Don’t Have To Live Like a Refugee (No. 1)

Posted on April 27, 2011 by Dan Woytek

1st Inning- Again, another reintroduction.
So, it may have gone unnoticed by some, especially those who govern the spring weather in Portland, Oregon, but the calendar tells the literate human that it is currently the month of April. While T.S. Eliot called it the cruelest of twelve, those that know and/or love the game of baseball, April represents not cruelty, but rebirth, optimism and a general sense of well-being.

For Baseball Loving Portlanders (BLP), the mood may be a little less of all those aforementioned positive emotions. There may be a little of Eliot’s cruelty in this particular April as the (503)’s professional baseball team, the Portland Beavers, have moved to the much sunnier climes of Tuscon, Arizona. In a painful dose of irony, this move of the AAA affiliate of the San Diego Padres has coincided with the graduation of the most interesting crop of young prospects to AAA, that the Padres have seen in many years. For those interested in young, projectible, talented baseballers, this fact can be an add your choice of lemon juice, or salt into the existing wound.

But take heart, BLP. Do not be embittered. Baseball can and will be celebrated when and wherever it is being played.

As a representative of the Portland Sportsman and the newly coined BLP, I have been charged by Notorious Idea-Man and Man-of-Whimsical-Ambition, Mike Merrill, to act as scout, liason, and advocate for the Portland Baseball refugee. This article represents the first of hopefully many dispatches from the regional baseball world. It is our hope to chronicle baseball from the lowliest T-ball game at Sewallcrest Park in Southeast Portland to MLB’s Mariners of Safeco Field in Seattle.

Let us proceed to then to our first baseball adventure. To Corvallis, and the Oregon State University Beavers versus the Arizona State University Sun Devils!

2nd Inning- It’s about the process, results follow.
If you look up Corvallis in the Oxford English Dictionary, (OED for nerds) the following entry reads: 1.(n.) agriculturally-oriented college town in the mid-Willamette valley in Northwest Oregon. 2. (n.) capital of Beaver Nation.

Seeking out baseball, for baseball-less Portland fans now requires a certain modicum of “want to”. College baseball is a practical alternative for spring baseballing in Oregon. Professional ball now doesn’t start until mid-June in both Keizer, Oregon and Eugene, Or. Our closest Pacific-10 conference school to happens to be the land grant university and a day trip to the aforementioned town of Corvallis is not a prohibitive and baseball fans can get back to Portland by dark.

Fun things to do on the drive to Corvallis:
1. Stop at the Big Chevron in Wilsonville for gas/whatnot.
25410 Southwest 95th Avenue
Wilsonville, OR 97070

Two very redeeming qualities of the Chevron of Wilsonville include:
a. the sailor-like mouths on the gas station Quick-E-Mart employees.
b. The incredibly amazing light switch in the men’s bathroom labeled “Light Switch”.

2. Drive through an office park in Wilsonville.
This allows one to appreciate one’s not inhabiting Wilsonville.
This also allows you to discover incredibly creative street names:

Street Name of the Trip
Parkway Avenue
Need I say more!

3. Get someone else to drive so you can search for birds of prey.
I don’t know if it’s the fact that I drive too much or that I grew up in the war-filled middle western states (where birds of prey were low in number), but, when not behind the wheel, I always feel the need to both look for and point out, without getting specific, where and when a bird of prey glides into view. Riding south on I-5 in a motor vehicle gives one the perfect opportunity to yell, “Right there! A bird of prey!”

Be sure to be as general as possible. By screaming, “bird of prey”, one does not open oneself to criticism for mistaking an osprey for a barn owl.

3rd Inning- College game: Little, Yellow, Different, Better?
Channeling my old codger, let me tell you a story of the way College Baseball used to be. College baseball used a game played with giant metal bats. A game where even the smallest men could jack the giantest of dongers and inflate their batting numbers so, that it would make pitching coaches spit and grab their crotches with disgust. Starting this year, a bunch a people got the highfalutin idea that they would change the requirements for the bats, making the impact of the bat on the ball well, less impactful.

This is being done for safety reasons but it has had an affect on scoring and overall power numbers in college baseball this year. There is even some concern in the scouting community over talent evaluation given the new requirements. If you are interested in reading some nerdy material related to this topic check out these articles . These affects weren’t noticeable during the game as there were two home runs and one shouldn’t make definitive statements view one baseball game. However, there were many bunt attempts and occasions for small ball circa 1968, so maybe the head coaches are already noticing a drop in run scoring and power.

4th Inning- Interesting parties.
The scenery and a nice day may be one reason to go to the ballpark and watch nine-on-nine, but I came to watch “playas play”. This particular series against Arizona State, a perennial college baseball power, featured four of the top 40 college draft prospects according to Baseball America. Those men are listed below in bold (cuz they’re good at baseball):

Oregon State C Andrew Susac
Did Not Play :(
This is the player I was really excited to see play down in Corvallis. Unfortunately he had the day off but since you are definitely going to go check out a game let me give you a little hint about him. He’s really good. Slashing .364/.496/.614 through 26 games as a college sophomore rates as the 23rd best college prospect in the 2011 draft according to Baseball America (2nd to 3rd round).

Guys who can catch and mash even at the college level are just really rare and from many different scouting sources Susac is considered the best catcher in the west. He’s already played and starred, in the Cape Cod League, the premier college summer league and is a real pro prospect.

Arizona State 2B Zack MacPhee
1-5 Single, Run Scored
Ok, let’s get the leprechaun jokes outta the way. We caught Zack on April 9th but we heard that ASU purposely scheduled a day off (they really did you can look) on March 17th because Zack had a previous engagement that he just couldn’t get out of.
Now, Zack is tiny. He plays 2nd base for ASU. He’s gonna get Pedroia comparisons all the freakin’ time. WE GET IT, PEOPLE! He also won PAC-10 Player of the Year last year. It however, seems as though the new college bat has sapped some of the pop from Zack. Last year he hit .381/.490/.686 with 14 triples, 8 home runs, 7 doubles, and 18 stolen bases. This year he’s still getting on base like a mad man slashing .281/.429/.353 but has only eight extra base hits (7 doubles, 1 homerun).

Arizona State LF John Ruettiger
1-4 Walk, Single, Run Scored
Nephew of Daniel Ruettiger, inspiration for the film Rudy*
*This may or may not be true. It is therefore a test of your faith in my journalistic muscle.

