Dear Sweetpea,

By now, you’ve had your ring for more than 24 hours and we’ve both had the chance to tell our story to our friends and family. Yesterday, you made me the happiest man in the mid-Atlantic by accepting my formal proposal to get married. (OK, it wasn’t all that “formal. There were no tuxedos or tiaras involved.)

There has been a lot going on over the last two weeks, including a lot of plotting and scheming, but it really started several months ago. Another guy in my department was about to start shopping for a ring for his girl, so we began a conversation that drew in several others in the area. These friends became my “panel of experts” on how to go about buying an engagement ring.

Initially, when I Googled “Baltimore Wholesale Jewelers,” I found a place downtown near Camden Yards. It wasn’t open on Saturdays and opened and closed within my usual workday, so I knew it would be challenging to get out there. I figured I’d use this week’s Orioles day game as an excuse. I’d take the day off for the game and stop at the store first.

But then a couple weeks back, it occurred to me that their limited hours would be a continuing problem, what with needing to come back for fittings, wedding bands, and whatnot. So I Googled again and focused on our neighborhood. I found one place with the same problem. But then on the map, I saw a couple other places nearby and they were open Saturdays. After consulting the Yelp reviews, I picked a place to start.

Remember that Saturday, two weeks ago, when you took the dog to your sister’s house for a visit, and I ran errands and got a haircut? That was the day I selected your ring.

The jeweler asked me what I was looking for and I gave him your criteria… silver-looking band, round or square diamond cut. He asked for my price range and then went back to pull out some samples.

First, he showed me a simple ring setting in white gold. I thought it was gorgeous… simple and elegant. That was the one; I didn’t even look at any others. Then he laid out 4 envelopes with diamonds in them, and we went through each, lowest to highest.

The first was .94 karats, very good cut and clarity, and ran about $6k. Right there, I knew I’d find something nice because that one was gorgeous. Next, he showed me one that was .95 carats and a little higher quality. To me, it looked just like the first one.

The third stone was 1.01 carats and a little lower in quality. And that one was gorgeous too.

The last one he showed me was 1.05 carats, 3^rd highest category in color, 2^nd highest in clarity, and outside of the price range I’d given him. But that was the one. I loved it.

I know the differences were imperceptible to the naked eye but I wanted to make sure you knew, when I showed you the papers, that I found you a top-quality diamond. I wanted you to be proud of it. I know you don’t flash a lot of jewelry so I wanted this ring to be a good one. 

 The quality ratings for your stone.

It certainly doesn’t hurt that you have tiny little hands, which will make the rock look that much bigger.

I asked if he offered financing, and he said he didn’t. That surprised me for a moment. I briefly considered getting a bank loan on my own, but then had a moment of clarity that was definitely on the top of the scale, at least a VVS1. I had the money in my checking account; why would I ever want to get financing and pay the interest charges? Dummy! Just write him a check… Done!

He had me put $2k down on my credit card, to make sure no one else bought it out from under me. I had no problem with that… just meant I got some serious Thank You Points.

He told me that it would take about a week and he’d give me a call when it was done.

I wondered if you noticed, later that day when we reconvened at your place, if I seemed brighter and bouncier. I felt like I couldn’t contain myself with the excitement of such a big moment. But I tried to just be cool, lest you catch on that something was up.

The one thing everyone wanted to know was how I was going to propose. I told the jewelers that the only place of any prominence with us was Jilly’s, the bar where we first met. They had some suggestions but I didn’t really like them… I didn’t want the ring coming in food or a drink, or to even let it out of my possession. And I wanted to be the one to give it to you.

So I mentioned a scenario that had been rolling around in my head, where I make a play off of what I told you the day we met, when I didn’t want to let you get away. Rather than spend the rest of my bar-going days wondering if I’d ever see you again, I reached for your arm and said, “Wait, why don’t we just go out?”

Well, the jewelers loved my idea, as did everyone I told it to at work (and over the phone and via email. I really should have kept my yap shut. I totally broke my own rule of keeping big news quiet until it was over and done, lest something mess it up.)

But still, when I told people what I was going to do, everyone LOVED IT. Several people told me they got goosebumps. So I basically sent my idea through a Focus Group to get it woman-approved.

I went back to the jeweler the next Saturday but he said he had to send it out to be assembled because he didn’t have that setting on hand. He told me he expected it back by the end of the week. I’d been hoping I’d have a week to prepare my plan, which I was targeting for Mother’s Day. But all things considered, I didn’t really need that much time.

Thursday afternoon, when I was working from home, he called and said it was ready. I went to pick it up that evening and was thrilled. I thought it was absolutely beautiful and exactly what I wanted.

