The 30-Park Geas continued yesterday with a trip up to Milwaukee, the charming and colorful city only 90 minutes away from Chicago by train:
All right, it's not that bad everywhere—just in the road-contstruction hell near the Amtrak station that made me walk nearly a mile out of my way. Downtown Milwaukee has improved in the past few years, and even appears to have something like a skyline:
Of course, I've been to Milwaukee many times, and I have even gone to Miller Park. But, because of the rules I put down for myself, and because it's so close (I was gone from home less than 11 hours), I went up yesterday to see the game.
Where Washington has a Presidents Race, Milwaukee has the original Sausage Race:
For those keeping score at home, Polish won yesterday—and so did the home team, which brought them to 3½ games behind the Cubs, which is getting too close for comfort.
The 30-Park Geas continues this afternoon with Washington at Milwaukee, my second trip to Miller Park but first as part of the geas. Milwaukee is in second place, 4 games behind the Cubs, and has won their last 5 in a row. This game counts, in other words. (Washington is still in last place, and could stay there until the 2015 season.)
Still, it's Milwaukee, and I can never get out of my head the speech a Russian defector gave in an episode of Barney Miller, explaining what the Soviet Union was then like: "Imagine you're in Milwaukee. You walk in any direction, one hundred miles, and you're still in Milwaukee. No matter where you go, you're still in Milwaukee." At which point, Wojo begins screaming.
Milwaukee has changed since then. Really.
Game photos probably tonight, or tomorrow morning.
Via Scott Adams: Apparently, the Sumerians thought farts were funny:
Academics have compiled a list of the most ancient gags and the oldest, harking back to 1900BC, is a Sumerian proverb from what is now southern Iraq.
"Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband's lap," goes the joke.
Those ancient rubes. We're much more advanced today.
The four-park sprint (and seeing some really great—and really patient—friends along the way) has ended. I'm off in a few minutes to restock my fridge and, at 4pm on the nose, to pick up Parker.
My four-game sprint through part of the 30-Park Geas ended last night, with another home-team loss. Here's what that looked like at 9:40 (yes, the game was that short):
Mid-game, instead of the customary sausage race, they had a president's race. Apparently Teddy hasn't won yet—possibly because of things like this, where he's being sacked by Screech the Eagle:
Obligatory home-plate shot of the star player:
And, finally, obligatory shot of the main gate, but this time from a different angle than usual:
Apparently, I'm anathema to home teams. I've just attended another home-team loss, this time the Phillies beating the Nationals 2-1.
I will say, however, that when it's 2-1 at the top of the 8th, it looks really bad for the park to empty out. Yes, the 8th: guys, one run in the 9th is not unheard of. Sheesh. With fans like that, it's hard to feel sympathy.
Photos tomorrow morning (probably).
Quick update: The Cubs are 7-0 over the Brewers in the top of the 9th at this writing, which more than makes up for watching a lackluster loss in 32°C sultriness.
All right. I'm caught up now. Herewith, Yankee Stadium, where they lost last night against the last-place Orioles:
And this, boys and girls, is what a grand slam looks like before it's a grand slam:
Finally—and I promise this is the last one, only because I don't know where Washington's city hall is (or even if it has one)—here is New York City Hall:
Now, in a little while, I'm off to the Sena–er, Nationals game, at brand-spanking-new Nationals Park.
Since I went to the Philadelphia game two nights ago, a lot has happened—most of it in the last few hours:
So, I am aware of all these things, but the only purpose of this post is to put up photos from Philadelphia. First, city hall (which is becoming a trend in these posts):
Citizens Bank Park:
And this, which astute readers may recognize as the Noah's Flood bearing down on the city:
I will now dive into my photos from last night's game...
Ooh, wow. I'll have photos of my once-and-only trip to Yankee Stadium once I get to DC, but man! In Chicago, we call that "playing like Cubs." To add injury to insult, I couldn't find a slice anywhere in the East 50s after the game.
Waah, waah, waah.