Most obnoxious fans in the NL East?

Interesting how Shane Victorino answers that question. This graphic appears in ESPN The Magazine's baseball preview package (an issue I'm just getting to now after finishing SI's). As it explains, there's one for each division asking players to answer only with cities within their divisions. It'd be interesting to see what Victorino would've answered if he was asked about all NL cities, considering the beer shower he took in 2009. Also, as an outfielder, he's closer to the cheap seats (at least the ones closest to the field vs. the upper deck) in whatever ballpark he visits, so I'm sure he hears it from the fans in every stop along the way.

I think it's funny how he says he "feels bad." To me, using that phrase indicates how truly ruthless they can be.

Just a bit of a break from the norm

Happened to find myself watching the video for Will Smith's -- ahem, sorry -- the Fresh Prince's ... OK, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince's "Summertime" today. Not only does that song take me back to 1991 (DAMN!), but it gives us a look into early-'90s jersey fashion, mainly in the form of Starter duds.

Go ahead, watch the video and see how many you can spot. Below it, I'll point out all those that I found.



Did that take you back? Of course, now you'll have the chorus in your head for the rest of the day. Here's my answer key. Let me know if I missed any. (Click on any of the images to see larger, though grainier, images in Picasa Web Albums.)

Philadelphia 76ers



DJ Jazzy Jeff -- aka Jeffrey Arnold Townes -- starts us off in a 76ers baseball jersey. As you'll see, all the jerseys are baseball jerseys, no matter the sport of the team they represent. That's appropriate for summertime -- and for this blog, I suppose.

Philadelphia Flyers

Jazz quickly shifts from the NBA to the NHL, donning a cap and jersey of the 76ers' roomates, the Broad Street Bullies.

Cartoon timeout

OK, not a jersey, but worth noting, I figured. The Fresh Smith goes retro with a Speed Racer T-shirt.

West Phila.



Will Smith represents the neighborhood with a West Phila. jersey. He's wearing it in the basketball scene, too, and you can see the No. 1 on the back.

San Francisco Giants

Must be a relative in from the West Coast. Actually, that would be kind of cool -- whether a relative or just an extra in the video, it would neat if they were instructed to wear gear of their favorite or hometown teams, rather than simply being handed something from Wardrobe. There aren't many logos from outside the Philly area, as we'll see.

New York Mets

Let's go Mets! Was surprised to see this one, to say the least. Though, that's from a 2010 perspective. In '91, the Phillies were 78-84 and the Mets 77-84, finishing 20 and 20 1/2 games behind the Pirates. The only rivalry was for third place, and the Phillies had to share it with the Cubs.

Also, if you watch this scene again, in front of the woman in the Mets hat is someone wearing a Simpsons T-shirt -- another early-'90s fashion statement. It wasn't a clear enough shot for me to bother redoing the screengrab.

The Eagle dance

I'm making an educated guess that this is an Eagles jersey, but I'm unable to confirm that hypothesis.

Georgetown Hoyas

The only confirmed college in the video, a Georgetown Hoyas baseball jersey. On the basketball court. Consistent with the theme. In the previous photo of the presumed Eagles jersey, the guy in the yellow shirt behind him might be wearing a Michigan hat, but I couldn't get a clear enough screenshot, so I'm not including it.

Bruins colors

It may be some team other than UCLA, but even though I can't confirm it, I'm including this one because it's a good enough shot of most of the jersey. Plus, when I see those shades of blue and gold, my first thought is UCLA. I'll also use this moment to express my surprise at learning the other day that UCLA just picked up its first win in the College World Series in school history. I know the Bruins don't have the hardball history of USC, but I'd heard enough of UCLA baseball over the years -- from Chase Utley and Troy Glaus, Erics Byrnes and Karros and Todd Zeile, all the way back to Jackie Robinson -- that I figured they had to have a CWS win or two in their history somewhere. But no.

Philadelphia Eagles



This guy's double-dipping with the jersey (baseball style, of course) and hat. Plus you've got the presumed UCLA jersey to the left of the woman and, on the left edge, a Chicago Bulls baseball jersey. I couldn't get a clearer shot of the Bulls shirt, but there are previous frames where he's in the background and the script "Bulls" is legible, plus one shot where you can catch the Bulls logo on the sleeve.

