Progressive Field

After staying the night at Andy's friend Jake's house, we spent the morning at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton. Highlights included: Me as an inductee, Me scared of being stabbed, Seeing that the HOF officially recognizes this name, And of course, this.

 

Afterwards, we drove to Cleveland for the Indians game. Not wanting to pay a ridiculous amount for parking near the stadium, we found out that the Great Lakes Brewing Company, which is about 1.5 miles away, provides a shuttle to and from the stadium. Technically, the pass to ride that you buy at the brewery costs $1, but I'm pretty sure that you could quickly flash any receipt and be fine. After finding cheap parking near the brewery, we boarded the "Fatty Wagon" and headed for the ballpark.

You'll notice a recurring theme in this review. Everything about the stadium is nice, but nothing is spectacular. The one exception is in promotions: June 15th is Rick Vaughn bobblehead night. That's pretty awesome.

The entire game was played, which was nice. But not until after a 1 hour, 30 minute rain delay, which actually started before the rain even did. We walked into the park, and even though it wasn't raining, we saw this. We sat through about 20 minutes of dry weather before the rain actually started. Better than: The Cubs game. Worse than: All the other ones.

The view from the ballpark is a great showcase of the Cleveland skyline. Unfortunately, Cleveland does not have much of a skyline. But you can clearly see all three of Cleveland's buildings. Better than: White Sox, Nationals, Milwaukee. Worse than: Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Cincinnati's river view.

They have a nice area with plaques of famous Indians players from their history. Better than: most ballparks, including the White Sox who also have a long history and fairly new park but no such area to honor players (at least not on the upper deck). Worse than: this is basically a cheap imitation of Yankee Stadium's Monument Park.

They have a fair amount of standing room areas; however, the upper deck overhang stretches way out, obstructing the vertical view of a large portion of the standing room area behind the plate and on the baselines. And there's no standing room or open concourse on the upper deck. Better than: most old stadiums. Worse than: most new stadiums.

The stadium design itself, as seen from our seats, is pretty basic. Nothing special. Better than: old stadiums. Worse than: anything built in the past 10 years.

Attendance: Not as many people as some other parks. But more bugs and seagulls than you'll see at any place that doesn't have longshoremen working there. Better than: Nationals park, insectariums, or the docks. Worse than: any place without a midge infestation. (Bonus: a section of the ballpark that had more seagulls than people in it.)

Quicken Loans Arena, where the Cavs play, is right across the street. There's a gigantic poster on the side of the arena of Lebron. Better than: most of the Eastern Conference. Worse than: Orlando.

The ushers are nice. They're not as friendly or allowing of you to go anywhere in the park as some of the other stadium ushers. Better than: most parks. Worse than: St. Louis and Pittsburgh.

The big race in Cleveland is ketchup vs. mustard vs. onions. Worse than: Milwaukee's sausages, Washington's presidents, Pittsburgh's pierogis. Better than: Any of the animated train races on the jumbotron or the gang fight in the outfield of the White Sox game. 

*As a side note, this may have been the best actual race of any we saw. Mustard bumped ketchup and sent him flying. Ketchup responded by cheating, cutting through the infield grass. Nevertheless, mustard still won. Ketchup got even more mad and pushed mustard in his smiling hot dog face as he celebrated. Mustard ran away, pumping his fist in the air. All of this is real. Andy has video that I'll upload if he sends it to me.

The Indians' mascot is named Slider. He looks like the Philly Phanatic after a paint job and a face herpes breakout. He was also inducted into the "Mascot Hall of Fame" in a ceremony after the game while they set up the fireworks show. His "parents" were there for the ceremony. So were his "kids." But no wife. So I guess the herpes thing makes sense. Worse than: any legitimate mascot. Better than: Vomiting Kermit.

The highlights: The Yankees won 3-1. We were able to move down to seats on the field level for the last 2 innings. The fireworks were pretty cool and were set to 70's music. Andy got his picture taken with ketchup.

Quick Summary: Progressive Field is nice, but not really special or memorable in any sort of way. Everything is done well, but no aspect of the stadium is at the top in any specific category.

Wrigley Field

With the forecast calling for rain, Andy and I spent the afternoon before the Cubs game feasting on Italian Beef sandwiches and praying that the rain would hold off long enough for them to get the game in. Through some important connections high up in the Cubs front office, we were able to get seats 8 rows behind home plate. And by important connections, I mean we looked on StubHub and found a pair there for only $60 each. Compare that to what those seats would cost in Yankee Stadium, and baby, you got yourself a stew.

It rained on and off throughout the afternoon, but as the game approached, things were looking promising. We headed down to Wrigley in a very light drizzle, and as we got to the ballpark, we were immediately struck by the lively gameday atmosphere, despite the not-so-great weather. There were souvenir booths all over the place and the bars surrounding the ballpark were packed.

After the obligatory pics in front of the famous Wrigley Field sign, we decided to take a quick lap around the stadium, since we still had more than half an hour until the first pitch. Unlike stadiums that are built nowadays and are part of giant stadium complexes or are in the middle of a downtown area, Wrigley is right in the middle of a residential neighborhood. There are actually people who live right across the street from Wrigley Field, and as baseball fans know, the buildings surrounding the stadium have rooftop seats where people can watch the game. Honestly, I don’t think I should be as wowed as I am by this, but it was just a very cool thing to see firsthand.

Once inside the park, we walked around the concourse for a bit. Disregard the signs for the various food stands and the TVs that have been placed there, and the concourse looks like it’s right out of the 1930s. So do the stands themselves. There are two old, basic electronic scoreboards underneath the grandstand, and that’s it.  No marquee with flashing Coca-Cola advertisements or dancing hot dogs. Just a big sign with the score and what inning it is.

And there’s no jumbotron either. The scoreboard is the same one you would have seen decades ago. All they’ve added is a small electronic strip to the bottom of it to tell you who’s batting. Now that we’re in the age of 100-foot high HD screens, seeing a stadium that still uses something like this is amazing. But then again, who needs a jumbotron when you’re sitting close enough to see the anticipated failure on Kosuke Fukudome’s face firsthand.

The stadium itself looks old too, but in a very cool, retro sort of way. Maybe it’s the scoreboard. Maybe it’s the light towers that are different from any other I’ve seen. Maybe it’s the ivy. Maybe it’s the lack of dancing hot dogs. Whatever it is, I love it.

The game started, and even though it rained on and off for the first few innings they played through it. Again, despite the weather, the crowd was great. The stadium erupted after a first-inning solo shot with a roar that’s usually saved for late-inning heroics in other parks. And the party was on when the Cubs broke the game open with a handful of runs in the 5th inning to take a 6-1 lead. Watching Wrigley break into celebration was almost as good as watching the game itself in other stadiums, and definitely helped make Wrigley the most memorable park on the entire trip.

And then this happened. Andy and I waited it out for about an hour, but finally the game was called, which meant…Cubs Win! Cubs Win! The fans left the park wet, but happy, and crowded into the neighborhood  bars to celebrate the end of an 8-game losing streak.

Personally, I know that I’m going back to Wrigley someday. While it sucked that the weather was bad and the game was called early, we still had an amazing experience. I really can’t imagine how great a game would be at Wrigley on a warm, sunny summer afternoon. But someday, I’ll find out.

Quick Summary: There’s really no easy way to sum up what makes Wrigley Field so special without using corny expressions for the way things used to be (yeah, like that). I guess the easiest way to explain things is that going to Wrigley Field for a Cubs game is a cultural experience that is much more than just a baseball game.

A Surprise Visit

I'll be on the train back to New York all day long, so I figured I'd leave you guys with a few videos to watch while I'm finishing up season 4 of The Wire. When I get back to New York, I'll write up the final 3 ballparks of the trip, do another food review or two, and publish final rankings for everything. But until I get to that, enjoy the videos.

The Great Chicago Food Review

Now that the Chicago portion of our road trip is over, it's time for the Great Chicago Food Review. Andy and I ate at three Chicago institutions during our time there: Lou Malnati's Pizza, Jim's Original, and Al's #1 Italian Roast Beef. As a quick refresher:

The Official Food Review Hierarchy

1) Not worth it

2) Stop in if you're driving by

3) Check it out if you're in town

4) I'd drive an hour for it

5) I'd drive several states for it

6) I'd kill a man

Lou Malnati's Pizzeria

Chicago-style pizza is different from normal pizza. Take it away, Wikipedia:

A thin crust of pizza dough is laid in a seasoned deep-dish pizza pan and raised up on the sides. The ingredients are placed on a Chicago style deep-dish pizza in the opposite order of a thin crust pizza. The first ingredient is thick slices of mozzarella cheese that are placed directly on the dough. Then additional ingredients like mushrooms, onions and sausage are spread on top of the cheese. The pizza is then topped with a tomato sauce made with whole chunks of tomatoes. One of the more popular features of a "Lou-Mal" pie is the "sausage patty," which is, as the name describes, a single patty of Italian sausage below the layer of tomato chunks or sauce, as opposed to the more traditional crumbled sausage.

Basically, Chicago-style pizza is like a pizza pot pie without the top crust. You eat it with a fork and knife, and, as I learned, three pieces of it is incredibly filling. 

The cheese, underneath the tomato and sausage, is stringy and delicious, but by far, the best part about this pizza was the sausage. Every bit of the pizza was covered with a thick layer of sausage, which in addition to the cheese, tomatoes, and flaky crust, made for an excellent meal.

In terms of actually calling it "pizza," I'm not sure that I'm down with that. I'm much more comfortable with "pizza pot pie." In my opinion, New York style pizza is still tops. But this is still very good.

Official verdict for Lou Malnati's Pizzeria: Check it out if you're in Chicago. And if you're not a filthy vegetarian, sausage is definitely the way to go. I've had better pizza, but I'll call my first foray into "pizza pot pie" a success. 

Jim's Original

After the White Sox game, Andy and I headed down to Jim's Original, a Steve Messer recommendation, for some Polish sausages. Even though the location has moved, Jim's has been serving Polish sausages since 1943. One look at the menu shows two great things: the great prices, and the fact that fries come free when you order any sandwich.

Andy and I both ordered our sausages with mustard and onions (the standard way is onions, mustard, and hot peppers) and dug in. Immediately, we realized why these guys have been around for almost 70 years. The skin was snappy, the meat was juicy, and both the mustard and onions complimented the sausage perfectly. And they have the production line down to a science. 

After we finished, we each went back to the window and ordered a road sausage for the train ride back. The guys behind the window thought this was hilarious and even posed for pics with the food. And the true mark of a champion: sausage #2 was just as good as sausage #1.

Official verdict for Jim's Original: I'd drive an hour for it every now and then. With the prices being so low, I'd probably also stock up and eat 4 or 5 in the car on the way back. Sure, I'd feel sick, but it would be worth it.

Al's #1 Italian Beef

Again, I defer to Wikipedia:

An Italian beef is a sandwich of thin slices of seasoned roast beef, dripping with meat juices, on a dense, long Italian-style roll, believed to have originated in Chicago, where its history dates back at least to the 1930s. The bread itself is often dipped (or double-dipped) into the juices the meat is cooked in, and the sandwich is typically topped off with Chicago-style giardiniera (called "hot") or sauteed, green Italian sweet peppers (called "sweet").

After walking about 2 miles to Al's downtown location, Andy and I had worked up a good appetite by the time we got there. We knew we wanted italian beef sandwiches, but after looking at the menu quizzically for a few seconds, the guy behind the counter cut in. "First time here, guys?" he asked.

We nodded. "You guys saw this place on TV, right? Man v. Food?" Again, guilty as charged. He pointed out the combo meal menu, and told us we wanted the "Big Al Combo," the large italian beef sandwich with hand-cut fries. Perfect. We both got hot and sweet peppers on our sandwiches, asked for them dipped in the gravy, and while they put them together, we talked with the guy behind the counter about our road trip. The sandwiches came out, he threw an extra side of meat juice in for good measure, and we sat down to enjoy our food.

The fries were very good. The sandwich was great. The meat was tender, the peppers added a nice amount of spice and crunch, and the bread dipped in the meat juice was somewhat strange, but surprisingly tasty. It stuck to and changed the sandwich in the same way that cheese whiz melds to the meat in a cheesesteak, creating one homogenous piece of food.

The only negative (if you even want to view it as such) is that eating a large italian beef sandwich takes a lot out of you. Even though Andy and I had slept approximately 9 hours each the night before, after this sandwich, we both wanted to take a nap. If Al's ever did an eating challenge, we hypothesized that not too many people would be able to finish 2 large italian beef sandwiches with fries. Still, this sandwich was great, and will definitely be something I seek out on my next visit to Chicago.

Official verdict for Al's #1 Italian Beef: Check it out if you're anywhere near the Chicago area and don't have to do anything active for the rest of the day. Or if you run out of Ambien.

Miller Park

Andy and I woke up early Monday morning and headed up I-94 to Milwaukee for some Memorial Day baseball. We got to the park a little more than an hour before first pitch, and immediately found ourselves immersed in a giant tailgate. Miller Park itself is several miles outside of downtown Milwaukee and therefore, several giant parking lots have been built around the stadium, allowing fans to get to the game early and set up shop for an extended tailgate.

As we walked around the parking lots, the smell of grilled brats drifting all around us, I realized that I could have sworn that we were at a college football game. People were eating, drinking, grilling, playing bean bag toss -- just generally enjoying the hell out of themselves. And then there was the beer. Everyone was drinking it. College kids. Their parents. Little old ladies. Toddlers out of sippy cups.

We finally made our way towards the park, which from the outside looks somewhat strange due to the combination of the classic brick architecture and the retractable roof (which was open for this game). But first, we had to take pictures with giant sausages. 

The five sausages from the famous Miller Park sausage race were outside the stadium posing for pictures with fans, so Andy and I hopped right in and joined the sausage fest. After the picture, I asked them which one of them felt like they were going to win. The bratwurst (sausage #1) was the most adamant about his chances of victory. I high-fived him as a reward for his bravado and told him I'd be rooting for him during the 6th inning. More on this later.

We headed into the park, and wanting to truly take in the full Milwaukee experience, we each grabbed a beer and a brat. We loaded our brats up with onions and mustard and took them down in a matter of seconds. Just delicious. Honestly, the fact that anyone in Milwaukee has a BMI of under 30 is astounding to me.

We had standing room tickets but found some unoccupied seats on the 2nd level in left field right under Bernie Brewer's dugout. Luckily for us, we happened to be in a group of seats that were in a cheering section for Ryan Braun, a modern-day Hank Greenberg, who gives hope to young Jewish boys everywhere that they are welcome on the playing field and not just in the owner's box. I unabashedly joined in on the cheers.

As we sat there, we noticed that even though the party had moved inside, people were still enjoying themselves. And some people were getting a little out of control. Some girl trying to step over a row of bleachers while carrying food lost her balance. She went down hard and her food went flying. It was only by the grace of God and the back of a bleacher seat that her container of cheese didn't end up all over the guy in front of her. A few minutes after this, we watched as a girl vomited into a trash can, and then proceeded to pass out right in front of a group of cops. As the EMTs rushed to the scene, the vomit smell wafted over the section and Andy and I headed for less aromatic pastures.

As we walked, I noticed the giant windows behind the upper deck, instead of the mesh screen they have in most other parks. On the day we went, the temperature was in the high 60s and sunny, but because of the windows, there was no wind in the stadium, which made it feel absolutely perfect.

We wandered around for a few more innings, watching one hell of a pitcher's duel (Milwaukee's pitcher had a no-hitter through 5 innings, and St. Louis' had a perfect game through 6). At one point, we were talking to an usher, and asked him if Miller Park was always this much of a party. He told us that it usually isn't on weeknights, but on weekends, that this was the norm. Finally, it was time for the main event. The fans stood and cheered as the sausages made their way onto the field and lined up for the race. 

Ready.....set.....GO!!! Around the turn.....and down the stretch they come....and the winner is.....Bratwurst! All because of my high-five and my words of encouragement. Or at least that what I'm going to believe until someone proves otherwise. 

The game ended up going 10 innings, and ended when Bill Hall hit a walk-off double to lead the Brewers to a 1-0 victory, allowing the crowd to leave drunk, full, and happy.

Quick Summary: Going to a Brewers game on a weekend or a holiday is like going to a giant party that just happens to have a baseball game going on in the middle of it. Until football starts again in the Fall, this is what people from Wisconsin have in terms of tailgating, and they definitely make the best of it.

US Cellular Field

Andy and I woke up Sunday morning and hopped on the L (Chicago's elevated subway) to catch a game on the South Side at US Cellular Field, home of the Chicago White Sox. This ballpark review will be shorter than most, because this is a way to recap my memorable experiences on the trip, and frankly, US Cellular didn't provide too many of them. Although the grievance airing will take up its fair share of space.

Grievance #1: Tickets. Most ballparks have an allotment of cheap tickets that they sell, which are usually under $10. It doesn't matter that these seats are way out in the outfield or high up. Just getting into the ballpark is enough for a lot of people (including, for example, people on a road trip who just want to see the park). Here, the cheapest seats, which are the seats that are behind the columns in the back of the upper deck, are $23.

Grievance #2: Speaking of people on a road trip who just want to see the ballpark....if you buy an upper-level ticket, you can't go down to the lower level. Not even to walk around. They check tickets on the ramps at the entrance to the lower level. There are even signs that reinforce the fact that if you don't have an upper level ticket, you are a 2nd-class citizen.

Grievance #3: The dude playing the Casio keyboard that's hooked up to the sound system. If you want to play "charge" between pitches, fine. If you want to play the "everybody clap your hands" song, I have no problem with that either. What I do have a problem with is whimsical fairy music or a sea shanty being played as the pitcher looks in for a sign. Honestly, it seemed as if the person in the booth was playing just to hear the sound of his own keyboard, which unfortunately, only alternated between "harpsichord" and "wind chime" settings.

Grievance #4: The poor attempt at ivy walls. C'mon, US Cellular, that's Wrigley's thing. Find something else, like gang fights in the outfield, or a concession stand that sells heroin.

Grievance #5: Robin Ventura deserves better than this.

Alright, now on to the good things:

Our seats had a pretty good view.

There's a nice view of Chicago from the upper-level concourse.

You don't have to wait in long lines to get food, especially not for the corn. Unfortunately though, you wouldn't actually want any of the food here.

The outfield concourse looks nice. Unfortunately, because I carried the leper's mark of the 500-level ticket, I was unable to go down there in person. 

The fans are kind of d-bags, but they're devoted. And good hecklers. Game 4 of the Blackhawks-Red Wings series was being played during the baseball game, thus leading to a fair share of both Chicago and Detroit jerseys in the ballpark, including a large contingent of people wearing Red Wings jerseys who were sitting right in front of us. The two Sox fans sitting behind us, who in previous innings had loudly recapped the entire plot of The Sandlot, decided to go into a rant directed at the Red Wings fans in front of us, including a hilarious part about Russians that I wouldn't be able accurately replicate here if I tried.

We didn't get stabbed on our way to or from the park.

Quick summary: For a team that's been around for as long as the White Sox have, their ballpark is severely lacking in character. Not allowing access to the lower concourse, even to walk around, for fans that have upper-concourse tickets is a huge negative. Overall, US Cellular is an incredibly underwhelming ballpark.

Busch Stadium

After a relaxing day eating barbeque, touring the Anheuser-Busch brewery (Horses! Buildings! Clamato! Plus, more beer than you've ever seen in your life!), and making sweet sweet love to the Gateway Arch, Andy, Danny, and I headed down to Busch Stadium to check out a Cardinals-Royals game.

