The day had arrived. I have to admit I had some reluctance. Yet it was finally time to do it. Largely because I had faith in the place where I was headed.
Fan X and I have traveled to Baltimore numerous times in the past to see the Orioles host a variety of teams. We go because we can sit near the action for a fraction of the cost it would take to obtain similar seats in either New York ballpark.
Besides, Orioles Park at Camden Yards is a great setting for a ballpark. Nestled in the bosom of downtown Baltimore, the view is wondrous. From the people watching from the balconies of the nearby Hilton hotel standing over the tiered bullpens sequestered beyond the left field wall, to everything inside of the park, there seemingly is so much activity. Similarly, outside the park but inside its gates behind the right field stands are Boog’s BBQ (named for legendary O’s first baseman John “Boog” Powell, it is apparently closed for now as there was no ubiquitous smoke lofting in the air from that location) Eutaw Street, and the masterpiece of this architectural gem—the warehouse that encloses the entire right side of the park.
There is always a small downside to our trips. That is the traffic on I-95. In the early years, we went to Saturday night games and caught late afternoon traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike, or there was an accident which caused us to detour.
Such was the case on Saturday, and although our favorite standby, I-295, was available,, even it had the usual bottleneck caused by the ever present construction where it intersects with the roadways heading towards Philadelphia. Then there was the ongoing construction in Delaware, from the time we passed the tolls for the Delaware Memorial Bridge, to the rest area along the Delaware Turnpike. (A side note here—While I was a student at the Delaware Law School and living in an apartment on the outskirts of Newark—pronounced New-ARK—the home of the University of Delaware, I traveled that roadway seemingly every day. 50 years later the traffic has increased dramatically). And as difficult as our trip through the Diamond State was, the northbound side was locked in a 12 mile delay due to its share of construction.
We encountered more traffic headaches in Maryland, until we reached just beyond I-685, where the traffic on I-95 seemed to abate without reason. I was getting to know the drivers of a green Subaru from New Jersey, a white SUV with Massachusetts tags and another SUV with Oklahoma plates as we snaked our way to our destination.
So much is familiar on the trip. We seemingly always made a pit stop at the first Maryland House to answer nature’s call. The Millard E. Tydings Memorial Bridge over the Susquehanna River allows a beautiful picture to be etched in my mind again and again, as I look upstream towards Pennsylvania or downstream where the river widens as it empties into Chesapeake Bay. The name of the riverside town, Harve de Grace, is a beautiful French description of the tranquility of the Susquehanna at that point.
Then there is the Fort Mc Henry Tunnel, its tubes designated as Bore 1-2-3-4. The depth of the tubes is such that they are actually in the earth beneath Baltimore Harbor.
Speaking of the harbor, there were plenty of big cargo ships in port. Which is good to see.
Two exits later, after the skillful driving of Fan X as he negotiated the highway in a way that is so natural while engaging in tactical maneuvers which Mario Andretti would have been proud of to move us further long in the morass of vehicles edging their way south, there were the two ballparks that have become landmarks in the Baltimore skyline.
With the time now 3:50, Fan X steered us into a parking space in a nearby lot—good move getting parking so close—and we hauled from the car towards the ballparks gates. Where we were serenaded with the rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner while in line, punctuated by the Baltimore tradition of yelling “O” when the lyrics hit that seminal spot.
Somehow, armed with our ugly Orioles Hawaiian shirts given to us in conjunction with a promotion by the Maryland DOT and Maryland Turnpike Authority and with a men’s room stop included, we were in our seats as the first pitch was thrown. Only one other time did we run it so close, and that was when we had to get our BBQ from Boog’s and make our way from the right field stands to our seats near home plate and we watched the game start while walking the inner aisles of the stadium.
Part of the attraction of going to this game was to see the A.L. Central Division-leading White Sox, piloted by Hall of Fame Manager Tony La Russa, who was seeking to win titles with three teams in his second engagement at the helm of the team from the South Side of Chicago. We certainly weren’t there to see the Orioles, who were ensconced in the A.L. East basement, with no hopes of escaping.