Then I wrote the largest check I’ve ever written in my life. Made me feel like a bigshot! Dude probably raced straight to the bank to make sure it cleared before I got out of the parking lot.

Who knew that my going to the Orioles game Friday night almost ruined the whole thing? I was at my usual pre-game bar with Sitcom Kelly and her Sitcom Sister, telling them about my plans. The bar manager, who’s been hooking us up with discounts for the last five years, was listening in. He asked if he could crash the wedding. (I said he could if he makes it to Pensacola next summer.)

Then you and I went to the Orioles game on Saturday and visited the same bar before the game. I was worried that the bar manager might say something, but he didn’t. But then, the bartender, who I’d never seen before that day, said to us, “So, I hear you’re getting married!”

  Source

I almost shit. But I thought I recovered well enough.  I said, “Well yeah, eventually… but not anytime soon…" We laughed it off. Then when you left to visit the ladies room, I said to her, in a tortured manner, “I’m going to ask her to marry me TOMORROW.”

Poor girl was horrified. She said the bar manager had told her we were getting married. See, I knew I shouldn’t have been blabbing my plans around town. Almost bit me in the ass.

And speaking of bites in the ass, you gave me one Saturday night, didn’t you? After the game when we were back at your place having a drink and sitting on the couch, we were discussing our future wedding plans. And you said something like “Wedding plans? It’s not like I have any evidence of any wedding plans…” as you waved your ring-less ring finger in front of me.

I was like, “She did NOT just give me a “Put a Ring on it” move…” I was thiiiis close to stomping into the bedroom, retrieving the ring from my bag and going, “OK, fine. Here’s your evidence, Smartass… Happy now?” But a plan’s a plan.

Earlier that morning, I had gone down to “our” bar and spoke with the bartender, the one who was there when it all started. As you know, she’s a very stately, white-haired, English woman, who looks like she should be teaching at Hogwarts. I had a role for her in this event and thought she’d be willing.

She totally was. And more importantly, she’d be on duty Sunday, despite it being Mother’s Day. She said she’d make sure my usual barstool was available. I asked her to ask us, when she had a moment, “Remind me again how you two met up?” I said to make sure she said to “remind her,” because she absolutely knew how we met, and you know that. But that was the cue for us to tell our favorite story. I was going to change the ending.

When we were together Thursday night, I planted the seed about going to the bar for a drink on Sunday, after we ran our errands. You seemed quizzical about it… While we do hang out at various bars from time to time, we don’t usually set it up in advance. But I wanted to get a stake in the ground.

And you agreed, thank goodness, even though I could tell it wasn’t very high on your list of things you wanted to do that Sunday. So thank you for that.

While you were getting ready, I was sitting at the table and decided to have a little fun with the ring, so I took this picture.

That’s your ring on your copy of the Sunday puzzles.

Then, when we were in the store and I had the ring deep in my pants pocket, I got the idea to hold up the ring behind you while you were facing away, and take another picture.

But I abandoned that idea because it just didn’t seem like a good idea to tempt fate and have you turn around unexpectedly. But it did make me regret that I didn’t think of it earlier. I could have taken pictures of the ring all over town and all over your house. But again, why tempt fate? I’d probably drop it down a sewer grate.

Finally, it was time to go to the bar, and to our good fortune, the bar area was completely empty. We got our seats; the bartender greeted us and got our drinks. About five minutes in, she came back over and began talking about her husband and how they came to America. And then, she brilliantly pivoted to use her line, to remind her how we got together here.

You began the story, which made me happy. I love watching you tell it. We usually tag-team it to provide both of our points of view. But this time, you blasted right through it. As you were talking, the bartender let out a little gasp and ducked down to grab her phone. She said, “I thought I heard it ringing,” and then set it on the bar.

I thought, “You sly dog… I know what you’re doing. You’re getting the camera ready.”

You continued your story but inside I began to panic. You were getting dangerously close to the part I needed to deliver. So I apologize for butting in so rudely, but it was unavoidable.

I jumped into the narrative and instead of recounting to the bartender how I said, “Wait, why don’t we just go out?” I turned to you and said, “Wait, why don’t we just… get married?”

With that, I fished the ring out of my shirt pocket and held it under your chin, waiting for the joyful explosion… that didn’t come. I even waved it a little bit but you didn’t seem to be reading me.

Little did I know that you were first thinking, “Why did he butt into my story,” and then, “Hey, that’s not how the story goes…”

But then the lights came on and there was joyfulness onto the world.

And most importantly, you said “Yes.”

I tried to put the ring on your finger, but I knew it wasn’t going to go on.

