Part eight...
Part EightSponsored by
ONE PRICE EYEWEAR
http://onepriceeyewear.com
KANSAS CITY— The Kansas City Royals spanked the visiting Cincinnati Reds in an exciting inter-league game on Sunday at Kauffman Stadium, or the “New K” as they are now referring to it ... and I napped through the most exciting part of the game.
Kauffman Stadium, located a knuckleball throw from Arrowhead Stadium, home of the Kansas City Chiefs, was originally opened in 1972 as a baseball only stadium. What made Kauffman unique, relative to other sport complexes built in that period, was its sole-use approach. The majority of stadiums built between the 1960s and 1990s were designed as generic multi-sport compounds, offering little in the way of baseball appeal.
As the sixth-oldest baseball park in MLB, Kauffman Stadium, despite a current $250 million renovation, still shows the telltale signs of age. However, the field is in tremendous shape, the seats are comfortable, the concession stands, concourse and bathrooms are all updated, but no amount of money can change the original design. There isn’t anything wrong with the design, mind you, but after spending time in Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix and Denver, I have become accustomed to modern stadiums. The exception being Dodger Stadium, a park built in late 1950 in which I’ve developed a strange affinity.
I rolled into the massive parking lot at Kauffman Stadium, shared by the Chiefs and Royals, a few minutes before the Ump hollered, “Play ball!” I parked, tried to suppress all memories from the brutal 8 hr drive from Colorado Springs, put on sneakers and high-stepped it for the ticket booth. With my luck, the 1:10 game would be sold out, rained out, or a tornado would come ripping through the stadium and the game would be called, which wouldn’t necessarily make me unhappy.
I was drained from the lack of sleep the night before;(click for back story) my nerves were shot from almost taking out half the deer population in Colorado with my car, and I was confused by the radio preacher who ridiculed me for hours about being disobedient, and then offering his cash-for-penance program. The Reverend had me believing my short fuse, extreme slothfulness and Snoop Dogg were the primary reasons my CD player wasn’t working. On the other hand, the Lexus dealership told me using a homemade CD caused the problem…and they can fix it for $600.00. Neither one would be getting my money.
I was clearly ready for a long nap to calm my nerves, so a postponed game actually sounded rather appropriate.
As *reverse* luck would have it, there were plenty of tickets to go around for everybody, it was hotter than Hades and I didn’t see a funnel cloud, or any cloud, in the blue sky. However, I did see the scorching sun about ten feet above my head, tons of geeked up fans tailgating and making strange noises and simply acting like they were happy about something. Me, I wanted to be the first individual ever to dive head first off the top of the bowl shaped park and directly onto the steamy, concrete courtyard. Requiring too much work to climb that high, I resorted to grabbing a lukewarm adult beverage and parked it in an empty section in the third level on the third base side.
The first inning was peaceful --no one around to bother me-- as I took photos with my cell phone since Joe’s camera was broken, scribbled notes on a small note pad and hoped the game would end 1-0 so it would be over soon.
As I sat in the direct sunlight, sweating profusely while I cursed myself loudly for not applying sunscreen, Kauffman Stadium started to grow on me. I was having flashbacks of watching the Royals on TV, particularly the ’85 World Series versus their intrastate rivals the St. Louis Cardinals.
In that series, the Royals came back from a 3-1 deficit to beat the Cardinals in game six on a questionable call at first base in the ninth inning, and then hammered the Cards 11-0 in game seven to win their first Championship.
Of all the great players and managers who have passed through Kansas City as a Royal, or during the Athletics short stay between moving from Philadelphia to Oakland (1955-1967), my most vivid memory, unfortunately, involves George Brett missing playing time in the 1980 World Series due to hemorrhoid flare-ups, allegedly.
Forget about Roger Maris, Whitey Herzog, Lou Piniella, Frank White, Brett Saberhagan, Bo Jackson, Johnny Damon and David Cone. Who cares about the infamous “Pine Tar Incident” with Brett at Yankee Stadium, or the six Royal Hall of Famers: Brett, Orlando Cepeda, Harmon Killebrew, Bob Lemon, Gaylord Perry and Joe Gordon?
For some reason I couldn’t get Brett's stupid hemorrhoid problem out of my mind, and it was starting to make me angry. I was twelve in 1980, and didn’t exactly know what a hemorrhoid was other than what my father told me. I remember feeling bad for Brett back then because he couldn’t play in the most important series of his life, but today I'm irate I can't get that out of my head and concentrate on the game and stadium.