Arizona State 1B Zach Wilson
1-3 Single, Walk, Run Scored, RBI
In order to play infield for ASU, the coaching staff preferrs that one’s given name be Zach or Zack. Ranked just below MacPhee on the BA draft prospect list, H-Zach is showing a little power he is slugging .450 with 5 HR’s on the season.

As it goes with baseball, sometimes the guys you are excited about watching, don’t do squat during that game.

5th Inning- Game Recap
After taking the opening game of the three game series, Oregon State definitely did the proverbial little things to pull out the 7-6 victory in their final at bat against Arizona State. The ASU Sun Devils got out to an early lead by scoring four runs against Beaver lefty Josh Osich and his bullpen mate, Gig Harbor, Washington freshman and Portland Sportsman favorite Scott Schultz.

After giving up a three-run dongpiece to ASU shortstop Deven Marrero while working in relief, Schultz may have realized according to fellow observer Mike Merrill, that he “wasn’t in Gig Harbor anymore”. OSU head coach Pat Casey must have made the same realization as Merrill and asked him to channel some of that high school magic while conversing with Schultz on a visit to the mound. Schultz went on to pitch five innings, striking out 3 and walking none. This performance allowed the Beavers to crawl back into the game. After scoring three in the seventh and one in the bottom of the 8th to tie the game, Brian Stamps won the game with a bases loaded (duh), walk-off walk to complete the five run comeback, much to the dismay of the kinda wussy, bundled up ASU Sun Devil bullpen.

6th Inning- Park environs
Goss Stadium, in its current location, has hosted OSU baseball for 100 years. It experienced a renovation beginning in 2009. It’s a nice place to watch baseball. The location is a bit awkward with a lot of walking involved if you want to sit in the bleachers. Tickets are a little spendy for visitors ($10 for bleachers, $20 for reserve seats). Announced attendance was 2729 out of a capacity 3200. I don’t have great word picture ability so let me show you actuals:

View from the Bleachers

7th Inning- A limerick for Arizona State 2b, Zack MacPhee
There was once a baseballer from Tempe,
Whose gait was opposite of gimpy.
He grinded so wholly,
with uniform sullied,
one forgot his stature so shrimpy.

8th Inning- OSU Beaver baseball update
Let’s just put it this way, BLP, the Oregon State Beavers baseball team is killing it right now. They are currently ranked 3rd in the United States among Division 1 baseball programs, leading the Pacific Ten conference with a 10-2 record and just dropped their first game since April Fool’s Day to Washington State over the weekend. To say that this is a team worth watching is an understatement.

One might wonder, how does a team that has won two previous College World Series in the past five years win 11 games in a row and get into the top 5 ranking and have it be relatively unnoticed?

First, this is college baseball. Unlike its football and basketball brethren, baseball is not a revenue sport. It doesn’t bring in revenue for schools, there are no giant TV deals for college baseball and is therefore less publicized.

Secondly and conjectural, OSU sports are not considered to be very sexy. If other college programs nationally, or even in the region had two national championships in the past five years and a number 3 ranking in baseball, you dear reader, would probably know a little more about it. OSU Baseball’s under-the-radar profile, yet incredibly successful approach deserves admiration and has earned it from at least one, two-thumbed, local, digital baseball writer.

Viewin’ Beavs
Games in the Oregon area in the near future include:
05/03/11 vs. Oregon Corvallis, Ore. 5:35 p.m. PT
05/06/11 vs. California Corvallis, Ore. 5:35 p.m. PT
05/07/11 vs. California Corvallis, Ore. 1:05 p.m. PT
05/08/11 vs. California Corvallis, Ore. 1:05 p.m. PT
05/10/11 vs. Portland Corvallis, Ore. 5:35 p.m. PT
05/20/11 vs. USC Corvallis, Ore. 5:35 p.m. PT
05/21/11 vs. USC Corvallis, Ore. 2:05 p.m. PT
05/22/11 vs. USC Corvallis, Ore. 12:05 p.m. PT
05/27/11 at Oregon Eugene, Ore. 7:00 p.m. PT
05/28/11 at Oregon Eugene, Ore. 2:00 p.m. PT
05/29/11 at Oregon Eugene, Ore. 1:00 p.m. PT

9th Inning-Post-game food pick.
After a game in Corvallis, go to this place for falafel!
It’s like 4 blocks from Goss Stadium!
Nearly Normal’s
109 Northwest 15th Street
Corvallis, OR 97330-5801
http://www.nearlynormals.com/


Posted in Baseball, Sport | Comments Off on Don’t Have To Live Like a Refugee (No. 1)

First Time At The Last Game

Posted on April 14, 2011 by Starr Ahrens

One day in the late 90′s I was walking down the street in Portland and there was a huge bus and a red carpet going from the bus to the hotel door, and velvet ropes on either side of the carpet. There were a few people standing at the ropes, but the scene was blocking the whole sidewalk and I was in a hurry. There were a few men in nice suits coming out of the bus and I noticed they were mostly black guys, so I assumed “this must be a Black Businessman’s Association convention.” Since I was a sassy anti-capitalist, I bucked ‘convention’ and went under the ropes and across the carpet in front of the well dressed men. Once across the carpet I looked behind me and saw Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan exit the bus, holding up shoes in their hands. That is my only NBA story. Also my women’s choir in Los Angeles sang the national anthem at a Sparks game. That’s as close as I get to the NBA (or WNBA). I don’t have anything against it, and I do like the Spaniard on the Lakers, so I suppose this is an ultra long-winded way to say I mildly care about the NBA.

I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to sports games. I have no idea what to expect or what is going on. Basically any human man or child has more knowledge about sports events than I. But this does not deter me from enjoying new experiences, and a Blazer game is totally a new experience. I saw the Blazers vs the Memphis Grizzlies. I must admit, I would’ve loved to go to the Blazer/Laker game. I lived in LA a long time and people are criminally insane about the Lakers. Instead I got to enjoy another sports team who, like the Lakers originating in Minnesota, have been displaced to warmer climates, in this case, the formerly Canadian Grizzlies who now dwell in the delta.

The best piece of advice I got about the game was to “arrive early”. Not because of traffic or convenience but because of pure showmanship. The best part of the whole show, I mean game, is at the top of the evening. First of all it’s enjoyable to witness the guys warming up. They’re in their outfits which look so comfy, and they’re just warming up, you know, like anyone else – they’re exactly like you and me. Then they go into their dugout or whatever and the show begins!