Chicago Bulls

One more Bulls shot on the hat on the right, making Jordan's club the only non-Philly team represented more than once. And we've got a good look at Jazzy Jeff's Flyers cap.

So that's what I came up with. After two viewings (one to watch it, when the idea came to me, then another to take the screengrabs), I was all set to write that every Philly team in the four major pro sports was represented, but I just realized that the Phillies are not, as best I could tell. I don't recall seeing any maroon caps or jerseys, which were the Phils' colors in the early '90s. The only reds I remember were the brighter hues of the Sixers and Bulls. I don't think I'm off base in saying that if this video were filmed today, it'd be littered with Phillie gear -- and perhaps absent of any Sixers threads. Plus, I feel like we'd see more out-of-town logos -- like at least one Yankee cap -- because I feel like '91 may have been just before the explosion of hats and jerseys as status symbols instead of just an indication of fan loyalties.

Here's the final tally:

1 76ers jersey

1 Flyers jersey

1 Flyers hat

1 West Phila. jersey

1 S.F. Giants hat

1 Mets hat

1 Eagles hat

1 confirmed Eagles jersey

1 presumed Eagles jersey

1 Georgetown jersey

1 presumed UCLA jersey

1 Bulls jersey

1 Bulls hat

1 Speed Racer T-shirt

1 Simpsons T-shirt

Photo flashback: Present and future Phillies

Jonathan Villar

On a gorgeous spring day, Casey and I and a friend from work drove down to Philly to see the home team down the Cardinals, 7-2, with Roy Halladay on the mound. (RIP, Robin Roberts.) From there, we made our way over to the Jersey Shore (area) to see the Lakewood BlueClaws top the Charleston RiverDogs by the same 7-2 score.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Photo Friday: Padres vs. Phillies, 1994

Brawl at the plate

It was a Monday afternoon in May 1994 and I was a senior in high school. My dad was on the board of education in our town, so he knew the administration well, so when the principal of my elementary school called to say he had extra tickets for the Phillies game that night, Dad and I jumped at the chance, even though it was, for both of us, a "school night."

The big draw wasn't the defending National League champion Phillies or the visiting Padres, with future Hall of Famer Tony Gwynn (who actually struck out once during the game). It was the seat location. Through a friend, the principal had gotten seats six rows behind home plate at Veterans Stadium. I had never been so close to a Major League game, and I'm not sure I left my seat once.

The real excitement came in the fourth inning. Mariano Duncan came to bat for the first time after being hit by a pitch in the second and took ball one, which must've been high and tight. Duncan probably felt that he was being targeted, so he must've said something -- either to the pitcher, Andy Ashby, or the catcher, Brad Ausmus -- because Duncan and Ausmus then started shoving each other and the benches emptied.

It didn't go much further than the shoving in the photo, but both Duncan and Ausmus were ejected. It was a lot of fun for a high school kid sitting six rows behind home plate.

For the longest time, that was my lasting memory of this game. Until this happened. Mr. Merce was the principal who invited Dad and me to the game and I always remembered him as a die-hard Reds fan, but clearly one who loved baseball in general. I went back to visit with him a couple of times in college and at least once after I'd graduated and was living at home, working for the local newspaper. My big regret, though -- and isn't there always one of these when a tragedy like this happens? -- is that I didn't get back for a visit after I'd started working in baseball. I'm sure he would've enjoyed that conversation.

It's always scummy in Philadelphia

And they wonder why people think they're the worst fans in America.

Day 3: Philadelphia freedom

Before I started this weekend endeavor, I had my doubts. I wondered if my enthusiasm would hold through the weekend. As much as I wanted to take the weekend and see three major-league ballgames in three different ballparks, there was a part of me on Friday that just wanted to go home and splay myself out on the couch to read some magazines or pop in a DVD. But as that 7 train pulled into the Willets Point stadium and I saw the high definition screen outside Shea Stadium announcing, MERENGUE NIGHT IS SOLD OUT, I got the feeling that this weekend would be nothing but fun; there would be no funk.

As I crawled into bed at 2:30 a.m. after Matt and I had convened again with Brad to discuss the game over a few pints, I figured 9 a.m. would come too soon. Yet when the alarm went off and I pulled myself out of bed, there was no dragging of feet. Matt and I watched Lance Armstrong pull into Paris and then I tossed my bags into the car and returned to the interstate.

