And I was going to the game with my best buddy from childhood Leo and neither of could imagine being there together when we met and swapped baseball cards in Mount Vernon, New York at the age of five.
Yep, it should have been wonderful. But before we entered the park, I could tell there was something off. The parking lot was full of Mercedes Benz transports with signs that said "MLB Staff." The concourses were crowded with people. Now I'm regularly at Dodger Stadium with sellouts. I don't see one quarter of the confusion that I saw at the ASG.
Before the game, we decided to get an early dinner and chose one of our favorites. The fried chicken sandwich available down on the field level. No problem. We have done this countless times. From my seats on the loge, we take the escalator down to the field level. Easy, peasy.
Down at the chicken stand, there were obviously problem-os in the kitchen. The people in front of me waited about ten minutes for their sandwich. Hmmm.
But we got ours pretty quickly and then proceeded to the escalator for our trip back upstairs.
Except....
There was a huge throng of people. Were they waiting on line for the escalator? We used to see that when they practiced social distancing during the COVID season. But nobody was going up. Was the escalator broken? Er, no, the stairs were moving.
The access to the escalator was blocked by a cop and a Dodger security guy. Both were apologizing profusely to the now hot-and-bothered crowd.
"Sorry. We're not in charge."
As it turned out, MLB was. And they wanted their own and exclusive access to the escalator for the next half-hour.
WTF!
Now, around the corner, there was an elevator bank. The line hadn't seen an elevator door open in 15 minutes.
It was getting uber-frustrating and, after all these years, I wondered if Leo and I would get to enjoy the player introductions.
I carry a cane in my Dodger bag because...well...there are no handrails or bannisters on the Loge level at Chavez Ravine. I pulled it out and decided to turn myself into that cranky handicapped guy demanding answers. I finally got some from a Dodger usherette who told me the escalator would finally be available to the fans. We did make it upstairs for the pre-game intros. But, again...
WTF.
But, as I watched the event unfold, I could see that, on this day, Dodger Stadium was not being run by the Dodgers. This was a MLB production. Some Dodger signage was covered up. Every moment on the field between the innings was courtesy of some sponsor or another. I could swear there were at least five first ball ceremonies.
Ugh.
And then this is ubiquitous "Stand Up to Cancer" moment which always shows up during the ASG or the WS. Everybody gets to hold up a sign and commemorate someone they know who was touched by cancer.
This would be my second time to participate in this poignant moment. And I found my placard in my cup holder.
Already filled out with some generic salute.
Hello, MLB, I would like to memorialize my dad for a moment. He died of prostate and bone cancer. Why can't I do that? The players get to do that. Dave Roberts got to do that. John Fucking Smoltz got to do that.
If they were smart, it would be so easy to pull out. When you enter the games, there are tables with blank placards and Sharpies. It would take ten seconds for somebody to fill in their loved one's name.
But, no. Because MLB was in control of your game, your escalator ride, and your emotions.
Ugh again.
Oh, we enjoyed the game which, as usual for the ASG, was pretty lackluster. And my bestie and I had another rite of passage cleared from Bucket List Land.
But it could have been just a little bit better.
Dinner last night: Salad.
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