Months ago, I found one of the rings you wear on your ring finger and traced the inside of it onto one of my business cards.

I brought it with me so the jeweler would have a good starting point. But alas, when I picked up the ring last Thursday, it didn’t even fit over the first knuckle of my pinky. When I checked it against the circle on the card, you couldn’t see the circle, which meant the ring was going to be too small.

So I tried, but we’ll have to go back next Saturday and get it resized. At least you have this week to wave it around to all your friends at work. Just stay away from sewer grates.

You told me later that you hadn’t really wanted to go to the bar that afternoon, but you saw that I really wanted to, so you just went with it. And I told you that’s one of the reasons I love you that way I do. You do things like that for me all the time and I want you to know that I recognize it and I appreciate it. And I’ll do my best not to drag you along to places you’d rather not go.

I want to make it my top priority to be worthy of you and your love. You truly make me want to be a better man.

I love you and I can’t wait to be your husband.

Of course, after all the time we just spent trying to figure out who was the fiancé, who was the fiancée, and where the accent marks go, we’d better practice with those titles for a while.

The Obligatory Clasped Hands with Ring picture.

Double Stuff Orioles

I know you’d think that I’d write about the big First Presidential Debate tonight, but for one, it’s tonight and I’m writing a post now.  I’d rather see it first before commenting.  The other thing is that I got to do something this weekend that I’ve always wanted to do.

No, I didn’t get to throw out another First Pitch.  I’m pretty sure I only get one of those per lifetime.  It was actually a much humbler goal.

Now, I’ve known I was going to the Orioles game on Saturday since before the season started. The Arizona Diamondbacks were coming to town and they were the last MLB team that I haven’t seen play in person.  Figures that they’d be here for the last home series of the year.

In addition, they were having a good giveaway that day: an Orioles hoodie.  But not wanting to take chances with unpredictable weather, I waited until last week to actually buy a ticket.  Found an “orphan” in the first row of the upper deck, looking down the 1^st baseline.

Then on Thursday, Sitcom Kelly let me know she got her mom’s company seats for the Sunday game.  I hate to pass up a chance to sit in the Mom Seats, so I figured I’d do a back-to-back, to finish out the year.

But then I remembered that this was the perfect situation that I’d been looking for all year.  I’d been looking for an opportunity to see back-to-back weekend games and stay downtown at a hotel in between.  I never seemed to find the right set of circumstances throughout the year, and then BAM, it drops in out of the blue in the last series.

So I promptly booked myself a room at the Eyesore Hilton, right across the street from the ballpark.

Director’s DVD Commentary: That’s how I refer to this particular hotel because before they built it, there was a very nice view of downtown Baltimore, from the stadium.  Now the only thing the entire 1^st base side of the stands can see is that damned hotel.

I figured it would be a nice change of pace from taking the subway home after the game (only to return the next morning).  Plus, I could use some of the credit card points I’ve been stockpiling, so it wouldn’t be much more of an expense than if I’d come home. 

So I checked in around 4:00 on Saturday and got my room. 

That orange jersey is one I bought new at the beginning of the year, but this was my first chance to wear it.  I usually match what the O’s wear and they only wear orange on Saturdays.  I’d only been to a couple Saturday games this year and they were in late July and August when it was too damned hot to wear a jersey.

In addition to just the room, I chose the option that provided a breakfast buffet for Sunday morning.  So I was surprised to see that they gave me a card for two breakfasts.  Damn, now I have an option for if I get lucky in the hotel bar after the game.

“Come with me, honey, and I’ll buy you breakfast…” 

Yeah, right.  Instead, I texted Sitcom Kelly and asked if she wanted to meet me a little earlier, for breakfast.  She accepted, citing her love of free stuff.

Around 4:15, I headed over to my usual pre-game stop, The Bullpen.  On my way, I could see that the front entrance was jammed with people lining up early for the hoodie giveaway.  They wouldn’t even open the gates for another 45 minutes.

Was pretty bad over at the side entrance too, which was visible from my perch at The Bullpen.  So I had to choose between a giveaway hoodie and a couple hours of drinking cheap beer.  It wasn’t exactly “Sophie’s Choice.”

This was going to be the last times I’d see my regular bartenders until next spring, so before leaving (on Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday), I’d tell them as I paid my tab, “You know, everybody says this to military guys but no one ever says it to bartenders and I think they should, so let me just say, Thank you for your Service.”

The line outside the ballpark started to die down around six-ish, so dismounted my barstool and headed over.  Lo and behold, I got a hoodie after all.  There weren’t many left; they were working on the end of one box and had only one more box left.  So, SCORE!

It got chilly by the end of the night, so the hoodie came in handy.

