or the great weather. Or it could have just been Shane Victorino's  home run, John Mayberry Jr's three run home run, Shane's three run triple, or watching this 'Mets men's group' on the mound. What are they saying anyway? "What the ### do we do now?", or "Stop being such sensitive new age men and start kicking butt", or "I hear they make great cheese steaks in this part of town, let's get outta here NOW." Whatever they were saying, it didn't matter 'cause at least tonight they were being out hit, out run, and eventually, out pitched.

Worley had a rough first two innings, getting out of some jams with some good defense from the infield and catches from the outfield. Once he settled down, though, his teammates  helped him out with a great batting barrage. Oh, and Worley hit some, too. Yeah, 2 out of 3 times at bat, and he came home on an RBI.
For a few innings we were up on our feet most of the time, screaming or clapping. How surprised we were to look back to see a fan sleeping through  most of the whole game

The only place the Mets showed up the Phillies was when they completed a 'hit and run'. Okay,  I didn't really know what that was, and had to use my oft said expression "What just happened?" So here is the explanation: A hit and run normally occurs when the coach sends the runner to 2nd while the batter attempts to hit the ball. If it works correctly the runner will get to third on a single (which happened) or he will get to 2nd and avoid the double play on a grounder to an infielder. (thanks Joe).

 That just went by too fast for me, but it was fun to watch.

This game made up for the torrential rain game last on the 18th, which was the first game that I had ever left before the end. We had seen the best 3 innings, the Phillies did eventually win it, and it was a good decision not wait out the 2 hour delay, but still left me disappointed. Tonight no rain, no delays, all fun.

Joe, Tobie, Vic, Peter, and an errant Red Sox fan.
 (Just behind Joe's head is the guy who slept through most of the game. His head is down in this picture!)

Winning IS sweet.

Pretzels, water for a buck, t-shirts for five

I usually take pictures of the park, the players, the fans. Tonight, arriving early, gave me a chance to talk with and take pictures of the people who 'work for their money'.

If you worked at the ball park, what would you do?

Would you sell beer and pretzels like Al and Vernon? You can find them at Ashburn Alley, named after Phillies Hall of Fame center fielder Richie Ashburn, who played for the team from 1948 to 1959 and was a Phillies broadcaster from 1963 until his death in 1997.
Al worked at the Vet for 30 years, then made the transition to Citizens Bank Park when the first ball was pitched on April 12, 2004. He is the kind of guy you would love to sit and talk with for hours, knowing that he has great stories to tell. Of course, having chatted for awhile, I had to buy a pretzel from them which, I admit, was much tastier than the ones I had bought outside the ballpark .

Or would you like to whisk the paper cone into the cotton candy machine, spinning the pink giant bouffant of sugar fluff?



Could you imagine yourself as the artist  in front of your easels  ready to draw those exaggerated cartoon portraits?




How heavy are those cases?
Beer is a big seller. (duh) Some bottles are sold at stands around the park, but the hardest job at the park is carrying around cases of beer. When I asked to take the picture of the seller to the left, he immediately put down his load to stand up proudly with all his buttons on display. I did see him later hauling his case on top of his head while clamoring up and down the 400 level steps.  With a South Philly carnival hawkers voice, loud, boisterous, he seemed happy to be working.

 And finally, when the game is over we pass the ever present saxophone player, the New Orleans style brass band, and entrepreneurs with coolers full of gaterade and water, and then there is that woman selling CDs (3 hours of content, ???? she explains),

We approach the SEPTA subway station greeted by the chant:  

Pretzels, water for a buck, T-shirts for five.

It was a dark and stormy night

The east  coast has been ravaged by afternoon and evening storms in the past week, menacing storm clouds, large plumes of black crawling across the sky. So it was on Thursday night for the August 18 game sitting this time on the first base side. Here was the  perfect perch to see the approaching storm coming in from our left raucously announced by thunderous lightening bolts that took the crowd's breath away.

Behind me someone remarks, " I didn't know they were going to have fireworks tonight!"

The game proceeds with Worley on the mound. The Phillies score 3 runs in the first 3 innings, enough excitement to keep me screaming and on my feet. Then the inevitable happens. The infield cover is unrolled, with an announcement, barely in time, warning us to get under cover. A few short minutes later, the torrential rains pour down on the field and throughout the ball park, debris swirls everywhere. A young boy starts to cry, and for a few minutes, there is a sense of real danger in the air. Packed under the the ballpark awnings, we are treated to a downpour that ultimately lasts over 2 hours.
After an hour, Melvin and I decide to go home. Walking to the subway in a more subdued rain, we still assume that the game will be called off completely because the thunder continues all around us. But when I arrive home to switch on the radio around 10:30,  they have actually resumed play. The Phillies score again and win it 4-0.