An Italian child wearing a Billy Elliot t-shirt comes out to sing the national anthem. Tiny human women in sequined bikinis stand on the hands of gigantic bald men and do flips in the air. The lights go down and the beats go up! Blood pumpin’ beats charge through the stadium; everyone stands up, clapping, stomping, dancing. The 65 yr old man next to me is pounding his fist in the air to the music, the tough talkin’ couch potatoes in the row behind me are doing the same; the music is just like at a gay man’s disco party! I feel so ALIVE! Thanks to the power of Jock Jams, EVERYONE CAN ENJOY THIS EVENT!! Oh my! An amazing video featuring a bunch of players who are presumably everyone’s favorites is aired on the jumbo screen – they all look so happy, and everyone is so happy to see them! The team comes out and one of the guys who everyone likes so much that they can’t stop clapping says something. I have no idea what he said. It was probably something wonderful, because everyone was so pumped! I look around me and notice many, many people are wearing jerseys with names on the back. I see some repeated names: Aldridge, Matthews, Wallace, Batum. I only see one Fernandez – and I’m curious. Who is this “Fernandez”? If I were at a baseball game I wouldn’t think twice, but not a lot of Fernandez-es in basketball. I’ll have to keep my eye peeled for that guy.

THE GAME BEGINS!

It appears from the first half of this game that these two teams are exactly evenly matched, because they are totally in a tie. The way the first quarter went was Memphis would get a basket and then they’d foul so the Blazers would get free throws and that was how the scoreboard climbed. I was beginning to put the players to the names on the backs of the shirts people are wearing. Long haired Wallace – yes! L-train LaMarcus Aldridge – yes! And in comes Fernandez. Hello, Fernandez, and what do you have for us this evening?

THEN IT’S HALF TIME!

I was hoping for a little more from the cheerleaders. I’ve seen Glee and Bring It On, I know what cheer choreography can do, and the “blazer dancers” were neither on stilts, nor doing 6 flips at once, which I found disappointing. I in no way dismiss the athleticism nor the stage presence of the cheerleaders. They are a fiery bunch of winners, that is clear. I think my disappointment would’ve been assuaged if only they’d chosen MORE powerful, MORE in-your-face music for their dance routine (music more like the opening VIDEO)! It was at this moment when I realized why sports players date cheerleaders – they’re both never-say-die athletes rippling with muscle; arguably a perfect match. Bouncing off each other like rubber mallets.

As half time entertainment, 3 mismatched adult men did a weird show about jumping on trampolines and making baskets. One guy was short with grey hair, another guy looked like superman and the third guy looked like a shaven Zach Galifnakis. No matter how visually unsettling, all three were great at the show they were putting on. Again I would’ve enjoyed more intense music – but in this case the music would be like music at an arena magic show – pulsating, with a touch of mystery.

BACK TO THE GAME!

I have no memory of the third quarter, because it was in the fourth quarter when the game went… from BLAZÉ to BLAZER!

All of a sudden we’re all ridin’ the L-Train (code for “LaMarcus Aldridge”=everyone’s favorite) then I made up similar phrases for the other players when they made baskets. “Putting up the dry wall” = Gerald Wallace, “laying down the yoga mat”=Wesley Matthews, “Mill Wheel grinding”=Patty Mills, “Fern gully’s making Tapas” =Rudy Fernandez. Actually I have a few for Fernandez because I didn’t know where he was from until I internetted him. For example “Fernandez is whipping up some guacamole” (if he were from Mexico) or “who’s on production? Dezi-lu” (if he were Cuban) or “Can you hear the drums, Fernandez” (if he were Swedish). But he is from España, so Tapas it is. Another option for when he’s putting the hurt on the other team is to say “the Spaniard’s spreading smallpox.” That reference is a little dark. I don’t know what is going on with Spain, but they are exporting some fine basketball guys.

All of a sudden the Blazers got ahead and people in the stands started leaving, I guess to avoid traffic or crowds or something. Which is a shame, because just as the Blazers were making 100 points, for some reason everyone started chanting “chalupa” and then Taco Bell gave everyone free chalupa coupons. So the early leavers didn’t get any snack coupons. Bummer for them, because who doesn’t want to sink their teeth into a “crispy chewy chalupa”.

THE BLAZERS WON!

That’s not a surprise.

I must say, the best part of the evening was learning the hand sign. It’s an “OK” sign, but now it means “3 points”. I chose to take it to the limit and do the sign with 2 fingers for 2 point shots and with just my pinkie for free throws.

Good work, Blazers. It was great getting to know you a little, and learn more about what your job is.

And great work, fans. Especially the retiree who when he walked over to take the seat next to mine slapped me on the shoulder with his program, as if to say “hey buddy.” We didn’t and do not know each other, but that was the level of camaraderie at the Blazer game, where a strange old man can literally hit someone and it is awesome. A level of camaraderie where no one is put off by a girl taking photos of herself in the bathroom, A level of camaraderie where all walks of life from children in costume to retired adults with type 2 diabetes can dance to the sounds of a gay man’s disco, A level of camaraderie where it feels like I just had dinner at a new friend’s house. A dinner of beer and chalupa coupons.

Thank you, Blazers. I hope we can do it again sometime… or three times (goggles face).


Posted in Basketball, Sport | Comments Off on First Time At The Last Game

History

Posted on April 9, 2011 by Mike Merrill

@ZachDundus and @marty_PDX wrote an expanded history of Portland soccer for Portland Monthly.

Jan 1975: The burgeoning North American Soccer League (NASL) offers Portland the 20th franchise for the 1975 season, bringing pro soccer to Portland for the first time.


Posted in Soccer, Sport | Comments Off on History

Watched From Atlanta

Posted on March 21, 2011 by Mike Merrill

Watched the first Timber’s game in Atlanta on a bad satellite feed. Texted a bit with Devin who was at the game. He’ll post something after he gets back to Portland.


Posted in Soccer, Sport | Comments Off on Watched From Atlanta

Where Do NFL Fans Go?

Posted on March 15, 2011 by kmikeym

The NFL and the NFL Players’ Association are currently in negotiations to install a new collective bargaining agreement before the 2011 season — negotiations that have resulted in the decertification of the union and the start of a lockout.
(Overview of lockout on ESPN.)

So what happens if there is no NFL? What sport will the NFL fans move on to watch?

“A bizarre and culturally discombobulated combination of college football and English Premier League soccer.”

“College football of course. In many people’s opinion it’s already more fun to watch. I think hockey could benefit and take the place of college
football after the bowls.”