Recent world events have prompted an increase in security, particularly in the various means of transportation, so as I pass through Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania and New Jersey, I am greeted with various variations of the same message flashing on the overhead LED displays: REPORT SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY. In Delaware, they use the state's postal abbreviation so that the sign read, DE TERRORIST TIP LINE, followed by the phone number.

I keep my eyes peeled throughout the drive, but the only suspicious activity I may or may not have encountered was not worthy of a phone call: a car with New York plates going the speed limit, a BMW cruising along below 70 mph, an SUV with a "Save the Trees" bumper sticker, a New Jersey driver leaving appropriate distance between the car in front of it, a hybrid car with a George W. Bush decal. These things aren't the usual activity from such drivers, but they don't seem to be threats to national security.

As I suspected, the drive takes two and a half hours, so I exit I-95 just after 1 p.m., find the parking lot that will give me easy access to New Jersey after the game, and buy my ticket with enough time to spare that I make it inside in time for the National Anthem, the first time in three days that I've not missed the first pitch because I'm still en route to the ballpark. I enter on the first-base side but must walk around to left field to get to my seat, so I turn right to walk down Ashburn Alley, the outfield plaza packed with concession stands, standing-room views and a Phillies timeline posted on the back of the brick batters eye in center field. Despite the recent comments by Peter Gammons and John Smoltz, just two of the esteemed baseball men who have come forward to pan the ballpark as a place to play, it remains a fabulous venue in which to watch a game. I ask for a seat in the shade, not wanting to commit to the sun on a hot day. For $22 I am placed in left field, in prime home run territory. As it turns out, I am just outside the edge of the overhang that would've provided the shade I asked for, but it didn't matter. I spend about an inning and a half in my seat; the rest of the time, I wander the ballpark. It's conducive to such perambulations. The wide, airy concourses might as well be enclosed and air conditioned, the difference between those areas and the open sunshine were so great. I'd also guess that 90 percent of the space around the park includes chest-high shelves on which fans can place their just-bought cheesesteaks and watch and eat while they stand and watch the game. If you wanted to get exercise at the ballpark, you could buy the cheapest ticket available and spend the entire game walking laps around the park without ever losing view of the field except for the brief half-minute it would take you to walk behind the scoreboard and Harry K's restaurant in left-center.

The gripe Gammons, Smoltz, et. al. have, though, is somewhat legitimate. Pop flies can end up eight rows deep in the outfield. Power alleys are chip shots. Tomas Perez, playing shortstop, goes back on a pop up -- as any shortstop would in this case -- but because left field is so small, Pat Burrell is playing so shallow that he calls Perez off. When Perez circles around to return to the infield, he's closer to the warning track than he is to the infield dirt.

They're clever there in Philly. As the public address announcer finishes off the day's lineups with the umpires, the theme from Law & Order serves as background music. When San Diego's pitching coach walks out to the mound with catcher Ramon Hernandez for a conference with starter Brian Lawrence, the choice is the theme from Three's Company.

Sometimes it's lonely going to ballgames alone. If you go to see a specific player -- say on a night Pedro Martinez is pitching, or in the minors, to catch a top prospect -- then you have a purpose. You can keep score and then pay particular attention to Pedro's innings on the mound or the prospect's at bats; use the other innings for trips to the beer cart or the bathroom. This is why I felt the need to view Shea Stadium in a different way on my Friday night trip. I was there just to kick off the three parks in three days weekend, not for any other reason. But as a Mets fan, it was easy to cheer and high-five the strangers around me on big plays like Carlos Beltran's three-run home run. In Washington, I sat with a friend and conversed with his fellow season-ticket holders around us. But the energy of the crowd inspired me to stand and cheer when a Nationals pitcher got two strikes on a Houston hitter, even though a Washington loss would be better for the Mets' position in the standings. For one night, I allowed myself to enjoy the atmosphere of a division rival. It made the ballgame more enjoyable.

