14 years (there's that number again) and 360,000 miles.
Back at TDS HQ, the days weren't always as productive as they might have been:
This is not trick photography. It's not a mirrored image. Your eyes do not deceive you. My attempt at being hyper-productive one afternoon was scrubbed on the launch pad. T minus forever and holding.
The Technological Plague seemed to stalk me everywhere I went in October:
Following a long day of non-productivity at the office I settled back onto my Davenport and fired up the 800-inch high-def LCD LED 4-D television with the expectation of enjoying some MLB postseason coverage and analysis. Funny, but losing the MLB Network signal only happens twice a year; during the annual Winter Meetings and during the playoffs. Not like a baseball fan would want to watch endless hours of those events.
One late October night out on patrol was similarly disrupted:
It was enough frustration-induced anger to give a person double vision:
On the subject of double vision, I was lucky to capture a rather cool-looking dissolve (filmmaking term) during a Reds-Cardinals game late in the season:
[And by the way, take that StL.]
It is precisely when circumstances seem to be working against you that recognition of all that is favorable needs to be thoughtfully considered. Here at the Ranch, one of those things to be recognized is the onset of autumn and it's brilliant colors and comfortable weather.
Why live in a city when you could live in a veritable forest?
The answer you're searching for, of course, is "physically exhausting yardwork."
These soothing moments of leisure allow time for artistic pursuits. From home:
.....at work:
.....out to dinner:
.....or at the post office being attacked by wild beasts:
As the Major League Baseball regular season crept into October, there also was time to take in one more Reds game before they packed up the bats and gloves until next spring:
Here, Joey Votto faces former teammate The Cuban Missile in the midst of a late-inning Reds rally. A rally that fell short. You know that old baseball adage; Good pitching beats good hitting.
With the oppressive heat and humidity of Ohio summers keeping the natives in the climate-controlled indoors for weeks on end, every opportunity to get outside during autumn must be seized. Might I suggest dining al fresco at your nearest national, state or local park?
The highlight of October - the highlight of the year to date - was the visit Lou and I paid last week to a mysterious Cincinnati destination that is equal parts legend and myth, that being the private club/baseball museum Green Diamond Gallery. It's an easy enough place to find in the heart of old Montgomery, just one block south of the Montgomery Inn. The difficult aspect is simply getting in the door. Unless you are a $2,400 annual dues-paying member you need to have an invitation. And to have an invitation, you have to know somebody. Luckily, I know somebody.
I'm fortunate - and very appreciative - to have the greatest friends a guy could have.
Lou and I attended a 3-hour event. We could have spent all-day had we been permitted. We could also have photographed hundreds of items but we were too caught up in our sense of marvel and in our discussions to remember often enough to deploy our Androids. Also, we wanted to be respectful of the owner Bob Crotty and what is after all his private collection (Bob was there that night and gave a brief presentation). Plus, my Android was having a difficult time locking in its focus in the Gallery's ambient lighting.
Ernie Lombardi game-used catcher's mask (and autograph).
Lou Gehrig game-used bat.
Shoeless Joe Jackson Black Betsy model bat he used on a barnstorming tour. In a gallery jam-packed with impressive artifacts, Lou and I were perhaps most impressed with this piece of lumber.
Hanging from the rafters over my left shoulder is a 1938 game-worn Lou Gehrig jersey. Gehrig would only play in 8 games in 1939 before taking himself out of the lineup permanently, as it turned out to be. The effects of his ALS had begun to take its toll in 1938. Odd as it may seem to say, he'd experienced a down season when in '38 he hit .295/.410/.523 with 170 hits, 32 doubles, 29 home runs and 114 RBI. Consider, though, that Gehrig hit in:
1937: .351/.473/.643 with 200 hits, 37 doubles, 37 home runs and 158 RBI
1936: .354/.478/.696 with 205 hits, 37 doubles, 49 home runs and 152 RBI
If Lou Gehrig isn't one of your top 10 all-time favorite non-Cincinnati Red ballplayers then you need to re-examine your baseball fandom priorities.
This is a Walter Alston game-worn jersey I photographed for The Incomparable Joe Wilhelm, the preeminent collector of Smokey Alston memorabilia.
Among the thousands of items were some few that are more tangentially related to baseball:
There is a collection of autographs from Presidents who have thrown out a ceremonial first pitch such as Calvin Coolidge, above.
As you might expect, there were signatures that are simply gorgeous specimens of penmanship, an art lost among modern ballplayers (and me, too). The examples on display from Johnny Mize are consistently beautiful. One signature that caught my eye as being particularly interesting stylistically was this:
At the Green Diamond Gallery you can't spit a sunflower seed (not that you should) without striking a Babe Ruth autograph. A doorman opens the door for you as you leave the gallery. Stepping through the doorway, onto the sidewalk along Montgomery Rd, this autographed photo of the Bambino bids you farewell.
