This was the second and final game of MLB’s Opening Series, and as you can see below, I was joined by a few friends before the stadium opened:
That’s me in the white “opening series” t-shirt. The guy on my right (with his arms folded) is a fellow ballhawk from Seattle named Wayne Peck. The man on his right (in the D’backs shirt) is a native Australian named Ray Burton, and the other four folks are part of his family — his kids Alex, Emily, and Nick along with his wife, Donna.
Because we had a lot of time to kill and because there was a random Australian woman standing nearby who admittedly knew little about baseball, Wayne and I teamed up to teach her some of the basics. Here we are creating a batter/catcher situation:
By the time the gates were about to open, there was a massive crowd filling the street:
I was worried about getting shut out because (a) I was going to be trapped in the outfield all day, and (b) there was a chance that there wouldn’t be batting practice. The D’backs and Dodgers had finished the previous night’s game at 10:49pm, and this one was scheduled to begin shortly after one o’clock.
The good news is that there *was* batting practice. The bad news is that it only lasted 10 minutes. But that was enough for me to snag a few baseballs, all of which were home runs by right-handed batters on the Diamondbacks. For the first one, there was an all-out scramble between me and one other man, who, it turned out, was a volunteer and shouldn’t have been trying to snag baseballs in the first place. (I know he wasn’t allowed because he got scolded by a security guard.)
More bad news: I bashed my knee and was in pain for the rest of the day.
Worse news: the ball was not commemorative:
Two minutes later, another home run came flying in my direction. There was only one other fan near me in the Miller Party Deck area — a lanky teenager with a glove — and he beat me to the spot where it was going to land. I could’ve easily cut in front of him or jumped from behind and cherry-picked it, but I backed off and let him have it. Well, wouldn’t you know it? He misjudged it and back-peddled helplessly at the last second, and the ball deflected off the tip of his glove and rolled right to me. (Decisions . . . decisions.) I took a quick peek at the ball, saw the regular MLB logo, noticed him looking back longingly at me, and flipped it to him. Obviously I didn’t need to do that. He was roughly six feet tall and should’ve made the play, but hell, I was far from home and on vacation and feeling charitable.
My next ball was a loooong home run that I caught on the fly after drifting back about 20 feet. I was near the regular stands when I pulled it out of my glove, and when I noticed that it was another regular ball (as opposed to one of these), I tossed it to the nearest little kid.
Toward the end of BP, another homer came flying my way, and once again, the lanky teenager scrambled back to get in position. I hung back in case it ended up sailing over his head — and that’s exactly what happened. At the last moment, he lunged back and reached awkwardly and missed it by a foot. I had stayed completely out of his way; he had simply misjudged it. Of course he looked at me again, hoping that I’d give it to him.
“Sorry, I’m gonna keep this one,” I said. It wasn’t commemorative, but still, gimme a break.
After BP, I met up with Wayne and unfortunately bought THE worst pizza of my life:
I was starving, and I figured, “How bad can it be?” Granted, it was Domino’s (which, for anyone who know anything about anything, is about as lame as it gets), but it was at least supposed to be edible. Right? The cheese was bad (rubbery and too salty), and the crust was horrendous (stale and burnt). Those two pizzas plus a bottle of water cost more than $20. Can you believe that?
Anyway, Wayne and I had lots more time to spare so we wandered toward right field — an area we hadn’t explored the night before. On the way, I spotted the lanky teenager and his mother in the concourse, and when they saw me, I overheard her say, “Oh, that’s the guy who prevented you from getting that ball.”
“Hi there!” I said, walking right up to them. “Which ball are you talking about, exactly?”
“That one at the end where you reached right in front of him.”
“Ohhh!!” I said, “You mean the one where I was standing behind him that he misjudged and that sailed completely over his glove?”
She didn’t have a response for that.
On my way to the upper deck with Wayne, I took a photo of the area behind the batter’s eye:
I love seeing behind-the-scenes stuff like that — you know, the places that the TV cameras will never show.
Here’s what the field looked like from the upper deck:
That’s when I realized how lucky I was to have a ticket in the Miller Party Deck in left field instead of the ESPN Party Deck in right. Did you notice the tables and chairs in the red and blue areas? For some reason, there were far more of them in right.
