For instance, the road trip that effectively started my baseball writing career was eight straight losses over ten days in four cities. Initially, my plans for visiting Pittsburgh and Baltimore involved going to five games: three in Pittsburgh and two in Baltimore. As fate would have it, my flight got moved, and I had the silly idea to go to the finale and then race like a madman to the airport.
If we discussed the effects of literally difficult to endure baseball last time, today we will talk about
vibes and other fun anecdotes to wash the taste of collective failure out of our mouths.
In search of a Galley Boy
Inexplicably, the Dodgers were off on Labor Day. I took a red eye from San Francisco that had me arrive in Pittsburgh by way of Minneapolis around noon. When I first visited Pittsburgh in 2021, I came on an off day and decided to rent a car to drive to Canton, Ohio, which had the closest Swenson’s. Back then, I had to drive through two states to reach my destination, which was over 100 minutes away.
Thankfully, there is a much closer location in Poland, Ohio, which was only an hour away from Pittsburgh. After I made a stop in New Castle, PA, for what was hailed as the best chili dog in Pennsylvania (it wasn’t), I continued onward towards the prize: the Galley Boy.
It may not look like much, but the Galley Boy with a Cherry Phosphate is one heck of a meal.
Driving through western Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio, you might not realize that you are essentially navigating through a living Norman Rockwell painting. And yet, I cannot help but feel a lingering melancholy as if it was okay to visit, but it would be madness to remain. Maybe I am just a city dweller at heart.
Before moving on, entering Pittsburgh through the Fort Pitt Tunnel should be a requirement for any visitor. The following video does not do it justice, as entering the city through this method feels like walking through the city’s front door, where you can immediately see not-Heinz Field on your left and PNC Park to the right (unless you make a right).
I used the extra time in Pittsburgh to explore new parts of the ballpark. I even went on a tour of the facility, which was fine — but sadly, no press box access. The tour was more of a timed meander around the park than a focused tour of trivia. Honestly, I would have preferred a bit more structure, but just being allowed to soak in the surroundings was greatly appreciated as well.
However, the bloom of PNC Park quickly fell, which had nothing to do with the Dodgers’ poor play.
The now-disputed king
I even made the long-missing Guide intro for PNC Park, which I will update shortly.
PNC Park is showing signs of neglect and wear and tear. When you have upper deck seating that cracks and breaks, which is apparently a common occurrence these days, without providing patrons an upgraded seat in recompense, you are clearly doing something wrong.
Another thing that stood out was the ballpark feeling ominously empty. On average, the three-game series between the Dodgers and Pirates drew approximately on average 16,000 fans per game. The problem is that PNC Park can hold about 38,000 people per game. As such, even with the usual draw power of the Dodgers, the ballpark felt sparse and empty.
In contrast, Sutter Health Park in West Sacramento has a maximum capacity of around 14,000 people per game.
Consequently, the proceedings felt reminiscent of my Tokyo Dome adventures. However, in Japan, you have over 50,000 people in rapt, awed silence; in Pittsburgh, you had a half-empty ballpark with disinterested vendors and fans, slowly being suffocated by the inept ownership of Bob Nutting.
Unless you have sprung for Home Plate Club Access (don’t – it costs too much and the food, while covered, is just fine, with seats similar to loanDepot Park, far too crammed together both by row and in a row) or have taken a tour of the ballpark (which you should do exactly once), the gates open only 90 minutes before the game unless it is a weekday game starting at 6:40, in which case, the gates open an hour before first pitch.
The only reasons for a decision like that are that either a) you know no one is showing up, or b) you do not want to pay your workers to sit idle. PNC Park is a gem that is starting to show scuffmarks under the Nutting regime. Still, the customer service is second to none as I ran into the same usher who gave me a ball in 2021 in the same general section, and my tour guides made sure to get kids on the tour a used baseball.
PNC Park is a place that should be rocking every home game during the season. In contrast, the Savannah Bananas, the Harlem Globetrotters of baseball, were able to sell out PNC Park on consecutive nights over the weekend before Labor Day.
I still think that PNC Park is the best ballpark in MLB. But the gap between it and Petco Park has shrunk significantly, which just means I have to head back to San Diego sometime soon.
The accidental adventures of Eli and Adric
Admittedly, if you were watching the games while the Dodgers were in Pittsburgh and Baltimore, you might have noticed an unusual sight on a couple of nights: me.
I will not lie; it was an accident.
While in Anaheim in 2022, I ended up on screens because I had been stood up. In Pittsburgh, it was entirely an accident. I saw a deal on home plate seats and took it, wanting to see if a premium experience at PNC Park was worth the added expense.
Short answer: not really. While the seats cost a figurative song compared to what one would pay at Dodger Stadium, for literally half the money, you can sit on field level, or for a third of the money, you can sit in the Pittsburgh Baseball Club level, which are equivalent to Loge seats in Los Angeles.
Even in Baltimore, it was an accident. I knew I had paid a premium to sit in the literal front row by home plate. I usually do not buy baseball tickets in anger, but the Dodgers did something to tick me off that I cannot recall, prompting the purchase. Plus, I thought the experience would come with enough bells and whistles to justify the price.
It did not, although it was neat to watch the Dodgers do batting practice from the field with significantly fewer people than I had to endure in New York in 2023.
I thought I had picked a seat that was just out of frame. Clearly, I goofed, much to the jealousy of the person sitting to my immediate left. It was neat to see Shohei Ohtani pitch from such a vantage point, even though the screen took a bit to get used to. I take pride in the fact that I did not flinch once while in my seat.
It was less neat to see the misadventures of Dalton Rushing, both behind the plate and at the dish. I joked that my shenanigans were likely watched with confusion on the broadcast to anyone outside of the True Blue LA community.
The price of failure
What will likely overshadow the 30th anniversary of Cal Ripken breaking Lou Gehrig’s record for consecutive games for years to come is the meltdown that followed after Jackson Holliday broke up Yoshinobu Yamamoto’s no-hitter.
The ceremony was fine, albeit filled with players that likely meant much more to Eric Stephen (Eddie Murray, anyone?) than me. I arrived a little late because I literally spent two hours in traffic (bicycle race) for a twenty-minute drive to get some pit beef at Chaps. Yes, it’s that good, yes, I tipped my driver and bought him a sandwich, and yes, the correct way to eat it is medium rare with plenty of raw horseradish and onions—potato salad for life.
As is known, I collect “cursed” baseball artifacts. I tried to get the ball that Brett Baty attempted to catch with his face in Queens in 2023, but I had no luck. Considering how badly Tanner Scott pitched in Baltimore, I bought the ball with which he recorded his two strikeouts in Game 1 before giving up a walk-off.
For the past week, I have been tracking the Jackson Holliday ball’s price, as it quickly jumped out of my price range. From a starting bid of $510, after 70 bids, the ball sold on Sunday night for $16,010.
With a little help from my friends
So, do you know Stephen Nelson and Orel Hershiser?
Not exactly. The story involving the selfie (Nelson and Hershiser are under the EN of Camden) is quite silly.
Admittedly, I know more folks than most because of the camaraderie and fraternity of the road. It is a weird fact to acknowledge that after almost four full seasons, I am known to some media and players, even if only by reputation or Adric. Most of the people involved, I have only interacted with online or by happenstance, unless approached.
For instance, I did not physically meet Eric Stephen for the first time until the day of the Dodgers Championship Rally at Dodger Stadium last year. Melissa Myer of the Talk Dodgers to Me podcast is someone I often ping while I am on the road. I banter with Stephen Nelson, Dontrelle Willis, and Tim Neverett online because of shared interests outside of Dodger baseball (mostly, where to eat on the road) and the simple fact that you start running into the same people and fans when traveling for Dodgers games.
But unless you physically meet and interact, these interactions are in the gossamer webs of cyberspace.
My interactions with Nelson in public are amusing. My antics typically involve me shouting into the void towards the respective press box before or after the game, catching his attention, eliciting a bemused look of recognition, waving, and then returning to our respective gigs because we are working.
[Author’s Note: Please do not yell at broadcasters during games if you are at the stadium. They are working—you are likely not.]
Were folks confused to see me do the shaka sign before Game 1 of the Pittsburgh series? I guess—Stephen did it first. Were folks confused to see me try to line up a selfie from hundreds of feet away before Game 3 in Baltimore? Yes, but things can never be easy with me.
Nelson and I had discussed taking a selfie together for a while, but life kept interfering, either because we were at different games or the stadium tours that I went to would not go to the Press Box. Even with five miserable losses in a row, where I was struggling to find ironic enjoyment, we had figured it out; this selfie was finally happening…except it almost did not.
People in Baltimore were walking quite slowly, so it took me forever to get up to the right level, and I thought I had picked a seat that was right by the Press Box, based on the 3D viewer the Orioles provided. You might ask, “Well, why didn’t you get credentialed?” I tried, but I am not yet bona fide. Most of the time, I am politely told no rather than outright ignored (except by the Sacramento River Cats, which did ignore my efforts to get press credentialed when the Oklahoma City Comets came through West Sacramento this year).
As you can see, I misjudged the distance, but Hershiser joined in because antics are best when shared. Fans sitting next to me asked if I knew Nelson, to which I wryly smiled and said nothing. Another fan sitting further down asked me earlier if I was Michael Elizondo of True Blue LA, prompting both a laugh and mild shock.
Afterwards, I went into the Home Plate Club restaurant to eat as much ahi tuna as I could stand, and the Dodgers finally started to play up to the back of their respective baseball cards.
The cost of experience is wonder, but even I still get giddy when I have interactions like these, which I am happy to share. Even though I grumbled and groused about the Dodgers being generally terrible on this road trip, I still had fun. The friends I met up with or met in person for the first time are what made even terrible baseball something that I will not forget.
After all, we all get by — even with a little help from our friends.
With the above, we have concluded the field reports from Pittsburgh and Baltimore. Before I conclude my travels for the year in two weekends in Seattle, I will provide my thoughts on returning to Dodger Stadium for a game for the first time in four seasons during this homestand.
