At the End of the Big Sleep

Yeah, I know. It's been a long time since I've had anything to say. So, here's a recap:

The A's did really bad, then they did really good, now they're doing sort of good, and with a little faith they just might hold on to win a spot in the Wildcard game.

The Giants have done good, pretty much the whole time. They're in. Buster Posey is good. Pablo Sandoval is fat. Timmy kind of knows what is going on and definitely misses his bong. Melky is a bad man, but so is Bartolo.

The Angels and Dodgers are underperforming. It makes everyone happy. By everyone I mean me and Frankie, and decidedly not Jon.

The football replacement referees were terrible. The NFL should probably be ashamed for the way they handled the situation, just like Bud Selig should be ashamed of everything he has ever done ever or will ever do.

Oh yeah, the Olympics happened, and just like every four years, everyone in the US gets excited about gymnastics, swimming, and dressage, and then promptly forgets that they exist. So that's fun for everybody too.

So yes, it has been a big sleep for Misters Frankie and Eric. We're busy men. So sue us. But I awaken, like the immortal kraken. And not that lame kraken in Pirates of the Caribbean, we're talking Clash of the Titans starring Harry Hamlin kraken.

Seriously, how hot is Harry Hamlin? And Bubo?

Yeah, you'll have to look up the kraken on your own. I, like I assume most of you are, am most interested in Harry Hamlin's right nipple.

But that's not the point here. The point here is that yours truly was the victim of a random act of violence yesterday evening, and it got me to thinking. And I know what you're thinking. Thinking is something I should do all the time. Well, it isn't.

Anyway, sports are pretty freaking amazing. After all the turmoil I went through last night, I was able to completely lose my self for a few hours this morning in meaningful Oakland Athletic September baseball. They lost, but still, it was a welcome distraction. The fact that we can all be consumed by sports, and that every day we can talk about them over the water cooler is something that levels the playing field each day.

Get excited about the A's and Giants. They're both going to the playoffs. But the A's need your help. They've got six at home this weekend and next week. They've got three against Seattle, then three against Texas. Go to the games. Send them good vibes. They can do this. We have to believe.

Finally, here's what I would like to say to the two nice gentlemen who decided to bump into me last night. Warning, NSFW.

Frankie and Eric's Adventure, Vol 4.

Written on a bus from Boston to New York at 10AM, on 6 hours of sleep. Note the coherence.

Vol 4.

It's been quite some time since I had a moment to chronicle all that has occurred on this trip. Nay, trip is not the correct word. It's an odyssey. Maybe a journey. I'm getting reminiscient already and we're still on it. I'm currenty on the bus to New York to visit the great Dagle.

I wish I could adequately remember everything that has happened. Ann Arbor was a hell of a town. We were only there less than 24 hours, but they were 24 great ones. We got to see the Big House, we got to see the Law Quad, we even got to take a nap on the Diag. We got fantastic Cuban food that I am going to steal the recipe for an open a restaurant in Berkeley or San Francisco and make a killing. I have to extend the greatest thanks to our host, the great Anna W. She was out of this world with her generosity, and made Ann Arbor a special place, even if the drivers think that killing pedestrians is a sport.

Also, I have coined a new phrase. You've heard it here first. When your legs are tired, it is common to say that your dogs are barking, correct? So, Frankie and my legs were totally spent in Ann Arbor, and I believe it was Frankie to declared that he was beating his dogs. To this, I replied that he was definitely Michael Vicking it. Boom. Michael Vicking. Now a verb. Too soon? I don't think so. But then again, as Frankie has reminded me numerous times, my censor could probably use an upgrade.

We then drove to Pittsburgh. The ride was fairly uneventful, though I would not reccomend eating at Hardee's. Actually, I would not recommend ever being in Ohio. For any reason. It was pretty much, the worst. It made me feel prettttty, pretty good about myself. For those of you who like Ohio, I'm sorry. But I'm pretty glad we didn't stay there long. We then got to stay with Frankie's Aunt and Uncle in the 'burbs of the 'Burgh.