“Baseball! Because there won’t be anything distracting viewers from the playoffs and World Series!

“The NFL is so far off my radar that the lockout isn’t something I had even heard of.”


Posted in Sport | Comments Off on Where Do NFL Fans Go?

Where Do NFL Fans Go?

Posted on March 15, 2011 by Mike Merrill

The NFL and the NFL Players’ Association are currently in negotiations to install a new collective bargaining agreement before the 2011 season — negotiations that have resulted in the decertification of the union and the start of a lockout.
(Overview of lockout on ESPN.)

So what happens if there is no NFL? What sport will the NFL fans move on to watch?

“A bizarre and culturally discombobulated combination of college football and English Premier League soccer.”

“College football of course. In many people’s opinion it’s already more fun to watch. I think hockey could benefit and take the place of college
football after the bowls.”

“Baseball! Because there won’t be anything distracting viewers from the playoffs and World Series!

“The NFL is so far off my radar that the lockout isn’t something I had even heard of.”


Posted in Sport | Comments Off on Where Do NFL Fans Go?

Hello world!

Posted on February 7, 2011 by kmikeym

Welcome to WordPress. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!


Posted in Sport | Comments Off on Hello world!

Hawks Lose to Seattle In a Shootout

Posted on October 4, 2010 by Scott

I’m sorry to report that the Portland Winterhawks lost to the Seattle Thunderbirds on Saturday, October 2nd, 2010. I feel like I kind of won though, because I had a pretty decent time at this hockey game. I walked into the Rose Garden about 10 minutes deep into the 1st period. I have to be upfront with you and let you know that I’m not really much of a stadium guy. I try to avoid large gatherings of people, and have a difficult time standing inside of expansive, ceiling heavy structures. So, I wasn’t completely psyched about having to surmount both of these obstacles in order to get to some sweet sweet hockey. These thoughts were weighing pretty heavily on my mind, and within moments of entering the building, I promptly exited through a no re-admittance stairwell. Events that transpired earlier in the day had left me completely unable to communicate with a human being in a non-suspicious way, but with fool’s courage, I sweet talked my way back into the building. One club level stair climb later, I was in section 201 and ready to watch some fights.

I recoiled with horror upon arriving in red 201. I paid five dollars more than I probably should have in order to bump my ticket grade up to the non-family section. The last thing I need when I’m taking in a hockey match is the accusing eyes of a father, the protective warding stare of a mother, and the relentless babble of babby. I thought I was making a cool move by getting a pricey ticket. I thought I’d be in the sort of section where men in Marmot brand jackets drink Widmer brewed beers, and make off-color jokes about the bedroom world of a middle-aged couple. I was slightly disappointed to discover that my game buddies consisted of a man in sweat pants with an oxygen tank, seemingly hell bent on spending his last moments on this earth screaming and coughing at teenagers passing a puck around; a boyfriend/girlfriend couple that took every opportunity to ham it up for any potential camera man that might look their way; and a man in a “Big Dawg” t-shirt, proudly proclaiming to the world that not only does he require clothes that are made out of multiple pairs of other clothes, but that he had also “just farted” while I was reading his shirt. The entire scene put me ill at ease, and I felt everyone’s hateful glaring as I slowly ascended the staircase to M3. It was at this moment (10:35 into the 1st period), as if hearing the force of my awkward climb, Winterhawk’s #25 Taylor Peters took it upon himself to fling a puck past Seattle’s goaltender, immediately drawing all attention away from my section mates. Taylor was this year’s co-winner of the Winterhawk’s scholastic award, and is apparently quite a young scientist. I accepted his gift and quickly took my seat. The Winterhawks had tied the game at 1-1.

Everyone seemed really happy about the goal, and that made me happy. Here’s a thing about Winterhawks games that sort of sucks though; they play AC/DC’s “TNT” every time a Winterhawk scores a goal. Winterhawk mascot Tom-A-Hawk’s myspace page (www.myspace.com/tom_a_hawk) has this song listed as the “official Winterhawk’s goal song”. This is really bad news for my relationship with the Winterhawks, because I can’t stand AC/DC. I think of this music as a thing that is played by cars that have raised portions of them so that the car can suck air in or something, and cool down its engine? Anyway, AC/DC probably plays on cars like that all the time. My joy experience with the scoring of a goal can not be summed up in this way, and I found the whole thing to be distracting. As I was thinking about this and writing it down, I heard the GF portion of the BF/GF cam hams say to her BF “I don’t like how that guy is just sitting there writing things down”. He responded with a “HUH?” and then quickly turned around, stared thoughtfully at me for a moment, and then pointedly asked “ARE YOU A JOURNALIST?”. I responded with “no, not really, just on the Internet sometimes”. He assured me that I had his complete permission to use anything he said in whatever news article I was composing. This was regrettably the most interesting thing that came out of him. This level of contact with a stranger had unsettled me, and the euphoria of the goal had been replaced with the paranoid look-a-rounds of a man who has done the world wrong.

It was at this point in the evening that my mind began to wander. I love the sport of hockey, but I kind of consider it to be more of a participant’s sport than a spectator’s sport. Junior hockey doesn’t present a strong case against this line of thought either. Most of these young men are aged 15-20. Some of them were recently drafted into the NHL, and the rest of them are fostering dreams of following suit. This isn’t very conducive to a “let’s do what it takes to win this game atmosphere”, and I find that what ends up on the ice tends to skew towards a demo for scouts rather than a battle for playoff berths. The game felt like those moments in high school gym class when you have to play basketball, and some of the people that you have to play against are also on the school’s basketball team. You don’t want to play against those guys, and those guys probably aren’t that interested in playing against you. So, I wandered. I thought about the slight tinge of guilt that I felt every time I clapped for the Hawks. Their logo is the same as the Chicago Blackhawk’s logo. As a longtime Red Wings fan, it felt like sleeping with the enemy. I was able to excuse myself for cheering though, because I reasoned that this is the same sort of thing as selecting an out of state team to represent you in an EA sports game; a temporary vacation from familiar banners.