On the previous evening, the Sox bombarded Orioles pitching in a 12-1 rout. We had no reason to expect that something like that wouldn’t occur on Saturday. Which translated into an 8-3 Chicago victory on this warm and a bit humid Baltimore afternoon.
Only one home run was struck, and that occurred in the first inning. Outfielder Brian Goodwin, who smashed the homer, went 4-5 with 3 R.B.I. in pacing the White Sox. Chicago collected 13 hits, and managed to leave 8 runners on base, which could have made the game into a larger rout.
Lucas Giolito started for the White Sox, lasting 5.1 innings while racking up 9 strikeouts. In all, Chicago pitching stuck out 14 Baltimore batters.
While the score reflected a one-sided game, the Sox pitchers repeatedly were faced with jams. In leaving 9 runners stranded, six of those Orioles runners were left in scoring position with 2 outs. A double play on liner to first baseman Jose Abreu was turned into an unassisted double play to help escape a perilous situation.
The pitching on Baltimore wasn’t very good, and the low batting averages of the Orioles hitters reflected how bad the team really is. While Baltimore hurlers did strike out 9 Chicago batters, they also issued 5 costly walks. The 5 walks issued to Baltimore hitters didn’t do half as much damage as those collected by Sox hitters.
The seats were excellent as always, 11 rows from the field, behind the middle of the Chicago dugout. We were in midst of a sizable contingent of White Sox fans, some of whom had traveled from Chicagoland for the game(s). They were very vocal, and they chanted “M.V.P., M.V.P. for Abreu, the reigning American League Most Valuable Player. He heard the chants and smiled, tapped his chest and nodded.
In contrast, there as a significant number of Orioles faithful who rooted hard for their team. Notwithstanding h0ow downtrodden the team had become, this was one game, and anything could happen. They cheered and cheered, even to the last strike of the game fittingly a strikeout to punctuate the dominance of Chicago’s pitching.
Of course, we had the loudmouth nearby, whose drunken state was easily apparent from the slurred and inane commentary he offered. Thankfully, he was a chorus of one.
There was banter with the Sox and the partisans. Especially over balls thrown into the stands after the innings were over. La Russa looked obviously dour and deep in thought, yet he touched his cap in response to something somebody said when he was waking back to the dugout after one of his trips to the mound.
The sounds of the game were there. Granted, the Oriole Bird mascot was only seen around the 7th inning, when he led two maidens on a dance atop the home dugout while the speakers blared the Baltimore traditional song for that time, “Thank G-d I’m a Country Boy” by the late John Denver. Fun fact: the Bird was hatched from a giant egg on April, 6 1979 at Memorial Stadium, the team’s former nest.
Nothing is like the crack of the bat when a ball is well struck. There were some folding gems, including a very short hop grab by Sox SS Tim Anderson, who deftly made the play and throw to first base look routine.
I saw something that would appear on a blooper highlight reel. Anderson, a blossoming star who has won a batting title and has an average over .300 this season, smacked a ball down the first base line, barely, for a double and two runs scoring for sure, if not a triple for the speedy All Star.
Except that the ball boy mistakenly played the ball. Then he commanded the ugly scenario by trying to quickly throw the ball over the netting into the stands. Which he also botched. Anderson was stopped at second and a runner was halted at third base.
No one scolded the boy for his meddling. He had numerous difficulties stopping or fielding foul balls in his area. This led me to believe that he was challenged in some way and this was a good thing to have him stationed where he was, even if he momentarily became a part of the game.
I felt at home again, experiencing some normalcy after the pandemic, along with 26,000 others. We chowed down some chicken and fries. A lot of fans were having all sorts of beers. There weren’t any vendors in the stands, which I understand, but it still takes away from the ambiance of the ballpark.
It was different in the stands, but the game was played the same way it always has been. I can just imagine how quiet the stadiums must have sounded last season, with no one there to cheer.
Yes, Oriole Park at Camden Yards shined like the jewel it is—a diamond within a diamond. The colors were vivid and the field was mostly sun-splashed until the end of the game, when it was like a night game’s start after 7:00.
The rest rooms were extraordinarily clean, smelling of cleaning products in deference to the ongoing pandemic. Very few masks were seen—evidently people felt safe enough outdoors and probably a high percentage of those in attendance had been vaccinated.
Fan X remained well-behaved throughout the game, taking in the sights and sounds, grousing about the food and how bad the Orioles are. He did a great job of driving both ways, obviously tired at the end of the long trip, which started out at 12:10 p.m. in Springfield and concluded for me at a little past 10:30 p.m. He is a trouper and our trips to Baltimore are always special; this time he provided home grilled Hebrew National hot dogs with mustard and sauerkraut which we scarfed down on the New Jersey Turnpike. And for once, I stayed relatively hydrated, having consumed three .5 liter Poland Spring bottles in both directions plus another bottle of water to go along with dinner.
Sure, I could have talked about the budding dynasty in Tampa Bay, where the Lightning disposed of the Montreal Canadiens in 5 games to once more have their names etched on the Stanley Cup. That would have been easy.
So, too, could I have written about the NBA Finals, where the Phoenix Suns are ahead of the Milwaukee Bucks 2-0, with the series now shifted to Wisconsin for Games 3 & 4. Chris Paul’s search for that elusive ring may be over if the Suns can put together two more victories. Imagine the State Farm commercials if that happens.
And Yankees fans, don’t get too excited after winning 2 of 3 in Seattle and the first two games Houston, punctuated by a Gerrit Cole 129 pitch shut out and an Aaron Judge homer in a 1-0 nail biter. Troubles abound with reliever Aroldis Chapman, which has led to Chad Green becoming the new closer and probably contributed to Cole throwing so many pitches. Local writers are prolifically offering solutions for the Yankees in both the short term as well as for next season. BTW, Aaron Judge, don’t rile up Jose Altuve; he can still hit and he proved that with a three run walk off homer on Sunday as part of a six run uprising against Green.
Or perhaps I could have mentioned that Geo Baker and Ron Harper, Jr. returned to Rutgers instead of heading for the NBA. Suddenly things look a lot brighter for Steve Pikiell’s team in 2021-22.
Plus there was the stunning victory by Nigeria over the U.S National Team in an exhibition game Saturday night in Las Vegas. Do you think that team coach Greg Popovich will have the payers attention now?
Maybe I could have delved into the now spectator free Olympics in COViD-19 ravaged Japan, or the controversy over marijuana use derailing one of America’s star track athletes. Perhaps I could have spoken about Wimbledon and Ashly Barty’s second major title, Novak Djokovic ’s quest for his 20th major win or the decline of Roger Federer, who seems incapable of winning another major.
Soccer? Brazil won Copa America, while Italy downed England. Plenty to discuss there.
Then there was the bizarre action of a spectator at the Scotland open who took golfer Rory Mc Ilroy’s 6 iron from his bag. How about MMA fighter Conor Mc Gregor suffering a gruesome leg injury in a trilogy fight with his nemesis, Dustin Poirier. I wonder how it will affect his hawking whiskey?
Nope—this blog isn’t about those things and probably more events which I neglected to mention. Why would I want to do that?
Emerging from the solitude experienced during the pandemic has been a slow process for us. Going out to dinner is a selective process. We aren’t rushing to indoor events.
Even going to an outdoor venue isn’t risk free, given the level of vaccinations in this country and what the experts have said regarding catching the coronavirus. Wearing a mask at a service area or a rest room is still the right thing to do. Hand sanitizer is a must.
But on Saturday, it felt good to be back in Baltimore.
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