So yeah, I finally get to see Arizona play, and whaddya know?  You can hardly see them play.  Look at these uniforms:

Not really liking the gray over gray.  They looked like they’re in their jammies.

I spent most of the night talking with a couple from Los Angeles, who were on a stadium tour.  Had been to Boston and Philly, and was going to The Burgh the next day.  It’s fun hearing outsiders’ opinions of the place, and I got to play ambassador.  Makes me feel somewhat useful.

After the game, I made for the bar at the Hilton, but it wasn’t the experience I’d hoped for.  There were plenty of people, but most were grouped up and talking among themselves.  The only way to break in would be just to dive right in and join the conversation, but that’s just not me.  Nor is paying 8 bucks for a 12-oz beer.

But I had a fallback plan:

I brought my own hootch.

This is practically a family heirloom.  It’s one from a set of three flasks, which we used to use back in The Day, to sneak booze into Cleveland Stadium for the Steelers/Browns game.  One year I killed this whole flask full of brandy, by myself.  I don't remember much of the day after that.

Being older and wiser now, I just poured myself a nightcap and watched a little college football before bed.  Alone.  Sure had a lot of room, though!

Sunday morning, I met Sitcom Kelly downstairs for breakfast around 10.  It was a really nice buffet, which included an omelet station.  I love those! But we had to be careful; we couldn’t get too full for beer.

After breakfast, we eased back over to the Bullpen, to commence our final Cheap Ass Beer session of the season.  Sunday’s Orioles giveaway was an O’s flag hat.  This is one I’d have passed on, but they were for all fans in attendance; there was no escaping the ugly.

The Oriole Bird just doesn’t coexist peacefully with the schizophrenia of the Maryland Flag.

But the Mom Seats were great. 

Featuring the Eyesore Hilton in centerfield.

It dawned on me that, once I took a couple of game pics, we’ve never sat there for a day game before.  The sunlight allowed me to get much better action pics. Like this”

And this:

Usually the relatively low lighting gives the ball a tail, coming in.

The other thing I learned, this weekend, is that Arizona has some serious names on their ballplayers.  Saturday night, they substituted in a guy named Socrates Brito.  All I could think about was:

So-crates, the bodacious philosophizer.

Director’s DVD Commentary:

“True knowledge is knowing that you know nothing.”

“Dude, that’s US!”

Then I looked at the rest of the first names:

They got Welington, Yasmani, Socrates, and Tuffy.  Tuffy Gosewisch. Seriously.

The night before, they pitched a guy named Silvino.  Now that’s a diverse group of dudes.  Contrast that with the Orioles lineup:

These names look like the whitest fraternity on campus.  (Although Manny could be the old guy who runs the deli.)

We only stayed through the 6^th inning, because I wanted to get back to my other bar, to see the Steelers/Eagles game at 4:30.  Probably should have stayed at the baseball game, though, because the Steelers got their asses handed to them.

I’ll have to make a note of that for next year… no combining baseball and football!  But that wraps up my Orioles season.  I went to 26 games this year, which is a new personal record.  I saw all but three teams that came to town.  I missed the Rangers because I was in Ohio that week, the Indians because it was in the upper 90s that weekend, and the Yankees because, well, eff the Yankees.  (Although I did see them later in the season.)

Now I’m just going to have to settle for football.

But don’t worry about me.  I’ll survive.

Odd Bits - Lord Stanley's Edition

This summer, like the last couple, I seem to have a lot of free time on my hands.  I’m not complaining.  I get to do the kind of things I like to do.  Not that it’s exciting, or anything.  I mostly go to Orioles games and movies, in and around binge-watching TV shows on DVD.  But there have been a couple of highlights…

All Hail Lord Stanley

I would be remiss if I don’t at least mention the experience of watching my Pittsburgh Penguins win the Stanley Cup for the fourth time in franchise history.  As each playoff series began, I’d think, “Gee, I don’t know how they’re going to beat these guys,” and then they’d go right out and do it… convincingly.  The Rangers, Capitals, Lightning, and then the Sharks in the finals… no one could keep up with the Penguins speed and pressure.

There were a number of subplots as well.  Phil Kessel, an under-appreciated all-star from Toronto, gets surrounded with top notch talent for the first time and wins his first Stanley Cup.  There was Matt Murray, a 21-year old goalie who spent over half the season in the minors before stepping in for injured starter Marc-Andre Fleury and shutting the door on all comers.  There was the newly formed HBK line (Hagelin, Bonino & Kessel), born from an injury to Evgeni Malkin to become an unstoppable “3^rd line,” for which no team had an answer.

It’s a shame that the Pens couldn’t win the Cup at home, in Game 5.  There were thousands of people in the streets, outside the arena, just waiting to bust loose.

Personally, I think that was the problem: bad mojo.  You don’t show up to celebrate until AFTER the game is won.  Pens fans tempted the mojo gods, who in turn smote them by having the Pens win the Cup on the other side of the country.

Watching the last game was exhausting; there were so many tangents to the 2009 Cup Finals Game 7… playing on the road, nursing a 2 goal lead, having it cut to 1 with about 6 minutes to play.  Fortunately, the paths diverged when the Pens were able to knock in an empty-net goal with a minute left in the game, to take a 3-1 lead.  That took all the stress out of the last minute.  And then it was over, and holy shit...  Another championship for the Burgh.  That makes 12 during my lifetime, 15 in total.

I spent the next day buying all the championship swag I could get my hands on.  Some of it started rolling in last week.

Stanley Cup polo shirt, with the locker room hat.

I had the jerseys, but I ordered a couple of Stanley Cup patches to go on them.

Too bad the white one is now effectively obsolete.  The Pens just announced they’re going to go with the 1992-era home black and visiting white jerseys.  Aside from closeting my current white jerseys, I’m happy with the decision.  It’s really a good look.  Of course, I’ll have to get in touch with my favorite Chinese sweatshop, to bring in jersey reinforcements before the next season starts.

I’m still waiting for the t-shirt, commemorative puck and a new “4-time Stanley Cup winner” hat, to replace my “3-time Stanley Cup winner” hats.

Now I just have to figure out how to get that 4^th Stanley Cup in my blog header.

O’s Say Can You See

As my buddy, the CFO noticed from my Facebook postings, I’m on a record pace for seeing Orioles games this year.  Sunday was my 14^th of the season.  Last year, I’d seen only 10 by the end of June and 21 by the end of the year. 

I used to try to go to at least one game per homestand.  This year, I’ve been able to see at least one game of every visiting team but one.  (Screw the Yankees.)  I’m on pace for a 28-game year, but that’s a bit misleading.  Judging from the back half of the schedule, which has a lot more long road trips for the Orioles, I probably won’t see more than another 9-10 games.  One of them will be against the Arizona Diamondbacks, though, which is the only team I’ve never seen live.  Of course, it’s the last home series of the year.

The best experience so far was last Wednesday, when the Orioles had another “Social Media Night.”  I went to one last year, where they had a buffet table, free drink tickets, raffle giveaways, and a Q and A with closer Zach Britton.

It was the same deal this year, but the Q and A was with Chris Davis, the O’s strapping slugger and last year’s home run champ.  He’s also one of my favorite players, so I got myself a ticket just as soon as I got the event notification email.

Chris Davis and his guns.

I remember the exact moment he became one of my favorites.  It was in 2012, his first season with the team after being traded from Texas.  The Orioles won a game late on a walk-off base hit by Nate McLouth.  When all the players ran out onto the field to celebrate, Davis picked McLouth up over his shoulder and ran around with him as if he were a child.

He literally ran around the infield like this.    (Source)

Now, McLouth will never be confused with the big boys like Prince Fielder or Bartolo Colon, but he’s still a grown-ass man and Davis handled him like he was a sack of potatoes.  I thought to myself, “This SOB is strong…”

Anyway, the event was cool.  I even got to ask a question… I wanted to know who he thought would hit the Warehouse (in right field) with a home run ball first, him or ex-Pirate Pedro Alvarez.  Chris said his own power was mostly to center field and the alleys and when he pulls the ball to right, it generally hooks so he didn’t think he’d do it.  Pedro, he said, was really powerful, so that’s who he’d pick to knock one off the Warehouse.

Other things I learned: he bench presses 405 and squats over 600 (but not lately, to save his knees), he had a big mustache in the early season but his wife kiboshed it, and if he ran for president, reliever Darren O’Day would be his VP.  What, you think people were asking about batting mechanics?

Speaking of O’Day, they also announced that he would be the guest of honor on the next Social Media Night, on August 4th.  This news caused me to email Sitcom Kelly immediately because he is the next candidate for her basement Silence of the Lambs pit.  If he disappears somewhere between the Q and A and the clubhouse, I think I’ll know where people can find him.

Card Tricks

For the last couple of years, everyone has been telling me to watch House of Cards; that the show was great and I would love it.  I never doubted it.  The only reason I hadn’t seen it was because I don’t do Netflix.  But with the summer TV dead spots, I found myself in need of viewing material, so I ordered the DVDs of both “House of Cards” and “The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt.”