Here’s a photo of the most annoying railing in the stadium:
It was blocking the cross-aisle in dead center field. Of course, at cricket matches, there IS no center field, so I can’t really blame the architects of the Sydney Cricket Ground for placing an obstacle there. I’m sure they had a good reason, but for me and Wayne, it was a pain in the ass. Rather than going all the way back downstairs and dealing with a zillion people clogging the escalators and concourses, we climbed over it. We got a few funny looks from fans, but thankfully there weren’t any guards nearby.
Here’s what the right field stands looked like:
From there I headed to the corner spot in foul territory. This was the view to my left . . .
. . . and to my right:
Wayne and I parted ways (for a little while) after that.
Not wanting to spend any extra time in the unforgiving Australian sun, I hung out here until the game was about to begin:
Then I put on a heavy dose of sun block and headed down to my favorite spot — perhaps THE best spot for catching a home run that I was ever going to have:
This was my view for the entire game . . .
. . . and as you can see, I had endless room to run on my left:
Did you notice the guy with the mohawk two photos ago? He was from Los Angeles, and I talked to him for a little while. He was nice enough to let me take a few photos of him. Here’s a closeup:
Here are two more of his baseball tattoos:
Halfway through the game, I noticed that some fans were playing catch nearby between innings:
I was shocked that the security guards didn’t stop them, but I was also excited because it meant I could get away with playing catch too. By that point, I had helped Wayne get down into the party deck area, so when these other guys wrapped it up, he and I took their spot. Check it out — here’s a short video of us throwing:
Meanwhile, Mohawk-Guy and some other fans built a pyramid of empty beer cups . . .
. . . which was promptly blown over by the wind.
As for the game, let’s just say it sucked. The Dodgers won, 7-5, but that’s not the story — not for me, at least. What I will always remember, unfortunately, are the two baseballs that I nearly caught. Here’s a screen shot of the first one, hit by Aaron Hill in the bottom of the 3rd inning:
Left fielder Mike Baxter ended up catching it on the edge of the warning track — a real shame because if it had carried 15 or 20 feet farther, it would’ve been the easiest catch of my life. That’s me in the whit shirt, tracking the flight of the ball and circling in behind it. As you can see, there was NO ONE else back there. It was all mine.
In the screen shot above, did you notice the two guards wearing red with their arms folded? They were totally lax about my playing catch with Wayne, but they weren’t too happy about the fact that I’d ducked under that barricade and run out into that blocked-off area for a ball that didn’t even clear the wall. They gave me a mini-speech about how it was off-limits and how I could really only get away with being out there if a ball landed there and blah blah. I’m not blaming them for anything — just sharing these details to set the stage for what happened with two outs in the bottom of the 9th.
Having just changed into my Dodgers gear (for the purpose of trying to get a ball from the bullpen after the game), I was stunned to see Mark Trumbo hit a towering fly deep down the left field line. He hit it on the fat part of the bat, but barely got under it, sending it way high up in the air. I thought it might end up traveling far enough to clear the outfield wall, but I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to run past the barricades for another false alarm. I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered because if it hadn’t cleared the wall, it probably would’ve been caught by the left fielder, and then the game would’ve been over anyway — or maybe it was going to drift foul and end up in the seats? Regardless, I had a whole bunch of thoughts and didn’t quite process them quickly enough, and even when I did, I didn’t sprint toward the foul pole. I ran, and then I jogged, and then I ran again, by which time it was too late. Look at this nonsense:
In the screen shot above, that’s me on the lower left, mumbling a string of obscenities and heading back to my spot. Trumbo’s ball DID clear the wall, but some guy had tumbled out of the front row of seats and snatched it just before I got there. It was awful.
In retrospect, I don’t feel THAT bad. Those barricades (which I had to duck under before I could even start running for the ball) were set up in straight-away left field, and Trumbo’s homer had landed near the foul pole. Take a look at this diagram from ESPN Home Run Tracker:
(Many thanks to my friend Greg Rybarczyk, the creator of Home Run Tracker, for allowing me to use that image.)
If you’re still convinced that I should’ve snagged the Trumbo homer, take a look at this photo from my Game 1 entry about the Sydney Cricket Ground. I’d been standing near the red-shirted guards, so you can see how far I had to run.
Or maybe I’m full of it. Maybe I’m only trying to trick myself into not being upset. Maybe I should’ve snagged the ball. But whatever. It’s done. I’m moving on with my life.
On my way out of the stadium, I was recognized by an Australian father and son who had brought their copy of my latest book, The Baseball. Here we are:
How awesome is that?!
In the photo above, Andy is holding the book (which I signed), and Isaac is holding a ball (which I signed). They were super-nice, so it was a bummer that I hadn’t met them earlier, but then again, it was lucky that we even crossed paths at all.
Here’s something else that happened on my way out:
In a last-minute attempt to collect a few ticket stubs, I had made a cheap sign — and it worked!
Now, before everyone starts asking me for free stuff (because that’s always what happens, and I don’t blame people for doing it, but it drives me crazy), here’s the deal . . .
I’m going to give away this pair of ticket stubs — one from each game of the Opening Series — as a charity prize at the end of the 2014 season. More specifically, I’m raising money again for a children’s baseball charity called Pitch In For Baseball. Here’s more info about it, and here are the prizes I’ll be giving away to people who donate money this year.
But wait, there’s more! Did you notice the cups I was holding in the photo with the cheap sign? Here’s a three-part photo of one of the cups. I’m also going to give away both cups as one prize, and in case you’re wondering . . . yes, I found them on the way out, and yes, I’ve washed them out with soap. Deal with it.
As for Ray and his family, they endured a ticketing fiasco on their way into the stadium. They had expensive seats near the 3rd base dugout, which WOULD NOT SCAN at the center field gate! As a result, they had to battle the crowd and walk halfway around the stadium to the home plate gate — the only place where their tickets were valid. By the time they made it inside, they had missed batting practice, and they were then trapped near the dugout for the rest of the day. They did manage to get a couple of commemorative balls tossed up by the Dodgers, but still, what an ordeal.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned for more entries about the rest of my trip.
• 18 baseballs in two games this season = 9 balls per game.
• 968 consecutive games with at least one ball
• 7,194 total balls
(I’m raising money again this season for Pitch In For Baseball, a non-profit charity that provides baseball equipment to underprivileged kids all over the world. Click here to learn about my fundraiser, and if you donate money, you’ll be eligible to win one of these prizes.)
• 10 donors for my fundraiser
• $0.72 pledged per ball (if you add up all the pledges)
• $2.88 raised at this game
• $38,676.96 raised since I started my fundraiser in 2009
This was a BIG day for me — my entire reason for traveling halfway across the world. Game 1 of Major League Baseball’s Opening Series at the Sydney Cricket Ground was scheduled to begin at 7:15pm, but of course I wanted to get there much earlier. The stadium was going to open at 5pm, and I decided to arrive by 2:30. I figured I didn’t have enough time to do anything interesting beforehand, but my Australian friend Ray Burton wasn’t about to let me waste a perfectly good morning. He and his family planned a Sydney Harbour Cruise, and it started here in Darling Harbour.
In the photo above, do you see all those flags along the water’s edge? The blue ones featured Dodgers players, and the red ones featured Diamondbacks — and check this out:
No, I’m not talking about the Sydney Convention Centre being demolished in the background. I’m talking about those gigantic baseballs floating in the water! I wasn’t the only one psyched about these games; the whole city seemed to be embracing it.
Here are the Burtons:
In the photo above, Ray is wearing the yellow shirt, and his wife, Donna, is rockin’ the stripes. The other three folks are their children — Nick on the left, Emily in the middle, and Alex on the right.
The cruise tickets weren’t cheap:
They cost $55 apiece, but it was worth it. Look how beautiful it was once we got out on the water:
I’m not a fan of opera, nor am I an architecture aficionado, but c’mon, that’s a pretty cool building.
Our boat was one of those “hop on/hop off” things, so we rode it a nearby harbour called Circular Quay. That’s the closest stop to the opera house. Here’s what it looked like as we walked toward it:
Here’s what I saw as we got closer:
Take another look at the bridge:
Did you notice those little specks on the very top?
Those were people . . .
. . . who had paid hundreds of dollars apiece for an official bridge climb. I would’ve loved to do that, but (a) the timing didn’t work out, and (b) hundreds of dollars? Really?! I went skydiving for hundreds of dollars. I bought an Arkanoid machine for hundreds of dollars. The bridge climb looked cool, but not THAT cool.
Here I am “imitating the opera house” with the Burtons:
(That stupid photo was my idea.)
Everywhere we went, I saw people decked out in Dodgers and Diamondbacks gear. Here’s some photographic evidence from the boat:
Look at this sign on the boat:
I have mixed emotions about what the drinking age should be, but it was interesting to be in a place where it was different from home.
