Date Fail #3 - Beige

The color beige is fairly non-descript and non-offensive.  It's also not interesting.

I was contracted through an online dating site by Beige.  He wanted a date to his military ball, the next Friday.  I figured, for good or for bad, it would be an interesting first date so why the hell not?!  It took three days before he mentioned the details and we realized that the ball started in Tacoma at 5pm.  I didn't finish work until 5 in Renton.  That meant with changing and driving through traffic, I wouldn't arrive before 7.  The ball on Friday was scrapped in favor of a Mariners game on Thursday.

He picked me up and instead of ringing the doorbell he sent me a text from the car.  Strike one.

On the drive up he told me all about his military disability (hearing loss), the pneumo-thoraxes he got in high school, the vertigo he suffers from, how he'd been hurt before and didn't trust people.  Strike two.  

I picked out and paid for the tickets.  He paid for the food.  The weather was nice, the Mariners weren't winning but that's wasn't a surprise.  We found our seats and the conversation ran out about fifteen minutes later. 

Our neighbors in the bleechers were three familys with five young kids among them.  Since I attract children like flowers attract bees it wasn't long until I was talking with the kids and their parents.  One mom was a school teacher.  The kids shared their cotton candy.  Then Ray struck up a conversation about beer.  He was the cutest of the three dads.  He was friendly but not overly so.  We talked about different types of beer and local microbrews.  He asked if we were together and I said it was a first date.  He asked how the date was going.  It got so quiet I swear I could hear the umpires blinking. 

Awkward.

All the wives and kids disappeared to the play area.  I talked with all three dads about beer, the upcoming Freemont street fair, etc.  As they were leaving Ray asked for my info so we could hang out. Yup, just got hit on by a married guy while I was on a date with someone who couldn't maintain a conversation.

I only traded a couple emails with Ray but it served to emphasis how bland Beige was. 

The drive home wasn't as awkward as I expected but the drop off was.  Beige pulled up to my house and left the motor running.  I opened the door and was half out of the car when he said "What? No hug?"  He was still in the car. Nothing more romantic than an "in the car, over the stick shift, first date ending hug".  My hands were full and I said that it was not an easy way to hug.  He didn't make a move to get out of the car.  Strike three. You're out.

I was relieved that he never called.

As American as apple pie

You may have seen mention of a softball tournament last weekend.  It was made in passing fashion as there were big events that over shadowed the euphoria of the games quickly after.  Now is the moment to return to the warm evening glow of the games.

Last year this same tournament was at the end of April.  I'd been here four months and I was working in an EF (English First school) surrounded on ninety-nine of one hundred sides by Brits.  By happenstance I found out Friday night that there was a men's slow pitch softball tournament that had started that very day and ran through Sunday.  I was ecstatic.  I don't think I even asked anyone else.  Saturday, after teaching from 9:00-14:00, I raced home, grabbed a bag, changed clothes and headed to the fields where I spent the better part of the next thirty-six hours.

This year I thought I'd missed the tourney.  It was already well into May.  Then I got a facebook message from Mel, one of the guys I'd met and hung out with a bit the previous year.  We'd exchanged a few "how have you been"s online over the year and he was giving me a heads up that he was in town for the games.  YIPEEEEE!!  I think my heart did a little flip.  Whatever plans I'd had were scrapped and the new plan was softball.

This is Mel.

On Friday I left work early and made my way to the fields by 3:30.  It rained absolute cats and dogs on my way there.  By the time I arrived the fields were under several inches of water.  A bit of time and a crew with sponges and buckets took care of the problem and by six o'clock we were underway.  I was greeted quickly after my arrival by not just Mel, but Jeff, Byron and a few other guys I'd met last year.  We sat around shooting the sh*t, drinking beer and whiling away the time until the next game.  I spent nearly seven hours at the fields last Friday in a sea of Americana.  There was beer and hot dogs, midwest accents, sunflower seeds and the most beautiful green grass. I was sometimes surrounded by guys and some of their girlfriends (yes, all Asian).  Other times I sat alone.  Either way, I was a happy camper. Some games were good contests between well matched teams. Others were blow outs where fifteen runs were scored in the first inning. I cheered the guys I knew and lamented the loses or injuries with them.

Mel's team, the Guzzlers.

On Saturday I had what was possibly a bigger thrill.  My friends wanted to come see the games with me.  The group in a was an American with ten years in Indo under her belt, a Texan with her two kids, an Red Sox fan from Russia, a baseball clueless Kiwi, a football loving Brit and a big, bald Scotsman.  Look at the crowd I drew for a faux baseball game.  Baseball is the game that Europeans (heck, most non-Americans) don't get.  It's long, it's boring, nothing happens.  Blah, blah, blah.  It's pure Americana.  Our history and heritage involving baseball is long and storied.  It's unique to us. 

