When last we met, Lou and I had exited stage left from the parade upon seeing some nefarious character transmitting to Vladimir from the back of a float. Arriving at the Great American Ball Orchard 15 minutes prior to the gates opening, we skirted the sea of humanity which had jammed up the Crosley Terrace main gate and secreted ourselves to a quiet entrance, evidently hidden in broad daylight as we were third in line. Someone should inform Reds fans that it's no longer the days of yore when your ticket had a gate number and the ex-Gestapo ushers would refuse you entry at any other gate. Someone should inform Reds fans of a lot of things, as will become obvious the further you read. Standing in line I spied just inside the gate a rather curious-looking apparatus (highlighted in the green box, below):
Geiger Counter was my best guess. Security measures have really gotten tight at the ol' ball yard. Whatever it was, it was still being charged up at the time of my photo. Wanting not to appear too suspicious with my unauthorized photographic activities, I took some other, less strategically sensitive pictures of the immediate area:
GABP is justifiably festooned with All-Star regalia, these banners (above) lining the exterior plaza. The Reds marketing department is absolutely crushing the All-Star Game lead up, from the logos to the fonts to the emblems, it all looks great! I really like this stylized, old school newsprint image of an 1869 Cincinnati Red Stocking.
Once inside the gates, the lower level concessions have had their facades remade to lend patrons the appearance of walking through or along a streetscape. I think it's all pretty nifty. It certainly beats the (former) alternative!
Many (but not all) of the hot dog-oriented concessions have been rebranded as the Cincinnati-centric (Cincentric? Cincinncentric?) Porkopolis Dogs and Sausage.
Go ahead, just try and convince me that doesn't sound and look awesome. All that brickwork and the cornices are all-new for 2015. So too for the stonework and cornice above the LaRosa's concession. In the photo (below) of the concourse, I capture Lou making a determined line for LaRosa's.
While Big Brother Lou was popping for the slices of 'zza, I snapped a photo of Geese 'n Pic prepping for the Fox Sports Ohio pregame live telecast:
For those of you familiar with the ritual, I did not feel any compulsion whatsoever to bang on the stainless steel bartops with reckless abandon. Lou and I took a seat in the Miami University-sponsored Reds Connect Zone, located down the left field line, whereupon we wolfed down our pizzas.
Among the multitude of improvements to be found at the ballpark this year is the promise of universally accessible Wi-Fi. What better place to try out this new era of connectivity than the Reds Connect Zone? After wiping pizza sauce off my hands, face, glasses (don't ask), I entered the ballpark's public Wi-Fi password ("BuzzwordCatchphrase") into my Android Galaxy S9000..... and nothing. I tried again. Nothing. And a third time. Nothing. Three strikes, yer out! I must allow for the possibility of a general level of recalcitrance from my 'Droid unit, as I did not receive any text messages from approximately Noon (when Lou and I first arrived downtown) until about 8:30pm (where we were hurtling along I-275) at which point my 'Droid exploded in an apoplectic fit of text message downloads, about a dozen all at once. Friends asking where I parked or where my seat location was or proclaiming the true greatness of Joey Votto. If you sent me a text that afternoon and I didn't reply, you now understand why. My 'Droid expresses its most humble apology. From where I was seated in the photo above, enjoying my LaRosa's pizza, I spied two of the newest concessions at the Great American Tilt Yard:
Taste of Belgium and Moerlein Lager House. Belgians and Germans side-by-side? What could possibly go wrong?
With more than an hour to kill before game time, Lou and I explored more of the ballpark. I snapped two views of the field from the concourse level of The Gap:
The visiting Pirates were taking batting practice under threatening skies at the moment. Taking a look at the Pittsburgh batting order, I said to Lou, "McCutchen is a great player, but the rest of this lineup - they can't beat us." And I was right!
