Yesterday I made my triumphant return to Petco Park, nearly three years after my first visit there. Along with Ken and KT, I watched a strong pitcher’s duel between Johan Santana and…Clayton Richard? Who the fuck is that guy? Since the game was bereft of heavy hitting, there wasn’t much to cheer about — especially as a Met fan in hostile territory. Four kids seated maybe ten rows behind us tried to start an “M-E-T-S Mets! Mets! Mets!” chant, but every time they finished spelling the team name our entire section responded, “Suck! Suck! Suck!” Also, one guy turned around and yelled something about how M-E-T-S stands for “My Entire Team Sucks.” That was funny.
I’ve seen a lot of baseball games in my lifetime, but yesterday I witnessed at least three things I’ve never seen before:
– An extra inning game (I know, right?)
– A Grand Slam
– A Walk-off home run
Amazingly, the walk-off and the grand slam occurred during the same at-bat. As soon as Raul “The Spill” Valdes came in to pitch the bottom of the 11th inning I was pretty sure the game was over. In fact, I called it. Twice. First I said the momentum had shifted enough the moment Frankie “BBRod” Rodriguez blew the save that there was no way the Mets were going to win the game. Tony Gwinn Jr. doubled to lead off the inning and I realized that whoever was going to pinch-hit for the pitcher was going to get the game-winning RBI. Except the Padres pinch-hit John Garland (a pitcher!) and instructed him to bunt Gwinn over to third base. The bunt was placed down the third base line, and Gwinn was actually thrown out at third. Still, I didn’t think we were going to see a 12th inning. To no one’s surprise (well, at least I wasn’t surprised) Jerry Hairston Jr. singled to left field and advanced the runner (a pitcher!) to second base. Then the grission-iest little tyke to ever done a baseball uniform, that all-heart-and-no-talent dwarf David Eckstein got plunked by Valdes. As the trainer helped little Davie down to first base, I turned to Ken and said, “Adrian Gonzalez is going to hit a home run right now. Maybe even on the first pitch, but most likely on the second pitch. Well, wouldn’t you know it, A-Gon took a first pitch ball, a second pitch strike, and then hit a 370-foot home run to left field.
After the game, we went to Pizza Port (San Clemente) and drank some beers and shared a pizza and some garlic bread. I had “Earnest’s Silky Smooth Oatmeal Stout,” KT had the “Dawn Patrol Brown Ale,” and Ken settled for something lighter. I forgot the name. Oh well. Then we walked down to the beach and pier, hung out for a few minutes, and drove home. It was a great day-off from work, and a much needed respite from everyday life in Los Angeles.