Phillies are hitting again! Happy Birthday Eric

The dynamic foursome, Harold, Tobie, Peter and Isaac are together on August 17 for a picture perfect evening. The weather couldn't be better, and the ballgame a dream. What could be more sublime than a homerun for Jimmy  Rollins on the first DiamondBacks pitch.

After a lull, Hunter Pence gives us a bit of drama, tripping on his way to third from a hit by Mayberry. Pence keeps going around third to make it home. From then on the Phillies get back their batting mojo and we are standing more than sitting, screaming with excitement more than somber and quiet. The day ends with a satisfying 9-2 victory.

With seats in the upper decks, we never expect the cameras to make it up our way. But for some reason, the cameraman is enamored with a family in front of us. The two sons are barely interested in the game, and the father is following the game on his Smartphone. We nudge ourselves into view to make sure we can be seen  on the big screen for our 3 seconds of fame.
During  a relatively calm moment in the game, we call my brother Eric, (he of both Pirates and San Fran Giants allegiance) to sing a birthday wish on his voice mail.

Quote of the day from a seat behind us: First I thought Goldschmidt was a pasta, then a beer, then I found out he was a ballplayer.

Under the bridge-Watching the Camden Riversharks (pictures)

Campbell's ballpark home of the Camden Riversharks. Camden New Jersey, just over the Ben Franklin Bridge

Happy Phillies Phans

Giants 2-Phillies 1

A nice breeze comes through the 400 section, so the heat is not as oppressive as it has been for the past week. To my left are a group of friends celebrating a birthday. Behind me are the real phanatics who give some running commentary about the players, the Phillies, the trades, the pitching, the batting. Joe and I sit to the left of home plate in the upper decks for this evening of few hits, fewer runs and some bloopers.
Cole Hamels lets in 2 runs, enough to sink the Phils. One of the Phillies' singles comes on a wild mishap between the Giants catcher and pitcher, who collide on the way to catching a foul ball. The only run is  scored on a missed outfield catch.
In the bottom of the 9th inning, with 2 outs and a full count, the batter hits a ball far enough for a home run.. We all stand to watch and wait and hope and .........it lands too far to the right into the stands for a foul. On the next pitch the game is over.

Learning to watch the game

A group of 15 college students from countries where baseball is not king join me for a lesson in how to play. Really though, it is a lesson in how to WATCH so that they can enjoy the trip tonight to the second Phillies vs. Giants game. We lug some plastic bats, a few balls, a glove and lots of water to Drexel Park where  we set up a small diamond and get ready to learn the basic rules and vocabulary of baseball.

They really do know nothing about baseball. Nothing.
Lesson one is learning the lingo:
the diamond, the positions, what is a strike, a ball, a walk, an out, an inning. All new and quite strange. This year I can regale them with stories of 19 inning games, taking my niece to the 6th playoff game when the Giants won the National League Championship, and fill them in on the current excitement about the Phillies vs the Giants.
Lesson two is giving them a chance to  feel the joy of swinging a bat and connecting with the ball:
One student hits the ball, then walks away.
Another student hits the ball, and runs jubilantly to the first base -with the bat still in hand!One by one, each student steps up to our makeshift home plate to simulate singles, steals, triples, and RBIs. One student wants to learn how to steal.We even have a pitcher and 2nd baseman's confab to talk about how to do a double play.
When someone comes home, I make sure we greet them with some high fives and cheers. 

It's a pitcher's game, I tell them.
It may look like nothing is happening, so watch and relish every pitch and learn to understand what the count means. Look to see if the umpire's hand  points right when Cole Hamels pitches. That is a strike!  Check the board to see what kind of pitch, the speed, the count.
Lean forward on the 3-2 count.
Stand up and clap to honor the pitcher walking off the field, replaced by a relief pitcher..
Follow the directions on the HD screen to 'make noise.
Hope that Cain, the Giants' pitcher throws outside the strike zone for 4 balls. That's a walk.

It's a batter's game, I tell them.
Cheer as the Phillies batter runs to first base and hope the umpire spreads his arms wide to show that the batter is 'safe'.  Hold your breath as you  follow the long fly ball that you hope will go out of the park. Groan in disappointment as it is caught by the center fielder.
Scream for the the runner as he crosses home plate.
I share with them the chant Raooooooool that we croon when Raul Ibanez comes to the plate.

