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Spring Break Training PART I |
Spring Break Training PART II |
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SABRES, PENS, SHOTGUNS & METS |
BILL BUCKNER WAS INNOCENT |
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West Coast Craig
Posts:121
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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The first time Petey Van Peltier met the Bad Usher was in the locker room beneath the stadium. It was Petey’s first day and he wanted to make a good impression, having already arrived in his usher uniform…but the Bad Usher, whom he was supposed to be shadowing and learning from, was the one making the impression at the moment. He stood before a mirror, wearing his straw porkpie hat, some kind of strange, almost tribal necklace with unidentifiable things on it, and nothing else. The image would be seared into Petey’s retinas like a cattle brand. “Excuse me?” he said, “I’m looking for George?” The Bad Usher just stood there, eyes screwed shut and emitting a gutteral moaning sound for another moment, then abruptly stopped and turned around, facing the very uncomfortable Petey. “Let’s go.”
Now fully clothed in his own blue usher’s uniform, The Bad Usher led Petey through the bowels of the stadium running down the litany of nuances an Usher is responsible for. “It’s not just showing them their seats, we have to watch for flasks, weapons, cameras, and especially beach balls. You get a beach ball you immediately…” and with this he produced a switchblade seemingly out of thin air with an unsheathing snick sound, and stabbed viciously in front of Petey’s face, causing him to stumble backwards. “I’m the castrator of beach balls!” On the field, the teams began taking batting practice. Pete recovered enough to murmur “Okay…but what about cameras, surely people can take pictures of themselves at the game?” “Not in these sensitive security times, not when I’m around…and definitely not without the express written consent of Major League Baseball.” By now they were out towards the visitor’s bullpens. The Mets were in town and that meant that Laurie, a fading beauty who’d been an usher since her big hair days in the early 1990s, was there flirting with a relief pitcher, one of her favorites, Heilman, whom she’d just brought some homemade muffins for. Heilman nervously accepted them, excused himself—he had to get back to the clubhouse—and kind of jogged/fled away. Petey noticed a slight hobble to his gait. The Bad Usher noticed it too and then zeroed in on Laurie. “You think his wife will enjoy those muffins, Laurie?” he said to her, and she suddenly got red in the face. “They’re just friendship muffins” she tried to explain, but the impropriety of it reeked. “What’s wrong with his ankle?” he demanded. Hoping to deflect the situation, she quickly explained that he’d slept on it wrong during last night’s flight into town. The Bad Usher just stared at her like a bug, as if the extra scrutiny would reveal further secrets, then he turned and strode off.
The Van Peltiers weren’t a big, or even middle sized family. Petey was an only child to parents who themselves were only children. His grandparents were the kind of people who never traveled outside the nine block radius of their Wisconsin farming village. When he first brought them to a game, when he was eleven, they didn’t know what nachos were. Pete didn’t mind being an only child of only children, though he did feel like he was missing something important...an Aunt. A kind old great-aunt with orange helmet hair who would bring him candy and cheap toys and sports pennants from teams nobody thought were cool, and send checks on his birthday. He was filling the void of conversation with the Bad Usher by telling him all this—“no I’m serious, they said they didn’t want anything ‘too ethnic’”—and as they walked along the club level, Petey gawked at the VIP rooms, the press box, where Vin Scully sits behind the mic…and most exciting of all, the organ of Nancy Bea Hefley, the stadium organist for decades. “Now she would make a great great-aunt,” Petey said, but the Bad Usher was lost in his own thoughts staring at the organ, a faint Take Me Out to the Ball Game echoes behind his eyes. After a second of staring, The Bad Usher turned on his heel and marched away. His mission: to find the Bat Man, one of the mobile concessionaires who carries around the souvenir tray full of giant foam fingers, crazy wigs, and those little blue wooden bats. He was also the Stadium bookie, with a small goon squad of fellow concessionaires who could drill you with a bag of peanuts from thirty rows away. Bat Man himself had chained two of his bats together and could wield them like nunchucks if he felt somebody wasn’t timely enough settling their debts.
The Bat Man was standing in one of the painted-off outdoor smoking sections. Soon as he sees our pair walking up to him, he crushes out his butt with a heel and exhales a long stream of smoke into Petey’s face. “He cool?” Bat Man asked, studying Petey’s eyes. “No,” replied the Bad Usher, “but he’s the new guy, so he’s learning from the master here.” The Bat Man looked Petey up and down and then smiled, revealing a shiny gold canine tooth, then turned to the Bad Usher. “Okay Master, you gonna catch that streaker soon? I hear he’s planning on appearing this homestand.” The Bad Usher bristled, he didn’t like hearing about the Streaker who had managed to elude him three times this season already. “He’s a personal stain on my career,” the Bad Usher says. “So what you want?” Bat Man glances around, “here to stop this losing streak you’re on?” The Bad Usher, surmising that Heilman would get the call in a crucial situation tonight and blow the game, put $200 on the Dodgers. Bat Man slipped in his crazy blue afro, nodded and walked away. “Geez, you’re like the Pete Rose of ushers, aren’t you?” Petey asked, not quite sure if he was comfortable with this. The Bad Usher quickly grabbed him by the brim of his straw hat and yanked him back behind a column. Again from nowhere he produced and snapped open the switchblade, causing Petey to gasp. Instead of poking him with it, though, the Bad Usher used it to pull out the necklace from beneath his collar. Petey’s mind went into overdrive but all he could think of was Turk Wendell. Only this one had something different around it. “That’s right,” the Bad Usher said, “those are human ears. What do you think we do with all the drunks we escort out of their seats? This is my way of giving them the message, stay away from Dodger Stadium! Of course, one or two of these may belong to former rookie ushers who stuck their ears where they shouldn’t belong.” On the field, BP had ended and the cages were being wheeled back off the field. “Noses,” Pete squeaked, “don’t you mean noses?” People were starting to filter in, they would have to go to their post soon. “Noses would look pretty silly on a necklace, boy,” the Bad Usher barked back, “don’t you think?” He turned and marched away again. “You coming?” Petey could only gulp, not at all sure what he’d gotten himself into here.
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Phil's brother
Posts:78
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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| This piece belongs in Esquire or SI, nice work buddy. I look forward to next week. And for the record, any usher who lances beach balls at Dodger Stadium is ok in my book, not matter what he does on the side. |
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TheMatts
Posts:1444
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Good golly!!! We have to go to C'Town more often. The posts in our absence have been the stuff of Chuck Dickens, Papa Hemmingway and F.Scott "Larry" Fitzgerald! WCC, you are now officially in the lead... Jeepers, that was good! It's a #@$^ movie, for Cripe's sake!!! |
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vincent
Posts:119
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Sams-A-Fan, Rex seems like a guy that can tell you about beer glasses.... Matts, sign West Coast Craig longterm now, before Scott Boras gets his mitts on him. Great reading, catching up now after spending all my beer money on gas going to the Hamptons. Thank you OLLIE!!! |
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Linda
Posts:79
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Ollie won a game without Rick Peterson putting his hands on his shoulders! Wonderful column Craig. I sent it to my father in law, who loves good sports articles. |
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Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson
Posts:18
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| 06-30-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Dear Matts - How dare you insult WC Craig so!? His piece today is nothing short of the works of a great Jacobean/metaphysical poet and fellow Londoner, John Donne. You flame the fires of rebellion with your likening him to the pedestrian Dickens, the predictable Hemingway and the prolifically poor Fitzgerald. This work, Matthews, is that of a master. Not unlike the great Sir George Thomas Seaver! |
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ActiveForums 3.6
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ROY HOBBS ON STEROIDS??? |
MEAGHAN & JAKE: COOLEST FANS |
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Nobody Remembers The Loser |
Giant/Super Tuesday |
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MATTS-MATICS: Hockey Nuts Go At It |
See us on: "Law & Order" |
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MATT FACTS:
Chad Pennington is NOT a Brett Favre fan... Hillary Clinton and Don Nelson have never been seen in the same place... Jerry Manuel is not related to Charlie ManuelJerry Manuel is not related to Charlie Manuel... Somebody namd Michel coaches the Pittsburgh Penguins... Tiki Barber quit the Giants. The Giants then won the Super Bowl... The New England Patriots only lost ONE game out of 19!!! Aaron Heilman was actually funny in re to Eli and Plaxico Burress helping the Mets as a pitcher and outfielder, respectively. Repeat, Heilman was funny... Jessica Simpson would rather date Tom Brady - trust us... Eli Manning is better than Archie - now... Alyssa Milano is a Met fan. RRRRR... Rickey Henderson speaks in the 3rd Person... Shawn Green has big ears... Howard Johnson likes to stay at the Holiday Inn, ironically... Sandy Alomar, Sr. is the youngest of 9 kids. That's why he was quick around the dish. Jiminy Cricket was the Philly Phanatic in a previous life…Fred Wilpon is pals with Sandy Koufax... Mike Ditka is a really tough guy.. Buffalo has a Triple A baseball team. They are NOT called The Snowballs... Chan Ho Park has people thinking of naming a ballfield after him - it would be called Chan Ho Park Park... John Maine has never been, oddly enough, to Maine... Curt Gowdy, Jr. has never been to Yellow Knife, Canada... Kevin Mitchell played 6 positions for the Mets in '86 and, according to Doc Gooden's book, didn't like cats... John Olerud & Wayne Gretzky have never been seen in the same place... Kevin McReynolds now makes his living doing laugh tracks for sit-coms... Tony Gwynn is nearing 300 lbs... Carlos Beltran has Mercedes Benz dealerships named for him in Barcelona, Spain... Willie Montanez was called Guillermo by Lenny Randle... Rusty Staub beat Jeff Kent in a race – TODAY... Jay Horwitz is a dynamite Cricket players – somebody said... Jeff Wilpon was a decent minor league catcher... Ziggy Palfy lives in Slovakia and is a big Met fan... Superman Returns, yet still can’t hit Billy Wagner... David Wright will win the Triple Crown – on a horse... Omar Minaya is Tobey McGuire’s stunt-double in Spider Man 3... Hilary Clinton has Mr. Met pajamas – we think... Albert Einstein was a HUGE Met fan... The Metropolitan Opera House was named for the Mets after their 2nd season in ’63... Wally Backman, ’86 sparkplug, considered changing his name to Wally Back-Matt... Neil Allen and Mike Stanton, former Mets, have Allen & Stanton Streets on Lower East Side named for them.
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