Another Winterhawks goal at 15:48 in the 1st snapped me back into the action. This one was by #18, Brad Ross. I noticed that people in the arena seemed to clap louder at Brad’s accomplishment than they had for Taylor’s, so I drew a little star next to Brad’s name. This guy was a 2nd round draft pick this year, which is cool, but he ended up going to the Toronto Maple Leafs, which is absolutely not cool. The Maple Leafs are the filth of the NHL. The Maple Leafs are the Scott Summers (Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men) of the NHL…a team dressed up in history, and with iconic color schemes…but ultimately limp and running on the fumes of an early dynasty. At this point in the game, I also noted that the Hawks were outshooting Seattle 16 to 2. That’s sort of amazing actually, and always raises the question of whether the opposing team has an excellent goalie, or if the home team is just taking crappy shots. I’m sad to say that Saturday’s game featured the latter. Portland put a lot of shots on goal, but very few of them seemed destined to go in. The intermission horn blew, ending the 1st period, and I felt no remorse.

Intermissions are leaps and bounds my favorite part of any sporting event. They are essentially a showcase of all that is delightfully horrible with humanity. It’s a 20 minute landslide of T&A, cash prizes, and superficial moments of fame. I’m not trying to say that I am opposed to any of these things by themselves, but when they all line up like this, it’s difficult for me to turn a blind eye to the futility of the laughter that the non-capacity crowd shared together that night. It began as all great intermissions begin, with a dance number from the Winterhawk’s Rose Bud dancers. I like the Rose Bud dancers, and I won’t bad mouth them here. They are sponsored by two separate tanning salons, and I think that’s pretty funny. As a team though, they seem pretty legit. After the Rose Buds were done provoking questions of “how do they dance on the ice like that without falling?” from the audience, it was time for a group of six paraplegic men to come out and show everyone that they were still able to play hockey without employing power from their legs. I guess this was supposed to be sort of a nice thing, but it was sullied for me because they played the theme to “Kids in the Hall” the entire time that these guys played hockey. This catapulted the event into sketch territory, and I was left confused as to whether I was supposed to cheer, nod approvingly, stifle uncomfortable laughter, or try to politely ignore the whole thing. I ended up just clapping, and waiting things out. I was quickly rewarded with an event that is by far my favorite moment of any Winterhawks game, the kiss cam. Here’s how much of a creep I am. I went to a junior hockey league game on a Saturday night, by myself, and my favorite part of the entire event was the six minutes that I spent watching couple kiss each other on the jumbotron. I don’t even care though, I think the kiss cam is a beautiful thing. What happens is, the camera people at the stadium find couples, and then they point their cameras at them until the couples kiss. So simple, but yet, for me, a complete affirmation of the power of love. The best kiss cam moments are when older couples show up, and they still kiss each other. It just gives me hope or something, I dunno. I think it’s nice.

I thought about the kiss cam for a while, and then the 2nd period started. I spaced out for a lot of this period, but not much really happened. I watched some kids standing up and banging on the glass for a little bit, and that kind of gave me pause. It’s not the fact that kids were banging on glass that tripped a flag with me, it’s the way that the kids went about doing it. It was clear that the patterns of their glass banging had absolutely no correlation with the action on the ice, they were just doing this to try and curry favor with the camera people; a desperate attempt to be on the jumbotron for a bit. Not cool. I spent a lot of time thinking about the ice too. I’ve always loved the smell of ice, because it reminds me of freedom. Growing up in Michigan, I played a lot of pond hockey as a young man. This was a place that my parents would not follow me. It was a place that I had to go alone, and that struck a chord with me at an early age. I was snapped out of this wistful journey by a Thunderbirds goal at 15:38 by #7, Mitch Elliot. Mitch’s Facebook page (http://facebook.com/mitchelliot) lists his favorite quotation as “wat (sic) doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”, so that’s pretty cool. Mitch got his goal because of a lazy poke check by Winterhawk goalie Keith Hamilton. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this goal spawned off a butterfly wing effect that would end up delaying my arrival back home by at least 30 minutes. The horn blew for intermission, with the game tied at 2-2.

The second intermission of the night was a rip-off intermission. The Rose Bud dance wasn’t as zippy as the first one was, and awkward moments of silence couldn’t even be filled with the question of how they were able to dance without falling, because everyone had already talked about that. The only game played during this intermission was chuck-a-puck. I’m into chuck-a-puck. For $5, you get a puck with some sort of unique identifier on it. At the appointed time, you gather around the perimeter of the play field, and then “chuck” your “puck” onto the ice, with the goal of making it land as close to the center of the stadium as possible. I liked chuck-a-puck for three reasons. 1) it was nice to watch all these red pucks arc violently onto the ice. 2) some of the support staff that was standing arrogantly around the perimeter of the rink got hit in the head by poorly thrown pucks. 3) they played “Hot Buttered Popcorn’s” smash hit “Popcorn” during the entire spectacle. I quietly hummed to myself for another 10 minutes or so, and eventually it was time to play hockey again.

The 3rd period of the night was by far the worst period. People smashed into each other a bit, but no one took enough offense to start a fight. There was some high sticking going on, but you could tell that it was the sort of high sticking that happened accidentally. I used this time to tune into the things that fans were shouting from the stands. It’s a weird thing, hearing these fans. I’d imagine that they have the best interests of the team in mind when they shout things at them, but what comes out tends to be things that aren’t very constructive. “GO!”, “SHOOT!”, “WHAT?”, “COME ON!” aren’t actionable items, and I’m not sure how the Winterhawks would respond to these things if they were forced to be made aware of each suggestion. I like the Winterhawks, so I feel bad about saying this, but I was overcome with dread at around the 17:30 mark of the 3rd period. This was simply not hockey that was exciting enough to keep me on the edge of the my seat. I was reminded of something a friend of mine, a recent owner of a second child, said to me about cleaning dirty diapers. I remarked that it was really difficult for me to clean up cat litter sometimes, because of how gross it is, but that things must be way worse for him because he’s constantly having to clean up dirty diapers. He responded with “it’s not bad really, I know that at this point in the kid’s life, everything inside of the diaper is just processed breast milk, so it’s not really that gross of a thing.” I was floored. The perception that this filthy leaving is somehow less filthy because of the “purity of its nature” was mind blowing to me. In those final minutes of the 3rd period though, I think I finally understood what he was talking about. Winterhawks hockey might not be the prettiest thing to watch, but these young men are out there playing because of their love of the game, and their yet unsoiled hopes for the future. Regulation play ended with a 2-2 tie.

Overtime was pretty boring, lots of Winterhawks shots directly into Seattle’s harsh of a goalie. Five minutes later, we were in a shootout. Seattle’s #15, Mercel Noebels (a man who lists HIMSELF among his interests on Facebook) scored the answered shootout goal that ended this game. I immediately rose from my seat and headed home. My life was largely the same as it was when I set out for the stadium earlier in the day.


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Hawks Fill Portland’s Diaper With Breast Milk, Lose to Seattle In a Shootout

Posted on October 4, 2010 by Scott Wainstock

I’m sorry to report that the Portland Winterhawks lost to the Seattle Thunderbirds on Saturday, October 2nd, 2010. I feel like I kind of won though, because I had a pretty decent time at this hockey game. I walked into the Rose Garden about 10 minutes deep into the 1st period. I have to be upfront with you and let you know that I’m not really much of a stadium guy. I try to avoid large gatherings of people, and have a difficult time standing inside of expansive, ceiling heavy structures. So, I wasn’t completely psyched about having to surmount both of these obstacles in order to get to some sweet sweet hockey. These thoughts were weighing pretty heavily on my mind, and within moments of entering the building, I promptly exited through a no re-admittance stairwell. Events that transpired earlier in the day had left me completely unable to communicate with a human being in a non-suspicious way, but with fool’s courage, I sweet talked my way back into the building. One club level stair climb later, I was in section 201 and ready to watch some fights.

I recoiled with horror upon arriving in red 201. I paid five dollars more than I probably should have in order to bump my ticket grade up to the non-family section. The last thing I need when I’m taking in a hockey match is the accusing eyes of a father, the protective warding stare of a mother, and the relentless babble of babby. I thought I was making a cool move by getting a pricey ticket. I thought I’d be in the sort of section where men in Marmot brand jackets drink Widmer brewed beers, and make off-color jokes about the bedroom world of a middle-aged couple. I was slightly disappointed to discover that my game buddies consisted of a man in sweat pants with an oxygen tank, seemingly hell bent on spending his last moments on this earth screaming and coughing at teenagers passing a puck around; a boyfriend/girlfriend couple that took every opportunity to ham it up for any potential camera man that might look their way; and a man in a “Big Dawg” t-shirt, proudly proclaiming to the world that not only does he require clothes that are made out of multiple pairs of other clothes, but that he had also “just farted” while I was reading his shirt. The entire scene put me ill at ease, and I felt everyone’s hateful glaring as I slowly ascended the staircase to M3. It was at this moment (10:35 into the 1st period), as if hearing the force of my awkward climb, Winterhawk’s #25 Taylor Peters took it upon himself to fling a puck past Seattle’s goaltender, immediately drawing all attention away from my section mates. Taylor was this year’s co-winner of the Winterhawk’s scholastic award, and is apparently quite a young scientist. I accepted his gift and quickly took my seat. The Winterhawks had tied the game at 1-1.

Everyone seemed really happy about the goal, and that made me happy. Here’s a thing about Winterhawks games that sort of sucks though; they play AC/DC’s “TNT” every time a Winterhawk scores a goal. Winterhawk mascot Tom-A-Hawk’s myspace page (www.myspace.com/tom_a_hawk) has this song listed as the “official Winterhawk’s goal song”. This is really bad news for my relationship with the Winterhawks, because I can’t stand AC/DC. I think of this music as a thing that is played by cars that have raised portions of them so that the car can suck air in or something, and cool down its engine? Anyway, AC/DC probably plays on cars like that all the time. My joy experience with the scoring of a goal can not be summed up in this way, and I found the whole thing to be distracting. As I was thinking about this and writing it down, I heard the GF portion of the BF/GF cam hams say to her BF “I don’t like how that guy is just sitting there writing things down”. He responded with a “HUH?” and then quickly turned around, stared thoughtfully at me for a moment, and then pointedly asked “ARE YOU A JOURNALIST?”. I responded with “no, not really, just on the Internet sometimes”. He assured me that I had his complete permission to use anything he said in whatever news article I was composing. This was regrettably the most interesting thing that came out of him. This level of contact with a stranger had unsettled me, and the euphoria of the goal had been replaced with the paranoid look-a-rounds of a man who has done the world wrong.

It was at this point in the evening that my mind began to wander. I love the sport of hockey, but I kind of consider it to be more of a participant’s sport than a spectator’s sport. Junior hockey doesn’t present a strong case against this line of thought either. Most of these young men are aged 15-20. Some of them were recently drafted into the NHL, and the rest of them are fostering dreams of following suit. This isn’t very conducive to a “let’s do what it takes to win this game atmosphere”, and I find that what ends up on the ice tends to skew towards a demo for scouts rather than a battle for playoff berths. The game felt like those moments in high school gym class when you have to play basketball, and some of the people that you have to play against are also on the school’s basketball team. You don’t want to play against those guys, and those guys probably aren’t that interested in playing against you. So, I wandered. I thought about the slight tinge of guilt that I felt every time I clapped for the Hawks. Their logo is the same as the Chicago Blackhawk’s logo. As a longtime Red Wings fan, it felt like sleeping with the enemy. I was able to excuse myself for cheering though, because I reasoned that this is the same sort of thing as selecting an out of state team to represent you in an EA sports game; a temporary vacation from familiar banners.

Another Winterhawks goal at 15:48 in the 1st snapped me back into the action. This one was by #18, Brad Ross. I noticed that people in the arena seemed to clap louder at Brad’s accomplishment than they had for Taylor’s, so I drew a little star next to Brad’s name. This guy was a 2nd round draft pick this year, which is cool, but he ended up going to the Toronto Maple Leafs, which is absolutely not cool. The Maple Leafs are the filth of the NHL. The Maple Leafs are the Scott Summers (Cyclops, the leader of the X-Men) of the NHL…a team dressed up in history, and with iconic color schemes…but ultimately limp and running on the fumes of an early dynasty. At this point in the game, I also noted that the Hawks were outshooting Seattle 16 to 2. That’s sort of amazing actually, and always raises the question of whether the opposing team has an excellent goalie, or if the home team is just taking crappy shots. I’m sad to say that Saturday’s game featured the latter. Portland put a lot of shots on goal, but very few of them seemed destined to go in. The intermission horn blew, ending the 1st period, and I felt no remorse.