Frankie's family were all great. When my extended family gets together, we spend most of the conversation making fun of each other. It's all in good fun. But when Frankie's family parties, they're all genuinely nice to each other. It was alien. But it was really fun. It was also freaking hot in Pittsburgh. Outside was not much of an option.

Saturday was our day to truly explore the city. After dropping off the car at the airport, we headed "dahntahn" on the bus. Our first stop was the Western Pennsylvania History Museum. It has five floors, two of which are devoted to sports, and another half floor is devoted to ketchup. There were also dinosaurs dressed patriotically. That was pretty sweet.

The sports section of the museum actually was really cool. There was a lot of memorabilia courtesy of the Pirates and Steelers. There was also a great section devoted to Negro League Baseball. Pittsburgh had the Crawfords and the Grays, two of the best teams in the game. The best part of the exhibit also is the quote of the post. The museum had set up a place for people to write down their comments and memories regarding the Pirates. A school group of third graders had been through recently, and filled many pages with their thoughts. The best one was, "The Pirates aren't very good." Frankie and I laughed for hours.

We walked around Pittsburgh for a few more hours; taking in the sights, eating monster fish sandwiches, drinking Iron City beers, and playing catch at Fort Pitt. Frankie made a fantastic diving catch and skinned up his leg. But it was worth it. But it would prove to plague him for the rest of the trip.

We then made it to PNC Park. And there's no two ways about it, it's an absolute gem. Sitting on the north bank of the Allegheny River, Pittsburgh has built a monument of a park well worthy of the history of the city of Pittsburgh. The outfield opens right up for a view of the bridges and the city. The confines are cozy, even sitting in the outfield I felt like I had a good view of the game. They had interesting architecture and it was a generally pleasant experience. The 21 foot right field wall in homage to "The Great One", Roberto Clemente, was a nice touch to make it a little more difficult for lefties to take advantage of the short porch. The fireworks after the game over the water with the city in the background were exquisite. Even the game was good, a 3-2 Pirates victory on a walk-off hit batter sent everyone home happy.

Yes, Pittsburgh was a fair and just mistress, but after many games of ladder golf, we were on our way to Boston, the real gem of the trip.

Frankie and Eric's Adventure, Vol. 3

Written on Day 4 of the trip, on a train from Chicago to Ann Arbor at 7:30 AM, on about 4 hours of sleep.

Vol 3.

Just like Milwaukee before it, Chicago has fallen to the greatness that is Frankie and Eric. In 24 short hours, we conquered the Second City in a way only we know how. One day is never actually enough to see a city, but damned if we didn't try. Though I could never stop thinking I was in either Blues Bros. or Ferris Bueller, I was able to stay in the moment long enough to see a great amount of treasures that Chicago has to offer. We saw the giant steel bean, the top of the world at Willis Tower, ate a GINORMOUS pizza, and generally saw the sights of Chicago. We also managed to check out the Billy Goat Tavern and have a beer with Mich. It was super duper.

But, like most of the other destinations, our real purpose is baseball, and Chicago was no different. We saw not one, but two fantastic houses of worship. In the afternoon, we took an "L" to the northside to Wrigleyville in what quickly became a religious experience. It's a very cool old ballpark and lived up to the hype. The tour we got to take because the Cubs are on the road was both informative and exciting. I drank out of the same water fountain that Willie Mays once did. Boom. We got to see both clubhouses and both dugouts, as well as the press box and the scoreboard. It's unreal to think about all the games played in that park.

Wrigley Field is pretty amazing to behold. walking up to it, it's like you stumble upon a sandlot in the middle of a suburban setting, but it happens to be a 40,000 seat sandlot. It's definitely a park. With the ivy on the outfield wall and the old timey scoreboard that isn't even large enough to show all the games being played in a given day and real bleachers in the outfield, it's like you're quickly transported to an earlier era. It's absolutely worth a visit.

