Jason Rodriguez's Blog, page 10

You know…yeah, I’m in Hawaii. And, yeah, I’m...

You know…yeah, I’m in Hawaii. And, yeah, I’m relaxing a bit. But I’m also putting in some work…and I got so much good news today and also drank so much champagne that I kind of want to share Scott White’s amazing cover with anyone who may be up at…4:11AM EST?

Life Behind the Boxscores: ChicagoThis was my fifth time...

Life Behind the Boxscores: Chicago

This was my fifth time visiting Chicago but my first time visiting Wrigley. I used to go up to Chicago for Wizard World which was once a great comic convention but, sadly, has turned into a great venue to get $20 autographs of washed-up wrestlers. Due to the convention’s decline I haven’t been to Chicago in over two years, and my last visit was actually for business and I stayed about twenty minutes outside the city at some really weird hotel where I had a hot tub AND a sauna in my room.

This time I rolled into Chicago at around 12:30 and went straight to the airport to pick up Robin. I was making her a sign at the airport Starbucks when some older lady asked me if that was for my girlfriend.

"My wife, actually," I tell her, "She’s joining me on the second leg of my baseball road trip."

The woman told me that her and her husband did the same thing many years ago, starting in Toronto and visiting seven stadiums over two weeks.

"I’m doing eight stadiums and ten games in ten days," I tell her, "And the Louisville Slugger museum."

"That’s crazy," she replies.

My wife gets off the plane and we make out for a bit before heading to our hotel. I got us a room right in downtown Chicago the night before, last-minute deal on hotels.com. We check in, spend some time, and then head out to the original Unos (which is way different than the chains you see outside of Chicago) because, honestly, I don’t care what anyone says…I love the pizza there. The dough is flaky and tasty and that’s the most important part of a deep-dish pizza.

Afterwards, it was off to Wrigley on a packed train where some older gentleman on business tried to pick-up my wife. I forget the guy’s name, but we run into and interact with him and his friends several times throughout the night. His friends are fine, but the guy himself started to get real annoying and was only a couple of minutes away from a bruising. Not everyone you meet is necessarily worth meeting.

Also, on the train, some little girl projectile vomits and I feel so bad for her. A bunch of assholes are chuckling/saying how gross it is and the poor girl’s embarrassed as hell. There’s an inherent goodness in most people, it’s unfortunate that those people weren’t on this particular train.

ANYWAYS…Wrigley was gorgeous but also incredibly old (obviously) and didn’t have any amenities (obviously). Your food options were basically 1) hot dogs, 2) hot dogs with a lot of shit on them, 4) brats, and 4) cracker jacks. Your beer options were bud, bud light, and something called Old Style which I tried and it was fine.

I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m glad I got to see Wrigley before the new owners modernize the place, but I won’t be going back there until they at least have a damn veggie burger I can eat.

But the game was exciting! Turned out an old high school friend was there, she was in town for Lollapalooza, and we caught up for a bit. It’s weird talking to a high school friend about Lollapalooza, considering the fact that the last Lollapalooza I went to was in high school, almost twenty years ago.

After the game my wife and I mingled at some local bars and ran into the douchy guy from the train’s friends but not the douchy guy, thankfully. We had some drinks before hopping on the train back home.

The next morning I was up by 7AM, went and picked up some breakfast to bring back to the room. Got some work done while the wife slept and when she woke up we (eventually) made our way to the Sears Tower or whatever it’s called now. Went to the top, took some pictures, and then headed to Gino’s East for some pizza that everyone was saying was better than the original Unos…

INCORRECT! The dough was bland, the sauce was bland…it was not a good pizza. Fact.

Quick stop at Goose Island for some sampler and a growler fill and then it was off to Milwaukee.

Quick preview: I want to go back to Milwaukee yesterday.

Previously…

Life Behind the Boxscores: Pittsburgh

Life Behind the Boxscores: Cleveland

Life Behind the Boxscores: Detroit and Battle Creek

Life Behind the Boxscores: Detroit and Battle CreekI love you,...