The night before going to Philadelphia, I wondered how the fans would be. Going in, I expected Citizens Bank Park to rank third in enthusiasm behind Shea and RFK. The city is known to be passionate about its professional teams ... mostly when they're winning. These days, it's an Eagles town first and foremost. Until the lockout, the Flyers were probably No. 2 among the four teams. The 76ers may have fallen to last now that they're a few years removed from Larry Brown and the finals appearance against L.A. The Phillies fluctuate throughout the season. They're higher on the list in April, when they're in contention; if they fall eight or 10 games back by the time Eagles camp opens, they also tend to become the city's second sports interest. Among 35,322 fans on an 83-degree sunny Sunday (the smallest crowd of the weekend by 7,000, but bringing the total crowds of which I've been a part to 128,275), I do experience moments of Phanaticism. It doesn't reach the levels I felt in New York or Washington, but when Ryan Howard launches a double (mere feet from a home run, from what I can see) to left-center in his first at bat, then doubles into the right-field corner to deliver a run his second time up, I stand and cheer. Sure, it's probably more for his days as a BlueClaw, but I still find myself involved in the game.

As I said, I don't sit long in my left-field seats. The breeze is nice but I still feel like I'm baking in the sun -- and getting an uneven tan with the sun directly to my right. I get up to walk along the third-base concourse, stopping into the team store before catching another half-inning standing at the back of the seats, in the shade, on the walkway. Again it becomes clear that when this stadium was designed, the fans were the first thought; the pitchers, clearly, last. I continue out towards center field and Ashburn Alley again, passing the left-field gate and looking out on the sea of cars, the parking lot where Veterans Stadium once loomed. It's the first time I've been to this south Philadelphia sporting complex since a January night to watch Notre Dame play Villanova in basketball at the Wachovia Center. Now all that surrounds the four arenas -- Citizens Bank Park, Lincoln Financial Field, Wachovia Center and the small Spectrum -- are parking lots and warehouses. If it weren't for the new stadia and their restaurants, there wouldn't even be a place to eat. The biggest drawback to this beautiful ballpark is that it's in the middle of nowhere and can never rank with PNC Park in Pittsburgh or Camden Yards in Baltimore among the best places to spend a day and catch a game.

I pass again by the statue of Richie Asburn beating a throw to the bag, I suppose. I climb some stairs to the bleacher section perched atop the concession stands beneath the big Liberty Bell scaffold that lights up and sways whenever a Phillie goes yard. Here I can look down upon Ashburn Alley while getting a far-away view of the field, perhaps somewhat like the vantage point those rooftop fans around Wrigley Field see. When a spot along the railing below, the one overlooking the visitors' bullpen, opens up, I slid in, resting on the shelf beside a kid chowing down on a carton of seasoned fries from one of the counters behind me. I watch Clay Hensley warm up before he pitches the final two innings of this 5-1 Padres loss. The beauty of this spot is the closeness to the game. I can discern the stitching on Hensley's jersey, I can hear the zip of the ball as he brings his arm around and releases the orb at 80 mph to the catcher 60 feet to my -- to our -- left. Perhaps best of all, I can hear what Hensley hears, that being the taunts and jeers of the famously harsh Philly fans. Just as Hensley gets up to loosen up, Scott Linebrink also emerges from the bench beneath our feet. He stretches his legs, then uses the elastic band strapped to the railing to loosen up his arms and shoulders. "That's right, Linebrink, warm up!" shouts one fan perched behind me up near the bleachers. "Make sure you get that goatee nice and loose!" The comment makes no sense, but therein lies its hilarity. I study Linebrink's face for any sign of acknowledgement, finding none. But I like to think he heard it and was amused by it too.

As I spend the day exploring the ballpark more than sitting still to take in the game, I feel as if I am in a familiar place. I glance at faces looking for signs of recognition; I have this feeling that somewhere in this crowd is someone I know. This sensation, I later decide, stems from two things. The first is the ballpark's proximity to New Jersey -- just over the Walt Whitman Bridge. No doubt there are a lot of Garden State Phillies fans here. The other is derived from the familiar t-shirts and hats, either from a Jersey Shore vacation/recreation town or the Lakewood affiliate of the Phillies. I'm wearing a red BlueClaws hat myself to go along with my Gavin Floyd Phillies t-shirt. So as I stand along the bullpen, watching both the game and Hensley's warm-up routine, I'm not startled -- perhaps I'm even expecting it -- when a hand rests on my right shoulder. I turn around to see Hal, a BlueClaws employee I know from my days covering the team. In that moment I'm amazed more at my expectation of running into someone I know than I am at actually seeing such a person. We spend an inning or so chatting about the game, the ballpark, the BlueClaws before we split up for separate sustinence; now that the line has virtually disappeared at the Italian ice stand, I make my first in-park purchase of the entire weekend and get perhaps the best bargain at any of the three venues when a decent-sized cup of cherry ice is just $3.75. Even my small (or "like it") sized cup of Cold Stone ice cream cost more than $4. I take the ice up to the bleacher perch again to enjoy both the coolness inside my body and the complimentary breeze outside. By the time I'm finished, my tongue has taken on the same shade as the hat and shirt I'm wearing, that of Philly and BlueClaw red.