I was surprisingly disappointed in Kimmy Schmidt.  Maybe I was expecting too much because it was a Tina Fey production, but I just didn’t find it that funny.  I maybe chuckled a time or two throughout the entire first season.  I don’t believe I’ll pursue the second.

On the other hand, I loved “House of Cards.”  It’s like the seedy underside of another favorite series, “The West Wing.”  I love plausibly realistic political intrigue and I found myself thinking the main character, Kevin Spacey’s Frank Underwood, was evil incarnate, yet wishing my own congressmen were that smart.

Now, remember when the HBO movie “Game Change” was filming here in Baltimore, and I got such a kick out of seeing a scene played out along the very route I walked to work every day?  The same thing happened with House of Cards, which also films in the Baltimore area.

The signature scene of Season 2 (or maybe the entire series) takes place in a subway station, which I instantly recognized as the one I passed through every day for 17 years (up until we moved our office last summer).

I know it’s several years old by now but I still don’t want to provide any spoilers.  Suffice to say there’s a scene where Frank Underwood talks with reporter Zoe Barnes, played by Kate Mara. 

They speak clandestinely, from opposite sides of a chain-link fence at the end of the station platform.   (Source)

 

The pillar on the circular seat and fencing on the end were added to the set.   (Source)

Within an instant of the beginning of the scene, I could see it was the Charles Center Metro stop in Baltimore.  I know that wall, I know that yellow line, I know the round wooden seats.  (The underground stations do not all look alike.) A route map appeared in the background, showing a “You Are Here” dot at the third stop from the end.  That’s Charles Center.  Booyah!

This is what it looks like without set dressing.

No fencing, in real life.  I shot this last week, on my way home from an Orioles game.

Anyway, I love it when local landmarks show up on national television, so I thought I’d share.

How You Can Tell if I'm Losing my Shit

I’m so happy to see baseball season here again!  I’ve been to two games so far, Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon.

This year, I resolved not to make the mistake of buying tickets when they first go on sale.  Every time I do that; when game day comes, it’s crappy out.  So this year I vowed not to buy any tickets until I’ve seen a weather forecast.  I went Wednesday because it was the first game after Opening Day and I was pretty antsy to go see a game.

It’s funny… Opening Day drew a sellout crowd… 44,000-plus people.  The very next game?  Not so much.

Attendance announced at 12,600. Most were dressed as empty seats.

What a difference between the first and second games of the year.

I had a nice spot, 1^st row of the upper deck, behind home plate.  But it was cold and windy and I was rapidly having less fun as the night went on.  With the Orioles up 4-1, I made a break for it in the 6^th inning and was home in time to watch the end.

Sunday, I saw it would still be cold, but sunny.  Game time temperature was about 48.  But I bought a seat where I knew I’d be in the sun the whole time; 3^rd row up from the left field wall.  It was fun and I got on TV again.  (I’d run the picture but due to my Orioles hoodie, I’m only identifiable as a big orange blob.)

These two games were the first times I ever tried to use the “iPhone Wallet” app.  When I got my tickets, I had the options to print or add to Wallet app, or both.  I did both, for a couple of reasons.

First, I wanted to try the Wallet app because it’s the new shiny thing.  And it’s easier to deal with than trying to fish the paper ticket out of my pocket.  I have to have my phone out of my pocket anyway, when I go through the entrance metal detector.

My e-ticket from Sunday.

But I still like to have the paper ticket for the souvenir and for tradition.  Having both means of ticketing allows me to have a backup system in case something goes wrong, like if I lose the paper ticket or my phone runs out of juice.  (I won’t even consider the possibility of losing the phone.)

As you may know, I keep all my stubs and after the game, record the score and attendance on them.  Sitcom Kelly and I have had extensive conversations about my ticketing quirks, for example, that I don’t like printing paper tickets (although not so much that I forego the convenience of buying tickets online over getting standard cardboard tickets from the box office). 

The paper tickets are printed on a full page; then after the game, I cut out the “ticket-shaped” portion for permanent storage.  I always print them in color too; the better to simulate a traditional ticket stub.

Last summer, Sitcom Kelly and I were going to a game and she ordered our tickets online.  When she gave them to me, she said, “Sorry, there’s a fold in the ticket.”

I said, “That’s OK, I’ll smooth it out with the iron when I get home.”

I was totally joking, but she never even questioned it.  She just assumed it was just another one of those weird things I do.  She’s so used to all my strange habits and quirks; she figured this was just one more.

It cracked me up because it made me wonder what exactly I’d have to do in order for my friends to think I lost my marbles.  See, it wouldn’t be the normal stuff… It’d have to be on a whole different plane.