The Frisch's Big Boy makes an appearance at GABP:
In reading fan reactions to all the new ballpark amenities the next morning, it seems the most popular new concession area is the Bootleggers Speakeasy found on the first base side of the field level concourse. It attempts to bring to life the kind of saloons that could be found throughout Cincinnati prior to Prohibition:
Note the "16th St." engraving at right, suggestive of a nineteenth century Over-the-Rhine establishment. The entire structure of the Bootleggers is new for 2015.
The nineteenth century motif is further developed inside Bootleggers with a massive bar (at right, in the photo above) which is itself evocative of Old World hand-carved woodworking craftsmanship. The artisanal pressed tin ceiling, the likes of which is on display at finer haute couture places such as Chick-Fil-A (but is cool nonetheless), is period-correct right down to the operational ceiling fans. The tile floor may also be period correct (I'm uncertain of that) but is certainly functional from a housekeeping perspective and is probably highly durable for the level of foot traffic Bootleggers expects. The highlight of the flooring, however, is the 1869 Cincinnati Red Stockings Ye Olde English "C" interwoven into the tile design:
When the world comes to GABP for the Mid-Summer Classic this July, Bob Castellini will blow their minds!
Walking through the Fan Zone, my line of sight was caught by a large banner affixed to the Moerlein Lager House mothership, across Joe Nuxhall Way from GABP, advertising a (new?) liquid refreshment; Moerlein Zeppelin [not named, obviously, for the English band but rather the German dirigible]. Being a big Jimmy Page fan, as you may have heard, and instantly being reminded of the steak I had recently at Jeff Ruby's Precinct, I said to Lou, "How can I not have a Zeppelin?" - the same kind of question I posed to him about The Brennaman barrel-cut filet. Later, as we headed for our seats, we hurriedly scanned the innumerable beer selections at a variety of concessions but, alas, found no Zeppelin on offer.
Down at the end of the right field line - near Mr Red's Smokehouse (if that helps) - can be found another new concession which seemed very popular as interpreted from the long line of customers, the Fry Box:
The Fry Box sign itself appears to be neon, probably looks cool at night.
With the Fry Box, we now arrive at the portion of today's post wherein I recount just a few of the moronic things I overheard alleged Reds fans say on Opening Day. At right in the photo above is a cryptic listing of letters and numbers having nothing to do with fries and headed by the word "REDS." In baseball, numbers (and statistics) are everything, unlike all the other so-called major sports (but also important in golf and horse racing which explains why golf and horse racing are so great). To any Reds fan with more than a single functioning brain cell, it becomes simple to decipher immediately the code. Regrettably, 90% of self-proclaimed Reds fans have but a single functioning brain cell [for reference, see; Banana Phone, "SportsTalk," "Extra Innings," "Hot Stove League," et al]. While snapping the photo of the Fry Box you see above, one of the amoeba in line asked of his fellow amoebae; "What's WC 19 40 75 76 90?"
I nearly punched him in his amoebic face.
His pals didn't have an answer. I walked away, unsurprised that a Reds fan couldn't identify Cincinnati's championship, pennant and Division title seasons, nor was it likely these Reds fans could identify any of the Reds former MVPs. There's no doubting the passion Reds fans have for their team, but most are grossly uninformed. Later in the game, when Jay Bruce ripped a ball foul, one fan in a row behind me yelled Get out of bounds! In another instance, a young father explained to his son why he was a Kentucky basketball fan, and an Alabama football fan, owing to the fact that neither state had an NFL team. He went on to say, "I know Alabama doesn't have a pro baseball team [he meant to say Major League, as minor league teams are also professional], but I'm not sure about Kentucky." The emphasis mine. The imbecility his.
The much-hyped self-serve beer stands also proved too vexing for some Reds fans.
Lou and I watched as staff explained to patron after patron how the machines operated, with more than a few fans walking away sans beer and shaking their heads. Among the four steps outlined on the front of the machine, with the fourth step being "Enjoy" (so that step doesn't really count), "Tilt" seemed too difficult a concept for one Reds fan that Lou and I observed (tilting being a concept most of us learned in high school). He held his cup perfectly upright and poured himself a draft that was 75% foamy head. Loser. Watching this spectacle got me to wondering, though, at the Moerlein Lager House if I could order a draf[t] Zeppelin. Get it? Draf? Like Graf Zeppelin? OK, really bad pun. But I'll bet there were only 25 people in the ballpark that would have gotten the joke (pun). Lou was one of the 25. As for the self-serve beer kiosk, I surmise it will be akin to betting machines at race tracks. The older generation won't go near the things but they'll be popular among the younger set.
And as for my seats:
Worst. Seats. Ever.
Note in the photo, above, the fans highlighted in green boxes. This photograph was of Johnny Cueto's first pitch and the highlighted "Reds fans" weren't watching the action.
With the zoom function on my Nikon fully activated, straining the limits of machine and man, I captured the Nasty Boys in the act of throwing out the game's ceremonial first pitches:
Without the aid of the scoreboard, I'd have not known if Devin Mesoraco, Gookie Dawkins or Champ Summers was batting for the Redlegs. Alright, that's a minor exaggeration. Any further from home plate and I would have been sitting atop the Riverfront Coliseum. Maybe Tom Browning was out there?
The forecasted rains came during the second inning, sending less hearty fans scrambling for cover. Lou and I held our position. When in the 6th inning, an hour or so after the rain first began to fall and the grounds crew unfurled the tarp ahead of a 30-minute rain delay, Lou and I finally sought shelter ourselves. Lightning had been flashing over River City for a few minutes prior to the stoppage in action, but shortly after the umpires waved the two teams off the field, that is when the rains really came down in a torrent:
It was during this rain delay that Lou and I heard our fifth John Fogerty (technically, CCR) song of the day, as "Have You Ever Seen The Rain?" entertained [sic] the soggy Reds faithful. So long as we're on a Led Zeppelin kick, why didn't the Reds play "Rain Song" over the P.A.? I'll bet that would sound especially good with a Moerlein Zeppelin in hand.
I spotted a fellow Brave sharing the same shelter as us:
For those few fortunate enough to have received the AK Bulletin (Kuertz' affiliate Heavy Artillery publication) following Opening Day, in it the author recounted - and naturally took credit for - the moment Todd Frazier blasted his game-winning home run in the bottom half of the 8th inning. Kuertz makes claim to having called the shot in his piece titled "How I Won Opening Day," a highly dubious assertion save for the corroboration of his Lady Cassandra, an unassailable source of truth and integrity. Well, in the top half of the 8th inning, I too am credited with a home run... albeit for the enemy (such is the strength with which the Dark Side of the Force is within me). In the top of the 8th, protecting Johnny Cueto's scant 2-run lead, Dat Manager BP brought in former Chicago Cub and walking disaster Eric Ggreggg to face a Pirate pinch hitter. In an at-bat that went on far too long, the Pirate pinch hitter fouled off approximately eight thousand pitches before flying out to deep center field. Pirate lead off hitter and Cincy native Josh Harrison promptly ripped a single to left field. The next Pittsburgher blasted a line drive out to deep left field. With Ggreggg teetering on the edge of collapse, and former MVP Andrew McCutchen sauntering up to the plate representin' the Pirates tying run I said to Lou, I can't watch McCutchen tie this game up, I'm going to the Men's Room. No sooner did I reach the View Level concourse when a mighty, agonized groan escaped the lips of Reds fandom. 'Cutch hammered a 2-run homer to center field. Tie game. Saw it coming, I did.
Happily for Reds Country,
Going back, for a moment, to Kuertz' called shot; So bad were our seats that when Frazier crushed his upper deck, tie-breaking 3-run bomb, I was look down on the trajectory of the ball. From my vantage point I wasn't sure if his blast was a line drive out to the left fielder or a home run. Mind you, it was upper deck.
Roll the credits!
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