We had in September our share of rain and storms remnant from the various hurricanes which wrought havoc all around the Gulf coast:
Perhaps there's nothing so terrible as being stuck for several long, excruciating minutes (for at least, like, 4 whole minutes) at a railroad crossing where there is no train:
With the Reds season grinding to a remorseless halt, I crammed in as much River City MLB action as practicable. There were Friday Night Fireworks games:
There was a Meet the Rookies event in the Champions Club for we privileged Reds season ticket holders:
There was a complimentary tour (more #RedsPrivilege) of the Reds Hall of Fame and its ongoing Red & Bronze exhibit:
There was Los Rojos béisbol en la televisión when I couldn't get down to the Great American Ball Yard (mucho triste):
Vive la Votto!
There was a day game in the cheap seats with Lou:
[photo credit; Lou]
During the game I wore out the kids seated in front of us with my dead-on imitations of Reds ballpark announcer Joe Zerhusen.
There were ballpark sights seldom glimpsed by the public:
Observe (above) the pallets of bobbleheads ready for giveaway once the gates opened to the general public later in the day.
The highlight of my September ballpark experiences came on the last home game of the 2017 season, Fan Appreciation Day (pictured, above). Mr B's hometown Boston Red Sox were in town and so I treated the big guy to his first-ever visit to The Handlebar.
We feasted sumptuously on what we referred to as "our breakfast of champions." Hotcakes, bacon, coffee and.... oh yeah, prime rib!
One of the privileges of admission to The Handlebar is that it's an all-you-can-shovel buffet.
Personally I made three trips through the pancakes-and-bacon line. Later, the breakfast foods were removed (there also was an assortment of muffins, rolls and other baked goodies, eggs any style and so much more) and the lunch fare was introduced. Hot dogs shared space with the prime rib and - to my surprise - the ballpark franks proved to be wildly popular. More so than the prime rib. The fools! Don't tell Mr B's cardiologist, but I helped myself to more than a few servings of prime rib.
The Handlebar also provides unlimited coffee, tea and soft drinks and, upon entering, the staff hands each patron a voucher for a free alcoholic drink.
Wait.... did I say "a voucher?" As in just one voucher? I meant to say the staff hands each patron a half-dozen vouchers for free booze!
There we sat, Mr B and me, in The Handlebar with our combined windfall of 12 vouchers for free liquor..... and we don't drink. Oh, the humanity!
ProTip; If you arrive at The Handlebar early, and you enjoy adult beverages, you can (almost) get your money's worth. Especially if there is a lengthy rain delay.
Seated at the next table over from us was "Mr Perfect," Tom Browning:
The Old Master of the Turf used The Handlebar buffet as a practice run for the Breeders' Cup buffet he'll attack in November. He even wore his red 2004 Breeders' Cup t-shirt that he bought when he attended that year's event (run at Lone Star Park in Texas).
I haven't attended every Fan Appreciation Day game in my lifetime (who could?), but this much I can say; despite the Reds giving away dozens of prizes each half-inning, never in my life had I ever won anything.
That is, until this year!
In the first inning my seat location/number appeared on the JumboTron and I raced down to claim my prize.
No, not an autographed baseball.
No, not a $50 gift card for Montgomery Inn.
No, not free tickets to Opening Day.
I won a lifetime supply [slight exaggeration] of Gorilla Glue!
Inside the box was all manner of glue products, varieties of adhesive tape, plus a handful of gift cards for Chick-fil-A and a Gorilla Glue t-shirt (size XL). Score!
The Reds held their annual Meet the Rookies event on the same weekend as Cincinnati's world famous Oktoberfest Zinzinnati. Myself having never attended Oktoberfest Zinzinnati, I persuaded Lou to investigate the goings-on.
My one-word review; Underwhelming.
800 varieties of specially-brewed Oktoberfest beer, German-heritage foods in general, and polka music (both sincere and ironic... except for this) are not in my wheelhouse. Allegedly the good folks from Schmidt's Sausage Haus were there, somewhere, in the melee with a stand selling their yummy brand of sausages. On occasion, when The B Team Syndicate used to frequent Scioto Downs, just outside Columbus, we would patronize Schmidt's for dinner. I had hoped to grab some grub for lunch and send a selfie to Mad Mahler (also an aficionado of Schmidt's) but, alas, the Schmidt's burghers were not to be found.
October ushers in playoff baseball, and this year we watched in Lou's newly renovated basement man cave:
That's Lerxst's Lou's 12-string electric acoustic guitar in the corner. The zebra-print blanket belongs to my nieces. Honest, it does!
Late-night ballgames lead invariably to late-night rock radio on the drive back to The Ranch:
