Things are pretty slow today. I stared too long at the lunar eclipse last night so I have permanent retina burn. Game one of my three-day, three-game journey to Jack Murphy Stadium brought to you by Qualcomm is in the books. I offer you the highlights:
* If you sit in the first ten rows behind homeplate, the Q really isn't a bad place to see a baseball game. Of course, the same can probably be said of Veteran Stadium or Olympic Stadium or old Cleveland Municipal. Being that close to the action gives one a greater appreciation of the finer things in life: love, family, double cheeseburgers and garlic fries.
* Sitting that close does have its drawbacks. There is a certain breed of fans in San Diego known as the Madres. These are doddering old ladies who know very little about the game other than what Jerry Coleman is telling them in their headphones. Trust me, if you learned the game of baseball by listening to Coleman (or his sidekick Ted Leitner), you really shouldn't be heckling a rookie pitcher for accidentally beaning your best player. Let it go, put another Fig Newton in your mouth, and all will be fine. Oh, and don't forget to check the scoreboard. These ladies mean well, but the fact that they have besequened hats and painted-on denim shirts should tell you that they aren't quite right. And Field Level Section 21 swarms with them.
* On the other end of the age spectrum, a drunk young woman who claims she will be able to get in the Braves locker room by telling the rent-a-marines that "Javy's my cousin and I want to take him out for sushi" is incredibly funny. "My name is Belinda Lopez. I'll show you my driver's license." I guess the fact that there are probably five thousand Lopezes in San Diego may be lost on the ace security staff at the Q. After all, they are busy kicking out people for smuggling in beer or preventing people from sneaking a better seat in the ninth inning. I'm not sure if she made it to the locker room. Last thing I heard from her had something to do with vomiting.
* A 15-6 win can be entertaining. I prefer pitcher's duels, but to see the Braves offense get rolling–admittedly off of a couple of guys grooving pitches that a Madre could hit–is fun to watch. Marcus Giles, the mighty midget, seemed happy to get his first ever start at the Q. Despite an error early in the game (thanks to an umpire who doesn't appreciate the finer points of the ghost tag) he had his best offensive game of the year.
* I'm pretty sure that I witnessed the only game in history to feature pitching performances from guys named Bong and Wiki.