It's not long before Billy Wagner comes in and shuts down San Diego with perfect ninth inning and I'm scattering with the fans out to the surrounding parking lots. I'm quick to the car despite emerging from a gate behind right field rather than along the first base/right field line and losing my bearings. I walk left up the road at first before realizing that this doesn't feel right though there is some familiarity because I'm heading to the lot where I parked for a game last September (and I had been hoping to find again on my way in today). I turn the other way and head toward an intersection that I soon see is Pattison Ave., where I did indeed park in a moderate sized lot that does not have a bottleneck at the exit. I am out of there before I get to find out whether one forms or not. Thankful for the small but discernable signs pointing to I-76, I'm back in New Jersey in no time, cruising up 295 and then 130 to avoid the Turnpike traffic. When I do join the toll road at exit 8A, I'm north of the congestion and find myself coming through the door to the apartment a mere two hours after the game ended.

Exhausted, I make dinner and watch TV and manage to pound out the account of Saturday's visit to D.C., unsure exactly of how I am able to stay away until midnight. But it was worth it to relive the day before and record an account of this wonderful weekend while the images and sensations are still clear in my mind. My doubts about my stamina, my endurance for a three-park road trip in three days did not surface after Friday's initial questions on the way to Queens. The proximity of the three cities to one another and the comfort of a bed in Matt's house rather than a lifeless hotel room certainly made the trip more bearable, not to mention the camaraderie the three of us shared over burgers and beer and more beer.

I'm happy, too, that I stuck to my budget and limited my expenditures to tickets and higher-quality meals and drinks outside of the ballpark concessions. Before embarking on the trip, I told Casey that, other than the games for which I already have tickets, I think it's just minor-league ballparks for the rest of the summer. These major-league prices can take a toll on your wallet.

My passion for the game is as strong as ever, so I suppose it's no surprise to me that I've already looked at which teams are at home this Saturday, when Casey's away again. I'm happy to get in as many games as I can now, because once December rolls around, when we're two months removed from the World Series, in the dead period between the end of the college football season and awaiting the bowl games, I'll be itching for springtime and the start of another baseball season.

Citizens Bank Park

For my 93rd major league ballgame, I visited my 18th major league ballpark. Sunday afternoon, Citizens Bank Park, Philadelphia, Phillies vs. Expos.

It was indeed a gorgeous day for a ballgame. Sunny, an impossible blue sky, about 70 degrees with a light breeze. I entered the park through the right-field gate, right near the chaos that is Bull's BBQ -- Greg Luzinski's stand -- and the surrounding picnic tables and benches. To my right was Ashburn Alley, a stretch of local and unique food stands, attractions for the kids and a jersey customization shop. I walked to the right down the Alley looking for my lunch options. It was about 12:30, an hour before the first pitch, and already the lines for the cheesesteak stand were long.

I kept walking.

On the left were the tiered bullpens, then right field. Fans snaked their way through the Phillies Hall of Fame above the bullpens and hung out along the railing, eating their recently purchased food and awaiting the pitchers' warmups. Once I passed center field and turned the corner to left, I found myself beneath the gigantic scoreboard (with Harry K's restaurant embedded in it) and looking out through the gates at the desolate sand pit that was once the site of Veterans Stadium. As antiseptic and plain as that stadium was, it seemed to have more character in its surrounding areas than this scene did. But that assessment is not fair, since that site is now a construction zone as they continue to clear it. I'm sure that once that work is complete, the landscaping will return.

