Sunday, July 16, 2006

Father's Day

San Francisco Giants vs. Seattle Mariners
Safeco Field, July 18, 2006


I was raised in Pacifica, California, about ten miles south of San Francisco. I can't really remembermy first game, but my parents said we went to a lot of Giant games at Candlestick Park when I was young and I had no reason to doubt them. Parents don't lie, right? The year everything fell into chronilogical order for me was 1971, the year both the Giants and the Oakland A's both won their respected West divisions and both were dumped in the League Champinship Series of their repsected leagues. I do remember going to many games that year and always going with my father and then maybe mom and my brother. Through this, I became a Giants fan. As I got older, I became a fan of many teams but because they were my first, the Giants became my passion. I feel everybody should have one team that is their passion. I may be wrong, but it at least starts some good conversations.

It always galls me that when my dad wants to talk baseball with me, it's always about the Mariners. "That's my team!", he'll declare. I bring up the Giants as I was growing up or the Seals that exsisted prior to the Giants' arrival from New York in 1958. What about San Francisco's only original team, the 49ers? Heck, dad, you claim to be from Yakima. How about the Bears of the old Northwest and Pacific International leagues? "That was a long time ago." he'd start and then maybe mention Y.A. Tittle, Orlando Cepeda, and the name of the old Yakima ballpark. Baseball was in our lives before 1977, I'd proclaim. "Look, son," he'd say drawing the bottom line, "I'm a Mariners fan now."

My past was a sham. Thanks, Paul Shipp Sr.

Over-reacting? Maybe, but what about my poor psyche? Geeze.

Dad had mentioned to me sometime in April that he caught a glimpse of the Mariner schedule for this year and saw that the Giants were coming to Safeco Father's Day weekend. Maybe we could catch one of the games. About a month later, I went and bought tickets to the game on Saturday. Too late. My brother had already asked dad to go with him and his family to the game on Sunday. "I just can't do two games in a row, son." I understood and thought it would be no big deal to get someone else to go to the game with me on Saturday.

Not only could I not entice anybody to go with me, I was getting offers from other people to go with them! "Hey Giants fan!", is how the phone messages would start. I ended up selling the original tickets I had bought and sat in really good seats on Saturday. My friend, Scotty, had a buch of tickets that was dumped into his lap for Sunday and I decided to go to that game also.

There was a method to my madness. Could never get enough of my Giants, being one reason. The other would be to steal away from Scotty's entourage for a moment and possibly find my brother's party and wish them a quick Father's day salutation.

And on Sunday, that's just what I did. I excused myself from Scotty and somehow found my nieces and nephews on the 300 level, who led me to my brother, and then to my dad. Dad seemed very suprised to see me and quite pleased also.

But then came the boos and jeers from the people sitting in my brother's section. Curses came my way. Comments of Barry Bonds and accusations of steroids were hurled at me. My sister-in-law glared at me. I motioned for them all to pipe in now for the Giants would make them pay lat

Did I forget to mention that I wore, as I always do to all Giants games, my custom made 1972 San Francisco road grey jersey with the wonderful # 44 on the back? Willie McCovey, baby!

"Why are you a Giants fan, Uncle Paul?", asked my one niece. "You should be a Mariners fan, Uncle Paul." ,declared the other.

I explained to them the life we Shipps had before Washington state, listening to Lon Simmons on the radio, my love for the orange and black, and the simple fact that the Giants were in my blood just as the Mariners should be in their blood.

But they were persistent. How could I be for the enemy?

That's when Paul Shipp Sr. spoke.

"I used to take your father and uncle to a lot of Giant games. Almost every other Sunday. they got to see some of the great players in the game at that time. Plus, the Giants had Willie Mays, Juan Marichal, Gaylord Perry, Hal Lanier, guys like that. Your uncle was crazy about Willie McCovey, probably the best first basemen ever. We went to Candlestick a lot, didn't we boys?"

My brother and I nodded. Dad and I smiled at each other.

After the second inning, I said goodbye to everybody so I could rejoin my party. I put my hand on dad's knee and wished him a Happy Father's Day.

"Thanks for stopping by, son. Hope your Giants win.", he said.

"Thanks, dad."

A nice day indeed.


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posted by paul shipp @ 6:58 PM 0 comments

Friday, July 14, 2006

Can't a guy get a beer?

San Francisco Giants vs. Seattle Mariners
Safeco Field, June 17, 2006


You begin to hear the rumblings in the third inning. Maybe it's just a singular outburst and it won't occur again, you rationalize. After all, this is a ballpark and we're all adults. Surely people know when that they've had enough. Their mind will say, "OK, this my fifth beer here at the park and I do think I am being a bit vocal." They will think that, won't they?

