FUCK last 10 years. FUCK Brochu. FUCK Loria. FUCK Selig. FUCK Washington.
That was the sign of the night at the game last night.
Man, this song is so great. I can't believe I hadn't discovered it until now. Great attitude song, too. It's applicable to me in so many ways. Applicable to the baseball game last night, too. Let those fuckers in the American sports media talk all they want. Baseball missed a chance at something great by repeatedly screwing over the fans here.
If they'd built a stadium downtown in Montreal, it would have rivaled, if not surpassed SF in terms of atmosphere. I've never been to San Francisco (day's coming, though), but in the summer, Montreal is a special city. Just imagine coming out from a ballgame at 9:30, and wandering over to the Jazz Fest. Or Chez Paree. Whatever you please. :p
I arrived about an hour early. When my dad and I went to games in the '80s and early-'90s, it was commonplace to see 30,000+ crowds at a game. It was what we saw everytime, actually. But since I've moved to Montreal, those games have been few and far between. So, it was nice to see the rotunda was jam-packed. The boutique was so full that they had a guard posted at the door letting people in at semi-regular intervals. I went in hoping to buy a fitted, tri-colour cap, but they had none left in my size. The place was really picked over.
I stood in line for about 20 minutes, waiting to pick up my ticket, which I'd purchased on the 'net a few days ago. I figured it'd be faster to buy it in advance. Not so.
I got in too late to go down to field level, which they'd been letting people do since the gates opened. Too bad. Would've made a nice picture.
My seat was good. About 20 rows up, just to the left of the plate. Dennis Trudeau, the local CBC-TV news anchor sat next to me. On the other side was a superfan who scored the game. I chatted with him and his friend. Names like Lenny Webster, Casey Candaele, Rex Hudler and Herm Winningham were liberally sprinkled through the conversation.
Before the game, they unveiled a banner commemorating the 1994 team which, at the time of the strike, was the best in baseball. And the banner in left field said as much. There was an odd collection of players present for the ceremony. The only star they had there was Ken Hill, who'd won 17 games by the time the strike hit. Other'n him, it was slim pickings - Lou Frazier, Tim Scott and Gil Heredia were the only other real players from the team. Joey Eischen was there, despite the fact that - and I looked this up - He pitched 2/3 of an inning in 1994, giving up 4 runs on 4 hits in the process. What nerve!
The first tears for me hit when the team took the field for the first inning. The anthems followed. For the first 5 or 7 seconds of the American anthem, the boobirds were making themsevles known. If there's a night when this is to be expected, it was last night. The friggin' capital is taking our team, after all. Then a big cheer came up from the crowd. Easily outdid the boobirds, it did. I was among the cheering thousands, and it was a nice moment. Oddly enough, the crowd was totally silent for O Canada.
In the 2nd inning, I bought a slice and a beer, and moved to the bleachers for a couple of innings.
While I was there, someone apparently threw a golf ball at the Marlins' second baseman. The game was stopped for about 10 or 12 minutes while the electronic screen threatened an automatic Expos' loss, if we didn't behave. Later in the game, something similar happened, but the players weren't pulled from the field.
At different times in the game, the screen showed highlights this season for Wilkerson, Hernandez and Batista. Those for Tony Batista were the most touching. The crowd gave him a standing ovation which must have lasted for 2 minutes or so. He totally soaked it up. He seems like the kind of guy who deserves it, too.
Around the 8th inning, I really started to have trouble, when the P.A. system played "Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra" and everyone sang along. It's kinda been a tradition at Expos games from the very start. No more. It'd be nice if the Habs picked it up.
As the 9th inning came on, security guards moved onto the field to the tune of "My Way". The players warmed up, and everyone stood and cheered madly. You've never heard a team losing 9-1 get such cheers. In the bottom of the 9th, I couldn't hold back, and tears just rolled right down. Terrmel Sledge popped up to Mike Mordecai to end it, and the screen in centre field showed images of Jarry Parc, the Olympic Stadium when the roof still opened, Andre Dawson, Gary Carter, Steve Rogers, Rusty Staub (who led the league in sensational catches of routine fly balls, dontcha know), Vladdy, Tim Raines and Tim Wallach.
The players spoke. They thanked the fans and everyone associated with the organization. And, despite some of the sniping that's gone on between the players and the city over the last few years, they sounded genuine. It was nice. But the most touching of them all was coach Claude Raymond, who's been with the Expos in some capacity or another since 1969. His heart was breaking. You could hear it. And it broke mine, too.
I heard quintessential Montrealer Terry Haig on the radio yesterday, and he said he puts "85% of the blame for the demise of this franchise on the shoulders of Claude Brochu." And isn't it funny, he pointed out, that he's the only one walking away from it all with any money. I can't say that I disagree.
***
Why is it, exactly, that changing one's mind is seen as a bad thing in the United States? It's what grown-ups do. Grown-ups are able to admit that they were wrong. Children, more often, are stubborn. Who among us has never had to admit that we were wrong once in a while?
Man, this song is so great. I can't believe I hadn't discovered it until now. Great attitude song, too. It's applicable to me in so many ways. Applicable to the baseball game last night, too. Let those fuckers in the American sports media talk all they want. Baseball missed a chance at something great by repeatedly screwing over the fans here.
If they'd built a stadium downtown in Montreal, it would have rivaled, if not surpassed SF in terms of atmosphere. I've never been to San Francisco (day's coming, though), but in the summer, Montreal is a special city. Just imagine coming out from a ballgame at 9:30, and wandering over to the Jazz Fest. Or Chez Paree. Whatever you please. :p
I arrived about an hour early. When my dad and I went to games in the '80s and early-'90s, it was commonplace to see 30,000+ crowds at a game. It was what we saw everytime, actually. But since I've moved to Montreal, those games have been few and far between. So, it was nice to see the rotunda was jam-packed. The boutique was so full that they had a guard posted at the door letting people in at semi-regular intervals. I went in hoping to buy a fitted, tri-colour cap, but they had none left in my size. The place was really picked over.
I stood in line for about 20 minutes, waiting to pick up my ticket, which I'd purchased on the 'net a few days ago. I figured it'd be faster to buy it in advance. Not so.
I got in too late to go down to field level, which they'd been letting people do since the gates opened. Too bad. Would've made a nice picture.
My seat was good. About 20 rows up, just to the left of the plate. Dennis Trudeau, the local CBC-TV news anchor sat next to me. On the other side was a superfan who scored the game. I chatted with him and his friend. Names like Lenny Webster, Casey Candaele, Rex Hudler and Herm Winningham were liberally sprinkled through the conversation.
Before the game, they unveiled a banner commemorating the 1994 team which, at the time of the strike, was the best in baseball. And the banner in left field said as much. There was an odd collection of players present for the ceremony. The only star they had there was Ken Hill, who'd won 17 games by the time the strike hit. Other'n him, it was slim pickings - Lou Frazier, Tim Scott and Gil Heredia were the only other real players from the team. Joey Eischen was there, despite the fact that - and I looked this up - He pitched 2/3 of an inning in 1994, giving up 4 runs on 4 hits in the process. What nerve!
The first tears for me hit when the team took the field for the first inning. The anthems followed. For the first 5 or 7 seconds of the American anthem, the boobirds were making themsevles known. If there's a night when this is to be expected, it was last night. The friggin' capital is taking our team, after all. Then a big cheer came up from the crowd. Easily outdid the boobirds, it did. I was among the cheering thousands, and it was a nice moment. Oddly enough, the crowd was totally silent for O Canada.
In the 2nd inning, I bought a slice and a beer, and moved to the bleachers for a couple of innings.
While I was there, someone apparently threw a golf ball at the Marlins' second baseman. The game was stopped for about 10 or 12 minutes while the electronic screen threatened an automatic Expos' loss, if we didn't behave. Later in the game, something similar happened, but the players weren't pulled from the field.
At different times in the game, the screen showed highlights this season for Wilkerson, Hernandez and Batista. Those for Tony Batista were the most touching. The crowd gave him a standing ovation which must have lasted for 2 minutes or so. He totally soaked it up. He seems like the kind of guy who deserves it, too.
Around the 8th inning, I really started to have trouble, when the P.A. system played "Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra" and everyone sang along. It's kinda been a tradition at Expos games from the very start. No more. It'd be nice if the Habs picked it up.
As the 9th inning came on, security guards moved onto the field to the tune of "My Way". The players warmed up, and everyone stood and cheered madly. You've never heard a team losing 9-1 get such cheers. In the bottom of the 9th, I couldn't hold back, and tears just rolled right down. Terrmel Sledge popped up to Mike Mordecai to end it, and the screen in centre field showed images of Jarry Parc, the Olympic Stadium when the roof still opened, Andre Dawson, Gary Carter, Steve Rogers, Rusty Staub (who led the league in sensational catches of routine fly balls, dontcha know), Vladdy, Tim Raines and Tim Wallach.
The players spoke. They thanked the fans and everyone associated with the organization. And, despite some of the sniping that's gone on between the players and the city over the last few years, they sounded genuine. It was nice. But the most touching of them all was coach Claude Raymond, who's been with the Expos in some capacity or another since 1969. His heart was breaking. You could hear it. And it broke mine, too.
I heard quintessential Montrealer Terry Haig on the radio yesterday, and he said he puts "85% of the blame for the demise of this franchise on the shoulders of Claude Brochu." And isn't it funny, he pointed out, that he's the only one walking away from it all with any money. I can't say that I disagree.
***
Why is it, exactly, that changing one's mind is seen as a bad thing in the United States? It's what grown-ups do. Grown-ups are able to admit that they were wrong. Children, more often, are stubborn. Who among us has never had to admit that we were wrong once in a while?