I was also walking in the shade of the scoreboard and, moments later, beneath the right-field stands. Here, the wind became cold, and I was glad, despite the warm sunshine and near-70-degree weather, that I wore jeans. I wondered if I should've put on that long-sleeved shirt beneath my Lakewood BlueClaws jersey. I bought a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke and walked over to the standing-room ledges at the back of each section along the concourse to watch the final pregame preparations while I ate. Groundskeepers watered the infield and players from both teams stretched and sprinted along the foul lines and in the outfield. When a touching tribute to Tug McGraw and Paul Owens played on the scoreboard, I had to duck to see the screen beneath the overhang and I cursed the TV montiors hanging over the seats that were showing ESPN's football pregame instead of the Tug tribute, set to Jackson Browne's "All Good Things."

Anyway, like Eric Neel, I think the ledges along the concourses are one of the best additions to any newly built ballpark. It allows for pregame strolling and eating, with a good view of the field, before heading up to your seats in the upper deck. Same would apply to in-game needs for sustinence. Overall, though, I wasn't as impressed with the Cit. Or the 'Zen. Or whatever you want to call it (and why is the corporate name of San Diego's new park banned, as the column said at the top, but Philly's isn't?). I think my impressions were tinted by the seat in the upper deck, just beyond the right-field foul pole, that obscured the out-of-town scoreboard from view and left me with a backdrop outside the stadium of the pit where the Vet once stood. Yet, even during my pregame stroll around the concourse, the downtown skyline out beyond center field was far off and distant, making the city seem even more distant that it actually is. Or maybe I'm just too impressed by PNC Park in Pittsburgh.

After eating, I stopped in the main team store even though I didn't really want any Phillies gear. But when the first thing I saw upon walking through the doors was a red t-shirt with "FLOYD 41" on the back, for Gavin Floyd, I had to make an exception. Just three weeks in the majors, one win (to that point) in his career, and already the first Lakewood BlueClaw to make an impact in the majors and a former No. 1 pick had joined the ranks of THOME 25, BURRELL 5, MILLWOOD 34, WAGNER 13 and even BELL 4. I bought the shirt, then a scorecard along the first-base concourse, and then climbed the stairs up to my seat in the sky.

I wore the BlueClaws jersey because my seat was with a group of fans and employees of the Phillies' Class A team from the Jersey Shore. I spent the game in an aisle seat next to octagenarian fan Mildred, who told me she's now known as Mrs. Claws and, during the team's inaugural season, had stitched a quilt commemorating the first campaign. Since I covered the team at the time, I believe she took my picture one day when I chatted with her and her husband on the concourse and incorporated it into the quilt.

Thankfully, we were in the sun. Unforunately, I'd forgotten my sunscreen and returned with two pink forearms, a red neck and a flushed face. Because of the angle of my seat and the location of the sun, the left side of my face and neck were more cooked than the other. Gorgeous. Kevin Millwood was off the DL and making his first start in like two months. He did OK, but lasted only two innings, which suited us just fine. When the Phillies took the field for the top of the third, out from the bullpen strolled Gavin Floyd. We stood and cheered and sections near us must've first wondered if we were friends and family, then probably realized that there was no way that could be the case considering how far we were from the field.

The Phillies went on to win 7-2, and Gavin got the win for his three innings of relief. Mike Lieberthal homered, giving us a chance to see the big Liberty Bell in action, and Billy Wagner closed out the ninth with two strikeouts. I suppose the atmosphere was a little subdued considering the disappointing season the Phillies have had, considering the expectations back in March. Not yet mathmatically eliminated, but for all intents and purposes, they were done, and here they were playing a glorified AAA club in the Expos.

As for the ballpark, it will be a great place to be some October night when they host a playoff game in a year or two, particularly when the Vet site is groomed a bit. I'm sure it's a great place to spend a summer afternoon or evening. But the location can't compete with Pittsburgh's and Ashburn Alley, while a wonderful attraction on its own, is no Eutaw Street in Baltimore -- for one thing, it's not as wide. And -- something else Eric Neel pointed out -- as I was sitting in my seat high above the field, looking down at the new ballpark, I wondered how great it would look if the 42,000 blue seats before me were a bright, brilliant Phillie red. I realize blue is one of the Phillies' official colors, but it's not the first one people think of, and were they red instead, they might look more impressive (and more filled) on TV when those late-season wide shots show a less-than-full ballpark.

But hopefully, I'll be back in the coming years for more Gavin Floyd victories and more BlueClaw alumni appearances in the bigs.