Text 5630, 101 rader
Skriven 2006-09-18 17:17:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: MVP! 269
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Next day we took the bus from the transit center in Tacoma
to Seattle - a convenient although SRO ride for $3 a head,
less than gas and parking and the hassle of driving through
the sometimes brutal I-5 traffic.

One of Hap's retirement endeavors is being a host at
the Mariners games at Safeco Field. He's assigned to
the nosebleed level, and as a rookie gets an area
where only riffraff sit, way over in right field. As
Annie and I were going to attend a game and sit behind
home plate (although still on the third level), he
wangled an assignment for our section. Fred, the
supervisor, told him that in order to get that plum
job he had to do some scutwork first, so he was sent
down to wherever scutwork is done. We chatted awhile,
watching the field being prepared for some ceremony
or other.

Next thing we knew, they were announcing an appreciation
for the top employees for various facet of the operation,
based on their helpfulness, knowledge of the job, and
some other stuff I forget. And then there was Annie
sort of bouncing around in her seat, looking through the
binoculars and saying, "I think that's Hap down at the
end of the line." And sure enough, we got to see Hap
march out with the other top employees onto the field
and out past the pitcher's mound, where they posed for
pictures, and their senior member (with 25 years' service -
I'd forgot that the Mariners had been around that long) got
to throw out the first pitch. Turns out that (according to
Fred) Hap was unanimously voted by his group for the honor.
Later in the car Hap disputed that, as he said that he
hadn't voted for himself, but we argued that that didn't
count. He was also the only rookie to be named an MVP.

It was cloudy and a bit chilly, but they opened the roof
anyway (Fred very proudly pointed out the engineering
marvel of the three-piece roof rolling back and fitting
together perfectly). It would have been a perfect day,
but for the performance of the Mariners, who were shut
out 10-0. The most ignominious part was the 4th inning,
when the Blue Jays had a bases-loaded double, some walks,
including one walking in a run, and a grand slam by one
Gregg Zaun, the catcher, who is not particularly known as a
slugger but who had also hit a tater in the 2nd. The line:

010900000 Toronto
000000000 Seattle

A lot of fans must have had a premonition: the official
paid attendance was 26,225, but it looked as if only half
of those showed up.

I guess the most important thing then was filling one's
stomach. Porter's, the Tacoma institution, has some outlets
at the park - I had a combo sandwich called The Dixie:
brisket and a hot link on a hot dog bun. The link bordered
on the bad - it looked like a proper hot link, with an
apparently coarse grind; but it was soft as an overboiled
dog and had little or no spice at all. The brisket was
chopped, lean, and probably kind of old - reminded me of
the first time when we went to Porter's original location
on a Sunday night, and they were closing up, and we were
served essentially leftovers (but for a discount). I
doctored the mess up with a quarter teaspoon of The Man,
but that was insignificant. Bringing it up to a full
teaspoon helped considerably, and the eyes of the girl
behind the counter goggled. There is a good selection
of beers at the park. In the 300 `oi polloi level each
vendor has 2 kinds, so you have to walk the whole
perimeter to see the selection. At the 100 level there
are places with the whole list. I sampled one, but at 8
bucks for a pint, that was a bit rich for me and I didn't
fill up on beer. By the way, at the one place I ended up
the guy carded me (a sign said "we card under 40").

Interesting coincidence: one of the people Hap seated
in the next section was a yeoman who had served along
with Carol Shenkenberger on, I believe, the Carl Vinson.

We stayed through the 8th and meandered toward the exit.
It was a quick 9th, and we were still in the park when
the axe finally fell.

After games, the transit authority cleverly puts on some
extras to clear out the stadium area. Hap has a colleague
named Pepe (or Peppy) who is in a wheelchair; now this
requires a bit of extra room, so the dispatcher had the
driver of the first fan bus board Pepe first, a great
idea; then the other employees (and associates, such as
I) got to board in front, while the fans boarded in
back. Filled it up. The driver was a pleasant youngster
with a bit of a Canadian accent, I thought, who chatted
with whoever wanted to talk (driving a bus can be kind
of boring, I guess, especially in rush hour traffic).
When we got to Tacoma, he sealed his place in our hearts
by letting Pepe and some others out free.

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