We got there at about 5:30, about an hour and a half before the first pitch, and already there were masses of people outside the gates. Presumably, this was for the free Albert Pujols figurine giveaway, but nonetheless the scene outside the ballpark was lively, with people decked out in Cardinals t-shirts drinking on bar patios and live bands playing. Also, the exterior of the ballpark is 100% brick, and thus by law, classy.

We made our way to the seats behind the plate to watch some batting practice, and were immediately struck with a beatiful view of St. Louis' skyline, which prominently featured the arch. We hung around there for a few minutes before heading out to the outfield with the hopes of catching a batting practice home run. Unfortunately, we forgot to take into account the fact that the Kansas City Royals were the ones taking batting practice. Of the four home runs hit the entire time, none were near us. As they left the field, we headed to our seats feeling tired, sweaty, and used.

The Royals' batting practice was not a total failure though. As we stood in the stands, I noticed someone in the outfield who I recognized; it was none other than Royals bullpen coach John Mizerock, the catcher for the 1989 Richmond Braves, and my first ever favorite player. On a team with future major leaguers David Justice, Ron Gant, and Mark Lemke among others, I decided to pick John Mizerock, he of 103 total major league games played in, as my favorite.

After BP was over, I went over to the Royals bullpen. John was standing there, about to head out to the field to warm up a pitcher. As he started to walk out to the field, I yelled to him, "John Mizerock!" He looked up. "You were my favorite player on the Richmond Braves when I was growing up!"

He smiled and gave me a big thumbs up as he walked out onto the field. Minutes later he returned. Some guy yelled for him to throw a ball up in the stands. Mizerock looked up and shrugged, indicating he didn't have a ball to throw. I yelled to no one in particular, "he only throws them to Richmond Braves fans!" Again, a pointing acknowledgement. This was awesome.

As Andy and Danny begin realizing that this was bordering on stalking, Mizerock came back in to the bullpen with a ball. He looked up into the stands and our eyes locked. He lobbed the ball. And because I was holding my Albert Pujols figurine in one hand, some lady next to me grabbed it with both hands as I grabbed it with one. Not wanting to go to jail for hitting a girl, I let the ball go. Later on, however, Mizerock tossed another one up to me, and this time, both hands free, I caught it. So thank you, John....you're still my favorite player ever. And to that woman who stole the ball from me: I hope you're happy with yourself. A month from now that ball will mean nothing to you. But it would have meant a lot to me. I hope you get a tapeworm.

We headed to our seats in the right field lower deck, and proceeded to watch some baseball. From the beginning, it was obvious that every fan into the stadium was into the game. Everyone was there to watch the game. No one was there because there was nothing else to do. 

When I took my standard lap around the stadium in the middle innings, the two things I noticed were the lack of "frills," or unnecessary additions to the ballpark (for the opposite end of the spectrum, think new Yankee Stadium), and how empty the plaza areas were relative to other stadiums. There was a small kids area with a miniature baseball diamond, but there were only a few kids there. The rest were watching the game. Whereas Cincinnati had Tanner, the morbidly obese child who was more interested in food than anything else, St. Louis had a girl of roughly the same age, sitting a few seats down from us, who understood the game; she watched intently, cheered when it was appropriate to do so, and booed when Albert Pujols was intentionally walked in a key situation.

Overall, the stadium doesn't have a lot of extras. There's a painted line in the outfield walkway to show where the wall of the old Busch Stadium was. The scoreboard from the old stadium is on display in the walkway on the first-base side. There's a private club somewhere on the club level, I think. Other than those things, it's a basic stadium; the great thing is though, it doesn't have to be more than this. The team is good enough, and the fans are engaged enough, that Busch Stadium is perfect just the way it is.

The night before we went, Pujols crushed a ball that took out the "I" in the "BIG MAC LAND" sign. When we got there, the sign had an added message. Personally, I would have gone with a "no I in team" motif, but this worked too.

Quick summary: Busch Stadium reminds me of what a classic ballpark would look like if it was built in 2005. It is an outstanding place to watch a game, as the ballpark design, ballpark views, and the enthusiasm of the fans are all exceptional.