Life Behind the Boxscores: Detroit and Battle Creek

I love you, Detroit. I really do. I had no idea what to expect in Detroit because the news paints that city to look like a post-apocalyptic dystopia. Completely abandoned, with the people left behind birthing babies in factories so that they can have some sort of food to eat. In front of, within, and beyond Thunderdome. Hopeless. Murderous.

I love you, Detroit.

I pulled into Detroit at around 11AM and realized I had no cash on me for stadium parking which meant I had to journey into the depths of hell to find an ATM. I parked my car somewhere downtown and started walking towards a Bank of America ATM. To make things worse, I was driving a foreign car and decked-out from head to toe in Nationals gear - I looked like a walking “Fuck You” to that city. As I approached an ATM, I heard someone behind me say, “Excuse me.” I turned around, terrified, thinking this is how it starts and ends. He grabs hold of the back of my shirt and pulls a sticker off of it – one that reads  “L L L L L L.”

“You forgot to take your sticker off,” he says, and laughs. I thank him. “Wrong team, tho,” he says before going about his business.

I love you, Detroit.

The atmosphere at the park was festive.  There were people there from the Parade Company, wearing big heads and putting on a Christmas In July party. The park itself had a carousel and a Ferris wheel and celebrated the long history of Detroit and its baseball teams. People stopped me constantly, asking if I was up from DC. I told them I was on a baseball road trip and they all wanted to hear more about it. Two guys I was talking to told me about their own baseball road trips, and went on for about twenty minutes about their experiences in DC and how much they enjoyed the city.

Before the game started they showed a video on the Jumbotron about the Parade Company. The video was about how Detroit is a strong city and full of pride and how the Parade Company will be there until the end to inspire the citizens. I got choked up just watching it. The stadium was packed for an afternoon game – potentially even sold out. And the Tigers destroyed the Nationals but no one dumped beer on my head or laughed at me despite the fact that I was in the bleachers.

It was possibly one of the greatest baseball game experiences of my life, despite the fact that I watched Gio Gonzalez get tagged up.

I was kind of upset that I was leaving after the game, but I already had a hotel and tickets for a minor league game in Battle Creek, Michigan. Detroit was a hit-and-run, and the only regret I have from this trip is not staying there overnight.

Before Battle Creek I hit up Bell’s Brewery in Kalamazoo. It was fine. They wouldn’t fill my growlers, which is the one sin a microbrewery can commit. I had a beer and chatted with an older woman about baseball and breweries. The minor league game was fine, as well, but I was busy on the phone most of the time, talking to my wife and making final arrangements for her to meet me in Chicago the next day. My wife and I really needed some time together, and her coming out was contingent on how Lucy, our dog, looked. Lucy was having one of her many “I’m not going to eat anymore” periods but over the past two weeks she bounced back…again. Eating two meals a day, walking around, and in high spirits.

So Robin decided to come out and I had to book a place for us and hit the road early the next morning to meet her at the airport.

I got to talk to some folks at the park. They really supported their team, which is always a great thing. The attendees knew all of the players by name, knew which ones had the necessary talent to potentially go somewhere but still cheered on the ones who were obviously going to be returning to the non-baseball world by the time they’re 25 or so.

Minor League games always have that sad feeling about them, the one where you’re watching a bunch of players who are essentially guaranteed to have their dreams stomped on pretty soon. Everything they worked for is going to go away, and there’s nothing sadder than watching an older minor league player pop out to the shortstop, bang his bat on the plate, and jog back to the dugout with his head hung low.

After the game I went to my hotel, a dumpy Howard Johnsons off the side of the highway. It was too depressing in there, so I went to a casino instead and lost at blackjack, as I usually do. But I got to talk to folks at the table about my roadtrip and about baseball, in general. They were all friendly enough, until the older man next to me alerted the dealer that I actually pushed on a hand that the dealer originally said I won (he even paid me out already!). I looked daggers at him and left.