"That guy in accounting is such a fuck! He had to fuck somebody to get that job!"

"Hey, watch the language, man. We're in the 100 level. Mind yourself."

"What, they haven't heard the word 'fuck' before?"

My friend, Chris Brooks, took me to the game and we were enjoying it. Well, not the fact that my Giants were getting swamped, at that point in the third it was 4-0 on the way to a 9-1 victory for the Mariners. We were swapping stories, talking baseball, having a good time. And then the above exchange happened two rows directly behind us. And like most Seattle crowds, everybody went silent either hoping the loudmouth would behave or pass out. It seemed as though his friends did quell the on-job commentator for the time. There would be an over-extended "Go Mariners" and a silly "Ichiro" chant from him for the next two innings but nothing that required a stare or comment.

Until the sixth inning. The lightning rod came up to bat again. Barry Bonds. Barry coming to the plate, as he does everywhere this season except in San Francisco, causes the crowd to boo lustily or clap vigorously. The lodmouth awoke and he had pure vitriol for number 25.

"Hey, hey, Bonds is coming up! HEY BONDS! YOU'RE A LOSER! YOU'RE A GODDAMN CHEATER AND A LOSER! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! BONDS, YOU'RE A BIG FAT LOSER AND CHEATER! HEY BARRY! BARRY! YOU'RE A BIG FAT NIGGER!"

Chris and I looked at each other. "Did he just say..." I asked with Chris giving me no time to finish. "Yes, he did."

Both of us turned to face the man and told him to shut up. There was a stout man sitting next to me putting mustard on his hot dog. He also had had enough of the neanderthal. He turned around a moment after Chris and I and he went a few decibels louder than us.

"Listen, you jerk. I've been hearing your crap throughout the game and I've had enough. I'm trying to enjoy the game with my wife and you have succeeded in ruining it for us."

The loudmouth took the "who, me?" approach. How did he offend, he kept asking. The stout man kept telling him to shut up. The stout man's wife was imploring her husband to let it go. A person on the aisle left to go get an usher. It quieted for just a second. All turned back their attention to the game. We didn't see how, but Bonds got on second base. Loudmouth had to say something.

"HEY BONDS! YOU'RE A FAGGOT!"

Well, good, he had to go full circle in offending everybody, I guess. Chris, myself, and the stout man turned around again. Even his friends were telling him he was an idiot. The loudmouth couldn't understand how he was making everybody angry. He knew what this was. This was a violation of his rights!

"Can't a guy get a beer and enjoy himself at the ball game? Golly gee." He really did say "golly gee".

Why is it that when guys get too wasted, does something stupid, aand gets called on it, it's an infringement on their rights to have a good time?

When I went to Fenway Park in Boston in 2005, three times security had to be called in to this two row section in right field. I couldn't see what was happening, but there were a bunch of shirtless men jeering security and all around them. One was draped in an American flag. The fourth time security was summoned, the Boston police came also. Eight gentlemen were removed and led down the steps. Some around them applauded. The last of the crew being ejected was shouting like a throw back to campus disturbance days. "I thought this was America!", he kept chanting as he disappeared from sight. Was he expecting someone to start chanting, "The whole world is watching!"? Or maybe just "ESPN is watching!"?

"We have the right to get drunk and act like assholes. I'm an American, dammit. You owe me!"
Something like that? Add that to the constitution, perhaps?

I keep thinking of the keg scene from Dazed and Confused when the tough guy, Clint, sums it all up for us: "I came here to do two things; kick some ass and drink beer. And we're almost out of beer."

After his friends had literally held him down, the loudmouth hushed a bit. His main purpose was now to apologize to the stout man. He offered his hand in friendship. He asked if he could look him in the eye to sincerely apologize. The stout man wouldn't budge. Wouldn't talk to him, shake his hand, nor look at him. The loudmouth insisted that he shake his hand. I turned to him.

"Look, the man doesn't want to talk to you. Give it a rest, willya?" I said somewhat diplomatically.

"No ones's talking to you, Bonds lover."

I laughed.

It was at this time when Alcohol Enforcement showed up and escorted the now silent loudmouth up the steps. He actually looked sheepish. His friends begrudgingly went with him, probably to take him to a bar and tell him what a redneck, backwards jerk he is. You think?

The game was still going, our viewing had resumed. The beer vendor went by. "Last call!"

"You want one?" Chris asked.

"Sure."

posted by paul shipp @ 4:26 PM 1 comments