Intermissions are leaps and bounds my favorite part of any sporting event. They are essentially a showcase of all that is delightfully horrible with humanity. It’s a 20 minute landslide of T&A, cash prizes, and superficial moments of fame. I’m not trying to say that I am opposed to any of these things by themselves, but when they all line up like this, it’s difficult for me to turn a blind eye to the futility of the laughter that the non-capacity crowd shared together that night. It began as all great intermissions begin, with a dance number from the Winterhawk’s Rose Bud dancers. I like the Rose Bud dancers, and I won’t bad mouth them here. They are sponsored by two separate tanning salons, and I think that’s pretty funny. As a team though, they seem pretty legit. After the Rose Buds were done provoking questions of “how do they dance on the ice like that without falling?” from the audience, it was time for a group of six paraplegic men to come out and show everyone that they were still able to play hockey without employing power from their legs. I guess this was supposed to be sort of a nice thing, but it was sullied for me because they played the theme to “Kids in the Hall” the entire time that these guys played hockey. This catapulted the event into sketch territory, and I was left confused as to whether I was supposed to cheer, nod approvingly, stifle uncomfortable laughter, or try to politely ignore the whole thing. I ended up just clapping, and waiting things out. I was quickly rewarded with an event that is by far my favorite moment of any Winterhawks game, the kiss cam. Here’s how much of a creep I am. I went to a junior hockey league game on a Saturday night, by myself, and my favorite part of the entire event was the six minutes that I spent watching couple kiss each other on the jumbotron. I don’t even care though, I think the kiss cam is a beautiful thing. What happens is, the camera people at the stadium find couples, and then they point their cameras at them until the couples kiss. So simple, but yet, for me, a complete affirmation of the power of love. The best kiss cam moments are when older couples show up, and they still kiss each other. It just gives me hope or something, I dunno. I think it’s nice.

I thought about the kiss cam for a while, and then the 2nd period started. I spaced out for a lot of this period, but not much really happened. I watched some kids standing up and banging on the glass for a little bit, and that kind of gave me pause. It’s not the fact that kids were banging on glass that tripped a flag with me, it’s the way that the kids went about doing it. It was clear that the patterns of their glass banging had absolutely no correlation with the action on the ice, they were just doing this to try and curry favor with the camera people; a desperate attempt to be on the jumbotron for a bit. Not cool. I spent a lot of time thinking about the ice too. I’ve always loved the smell of ice, because it reminds me of freedom. Growing up in Michigan, I played a lot of pond hockey as a young man. This was a place that my parents would not follow me. It was a place that I had to go alone, and that struck a chord with me at an early age. I was snapped out of this wistful journey by a Thunderbirds goal at 15:38 by #7, Mitch Elliot. Mitch’s Facebook page (http://facebook.com/mitchelliot) lists his favorite quotation as “wat (sic) doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”, so that’s pretty cool. Mitch got his goal because of a lazy poke check by Winterhawk goalie Keith Hamilton. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this goal spawned off a butterfly wing effect that would end up delaying my arrival back home by at least 30 minutes. The horn blew for intermission, with the game tied at 2-2.

The second intermission of the night was a rip-off intermission. The Rose Bud dance wasn’t as zippy as the first one was, and awkward moments of silence couldn’t even be filled with the question of how they were able to dance without falling, because everyone had already talked about that. The only game played during this intermission was chuck-a-puck. I’m into chuck-a-puck. For $5, you get a puck with some sort of unique identifier on it. At the appointed time, you gather around the perimeter of the play field, and then “chuck” your “puck” onto the ice, with the goal of making it land as close to the center of the stadium as possible. I liked chuck-a-puck for three reasons. 1) it was nice to watch all these red pucks arc violently onto the ice. 2) some of the support staff that was standing arrogantly around the perimeter of the rink got hit in the head by poorly thrown pucks. 3) they played “Hot Buttered Popcorn’s” smash hit “Popcorn” during the entire spectacle. I quietly hummed to myself for another 10 minutes or so, and eventually it was time to play hockey again.

The 3rd period of the night was by far the worst period. People smashed into each other a bit, but no one took enough offense to start a fight. There was some high sticking going on, but you could tell that it was the sort of high sticking that happened accidentally. I used this time to tune into the things that fans were shouting from the stands. It’s a weird thing, hearing these fans. I’d imagine that they have the best interests of the team in mind when they shout things at them, but what comes out tends to be things that aren’t very constructive. “GO!”, “SHOOT!”, “WHAT?”, “COME ON!” aren’t actionable items, and I’m not sure how the Winterhawks would respond to these things if they were forced to be made aware of each suggestion. I like the Winterhawks, so I feel bad about saying this, but I was overcome with dread at around the 17:30 mark of the 3rd period. This was simply not hockey that was exciting enough to keep me on the edge of the my seat. I was reminded of something a friend of mine, a recent owner of a second child, said to me about cleaning dirty diapers. I remarked that it was really difficult for me to clean up cat litter sometimes, because of how gross it is, but that things must be way worse for him because he’s constantly having to clean up dirty diapers. He responded with “it’s not bad really, I know that at this point in the kid’s life, everything inside of the diaper is just processed breast milk, so it’s not really that gross of a thing.” I was floored. The perception that this filthy leaving is somehow less filthy because of the “purity of its nature” was mind blowing to me. In those final minutes of the 3rd period though, I think I finally understood what he was talking about. Winterhawks hockey might not be the prettiest thing to watch, but these young men are out there playing because of their love of the game, and their yet unsoiled hopes for the future. Regulation play ended with a 2-2 tie.

Overtime was pretty boring, lots of Winterhawks shots directly into Seattle’s harsh of a goalie. Five minutes later, we were in a shootout. Seattle’s #15, Mercel Noebels (a man who lists HIMSELF among his interests on Facebook) scored the unanswered shootout goal that ended this game. I immediately rose from my seat and headed home. My life was largely the same as it was when I set out for the stadium earlier in the day.


Posted in Featured, Hockey, Sport | Comments Off on Hawks Fill Portland’s Diaper With Breast Milk, Lose to Seattle In a Shootout

Round Rock Express 6 Portland Beavers 2

Posted on August 23, 2010 by Dan Woytek

As this report will be, if not the last, most likely second to last in Beaver coverage for the Portland Sportsman, I will be bringing back old faithful. Baseball Report, Ecstatic Truth Style, or “the one with the innings”.

Warning: Some of the names of the sections of this article may or may not have been lifted directly from the 1973 Academy Award winning, con man classic, The Sting.

Inning 1: The Players

I know what you are thinking. I’m that good. You reader are thinking, “Hey I think I know my American geography but I have no clue where the hell Round Rock is.” Well Round Rock is in central Texas about 20 miles north of Austin. The Express are the AAA affiliate of the Houston Astros and as recently as earlier this year had Astros regulars, third baseman Chris Johnson and starting catcher, Jason Castro. There aren’t any super exciting prospects left in Round Rock, but the kinda exciting ones will be covered later. Oh, this guy played for the Express earlier this year too:

Whimsical Trivia: Can you name another sports team, college or professional, whose name ends in “S” but is not a plural noun?