And when something happens that you don't understand, turn around and ask someone, "What just happened?" It is something I have done many times!

I tell them: Take a walk around the park to get a good look from all angles. Buy some overpriced water or overcooked hotdogs. Sway to the sounds of  'Take me out to the ballgame'.  (we learn the words and practice it) Take lots of pictures.

Enjoy the ride to the park, the vendors hawking pretzels and peanuts. Enjoy the ballpark. Enjoy the not so oppressively hot evening, the view of the city, being in the stands with 45, 808 people for a lovely night of "America's game".

Enjoy the game.   Play ball!

Red Sox 5, Phillies 2

Dear Mom,

How I want to call to tell you  tales of my latest Phillies adventures, describing the the red and white costumed subway riders, the people who were my partners in sport.  and to give you a play by play by play by play of this afternoon's 3rd game with the Boston Red Sox.

You aren't on the other end of the phone to be totally bemused by my new found passion, sprung loose like the cork on a champagne bottle within the last year. How amazed you were when I would call from the ballpark gushing with glee after a home run, or a grand slam, a no hitter, or during what would be a 19 inning game.

I knew that I could call because you always loved to be part of whatever your children, and your grandchildren and friends of your family were up to. Whether it was attending concerts of Indonesian puppetry and dance that you enjoyed through your eldest son Marc; displaying children's books written by your middle son Eric; getting involved in any number of projects of mine from dance concerts to ice skating exhibitions to Dales' birthday parties, you were there. Your love of  theater, from Kennedy Center to your granddaughter's middle school and high school productions is legendary, but you also attended elementary school children's soccer games,championship gymnastic, swimming and diving meets. Never grudgingly. You truly loved it.

You aren't on the phone  for me to describe how it felt to ride the express train to the ballpark with fathers, daughters, sons, groups of coworkers, old and young,  many in Phillies garb. I couldn't call you on this 85 degree afternoon in the sun, yet another perfect day for a ball game, to tell you that sitting in the ballpark in outer left field with 40,000 fans was exactly where I wanted to be, needed to be today. It is always a privilege, a delight, an exquisite ride of ups and downs, rallies and exaltation being at a baseball game.

You aren't here for me to tell you that being with you as much as possible  for the past 7 months was also exactly where I wanted to be, needed to be . It was always a privilege, a delight, an exquisite ride of ups and downs, rallies and exaltations being your daughter.

In fact, it was the best game in town and I was thrilled to be right behind home plate with all of us cheering you on.
 ________________________

P.S. We lost today 5-2. Oh well, it's only June, the Phillies are still #1 in both Leagues and unlike missing you, it's just a game.

Great night for baseball

A half moon hangs in the sky. An 85 degree night with no threat of rain. Another great night for baseball. I am in heaven, quite literally, the upper deck at the far corner of the left field seats for the third game against the LA Dodgers. Our view is the wide angle lens shot of the field, less intimate and immediately compelling than other places I've sat, so it takes time to settle in and focus. Fortunately, tonight I am joined by Peter, Isaac and Joe, 3 absolute Baseball aficionados, who trade colorful commentary past present, even future. On either side of me I am treated to 'BSL" Baseball as a Second Language. At one point, Isaac is describing a game that he saw, and though I know all the words he is using, the meaning is opaque to me. At this moment I wish that I had a tape recorder to document this language sample.

As a child, my father would listen to the Pittsburgh Pirates games in the car, but because all I knew was that he wanted us to be quiet, I did not appreciate how dear this experience was to him. I don't remember him ever actually attending a game, and don't remember ever being taken to one, so in looking back am sad of this lost opportunity to share my father's love of listening to the color commentators. for a team that was in it's prime.  I can only now imagine the rapturous melody of a skilled announcer who could convey excitement through the speakers of the radio in our Buick stationwagon. : "And it's a high ball to center.........it's over the head of the center fielder..........it'sA HOME RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The first 5 innings go quickly, up down, up down. Cole Hamels pitches brilliantly  letting  in one hit that goes nowhere for the Dodgers. But the Phillies are not hitting either, so we wonder if this will be another long game.
Then  Ryan Howard is up to bat. Ahhhhhhhhhhh. And it's a high ball to center...it's over the head of the center fielder..its A HOME RUN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 NOW we have a game as both teams start  hitting. Along the way the Phillies produce some excitement with 2 elegant triples.  Triples are about the running: there is always the tension as the runner bolts around second-will he try for third base? Home? Will the fielder be able to throw it in time for an out?
The Dodgers pitcher walks several runners. With the bases loaded, 2 outs, a 3-2 count  the fans are on our feet cheering, cheering, cheering. The batter swings, "it's a flyyyyyyyyy ball................... ...............caught by the center fielder". Like a balloon deflated, we settle back into our seats. The stadium is quiet again.
The Dodgers challenge Hamels with some hits, but he fights back with strike outs to retire them for another inning, for a total of 8 innings.
The Phillies do score one more with what I learn is as close to a 'suicide squeeze play' as I am  likely to see, a close slide to home, safe at the plate. Another chance to stand and yell. The Dodgers never recover, and with no runs in the top of the 9th inning, the game is over. Smiles all around.  Phillies 2, Dodgers 0.

A postscript: We pour into the Broad Street subway line that is always waiting for us after the game. The train is crowded, not just with the red and white of the Phillies fans, but also with fans carrying programs from the "Glee" concert. I get some vicarious pleasure from hearing the reports of the concert, which I had considered going to until I found out the price. One man with a program said, "It was good" and the woman he was with said, "It was fantastic, he's lying". One family has come from Baltimore, another man from New York.
"Isn't the show playing in New York?", I ask him. "Oh, I saw it there, too! With all the teenage girls, gay guys, and women who could drag their boyfriends."

What I've seen since 2010

Here is what I enjoyed during the OlympicsFri. Feb 19 Compulsory Ice Dancing,
Sat. Feb. 20, Russia/Slovakia Women's Hockey,
Sun. Feb 21 Original Dance-Ice Dancing,
Mon. Feb 22 4 concurrent matches Women's Curling,
Tues. Feb 23 Ladies' ski cross, Ladies' skating short program Weds.Feb 24 Women's Speed Skating

2010
 Philadelphia Flyers Stanley Cup games on TV
Seven Philadelphia Phillies baseball games at Citizens Bank Park, 
One Yankees game in New York October 6, 2010
NLDS HISTORIC Game One of the playoff series with the Cincinnati Reds, OCT 17  23  
National League Pennant: Game Two Phillies 6-Giants 1, Game Six Giants 3- Phillies 2
Nov 15 Eagles vs. Redskins 59-28

So far in 2011 
March 30 76ers basketball, April 6 Phillies vs Mets
April 6 Phillies and Mets
May 4 Philies and Nationals  10-7
May 25 Phillies, Cincinnatti Reds  5-4

The 19th Inning Win-The Game That Would Never End

A beautiful night for a game, the third against the Cincinnatti Reds. Peter, Gabriela, Barbara and I settle into our seats in the 416 section, just where I like them, high above the first base line just to the right of homeplate.
We look forward to Roy Halladay's pitching, and hope for some good hitting. As the Phillies hold onto a slim 3-0 lead for a good part of the game, Halladay's pitching is erratic, finally letting in 3 runs. And then the fun begins. Inning after inning the teams battle it out. First the Reds get a run, then Ryan Howard belts one out for a homerun. And then..... Well just look.
Peter jokes about the  game that he brought Gabby to that lasted 13 innings. We laugh again as the innings pile up. First 13, then we are introduced to the "14th inning Stretch!"...Singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" for the second time as if we are punch drunk at a New Year's Eve party...

It's also as if we are seeing a double header, but of course it is the SAME game. The teams volley back and forth with some base hits, and even bases loaded at one point for the Phillies.

Soon they let all of us in the upper stratosphere move down one level, since more than half of the crowd has left. It is astonishing that so many of us are still there. I think after the 14th inning stretch there was a sense of accomplishment at reaching that milestone, so why not stay until the end of the party. The mood begins to fade between the 14th and 16th when inning after inning, neither the Phillies nor the Reds can produce anything resembling a run. The mood makers bring out every silly inspirational movie and tv clip from Rocky to Animal House.

We begin to hear from the announcers about the longest Phillies game (21 innings in 1918 against the Cubs-The Cubs won it in Chicago). We wonder if this one will approach that. I wonder if we will have a 21st inning stretch! The music picks up and many of us are standing for every pitch. It seems also that the Phillies, who have gone through at least 4 relief pitchers after Halladay left in the 8th inning have no pitchers left. Kendrick hit a batter. He's out. Bastardo lets in a run. He's out. Madson does pretty well, then Baez who manages to keep the Reds in check. Then Valdez!!!??? A  position player who steps in as a pitcher. (the last time he pitched was in college ball)

The fans light up again,cheering on this quirk in the pitching lineup and the mass rotation of player positions as the catcher becomes the third baseman and others around the field take some new positions.

Quote of the game by a 6 year old seeing his first game. He had many great questions for his dad throughout, but this was the best  "Where is Roy Halladay? Did he go home?"

And so, finally, in the bottom of the 19th inning, it takes a sac fly by Raul Ibanez (Raooooooooooooool) to  break the spell. How? It is only the 2nd out, so Jimmy Rollins on 3rd base is able to tag and run home. Barbara and I don't even realize the game is over until we see the Phillies pour out of the dugout and start the celebration.

Final Score  Phillies 5 Cincinnatti Reds 4

A cold night for Baseball

A cold night for baseball, almost football weather, so we bundled up in winter jackets, and huddled under a fleece blanket for the second of three games against the Washington Nationals. This was the first of the series of 6 pairs of tickets that I bought on another cold day in December. The seats were literally 'out in left field', a new vantage point for me. To see the big screen, we had to turn out heads behind us, which though at first annoying, I realized meant that for most of the game, I was watching the game instead of the screen.

For the first 5 innings, the game was slow, with few hits on either side..

A new season of baseball

Overheard at the game by the men behind me
A: Ike Davis, he's a 1/2 Jew. His mother's Jewish
B: Then he's a full Jew
A: No! Really?
B; That's the rule. Look it up
 ----------------------
A: What's the name of your team
B:  The Muts
:

Sitting in the 309 section of the ball park for the first time this season, I've arrived early enough to take it all in once again: the checkerboard patterns of the field, the stands slowly filling up with 45,000 fans, the cool spring air on a cloudy, but dry night. And I am thrilled.

Tonight I am by myself because my friends are in the 306 section. I consider going there, but frankly would rather be alone in a better seat than move over 3 sections. So, I take stock of who my neighbor fans are for the evening.
To the right is a nice couple who introduce themselves as members of Hosts for Hospitals, the organization that coordinated the tickets for the evening. Behind me a group of men in their 50/60s, one of whom is a diehard baseball and Mets fan, the team the Phillies are playing tonight. He is  a New Yawker, loud opinionated, knowledgable about baseball, which comes in handy later in the game,..
In front are soon to be a group of 20 somethings, there less to see the game than to drink and flirt fawn over each other as they drape themselves across each others laps for pictures.. THere is one woman in particular who could seem to care less about the game.

This is a night of hits and home runs, where the Phillies lead 7-0 after the 4th inning. I decide to walk around a bit, do some shopping, go to the bathroom and I hear groan after groan after groan. When I return to my seat the score is 7-5! And then in the 5th inning, the Mets get 2 more runs.

Blanton has fallen apart and is taken out of the game, which in the 6th inning has become a real game again.. But while he played he hit a single down the 3rd base line for 2 RBIs.

Meanwhile, the young woman in front of me who could care less about what is happening on the field has gotten out of control. She drapes herself all over her friends, stands up and blocks the view. We all watch with amazement, including the family with the 3 year old directly in back of her. The staff person calls her out, and I suppose gives her a good talkin' to, which doesn't help much as she returns to her seat and proceeds to drink more beer. Her woman friend is visibly embarrassed, but the men are eating it up.

But I digress! The 6th inning.and we we sit once more on the edge of our seats, counting every strike and ball, waiting for the runs to come in.
The Phillies don't disappoint, with 3 more runs including a home run.

The final score is 10-7, a satisfying night.. Not only did I get to stand up and scream, but when I clapped with all my might, it didn't hurt my hand.

A wonderful way to celebrate a year after my accident on March 21.

Return of winter January 5

After the knee high snow blew into town in December,  another 2 inches  arrives in time to meet our new students  wrapped in snow coats, hats and scarves and an excitement about beginning their English language studies at the Drexel English Language Center. Hiking up the Drexel University campus hill from the orientation, one student has stopped by the fence that surrounds the community garden next to the ELC building.. The plantings are now dormant, with remnants of wood frames and tall grasses peeking through the white. I am caught by the expression on the student's face, and stop to admire this small scene with him. His face and body are relaxed and totally still as if his eyes and skin are the lens of a camera taking as clear a photo as possible to show his family.

I learn that this is his first time seeing snow. His first time!

That expression:. The essence  of wonder and awe.