I should have stayed in Detroit. I love you, Detroit. 

Previously…

Life Behind the Boxscores: Cleveland

Life Behind the Boxscores: Pittsburgh

We adopted Lucy six years ago. She was walking in the woods of...

We adopted Lucy six years ago. She was walking in the woods of West Virginia. COPD, cancer (had her tail removed), an ulcer that almost killed her, constant UTIs, blind, deaf, neurological issues and, at the end, kidney failure.

She was a great dog. Never snapped at any other animal or person. Always gave kisses. For the past five years strangers would stop us on the street and say, “Your dog’s old, she’s gonna die soon.”

She was a tank. Ro and I joked that she’d outlive both of us.

She had a great last night. She’ll be missed.

Life Behind the Boxscores: ClevelandI visited Cleveland several...

Life Behind the Boxscores: Cleveland

I visited Cleveland several years ago. It was a birthday gift, one that I actually asked for. I don’t know – the Drew Carey Show was still on the air and the opening to that show really made it seem like, well, like Cleveland rocked. I wanted to visit the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame and catch an Indians game so my wife got us some plane tickets and a hotel room and we were off to Cleveland for two miserable nights. I actually ate at a Hard Rock Cafe…and hung out at a mall.

I left Cleveland thinking that it wasn’t really a city, rather a collection of people who were stuck in Cleveland.

This time around I managed to find a bit more of the city’s pulse, but I still don’t “get” Cleveland. I stayed in a much better neighborhood, and the Cleveland Hostel was remarkably homey and clean despite the incredibly low $25-per-night price. I shared a room with three other people but I didn’t meet them until the wrong time…more on that later.

The best thing about the Hostel is that it’s a block away from Great Lakes Brewery. I ran there with two empty growlers, sampled everything, had some fish bites, and got some writing done. I was feeling a bit buzzed when I stumbled upon a popcorn shop and purchased 10 bags of popcorn. It was enough to enter their rewards program AND get the free tote-bag reward.

However, despite all this…I still didn’t really meet anybody. I have no problem chatting up strangers and making new friends but it seems like everyone I tried to chat-up in Cleveland were all busy doing, I don’t know, Cleveland things.

I walked to the ballpark, a nice one-mile walk from the hostel over a gorgeous bridge. Whereas one-side of that bridge was Hipster Light, the other side was everything I remembered about Cleveland from my last trip. Just a depressing, desolate, nothingness.

I stopped at the bar across the street from Progressive Field to try and meet some locals but nothing got going. I actually told this one guy about my road trip and he said, “That’s weird.” What kind of response is that?

It’s a CLEVELAND response.

The stadium was embarrassingly empty. I counted 24 COMPLETELY empty sections which is pathetic for a team that has a legitimate shot (on paper) at winning the NL Central. I say on paper because the atmosphere at Progressive Field was so depressing and not conducive to supporting a play-off run. It’s like a home field disadvantage.

After an inning I snuck down to field level from my bleacher seats and no one tried to stop me. No one asked to see my ticket. I’m pretty sure I could of walked right onto the field and everyone there would have been like, “Whatever.”

In my scorebook I wrote, “Boring-ass game, boring-ass fans, boring-ass city. I might kill myself here.” Some dude-bro with his girlfriend actually read my notes out loud and then asked me what I meant by it. I said, “This is the worst baseball town I’ve ever been to, and I’ve been to Colorado.” He didn’t even argue – he just walked on.

After the game I headed back to the hostel. Two of my roommates were sound asleep. One of them looked like George the Animal Steel. He was in my bottom bunk, shirtless. His gear bag was overflowing and looked like the clothing of a traveling salesman, if those people still exist. I had a nightmare that night, that he rose out of bed and he was completely naked. His penis was bloody and he had a cyclops eye/vagina hybrid on his neck. I woke up terrified and got the hell out of Cleveland.

Goodbye, Cleveland. Also, your logo is incredibly offensive.

Previously…

Life Behind the Boxscores: Pittsburgh

Life Behind the Boxscores: PittsburghThe rule to any roadtrip...

Life Behind the Boxscores: Pittsburgh

The rule to any roadtrip is to never say “no.”

I pulled into Pittsburgh at around 4PM. Checked into my hostel (Not Another Hostel, a donation-based hostel in a wonderful neighborhood) and met the owner, Jon. Jon’s a professional, sponsored paraglider and something of a treasure. He was going to set the Pittsburgh paragliding altitude record (and then basejump into the river) and he invited me along to check it out. He also said he’d take me up parasailing.

Never say no.

I drove Jon to the marina where we boarded his rickety boat that he recently purchased to start a parasailing company several weeks ago. The company’s doing well for him already (he’s the only person offering parasailing in Pittsburgh) and he was talking about buying a better boat. The boat needed gas, however, so we headed to a different marina only to have the boat run up on unmarked shallow water, blowing the propeller. We had to get towed back to his marina and the paragliding/parasailing adventure never happened.

Jon did join me at the Pirates/Cardinals, game however. We first met up with his friend Victoria, and the three of us had some pints before heading to the game. It was at the pub that I realized everyone I was hanging out with was 22 years old and I felt like an old bastard, literally old enough to be everyone’s dad, provided I was boning at the age of 13 (I wasn’t…not for lack of trying).

Victoria is a vibrant, energetic, and incredibly fun pet sitter/alternative energy consultant. I was kind of awestruck hanging around these folks. Jon is a runaway who hit the road for Brazil instead of going to college. Victoria traveled the Northeast frequently seeing the bands that I listened to when I was her age. But they’re both self-made and doing better than I ever did at 22…potentially better than I’m doing at 35…and still full of that lust for life that old farts like me sometimes lose sight of.

Victoria walked us to the park because she has a justified crush on Dave, a pedicab driver who is incredibly handsome. While she talked to Dave I talked to another pedicab driver named Levi, a student of alternative history who shared several fantastic contacts with me. After chatting with pedicab drivers for a half hour, I finally made it into PNC Park…in the fifth inning. Jon and Victoria were with me at this point. We watched an inning of baseball and then I had a sandwich with french fries on it (genius) and purchased a foam pirate sword. We watched the last two innings and went back to Victoria’s house.

Victoria’s roommate is an incredibly talented mixed-media artist who is completely underselling his work. At the moment, I don’t recall his name. Harry? I’m pretty sure it starts with an H and ends with a Y. I have his business card back at my hostel. Victoria and Henry or Harry or Hairy, I guess, exhibit H___y’s work in their apartment. H___y has no interest in exhibiting outside of Pittsburgh, which I admire but, I don’t know…I know the pull of money. They had four fantastic kittens in their house (and one grumpy-ass cat) and an amazing bamboo garden in their yard.

After leaving Victoria’s, Jon and I went to a bar across the street from the hostel. He told me more about his background, traveling South America at an age when I was acting like an idiot college kid. He’s currently trying to be the first person to paraglide off of the seven world wonders and I assume he meant the modern wonders of the world because the Colossus of Rhodes and the Alexandria Lighthouse don’t exist anymore…it would be hard to paraglide off of them.

We played pool before talking to the bartender, Sarah. Eventually Jon’s girlfriend (who’s moving to DC today) showed up and they took off, I was left to close the place down. I talked to Sarah all night, an attractive woman with a heart of gold…she had to be to work in that bar. Locals were beyond drunk and a bit harassing. I sat next to a woman, however, who has seen better days. She played songs for me on her harmonica. Sarah gave her free drinks. I asked her why and she said that she deals with so many assholes that she appreciates the people who can just come in and play the harmonica. I asked Sarah for her story – she’s also a runaway, closer to my age, and has a kid at home and a boyfriend that she seemed to like. We talked about immortality. I told her I would tell her story, and she’d live forever.

Immortality was a theme yesterday. I talked in depth with Jon about how the minute a story is committed to paper (or computer, in this case) it can never die. I talked about the early colonists (who Sarah Vowell coined the Wordy Shipmates) and how we’re currently pulling amazing stories out of people who scribbled sentences on paper, never thinking they’d be read by complete strangers hundreds of years later.

This is just a blog. Maybe this trip will bring about a book, who knows? But I’m committing it to bits, and the people I talk about will live forever.

How scary is that?

So that’s a small taste of the lives behind the boxscores. I’m in Cleveland now. Getting some book work done. Pittsburgh set the bar pretty high, I hope I’m not let down during the next nine days.

FUN FACT: Ask strangers about their stories and they’ll always surprise you.

Barring something catastrophic happening on the home-front,...

Barring something catastrophic happening on the home-front, I’m finally taking my dream trip. This is a trip I’ve wanted to take for years, and the stars have aligned in such a manner that I can finally do it. I’ve been hesitant to pull the trigger on this but I also realized that I’m 35 years old now, and my window of opportunity for doing a trip like this is probably shrinking. So here I go…

Next Monday I hit the road for ten days, catching a baseball game in nine of those days in six different cities (and, if you count the two Mets/Nats game I’m going to this Friday and Saturday, it’ll be 11 games in 13 days). I set the schedule so that the driving between cities is manageable and leaves me with 4-5 hours a day to work on my books and even do a little sight-seeing (although, admittedly, not much). 

This is my mid-life crisis, my spiritual journey, and my escape from the DC rigmarole all rolled into one. 

My schedule, in case you’re in one of these cities and want to get a drink, offer a bed, or even catch a game with me, is:

Monday, July 29th AM - Depart for Pittsburgh (4-hour drive)

Monday, July 29th @ 7PM - Cardinals @ Pirates

Tuesday, July 30th AM - Depart for Cleveland (2-hour drive)

Tuesday, July 30th @ 7PM - White Sox @ Indians

Wednesday, July 31st AM - Depart for Detroit (2.5-hour drive)

Wednesday, July 31st @ 1PM - Nationals @ Tigers

Wednesday, July 31st @ ~5PM - Depart for Chicago (4-hour drive), possible crash in Kalamazoo (2-hour drive)

Thursday, August 1st AM - Either depart for Chicago or, if in Chicago, spend the morning getting some work done

Thursday, August 1st @ 7PM - Dodgers @ Cubs

Friday, August 2nd AM - Depart for Milwaukee (1.5-hour drive)

Friday, August 2nd @ 7PM - Nationals @ Brewers

Saturday, August 3rd @ 7PM - Nationals @ Brewers

Sunday, August 4th @ 2PM - Nationals @ Brewers

Sunday, August 4th @ ~6PM - Depart for St Louis (5.5-hour drive), possible crash in Bloomington (3.5-hour drive) or Springfeild (4.5-hour drive)

Monday, August 5th AM - Either depart for St. Louis or get some work done

Monday, August 5th @ 6PM - Dodgers @ Cardinals

Tuesday, August 6th AM - Depart for Cincinnati (5.5-hour drive)

Tuesday, August 6th @ 7PM - Athletics @ Reds

Wednesday, August 7th, AM - Depart for DC (8-hour drive)

I’ll be prepared to add an extra day on at the end since that’s when the driving becomes longer. So I may catch the Wednesday Reds game, for instance, and come home Thursday.

I’ll be armed with audio books that I need to listen to, laptop and phone. My evenings and day times will be dedicated almost entirely to catching up on book stuff, especially while in Milwaukee. I’ll also be keeping a road journal on this trip, and eye towards perhaps doing a life-behind-the-boxscores memoir if the experience is interesting enough.

I’ll be buying tickets on StubHub probably this weekend. The cheapest tickets I can get for each game. I priced them out and I can do this for ~$12 per game. If you’re in one of those cities and want to catch a game with me, let me know via message or email (jrodinator@gmail.com). Even if you don’t like baseball. In fact…ESPECIALLY if you don’t like baseball. 

I’ll have a cooler packed with water and lunch items to keep the cost down, and hopefully some old friends can offer up some couches and WiFi to keep it down even more.

And that’s that, I guess. Wish me luck - seven days and counting!

The Godfather

This Sunday I’m going to become a Godfather…for a second time. One of my oldest friends asked me to be the Godfather to his son and I was honestly honored - lapsed Catholic (ok, atheist) and all. My friend was never baptized himself but when he read up on how to pick a Godfather he realized he would need someone who would help his son grow up knowing right from wrong and with a wider world view. So he picked me. No pressure.

But the gift, you know? Most websites I visited said I should give my Godson a bible…but that’s not why I was chosen, you know? So I stuck with book motif and got him 18 books that I think will help guide him through childhood and his teens, one for each year. These books are…

For When He’s One - There’s a Monster at the End of This Book - It’s a funny book, beautifully illustrated, but it also helps the reader understand that “monster" is a relative term.

For When He’s Two - Where the Wild Things Are - The importance of imagination and having your own place to escape to.

For When He’s Three - The Giving Tree - To teach him to be appreciative of sacrifice.

For When He’s Four -A baseball score book because it’s around then I’ll be teaching him how to a score a baseball game and appreciate the details.

For When He’s Five - The Butter Battle Book - A beautiful book about the silliness of war.

For When He’s Six - The Little Prince - My favorite book of all time, and layered subtext on the absurdity of conceit and greed and etc and etc.

For When He’s Seven - Secret of the Ninja - A choose-your-own adventure book to let him know that he can take his own path…create his own stories.

For When He’s Eight - American Born Chinese - Understanding identity and how children can be hurtful when they single someone out for who they are.

For When He’s Nine - Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone - So he can believe in magic.

For When He’s Ten - Frankenstein - That’s around the age I first read Frankenstein. I’ll never forget staying up all night, under the covers with a flashlight. Another great book that teaches the reader that even “monsters" are frightened of monsters.

For When He’s Eleven - Buddha Volume One - Even though the Buddha isn’t even born in the first volume the primary message, to have a respect for all life, comes through strong right from page one.

For When He’s Twelve - Persepolis - So that he can understand that every “evil" country is populated by people who just want to be happy.

For When He’s Thirteen - The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian - Another great tale of identity and friendship, but also a powerful first look at how we destroyed entire cultures.

For When He’s Fourteen - Ideas and Opinions - I always loved this collection of Einstein quotes. They’re well-balanced.

For When He’s Fifteen - A Canticle for Leibowitz - Science vs. religion and the destructive tendency inherent in man. Good book for a 15 year old.

For When He’s Sixteen - Surely You’re Joking, Mr. Feynman - I always loved how Feynman was a genius who was just as happy playing the bongos. The message here being to always do what you love.

For When He’s Seventeen - Brave New World - God, this book will be so relevant seventeen years from now, won’t it? He’ll probably be getting his first brain implant by then…

For When He’s Eighteen - Things Fall Apart - I was going to get The Wretched of the Earth but Achebe’s novel is a much more user-friendly introduction into the evils of colonialism.

Real Talk

Hello, internet (and real) friends -

A lot of you are getting emails from me today and you’re saying, “Holy shit, Jason’s alive!"

Yes, Jason is alive. The past six months have been a real test of my resolve. And I passed, at times, but passing just meant another set of ridiculous challenges. It has been all-consuming and all-distracting and put me in a bubble that left me to my own devices to deal with things no-one should have to deal with. 

But I’ve reached a point where things can literally only get better, and I’ve been focusing my attention back on the things that are important to me.

I have books to finish (but, thankfully, a deadline extension) and a road-trip to plan and stories to work on.

The past six months have been a learning experience, to say the least. But lately it’s been feeling like new days. There’s something special about a nadir, because when you’re sitting in a nadir you realize you’re in a nadir but you also realize you have friends and family and loved ones to the right of you who are willing to help pull you out. 

This’ll be my last emo post. The emails will continue to flow, the progress will continue to pick up. I have some great friends who are willing to help me get out of deadline blues and that’ll certainly help. The Nats are hitting again, the sun is shining, my golf game is improving. My company named me Young Engineer of the Year (it was my last year of eligibility) and, for the first time in my life, I’m not ashamed to mix day job with night job stuff. My wife and I wrote an amazing paper together that we’ll soon be publishing. Beer is still delicious, cheese is still God’s gift to humanity. Kanye released a new album and a new Thor movie will be coming out in several months.

A new status quo is all but guaranteed, because the old status quo was scorched, the ashes were salted and pissed on, and the only option left is to rebuild on a new site or give up.

And, in the nadir, giving up means becoming asymptotic to misery.

So I’ll build a new world. One to my liking and in my image. 

And I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you.

Life Behind the Boxscores

Life has been difficult as of late, but the haze is lifting and the insurmountable task of getting my colonial comic books back on course is starting to look surmountable thanks, mainly, to a book extension. I have a lot of work to do over the next two months, after which I will be taking a vacation - a trip that I’ve wanted to do for years. A little background…

I love baseball. I think everyone who reads this blog knows that. Baseball is an integral part of my life. Over the past several months, I often turned to the calming call of a catcher to the electrifying crack of a bat to keep my head straight. I’ve already been to eight games this year and I score every game.

I started scoring games last year, using the programs they hand out before each game. My father taught me how to score games when I was a kid and it’s something I’ve always enjoyed doing. Mid-season last year my wife bought me a score book. I used it to score the final games of the Nats’ season and all of the playoff games I attended. I used to score opening day this season and the second game of the season, as well. After that game, however, I somehow lost my scorebook.

I was devastated. Truly devastated. My scorebook was a record of the games I attended and what happened at each game. I bought a new scorebook, however. It’s comically large but there’s a section on each page for notes. These notes are meant to be so-and-so had trouble with the off-speed or so-and-so is showing some shoulder discomfort. However, I use the notes section for life notes. What was going on in my life, who I attended the game with, and maybe some funny conversations that were had.

I now like keeping score even more. I’ll often look back at my notes from the day and my scorebook has become a diary, of sorts, of my life measured in baseball games. And, with that thought, I decided to plan the ultimate baseball road trip. An adventure, catalogued in journal-style notes, base hits, and strikeouts. I’ll be taking my scorebook on the road with the following schedule:

Friday, July 26th: Mets @ Nationals

Saturday, July 27th: Mets @ Nationals

Sunday, July 28th: Mets @ Nationals

Monday, July 29th: Cardinals @ Pittsburgh

Tuesday, July 30th: White Sox @ Cleveland

Wednesday, July 31st: Nats @ Detroit

Thursday, August 1st: Dodgers @ Cubs

Friday, August 2nd: Nats @ Brewers

Saturday, August 3rd: Nats @ Brewers

Sunday, August 4th: Nats @ Brewers

Monday, August 5th: Dodgers @ St. Louis

Tuesday, August 6th: Oakland @ Cincinnati

I’m still working out the details. Whether I want to do the games by myself or try and meet up with a friend (or even a stranger) at each game. I’ll probably get the cheapest tickets I can get on StubHub (I routinely find tickets for under $10) and stay at hostels, cheap motels, friend’s houses, and maybe even couch surf a bit. And I’ll be recording the entire trip, with an eye towards compiling it all into a book about life behind the boxscores. The friends I make, the adventures I take, the games I watch, and the conversations I have.

This trip is going to be pretty amazing. I know it already. If you’re in any of those cities and would like to meet up for a game in case I decide to go that route, give me a shout.