Inning 2: The Set-Up

Misquote of Benjamin Franklin about beer: “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” Franklin was actually talking about wine, but the quote was co-opted by beer lovers.

Feeling like late summer in multiple ways, another verse in the swan song of the Portland Beavers was played at Thursday’s game against the Round Rock Express. This particular baseball contest was the last cheap beer baseball game of the 2010 season and therefore the last thirsty professional baseball game to be enjoyed by Portlanders for the foreseeable future.

Normally, the term bittersweet seems to me to be a bit maudlin for occasions like this. After all, it is just AAA baseball we are talking about. But bittersweet may be appropriate as Thursday night felt like a real baseball game at PGE. Sure, the beer garden was full and the douche quotient was elevated, but being one of 8,000 rather rowdy attendees watching the Beavers on Thursday did fill me with a little sadness as well as excitement.

Sadness because there should be more games like this during the year for baseball. Also, because there are only five home games for the Beavers in Portland. That means five more chances to, as one spectator called Allie remarked, “watch Kyle Phillips run the bases like he’s got something extra in his drawers.”

Inning 3: The Tale

Unlike some sports that are timed affairs, baseball’s time is governed by the 27 outs each team is given. This difference can lead to some interesting developments. Thursday night’s game provided one scenario where, especially against the 2010 Portland Beavers, the game was largely decided within the first twenty minutes after the first pitch.

It is commonly stated that certain starting pitchers have a tendency to have “one bad inning” that otherwise undermines their quality appearances. But you, the sensitive baseball observer, know that “bad innings” can come in different forms. There are four run innings that could come directly from bloop hits, bad defense, seeing eye grounders. Cesar Carrillo, starter for the Beavers, gave up four runs in the first inning of Thursday night’s game. His four runs against were not the result of these previously mentioned outcomes.

Leadoff man for the Express, and fairly interesting prospect, Jack Shuck singled on a sharp ground ball up the middle. Cesar Carrillo got the first out on a flyball to center. That was where it got interesting (euphemism) for the Portland starter. Carrillo got his second pitch up in the zone to Andrew Locke, and Locke, with much distaste, smashed a screamer onto the boardwalk above the left field wall at PGE. The subsequent batter, Brian Bogusevic got a 3-1 fastball on the inner half and straight up jacked it over the right field wall, bouncing the ball off the PGE lightbulb guy in right center (that’s far away). Carrillo gave up a RBI triple later in the inning and just like that the Beavs had a large (and in retrospect, insurmountable) deficit to overcome.

The Beavers threatened on a couple of occasions however. Held scoreless for six innings, the Beavers hit three consecutive singles to load the bases in the 7th inning. With nobody out pinch hitter, and resident slow guy, Dusty Ryan grounded into a double play, scoring a run and immediately killing a potential rally.

The Beavers loaded the bases again in the ninth but were unable to push across any runs, which otherwise would have made the game a little more interesting. With the bags full and one out, Round Rock closer, Gary Majewski struck out Sean Kazmar and Mike Baxter to end the rally and the cheap beer era for Portland.

Inning 4: The Hook

The following is an actual headline written after a recent Round Rock Express vs. Tacoma Rainiers game in Tacoma WA:

Ozzie, Express Mount Rainiers 2-1

That’s at least a triple entendre! Well played Express press release writer, well played.

Inning 5: The Wire

Mike Baxter, right fielder and sometime 1st baseman for the Portland Beavers is having an 2nd half to remember. Ever since the AAA All-Star game in mid-July, Baxter has had Locked-in Syndrome. I don’t mean the one where you have to blink at hot French nurses to write books. In the past 35 games, Mike is slashing .389/.476/.651 for the Beavos. On Thursday, he was 2-5, but did strike out as the tying run in the ninth for the Beavers.

Side note: Radio voice of the Beavers, Tim Hagerty mentioned that Baxter was the hottest hitter in professional baseball. Mike Baxter has been impressive but I would urge Hagerty and y’all to check out Joe Mauer’s recent numbers. They’re Insane!

I won’t even make you look ‘em up
Mauer since the break:
Games: 29
Batting Average: .427
On Base Percentage: .489
Slugging Percentage: .658

Holy Crud that’s awesome!

Inning 6: The Shut-out

Let’s be honest with each other. The Beavers offense is, if not offensive, pretty anemic. The only regulars with an above average wOBA this year are Mike Baxter, Kyle Phillps and Cedric Hunter are above average. And as I discussed with a certain employee of the Beavers, Cedric Hunter is the only prospect among them.

What’s wOBA you asked? It’s a statistic that measures both on-base percentage (OBP) and slugging percentage in a way that weights OBP more heavily than slugging. Because OBP is generally is more important in terms of team run scoring as opposed to slugging wOBA has been shown to be a more sensitive measure than the more commonly used OPS (on-base plus slugging).

Thursday, the Beavers were shut out for six innings by the Express pitching staff though they recorded more hits than Round Rock. For comparison however, 9 of the 10 Beaver hits were singles while the Express jacked two dongers, two doubles and a trip-piece.

Inning 7: Stretch

Chicagoan or not, this is awesome: (posted by a guy in my ridiculously nerdy fantasy baseball league):


Dandruff, Tons!

Inning 8: The Sting

As professional baseball in Portland comes to a close, at least for a while, I just wanted to take a moment for a little self-indulgence and thank Mike Merrill, other Sportsman contributors and readers for having the intestinal fortitude to read these baseball articles for the past year or so. It has been fun as all get out and I hope that it came across in the words written here.

Inning 9: Foul Balls!

Press Box Menu: Sponsored by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Pizza Party!: Cheese, Pepperoni, Fancy Sundried Tomato Spinach, Garlic Chicken
Various sweets: Brownies, Cookies.
Fruit Plate
Awesome Spinach Salad with Red Onions, Pistachios, Dried Cranberries.

Soundtrack: Partially Automobile Related!
For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)- AC/DC
Life Is a Highway- Tom Cochrane
Green Onions- Booker T and the MG’s
Shake it Up- The Cars
Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car- Billy Ocean


Posted in Baseball, Sport | Comments Off on Round Rock Express 6 Portland Beavers 2