I Am The Heavy Artillery: The Handlebar at GABP; Part 1

This past weekend the Cincinnati Reds held a reunion of the Wire-to-Wire (horse racing terminology) World Champion 1990 Reds club. The team was honored with a post-game on-field introduction following the Friday night April 24 game which I did not attend. Lou and I attended the Saturday April 25 afternoon game as part of my regular season tickets. The as-planned festivities prior to Saturday's tilt versus the Cubbies included on-field individual introductions of the attending former players, recognition of those who were unwilling to attend (weddings) or unable to attend (death), video highlights of the 1990 season, speeches by current Reds officials as well as members of the '90 club and commemorative presentations to the World Champions. Fans were given a triple bobblehead of The Nasty Boys which was, in a word, unrecognizable. Following a remarkable uninterrupted string of ideal weather for every big event reaching back at least as far as the 1988 All-Star Game, the Reds finally were blighted with foul weather on a big occasion. Saturday was cloudy, windy, chilly and as of about 11am that morning - rainy. Brother, did it ever rain. It soon became evident with the increasingly heavy rains that the 1:10pm start time was in jeopardy of a rain delay.

Lou and I arrived at the ballpark at about noon. Emerging from the parking garage we soon found ourselves swimming against a tide of Reds faithful, boxes of Nasty Boys bobbleheads under their arms, heading for the exits. They got their free giveaway and could not wait to go home fast enough. Inside the gates, Lou and I first inspected the All-Star Game seat location I bought for July's Midsummer Classic; Lou deemed them acceptable. Desiring to seek out a dry and warm spot to wait out the imminent rain delay, and curious to explore the new Handlebar (formerly the Riverfront Club), we headed for Season Ticket Holder Central where we purchased passes for The Handlebar. Up the elevator we were whisked whereupon we were stuffed into an already jam-packed Handlebar.

With nowhere to sit (seats are not guaranteed with admission) and scant room to stand, Lou and I fought our way toward the playing field and out onto the open-air deck. A row of high chairs along a bartop-type railing sits above a level (or two? Couldn't quite tell from our vantage point) of reserved box seats. Special tickets, of which we did not posses, are required in order to sit at any of these outdoor areas. Fair enough, I think. Simultaneously Lou and I spied several members of the 1990 Reds seated in Handlebar box seats, immediately below where we were standing. Stepping back into the warmth of The Handlebar, Lou quickly surmised the planned on-field ceremony had been moved to The Handlebar so a to keep the World Champs dry. No wonder, said Lou, The Handlebar is so packed. 'Zactly! said I. With barely a square inch of room to spare, Lou and I found ourselves right back where we started near the entrance to The Handlebar (think of a lobby/waiting room/foyer and you've got the idea). A large, high-backed curved couch sat along the glass wall overlooking the Fan Zone and affixed to the back side of the couch was a narrow shelf just about bartop height. Perfect for Lou and I to stand behind, stash our stuff, and observe the proceedings. It was a bit awkward but with no room for anyone else to crowd us, we had our own little nook. Raiding the all-you-can-shovel buffet, Lou and I then watched on the numerous monitors found within The Handlebar as Hall of Fame broadcaster Marty Brennaman emceed the ceremony. Between bites, Lou - his wheels always turning - asked of me, "When this is over, where are the players going to exit?" My wheels grinding, I concluded that unless Riverfront Club renovations were more extensive than I thought, the players would be walking right past where Lou and I were camped out. Score! I mocked all those seated at the tables we coveted as they would have little or no view of the Handlebar player parade that was soon to sweep - much as the 1990 Reds swept the Oakland A's - right past me and my brother. Suckers! [In fact, I used stronger language that that directed at those fans seated at tables but we'll leave further detail as a private exchange between me and Lou]

What follows, with a minimum of description, is a small sample of the blizzard of photos we snapped in rapid-fire, sometimes blurry fashion:

#21 right fielder Paul O'Neill aka Big aka Jethro visiting with acquaintances.

#16 second baseman Ron Oester aka Ronny O-fer.

#23 first baseman Hal Morris aka Halvosky (Oester at left).

Outfielder Glenn Braggs gesturing to the crowd.

1988 NL Rookie of the Year Chris Sabo at far right, just barely in frame.

#29 outfielder Herm Winningham aka Herm Warfare and #36 outfielder Rolando Roomes.

#33 pitcher Ron Robinson aka The True Creature frightens an unsuspecting human being.

#34 catcher Jeff Reed.

Paul O'Neill, partially obscured by buffet structure, on approach.

Paulie, jersey removed, sprinting past.

Hall of Fame broadcaster Marty Brennaman.

#9 catcher Joe Oliver.

#25 first baseman Todd Benzinger.

#27 pitcher Jose Rijo, MVP of the 1990 World Series.

Pitcher Tom Browning aka Mr Perfect in red cap, second baseman Mariano Duncan at right.

Outfielder Eric Davis at left, Hall of Fame shortstop #11 Barry Larkin at right.

A better look at #44 Eric Davis aka Eric the Red.

Hall of Fame beat writer from the Dayton Daily News, Hal McCoy.

Two-thirds of The Nasty Boys, pitchers Norm Charlton (#37) and Rob Dibble (#49). Normie and Dibs parked themselves right in front of us for a minute as they waited for fellow Nasty Boy Randy Myers aka Randall Kirk to catch up. Lou and I took a boatload of photos of Norm and Dibs.