So as a public service... or rather, a personal service, here’s a list of ways you can tell if Bluz’s elevator is no longer going all the way to the top:

• You see him eating vegetables with more than one syllable.
• He only takes one trip through the buffet line.
• He watches PBS.
• He finds his car in a crowded parking lot, right away.
• He turns on a Top-40 radio station.  Or any radio station.
• He books a trip to a third-world country.  On purpose.
• You hear him say, “No, I don’t want another drink.”
• He says something nice about the Baltimore Ravens.
• Wears an item of clothing without mojo implications, on game day.
• He answers the phone when the caller ID says “Unavailable.”
• He approaches a stranger and starts a conversation.
• He goes for a drive.
• He turns on a golf match on TV.
• He opens the hood of his car, without jumper cables or windshield washer fluid in his hands.
• He puts small, decorative pillows on the bed.
• You see him cleaning behind a large appliance or piece of furniture.
• He’s jogging.

Please; if you should witness this or any similar activity, please summon a representative from the Charm City Home for the Bewildered.

...And Here's the Pitch!

My last post told you about how I won the chance to throw out the first pitch at the Orioles-Blue Jays game, the next night.

Let me tell you, that Tuesday was a real bear to get through... not because of the anticipation as much as the weather forecast.  I had the hour by hour weather report up on my computer screen all day long.  Every time I refreshed it, the forecast changed.  Sometimes it looked like there would be a brief hole in which the game might be played, other times, it looked like rain all evening long.

Late in the afternoon, we got a message that our company event was going to be moved from the bullpen picnic area to the ballroom inside the Warehouse. (aka that big building in right field.)

Everyone sees the outside of the Warehouse; not so many have seen the inside, so that was pretty cool.

I got a ride over to the ballpark with my boss, which was nice because it was still raining.  What wasn't so nice was that I forgot to bring my ticket with me.  It was still in my desk drawer, clipped to a Sharpie, so I wouldn't forget either of them.

I'm lucky I have a cool boss, because I inadvertently used some language that one probably shouldn't use around one's boss.  And I was doubly lucky because she ended up with an extra ticket, due to a last minute cancellation, so we didn't have to go back for mine.  Plus, she had a Sharpie... it was sea green, but it would have to do if I had the chance to score any autographs.

So we carried on at the Warehouse, hoping the forecast would change for the better, but as the minutes went by, it just seemed to grow bleaker.

The saddest sight in baseball is a tarp on the field.  Shot from the 6th floor of the Warehouse.

Just after 6:00, Caitlin, my contact with the Orioles, let me know that they were postponing the game.  By that point, I figured it was inevitable.  I just hoped they didn't reschedule the doubleheader for Thursday, by which time I would be in Florida.  But they came through... the first game would be Wednesday at 4:00.  My First Pitch would still be in play.

Thursday was a little more nerve-wracking, because I knew for sure that this would be the day.  Robin wouldn't be able to be my "second" on the field this time, so I twisted Sitcom Kelly's arm into coming along.  It didn't take much... go down on the field, be close to the players?  Yeah, she was in.  This would open up a whole new set of stalking targets for her.

At least I wouldn't have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of everyone from the office... Everyone who had a ticket for the rainout game had the opportunity to use it for any other game this year, or for the first Blue Jays series next year.  I didn't expect many to come back out to the Yard the very next day.  So if my pitch went badly, I could always deep-six the video and claim it got accidentally deleted.

We met Caitlin at 3:15, as directed, and she took us down to the "Alternate Clubhouse," where people usually wait for their big moments.  This was also the same room where the Orioles' manager, Buck Showalter, does his pre and post game press conferences.

I asked if there would be a problem if I went up to the desk for a couple of pictures.  They obliged, and the camera technician even flipped on the lights for the set.  So that's how I got my "Press Conference" picture.

Bluz Dude explains the intricacies of his sinkerball.

It was funny that our handlers didn't really have anything to say to us.  Remember, I was expecting a liability waiver and a scroll-like list of forbidden actions.  Well, there was a list of waivers on the back of our "backstage pass," so that passed for the liability stuff.

When I mentioned the "Scroll of Forbidden Behavior" to Caitlin, she just laughed.  But then she said, "We're just supposed to tell people not to get on the mound, and not to throw hard, because your catcher won't have any gear on."

I was like, "No problem!  I'll be happy to spare your guy my 45 mph fast ball."

She gave my the baseball I'd be using for my pitch, and a pen with which I might be able to get it signed.  (This rendered moot all my worrying about the Sharpie the previous day.)  She said Sharpies don't work very well on baseballs, because they smear.