After grabbing a quick pint and reminding ourselves why Harry Caray is one of the greatest people ever, we hopped back on the "L" and made it down to the Southside where an actual ballgame was about to be played. I use "actual ballgame" in the loosest sense because it was between the White Sox and Twins, and Jamey Carroll is hilariously bad. The Twins looked like a AA club out there as Chris Sale (note: since this was written Sale has had two more great starts, we may have witnessed the beginning of a great career) and the White Sox blanked them 6-0.

US Cellular field is an interesting park, though Miller and Wrigley beat it handily in almost every respect. It was very tall and there was no view to the outside world, kind of like Oakland. The concourse was a bit dreary. It felt like a "stadium", not like a park like many of the other new fields. However, it didn't quite have all the modern kinks worked out that would excuse it in any way. The three scoreboards in left, center, and right all displayed different information, so you kept having to swivel your head in order to see everything. The out of town scoreboard was insanely busy and hard to read. Also, their mascot is a travesty.

 

No one truly knows what South Paw is or where he came from, but he definitely gave us nightmares. There are also lightup pinwheels in center. They're the same ones that were on the board at old Comiskey Park, so that was pretty cool. Also, in a very odd feature it took Frankie and I way too long to figure out, two dirt fungo circles are etched into the field on either side of home plate. They mark where the coach should stand in order to hit infield practice during the pregame warm ups, but they don't seem quite necessary in today's day and age. With all that said, it was a very fun game and the Chicagoans (Chicagites? Chicagans?) were very nice to us and or silly curiosities.

Today we are headed to the major non-baseball stop of the trip to detox a little and probably play catch, Ann Arbor, Michigan. The saga continues....

Quote of the Day: I'm in the middle of Chicago and I don't have reception. %$&# you AT&T.

Frankie and Eric's Adventure, Volume 2

Written on day 3 of the trip, on a train going from Milwaukee to Chicago at 8 am, on about 3 hours of sleep.

We've conquered Milwaukee. Conquered may be used in the loosest definition of the term. But, we did make it out of there alive. Miller Park is a gorgeous facility. Their bratwurst are absolutely delicious. Especially with kraut. As the first park on our journey, it definitely lived up to all it's deserved billing. It was the first time I've seen a game indoors, and I have to say the experience was very pleasant. Almost too pleasant. But, we did get to see a Giants victory and a pretty amazing sausage race, so Milwaukee get's my seal of approval.

Miller Park is built on the spot of the old stadium, so not very close to downtown. But, Milwaukee is small enough that getting there is not too hard. The field itself is pretty. The scoreboard very legible, the sight lines fantastic, and there are some pretty sweet concessions and features, like a giant slide As I sit here on the train to Chicago Frankie keeps yelling at me for making fun of the accents of the people around me. They have the greatest accents ever. Like hardcore. I don't know if that describes them accurately. It does for me. You all will just have to imagine it. The woman behind me just said "handicapped parking", and I couldn't contain myself. I'm a terrible person.

Things learned in Milwaukee:

1. Be careful saying the word "kite".
2. Underground Pakistani food is always a good decision.
3. Women from Wiwona, Minnesota are bad news. Never trust them. They are awful people. Awful. I cannot stress this enough. Seriously. I hate them. I hate them so much. Even if they're Giants fans. They're the worst women on the planet.
4. The music being played from the Milwaukee Art Museum at noon was perhaps the greatest thing I've ever heard. I wish I could adequately put this into writing. It was like the chimes of Big Ben, except more Van Haleny. They lasted for about 45 seconds. It was unreal. So Frank and I are standing at the Veterans Memorial (side note: Milwaukeeans love their veterans/POWs. I haven't seen more memorials/monuments to soldiers anywhere else except DC. This is not a bad thing, just an observation.) But yes, we're standing at the memorial building on Lake Michigan at noon, and suddenly the most epic music ever begins to play. This is the only way to describe it. Think Fantasmic meets Panama meets Call of Duty theme meets Revelations meets Like A G-Men meets Star Wars. (The woman behind me just said "copy" and "office". Again, I couldn't contain myself.) Boom. You now know how my conciousness works. But yes, Frankie an I never did find out who chose to play this music and why they chose to play it. We just know that whoever it was made the best decision we've ever been privy to. We want to shake his hand and be more like him.
5. Miller Brewery is very, very cool. They make a lot of beer. It is all delicious.

So, all that said, this is still a sports blog.... The A's are the absolute worst, and I say that with all the love my heart has to give. It's a ton. They need to stay on the field. I can't stress enough how happy this early season success has made me, but if they can't stay on the field, it's going to be short lived, and that will make me most unhappy. Inge needs to get healthy. Cespedes needs to get healthy. McCarthy needs to get healthy. ManRam needs to stop juicing. It's going to be a long summer unless a few things start going Oakland's way.

As for the Giants, they have hope. Brandon Crawford looks like a decent hitter in the two hole. Hector Sanchez hit that home run Monday night, and his bat being productive would be huge. Angel Pagan, while not the most approachable player (Frankie and I saw him coming out of the team hotel, totally randomly, and he did not want to give us the time of day), is swinging a hot bat. The point is, with the Dodgers' injury woes, there's no reason to believe that this team won't be competing for something meaningful come September. If I had internet access right now, I'd quote you some stats and notes, but I can't, because Amtrak hates me. Tonight Frankie and I get to see the great Chris Sale of the Chicago White Sox take on the great Scott Diamond of the Minnesota Twins. It should be a matchup for the ages. HAR. Let's Go Oakland!

Quote of the Day: Frank, go to bed.

Frankie and Eric's Adventure Vol 1.

I wrote this in the Denver Airport on day one of the trip, and it needed to be shared.

It was bound to happen. Eric and Frankie were going to spend so much time together that they were to become one entity. One being. One existance. Like a married couple. It's legal in New York, people. We're going there. Think of the fireworks. Think of the oil. Not the crude oil. The baby oil.

Frankie and I, for those of you who do not talk to us on a daily basis, are on a whirlwind tour around the midwest and east coast to watch some baseball, which is, of course, all that we love and care about. Except for K-Dawg. Frankie looooooooooooooves K-Dawg. It's why he won't let me touch him. It's very upsetting.

We have been sitting, on day one, in the Denver airport, for the last 6 hours. We have had many pints of beer. The point is, we're very excited to be going on this trip. We're going to see baseball in so many different locations, that we are going to have it bleeding out of eyeballs. K-Dawg, please do not read the next sentence. Also, we might have some awkward man on man moments.

But, in case you were wondering, and forgot from the previous paragraph. we've been drinking in Denver for the past six hours. We've met a lot of new friends, including Billy Bob, Mary Rae, Kimberly, Jenna Lee, and Beau. We even had our own names of Jimmy Joe and Jim Bob. Yeah, things have been going great.

 The point here is that we're ready to give you, our loyal fans, a play by play rundown of our epic trip through the frigid/swampy nothingness that is the north, and we want you along every step of the way. So, go Giants, go A's, and here's to the journey. Get ready for some posts.

P.S. The A's rule and the Giants drool. Get ready for the three game series in Oakland, we will return the favor.

P.P.S. I just went to Dodger Stadium and it was fantastic, the company was even better.

P.P.P.S. This is Frankie. The Giants are the greatest team ever. We will destroy all opposition and confiscate your divers licenses.

P.P.P.P.S. The opinions of Frankie are not those necessarily expressed by We're In This Thing, Inc. We just did a shot of Maker's Mark. He's confused.

Rumblings, Grumblings, Musings, and Ruminations

So yeah.... Hello everyone. It's been awhile since I've written anything, and for that I am truly sorry. I know alllllll 15-25 of you who give this blog a gander have been sorely disappointed by my lack of hard-hitting, informative, in-your-face blogging. I hope you all can forgive me. I have lost the muse.

Hopefully I've found it again.

So, what's been going on?

Probably a lot of this