My mind was wandering to a strange place as I dozed off for a much needed siesta. After a full inning, I was jolted back to reality, to my horror, by a pack of wild, double-fisting, Royal fans, who somehow found their way right behind me. They cheered for someone from their team who was rounding third and heading home. I wasn’t sure who it was and I didn’t care, I just wanted to find my hotel and sleep for the next 12 hours.
Kansas City is a cool town with tons of great western history and, more important, awesome BBQ. I’ve never had authentic K.C. BBQ but I’ve seen and read enough about it to get myself psyched up for the real deal, after a nap.
My GPS ran me in circles for half an hour before I finally found my interstate-side motel, a $45.00 dump I found on hotels.com. I checked in, asked the clerk important questions like, “who has the best BBQ in town and where can I find it? May I get a room that isn’t four feet from I-70? And how many murders have you had at this property in the past year?” The kind lady responded with “Gates BBQ is the best in town and it’s just past the casino …no you may not …and what kind of question is that?”
Gates BBQ... my Mecca. I’ve heard of Gates before and I was so pumped to try it, I decided to get some beef ribs before my nap. Nothing was going to get between me and lip smacking, old school K.C. ribs.
The drive to Gates BBQ was five miles, a quick excursion. I could be there, throw back some grub, and be in bed in less than an hour. As I was zipping through town, just past the Missouri River, my car inexplicably made a sharp left at the Harrah’s Casino and two minutes later I was sitting at a Three-Card Poker table chewing the fat with Mike, Amanda, Loretta and Emmett, and I was already giving the dealer, James, a hard time about him getting his legs broken after I cleaned out the house.
My third hand was triple threes, which paid me $400.00, easy money! To quote Kenny Rogers in the Gambler “…you got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run…” I was up, had house money and it was time to run, so I got up and ran…three hours later and $300.00 lighter.
I place 100% of the blame of my misfortune on a cute cocktail waitress named Kelly, who wouldn’t stop coming by the table. Had she been ugly or inattentive, I would’ve had the audacity to grab my $400.00 worth of green poker chips and bolt for the door, but the scoundrels who run the place somehow overpowered my will with a babe.
While the thought of losing $700.00 ($400.00 from the house and $300.00 from my wallet) really chaps my hide, I did enjoy the conversation with my degenerate gambling tablemates. The table was loud when we were pulling straights and flushes, and eerily silent whenever the dealer smiled, which always seems to occur right before it’s time to leave.
By the time I left the sadistic casino, dejected and full of self-loathing, Gates BBQ was closed and I was broke. I made a vow to never step foot in a casino again, EVER!
That night was the 3rd worst night of sleep on my trip. In between being jarred awake by the sounds of semis doing 100mph right past my window, a violent thunder storm and the guy in the next room pounding on the wall from my insane snoring problem, I had a dream I won $59,000 from Harrah’s and the pit boss broke James’ legs. Ah, sweet revenge.
I woke up without being murdered, checked out of the dump, and made a beeline for Gates BBQ. As I passed the casino, I casually rolled down the window and gave ‘em a friendly “thumbs up” …only I didn’t use my thumb.
The lady inside Gates BBQ smiled and greeted me warmly. She slowly asked how I was doing and she seemed genuine. I told her I was doing much better now I was finally there, and we chatted for a few minutes about the menu and the history of Gates. As she took me through the ordering process, I totally forgot about the long drive to K.C., the game and my gambling loses.
She took me to the window where you place your order and recommend the beef ribs with extra sauce. I took her advice, grabbed my meal and sat down with the rest of the lunch crowd. The patrons didn’t seem to be interested in gossip or small talk; they seemed content to focus on whatever it was on their plates, me included.
NEXT STOP: St. Louis (June 16, 2009)
Links for story & photos:
Photos: http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/album.php?aid=5706&id=1684643878
K.C.: http://kansascity.royals.mlb.com/index.jsp?c_id=kc
Kauffman Stadium: http://kansascity.royals.mlb.com/kc/ballpark/index.jsp
Famous people with hemorrhoids: http://www.hemorrhoidsinplainenglish.com/hemorrhoid/famous-people.htm
Gates BBQ: http://www.gatesbbq.com/
Harrah’s: http://www.harrahsnkc.com/casinos/harrahs-north-kansas-city/hotel-casino/property-home.shtml
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment