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Part ten...
ST. LOUIS— Approximately two hours before the start of the game, a sea of red assembled around the stadium, chatting about the Cardinals pending victory over the Detroit Tigers. Many fans were enjoying beverages from the brewer who sponsors the stadium, and basking in near perfect weather. Me, well, I was still trying to regain my composure from my ill-fated trip to the top of the St. Louis Gateway Arch. All I wanted was a handful of Xanax, morphine, or a stiff shot of Johnny Walker Blue, but I would have nothing and not like it.
A half hour earlier, I was on the phone with my brother Glenn, who was 800 miles away from the enormous structure, and he somehow convinced me to cram into a tiny 4’x4’ pod with four other people and ascend 630 feet to the top of the Arch, a four minute ride. And he was able to do this knowing I’m claustrophobic and afraid of heights…
Below the Gateway Arch is a massive museum, gift shop and a long line where people stand for twenty minutes to be voluntarily tortured and, like a follower, that’s where I could be found. Oddly, I completely suppressed my phobias –which also includes snakes, drowning, air travel, burning to death, mushrooms and onions—and was ready to see as far west as my eyes would allow. I coughed up $10.00, and was escorted by our guide, a kid half my age, who told us to follow her to the area where we would hitch a ride up the Arch. In my defense, I figured we would be riding up in an elevator with annoying Muzak, something I can do with ease. Had I known what was in store for me, I would’ve pretended to drop my brother’s call and turn the phone off for the rest of the night.
We were in eight lines, in groups of five, standing in front of doors that were the size of an elevator. As soon as they opened, I got my first glimpse of my eventual death, and the potential death of four others if I totally freaked out. I literally had to bend over and squeeze into this five seat, egg shaped vessel. The group was in, my folded legs were almost touching the opposite wall, and my shoulders were firmly pressed against the people on each side. My pod-mates were joking with each other about getting stuck halfway up the Arch, and I gaped out the still open door, telling myself to dive out before they closed …but I froze. As soon as the door closed, I freaked out. Within seconds, I was drenched with sweat, my lips quivered, my heart beating at1,000 BPM and I said out loud, “Oh no, I think I’m about to freak out!” The lady sitting next to me nearly jumped in her husbands lap and the pod went piercingly silent, for the entire trip.
I’m not sure what I did for the next four minutes but by the time we arrived at the top everyone was alive, but not in good spirits. I was first out, literally ran the twenty yards past all the windows, never looking down, and jumped back in a pod for the ride back down. The ride down was just as brutal as the ride up but I was alone in the pod, alone to curse myself for not getting out when I had the chance. My brother got an earful as soon as I was back on the ground. I shared the story with Los and Joe, too, and they all three came to the same conclusion: Andrew is a wimp!
The game was difficult for me: the Tigers are my number two team and I’m trying to enjoy the atmosphere of each game, rooting for the home team. In this case, I decided to remain neutral; I wouldn’t root for anyone in this inter-league game, just enjoy good baseball from two of the oldest franchises in the majors.
St. Louis has some of the best baseball fans I’ve ever seen. This was my only game here, and the fact the Cards are in a pennant may be a contributing factor but they cheered every play made by their team. Even when the Tigers were being battered with haymakers and uppercuts, the fans wanted more: They wanted a shutout. They wouldn’t get it, and they weren’t happy about it but the final score of 11-2 seemed to satisfy their blood thirsty appetites. I wish it wasn’t the Tigers playing in Busch Stadium that day because I missed out in the fun.
My position of Switzerland did afford me the opportunity to let my mind to wander through the history of St. Louis baseball, what I can remember reading. Sitting there watching two storied teams play in the open-air, downtown stadium; I seemed to have a baseball epiphany, a new appreciation for the ball of my father and his father’s generation. Oh man, if only I had been around to see the likes of Dizzy Dean, Stan Musial, Rogers Horsnby and Enos Slaughter.
It seems the further east I travel, the more baseball means to people, and this is very evident in St. Louis. The town is saturated with illustrations of how much they love their Cards. There are signs everywhere, people all over town wearing team garb, and most of the small talk I overheard appeared baseball related.
The design of Busch Stadium is brilliant. My seats were garbage seats and I still felt like I could reach out and touch the players. The menacing Gateway Arch is clearly visible beyond the outfield wall and a short walk from the stadium. The concourse had more concession stands than any stadium I’ve ever seen, which means very short lines between innings.
Busch Stadium is by far the best I’ve seen so far on my trip. I’m looking forward to Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, New York, Toronto, Baltimore, Washington, Philadelphia and Boston, but if I had to wrap things up right now, I think I would be content.
NEXT STOP: Wrigley (June 18, 2009)
Links:
Photos http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/photo.php?pid=76030&id=1684643878
St. Louis Cardinals http://stlouis.cardinals.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=stl
Busch Stadium http://stlouis.cardinals.mlb.com/stl/ballpark/index.jsp
Gateway Arch http://www.gatewayarch.com/Arch/
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