Courtesy of indexofwallpapers.com

Those who know me probably know that starting about March each year the word "Baseball" and more importantly "Mariners" starts creeping back into my vernacular.  When the regular season starts in April, I'm ready for the season.  I know the players, managerial changes, injury statuses, etc.  I've been told I went to my first game in a baby carrier long before I could walk.  Baseball is a constant for me.  Across the countries and the miles, I can track my team online.  As soon as I've confirmed my tickets home, Mom buys tickets (provided it's in season).  Mariners fans are particularly long suffering and this year is no exception. The team has had both six-game winning and six-game losing streaks.  Either way, I'm with them until September, if not October.

It was a real joy for me to have friends interested in seeing the game.  Many of the Non-Americans asked questions about what was happening.  They wanted to know how the game was played.  How does a team score a run?  Why do they change from offense to defense? I was more than happy to explain and answer everything. Inevitably their interest waned before mine.  And yet most of the group didn't leave until seven or so; all of us staying between four and seven and a half hours. Just thinking about the softball games, and the experience of sharing it with other in a land where I thought baseball was as foreign as I am, brings a huge grin to my face.

A last surprise is that one of my bosses plays on a team that was in the tournament last year and this year, though he didn't play.  He said that I should play.  I didn't see any women playing in the tourney, but I'd love to practice with them if nothing else.  They are on summer hiatus right now but he said to think about it and he'd let me know when practices restart in September. SQUEEEEEAAALLLL!!

My Oh My!!!

When a friend or family member dies, they leave an obvious hole in your life.  Other people who knew you were associated with them understand and often grieve with you. Occasionally there are deaths that make the whole world take note.  Think Princess Diana, JFK, or even a bunch of nobodies, but a BUNCH of them, i.e. September 11th. Even more rarely are the people who affect a community.  The world as a whole doesn't come to a screeching halt, but a single area (geographically or topically) freezes to mourn their loss.

This happened last week to Seattle and to baseball.  Dave Niehaus was the announcer for the Seattle Mariners baseball team since their inception in 1977. Hardy M's fans will know his name, face and especially his voice anywhere.  M's fans are a peculiar breed, as the team has achieved little over it's lifetime and less in the last five years. The fans, myself included, tend to follow them and attend games regardless of their record.  Dave was always the most enthusiastic M's fan.  Anyone who lived in Seattle in the 1990's knows about the miracle year of 1995 and Dave's call.  He was as much a part of the team as any player, maybe more so since he was never traded, never retired.  He was inducted into the Mariners Hall of Fame. In 2008, he was named the winner of the Ford C Frick given by the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, which recognizes career excellence in baseball broadcasting and is considered the highest baseball broadcasting honor. Niehaus broadcast 5,284 of the 5,385 Mariners games.  See his full Obituary at the Seattle PI.

Dave Niehaus.  courtesy of iill.net

I went to my first Mariners game before I could walk, or so I've been told.  Games used to be held in the Kingdome; a giant concrete monstrosity.  It had great acoustics if you were the home team.  Other teams used to complain about the excessive volume.  Rumor has it 'the wave' started in that stadium. When it was imploded on March 26, 2000 I had a tear in my eye.  It was ugly, but I had very fond memories of family trips to the ballpark wrapped within it.  (for wikipedia's version of how the wave was started please click here)

Exterior of the Kingdome; its amazing to see the cityscape around it now too.  It never looked that bleak then. courtesy of monolithic.com. 

Interior of the Kingdome. We usually sat in those outfield seats that look blue on the right.  Courtesy of ballparks.com

The new stadium, Safeco Field named after the sponsoring insurance company, is beautiful.  I loathe that its named after a company, as are most stadiums built in the last decade.  A fan can enjoy any choice of eats, from sushi and wine to hot dogs and beers. There really isn't a bad seat in the house, most of them making fans feel close to the action. The roof is retractable so the crowd can enjoy the precious Seattle sun or hide from the rain and wind.

Safeco Field. courtesy of theredsreport.com

When I had a jaunt home for a mere 4 days in June my mom bought Mariners tickets.  It's an unspoken agreement that if I come home during the season, we get tickets.  It doesn't matter who they're playing against, what their record is or how far out of contention (for the World Series) they are, we go and enjoy the time together while eating peanuts and clapping along to the stadium organ.

I know many of you are from lands outside of the United States where baseball is hardly understood, let alone followed with fervor. I may have lost you in the first three lines of this blog. Watching memorial videos made me tear up at my desk today.  Dave shall never be replaced just as a childhood that has passed can never be regained. Today I find myself yearning for simple times gone by, with a bag of peanuts, in the outfield bleachers, sitting between mom and dad watching a game I adore in the city I love.