All-Star Summer: Home Run Derby

In the weeks leading up to the 86th All-Star Game, Lou and I had pondered the option of selling some portion of our All-Star tickets as a measure to off-set the King's Ransom that Major League Baseball imposed upon fans for the price of admission.  The leading candidate for restoring fiscal balance were, we believed, our tickets for the Home Run Derby.  This was an event that first began, precisely, 30 years ago (thus marking 2015 as the 30th anniversary MLB All-Star Game HR Derby) and thanks entirely to ESPN's monotonous Chris Berman has become in recent years completely unwatchable.  Intolerable may be more accurately descriptive.   In the end, Lou and I agreed that since we weren't going to be subjected, on site, to Berman's televised banal inanity that we would almost certainly enjoy the HR Derby experience.

River City was - again - graced with favorable weather on Monday July 13th.




Yes, a bit of hazy overcast.  In a world full of alleged climate change, this is the centuries-old unchanging standard for summers in Cincinnati.

Lou came armed with Ansel Adams-quality photographic accoutrements:




As such, the preponderance of photos that follow in this and the upcoming All-Star Summer posts are his and not mine.  Por ejemplo:




Mr Heavy Artillery.

Lou and I arrived at Great American Ball Park as early as the stadium's gate staff permitted entry.  We made it a priority to take in all the sights and sounds of the HR Derby; the on-field workouts, NL and AL team photos, batting practice..... everything.  Seated just a few rows from the field and to the foul side of the right field foul pole (call it a "fair pole" and you'll get a knuckle sammich!), we were in a prime position to catch batted balls.  I came prepared!




For this august occasion I busted out my old ballglove.  That's right!  This is a vintage, game-used (by me) [Randy ?!] Cooper-model glove.  Please, contain your envy.  OK, OK.  It didn't take much "busting out," I keep this glove on a bedside stand.  Doesn't every red-blooded real live nephew of Uncle Sam?  Here's your trivia question of the day; How many full-size Louisville Slugger baseball bats do I share a bedroom with?  The first person to submit the exact number prior to publication of the next installment of All-Star Summer wins the privilege of buying me lunch.  One entry per human being.  Other terms and conditions may arbitrarily apply.

Drifting in near-silence over Cin City was a pay-TV sponsored dirigible:




On no!  I did not just post a photograph of a zeppelin!  Did I?

Lou captured better zeppelin fotografisch with his spy satellite-grade gear:




Meanwhile, events on the ground were taking shape in the form of the National League team beginning their round of batting practice:




Cardinals slugger Matt Holliday was seen razzing the NL pitchers assigned to shag fly balls:






Aroldis "the Cuban Missile" Chapman, but one of the Redlegs' two All-Star representatives, is seen laughing in the background of the photo above.  Don't know how much he has to laugh about these days.  In fact, a full range of Cuban Missile expressions were on display that afternoon:








With his back to us, we didn't see many of Chapman's expressions, but Lou captured a few:




Happy Chappy!




'Bout to fire off a magazine full of rounds, punch out a car window and allegedly lay his hands on his old lady Chappy.  Who's laughing now, Mr 105?




The Missile ain't got time for your player hatin'!

Next time in All-Star Summer;  Let's meet more of the All-Stars!

Roll the credits!