Because this was a doubleheader, there were to be two separate First Pitches: mine, and one from the guy who was already scheduled for that day.  Because of the limited time between games, they were going to do both pitches before the first game.  The other guy was to go on at 3:48.  I was up at 3:51.

They took us out to the field around 3:35.  Just like when I was on the tour this summer, it was a thrill just to walk out onto the field from behind the plate.  I gave Sitcom Kelly a rundown on how to shoot video on my iPhone, as well as capture photos while doing it.  I just had to hope she would keep me in frame and avoid zooming in on the players' butts.

Just standing around back there would have been really nerve-wracking if it would have been a full house, but the house was most definitely not full.  I'd be throwing out my pitch before literally dozens of spectators.

I've seen more people in line for the bathrooms.

Sitcom Kelly used the time to carve her phone number into the sand in front of the dugout.  Stupid grounds crew had to come and smooth it over.

Eventually a "Ball Girl" came over to give me the logistics.  Long and short of it... follow her and don't step on the white line.

My Ball Girl was #15 on the left.

They introduced the first guy to pitch, with his title of "Exulted Grand Wizard" of something or another... some benevolent organization.  I was like, "Hey I want a title like that!  I want to be an Exulted Grand Wizard too.  Maybe they can just say I'm Admiral of the Fleet."  But they'd already gotten my particulars and I felt it was too late to renegotiate.

At this point, I still didn't know who was going to come out and catch me.  The first guy had a relief pitcher, Jason Garcia.  He was new to the Orioles, a Rule Five Draft guy.  (That means they signed him from another team and he has to stay in the majors all year, or be offered back to his original team.)

So when the Bat Girl brought me over to stand in front of the bench, I looked inside and saw Manny Machado walking around the bubblegum jar.  I was like, "Holy shit!  I might get Manny!"  I was even wearing a Machado jersey for the occasion.  I would definitely have him sign my jersey.

But then Garcia came bounding up onto the field and I realized Manny was only milling around down there for the bubblegum.

Then, the PA announcer started his thing and it was time for my moment.

Couple of thoughts:

*  You like that little spin-around with the hat?  I was hoping I didn't fall on my face.

*  Obviously, I touched the grass, right there at the beginning.  But it was very wet, so I had to wipe off on my pants.

*  I still did a modified version of my Luis Tiant (backward pivot) windup, but I added a Bugs Bunny element by rotating my wrist a couple of times before I spun forward and delivered.  Unfortunately, given the angle from which Sitcom Kelly was shooting, my body blocked the view of my hand. You'll just have to take my word for it.

*  After the pitch, I heard a big roar ("Big" considering how few people there were in the park), and saw handful of O's fans behind 3rd base.  You can see me turn to acknowledge them.  I assumed they came from my office... I'll have to ask around when I get back.

*  Jason Garcia was a very nice guy.  As he was signing my ball, I asked if he drew the short straw today.  He said this was "(his) thing, because it was a good luck charm.  Whenever (he) caught the first pitch, the Orioles won."  I thanked him and wished him luck as we crossed back over the foul line. (Not touching it, of course.)

*  I'm sorry to have broken his lucky streak, because the Orioles lost 15-2, and he came into the game and gave up 4 runs himself.

So that was it.  They led us back up to the main concourse, then Sitcom Kelly and I went up to our seats.  I had to miss the first couple of innings while I was posting the video to Facebook and notifying friends and family.  Of course I had to edit the video first, because as soon as my part was done, Sitcom Kelly started shooting all the guys warming up in the outfield.  Those guys don't know how close they were to clawing at the dirt walls of her basement pit.

I was so eager to see how the video came out.  Right up until I watched it, of course.  I mean, I got it there, but it was Soooo.  Slooooooow.  I wish they hadn't told me not to throw it hard.  My middle-aged version of "hard" might have been just right.

It was funny watching the responses roll in.  By and large, my female friends congratulated me and said nice things.  My guy friends gave me shit over the velocity.  My brother said I hit "15-mph on the jugs gun."  The CFO said it looked like the ball was filled with helium.

What can I say?  Maybe the Orioles were in the market for an aging pitcher with a weird windup and variety of off-speed stuff.

Still, even with the stops and starts, this was the coolest thing I'll ever do.  I mean, what boy doesn't what to throw a pitch on a major league field?

Once I get back from Florida, I'm supposed to go back to work on Thursday.  I don't know... I don't know if all this has gone to my head, but I think I may hold out for a new contract.

Somebody get my agent on the phone.

Director's DVD Commentary: In all seriousness, I'd like to thank Caitlin and the whole Baltimore Orioles organization.  They put on a great event and were the model of professionalism and courtesy.  And even better, they'll provide me with the video and pictures that THEY shot with their non-iPhone cameras.