Our boat made several other stops (including Taronga Zoo), but we didn’t get off. Instead we rode it back to Darling Harbor . . .
. . . and got ready for the game. Look what Ray wore:
HEATH BELL, BABY!!
On our way out of the hotel, I noticed this in the lobby:
Sydney was going baseball-crazy.
That’s the end of my Day 4 blog entry. Click here for a separate entry (with 87 photos) about my experience at the game.
Generally speaking, the first thing I want to see when I wake up is NOT the fourth deadliest snake in the world, but hey, that’s what I get for visiting Australia. Thankfully the snake wasn’t slithering in my bed. It was a pet, stored safely in a glass case, so when my friend Ray Burton offered to show it to me, I figured, “Why the hell not?”
Here he is trying to get the snake’s attention . . .
. . . and here’s the snake itself:
That’s a death adder, and I’d like everyone to know that Ray took that photo with my camera. The lid was off the case, and he reached his hand right in there and . . . just no.
Ray told me he’s been bitten twice by death adders and that he survived because it happened long ago when he was much younger and healthier. The last time it happened was 1989, causing him to “vomit uncontrollably within ten minutes and lapse in and out of consciousness within fifteen.”
After two full days in his home (and just as I was getting ready to leave for good with them), Ray gave me a quick tour of the upstairs area. Here he is with his son Alex on the balcony:
Here’s Alex’s room — note the Phillies comforter:
Here are some trophies . . . with a few snake skins sitting around, just because:
As I’ve mentioned in a couple of recent entries, I met Ray and his family when they hired me in 2012 for two Watch With Zack games at Citizens Bank Park. It was part of a huge baseball trip that they went on, and they enjoyed it so much that they put a book together to commemorate the experience:
Here’s a two-page spread about our first game . . .
. . . and here’s a closer look at what they wrote about the second.
At 1pm, we loaded several days’ worth of stuff into Nick’s car . . .
. . . and headed off to Sydney, which was going to take an hour and a half without traffic. I really really *REALLY* needed the roads to be clear because I was due at the Sydney Cricket Ground at 3:30pm — not for a game, but for a photo shoot with the Sydney Morning Herald.
More on that in a bit, but first, take a look at the meat pie that I ate on the way:
In addition to the beef, this one had cheese, potato, onions, tomatoes, and bacon — and yeah, it was amazing. We all had meat pies. Here’s a photo of Nick eating and driving:
We made it to the stadium by 3pm, struggled to find a place to park, and started walking toward the media gate with just a few minutes to spare:
Finally we made it:
In the photo above, the woman on the right (with the short blonde hair) is named Alexandra Back. She was going to be writing the story about me for the newspaper, and because of a logistical mishap in securing a photographer, she was going to be taking the pictures too.
After waiting for a couple of minutes, we were greeted by a woman named Courtney from Moore Sports. At the time, I hadn’t even heard of that company, but evidently they’re the ones who helped make the whole MLB-in-Australia thing happen.
Courtney led me and Alexandra inside the stadium:
All four Burtons got to join me, and we headed into the seats:
Check out the sign at the bottom of the steps:
Alexandra and I discussed the best places to take photos and decided to start in the second deck. Courtney led the way back up the steps and into a funky old grandstand:
I lagged behind so I could grab a few photos. Here’s what was on my right just after I stepped inside:
This was the staircase to the second deck:
It was wild! Carpet-lined hallways and wooden banisters in a stadium?! Once again, I didn’t know it at the time, but we were in a section called the Members Pavilion, which is the oldest and most exclusive area of the Sydney Cricket Ground. Figuring I’d be back there for the next two days to wander and explore, I snapped these few photos as an afterthought. As it turned out, though, I was never able to get back into this area, so it’s a good thing I used my camera here when I had the chance.
This was my view from the second deck:
While Alexandra and I talked a bit more, Ray took some photos with his own camera. Here’s the Opening Series logo on the jumbotron:
Here are the Diamondbacks pitchers coming out:
(It killed me that Heath Bell wasn’t there. How perfect would that have been?)
Here’s the grounds crew setting up the batting cage:
Here’s the Australian team starting to get loose:
They were going to be playing an exhibition game against the D’backs.
It wasn’t long before the photo shoot got underway:
In case you’re wondering about those six baseballs, I’d brought them from New York as a gift for Ray. It hadn’t occurred to me that they might serve as a prop for the photo shoot, but when the day arrived, it was like, “Duh! I’ll bring the balls just in case!”
Here’s a photo I took before we headed downstairs:
Down on the field level, I clowned around for Alexandra and her camera:
Here’s a photo she took moments later:
Ultimately this was the basic angle/pose that made it into the newspaper:
Here’s the article, in case you’re interested.
Before heading out, Alexandra and I posed for a photo together and got photobombed by Mike Fetters:
Courtney offered to hook me up with tickets (five in total for me and the Burtons) for the evening’s game, but I declined. I was thrilled to have gotten a peek inside the stadium, but I didn’t care AT ALL about watching a contest that meant nothing in the standings, especially when there were so many other things in Sydney I wanted to do . . . such as visiting Bondi Beach.
That’s where we headed next . . .
. . . and even though I wasn’t properly dressed for it, I was glad to be there:
I had heard about a scenic walk from Bondi to a nearby beach called Tamarama, so that’s what we did. Look how beautiful it was:
Once again, the Burtons were *so* patient and generous with their time. I’m not sure if they’d gone on this walk before, and if they hadn’t, who knows if they even really wanted to do it. But they did. And it was great to have them with me. Here they are — Nick in the teal shirt followed by his sister Emily, father Ray, and younger brother Alex:
I forgot to mention that Emily, currently studying at Sydney University, met up with us after the photo shoot. She traded places with her mother, Donna, and joined us for our trip to the beach.
Here’s a look at Tamarama Beach at dusk:
By the time we walked back to Bondi Beach, it was dark:
Our next stop was Chinatown, and all five Burtons were with me. Here’s a photo that Donna took of me with the others:
The streets were packed . . .
. . . and there were all kinds of unusual things to eat:
I passed on the jerky and got some dumplings instead:
I also got a delicious slab of pork . . .
. . . followed by a pancake-sandwich thingy filled with custard:
Extra thanks to Nick who wanted to go sit down at a restaurant and have a proper meal, but kindly indulged my desire to wander aimlessly and eat a little bit of everything. Thanks to the whole family. It’s amazing how much stuff we packed into one day, and I could not have done it (nor would I have had nearly as much fun) without them.
My second day in Australia started with my friend Ray showing me how “real men” eat toast with vegemite:
He gave me a bite.
It was horrendous.
Friendly advice (if you’re not from Australia): don’t eat vegemite.
In the late morning, Ray took me to his local bank so I could get some Australian money. Look how pretty it is:
Did you notice that the bills (or “notes” as the locals call them) are different sizes?
Australian money, by the way, can not be torn. I’m not saying it’s illegal to tear it, but rather that it’s physically impossible. (This is not an April Fool’s prank to get you to ruin your money. I’m serious. Try it sometime — just a little piece on the corner if you don’t believe me.) Also, if the bills get wet, they don’t get soggy. They’re made with some type of plastic that’s water resistant.
For lunch, Ray drove us to a little food store/bakery, where I had a meat pie . . .
. . .followed by a neenish tart:
Both of these items are popular in Australia, and let me tell you . . . they were SO GOOD.
Our next stop was a place called Oakvale Farm and Fauna World:
We saw all kinds of cute, scary, and exotic creatures . . .
. . . but the highlight was probably getting up close and personal with this kangaroo:
Or should I say *two* kangaroos? In case you missed it, that’s a mama kangaroo with a joey in her pouch! I wasn’t planning to go anywhere near them because I’ve learned not to mess with baby animals when the parents are nearby, but Ray assured me it was okay. (He’s a veterinary surgeon, so he KNOWS animals.) And then he proved it by petting the heads of both kangaroos.
Another highlight was getting to pet a koala:
In fact, I got to pet several. It was a weekday afternoon, so the farm wasn’t crowded, and I had more koala time than I needed.
I also got to feed some wallabies:
On the way back to Ray’s place, we stopped at the scenic lookout . . .
. . . and ended up having a lazy evening at home. No complaints. It was exactly what I needed, as I still hadn’t fully adjusted to the time suddenly being 15 hours later than it was back at home in New York City.
The whole family and I ordered Malaysian food and watched the Dodgers’ exhibition game against the Australian team. Here we are lounging in the living room (with Yasiel Puig at the plate):
It was nice to get a look at the Sydney Cricket Ground on TV. I figured out a few things and got a much better idea of what to expect at MLB’s Opening Series, which was now just two days away.
After dinner, Ray asked me if I wanted to see some possums.
Umm, yeah, why not . . . right? But I wondered if there were any zoos open at that hour. Silly me. Ray told me there were possums all over the place right outside his house, so he grabbed some food . . .
. . . and led me to the back yard. He then flung the food onto the lawn five meters away. Within a minute or two, THIS happened:
For a city boy like me from halfway across the world, it was amazing to see all this stuff firsthand. I’m sure it was old news for Ray, so I owe him a big thanks for being my personal tour guide and patiently showing everything to me.
The first trip of my life to Australia began with a pair of 13-hour flights — New York City to Dubai to Sydney. Check out my boarding passes:
Flying through the Middle East wasn’t the quickest route to Australia, but for some reason, when I’d booked the trip six months earlier, it was the cheapest . . . and hey, Emirates! Right? I’d heard it was one of the nicest airlines — and it proved to be true. Not only was every employee polite and helpful, but the plane itself was gorgeous. Here’s the staircase to the First Class area:
More on that in a bit, but first, here’s one of three meals that was served:
According to the menu (yes, an actual menu with various options), it was “Arabic lamb stew.” And it was delicious.
Speaking of Arabic, look at these little items that came with it:
Did you notice the white cable dangling to the left of my meal (two photos up)? That was my laptop’s power cord. Every seat on the flight had its own outlet, so I was plugged in and fully charged for the entire journey. I labeled photos and videos for about five hours and played Nintendo (with a USB controller) for the remaining seven — several games of Tetris followed by every level of both Super Mario Bros. 1 & 2.
One nice thing about the flight was the free/unlimited fruit, candy, juice, and water. This was the setup in one of the galleys:
This was another highlight:
In case you can’t tell, that’s me in both of those Polaroid photos. Evidently that’s a thing on Emirates. They get the cute flight attendants to pose with you and take your picture.
Because I was so excited by the food and photos (and because I was being my polite, chatty self), I got a personal tour of First Class after we landed in Dubai. Here are the fancy seats up there, which can fully recline . . .
. . . and here’s the bathroom:
Did you notice the shower at the end? Hot damn.
The Dubai airport resembled a high-end mall:
Here’s something that caught my eye as I wandered toward the gate for my next flight:
I caught a brief glimpse of the Burj Khalifa in the distance, but unfortunately couldn’t get a decent photo because of the gigantic window coverings. Bleh. It’s probably a ploy to get dumb tourists like me to actually *visit* the city in order to get a proper look at the mammoth structure.
By the time I boarded my second flight . . .
. . . it felt like 3am for me. I don’t even know what time it was in Dubai, but I did know this: when the plane was scheduled to land in Sydney, it was going to be 7am. In other words, if I didn’t sleep A LOT on this flight, I was gonna be screwed.
I played more video games for about three hours, then slept for about three hours, and then got awakened when the old French people next to me had to get up to use the bathroom. I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, but thankfully, after their 20-minute out-of-seat excursion, I settled back in and passed out for four more hours.
Here’s what the flight tracker was telling me when I woke up for the second time:
Breakfast was served a little while later:
I felt pretty good when the plane touched down in Sydney, though I suspected my energy wouldn’t last.
Look what I saw in the baggage claim area:
Did you notice the advertisement on that vertical video screen? That’s THE reason why I made this trip: Major League Baseball’s Opening Series between the Dodgers and Diamondbacks at the Sydney Cricket Ground. Two years ago, I traveled to Japan for MLB’s Opening Series at the Tokyo Dome, and now here I was in Australia for a similar experience.
Look who I saw after passing through customs:
Here’s a closeup:
The man holding the “Z” sign is my friend Ray Burton. He and I first met in 2012 when his entire family traveled to America and hired me to join them for two Watch With Zack games in Philadelphia. Remember? Here’s a photo of us which was taken outside Citizens Bank Park. This was my blog entry about the first game we attended together, and this was my entry about the second. We all had such a good time that we kept in close touch, and when MLB announced the Opening Series in Australia, Ray invited me to stay with his family in Newcastle, which is about 100 miles north of Sydney.
Here’s Nick, the older of his two sons, who joined him in waking up at 4:30am in order to meet me at the airport:
Nick drove us out of Sydney . . .
. . . toward Newcastle . . .
. . . and we arrived at their home in the late morning:
One reason I love the Burtons is that they embrace my passion for food. On the way to Newcastle, Ray had asked me what I wanted for dinner — and what I wanted to eat in general.
The following photo shows one of the things I mentioned:
The wonderful woman pictured above is Ray’s wife, Donna. She had to go food shopping anyway, so she picked this up for all of us and planned to make spaghetti with kangaroo meatballs.
Meanwhile, Ray and I headed out for the afternoon with Alex, the younger of his two sons. Here’s the vehicle we rode in:
Prior to this, I’d never been in a Hummer; I’d only made disparaging remarks about them (and their owners) from afar, but I have to say . . . it was quite a nice ride.
Check out Ray’s floor mats:
His friends think he has those because of the similarity to his name, but in fact the Rays are his favorite team.
After just a few minutes of driving, we stopped at a scenic lookout at the end of a street called Banksia Avenue:
From there we went to see some animals at a place called Blackbutt Reserve. Here’s a photo of Alex and Ray entering the first enclosure:
After spotting several creatures from a distance, we got close to a pretty little bird called a rainbow lorikeet. Here I am with it . . .
. . . and here it is on Alex’s shoulder:
The bird was adorable. It started licking Alex’s neck, and it seemed so cute and harmless that I reached out toward it gently with my right hand. Wanna guess what happened next? The little bastard chomped down on my index finger, right in the crease below my middle knuckle, and made me bleed!
(Welcome to Australia.)
Given the fact that rainbow lorikeets are not predatory or aggressive, Ray and Alex thought it was hilarious. In all fairness, if I’d seen it happen to someone else, I would’ve been laughing too.
My pain lessened somewhat when I got a good look at a koala:
Here are a few more animals we encountered (from a safe distance):
In the four-part photo above, you’re looking at:
Then I finally got to see some kangaroos for the first time in my life:
Unfortunately they weren’t jumping all over the place, but it was still cool.
Here’s an emu:
On the way back to the Burtons’ home, Ray and Alex and I stopped a nearby park to play catch. Here they are waiting patiently while I pulled out my camera for the zillionth time:
Before dinner, Ray gave me a tour of his Man Cave:
In the photo above, did you notice the display cases of baseballs on the right side? Here’s a closer look:
Not only were there a bunch of commemorative balls that we’d snagged together in Philadelphia, but one of the cases had a ball that I had signed for them:
The Burtons have four cats. Here’s Alex with three of them:
Here’s a group photo from dinner:
The only person missing was their daughter, Emily, who is studying at Sydney University. We were planning to travel to Sydney in two days, so I was looking forward to seeing her.
And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for:
Spaghetti and kangaroo meatballs!
Donna’s cooking was fantastic, but kangaroo meat itself isn’t all that great. It’s kind of gamey and chewy, and I’ve since learned that Australians don’t really eat it. It’s mainly served as a touristy thing . . . so in that sense, I did my job.
On a final note, I plan to blog about every day of my trip. Some of the entries will contain baseball stuff (especially Day 3), but others won’t. If my trip bores you, then don’t read about it. For me, personally, blogging about it is a nice way to document everything and (since I’m not on Facebook) share it with my family and non-baseball-loving friends.
From left to right in the photo above, you’re looking at me, Alex (who’s almost 15), Nick (who has gotten jacked), Emily (who’s studying at Sydney University), Donna (who made me eat kangaroo), and Ray (who has posted a comment on nearly all of my blog entries for the last two years).
Although the Burtons were not a big part of my Game 1 experience of the MLB Opening Series in Sydney, they played a massive role on my trip. During my ten full days in Australia, I was with them nonstop for the first five, including two days at their home in Newcastle.
Anyway, this was Day 4 of my trip. I might share more details about it in a separate entry, but for now, I’ll just say that the six of us spent the morning and early afternoon on a Sydney Harbour cruise. Check out this photo of the famous opera house:
One of the many highlights from the early part of the day was seeing myself in the Sydney Morning Herald:
In case you’re interested, here’s the full article, and in case you’re wondering, I had gotten to enter the Sydney Cricket Ground the previous day for a brief photo shoot. I will definitely blog about that — but not now. This entry is already shaping up to be ridiculously long (but admit it, you love it).
As for Game 1 of the Opening Series, the Burtons were nice enough to drop me off at the stadium before they went to deal with parking. Here’s what it looked like when I got out of the car at 2:30pm:
The gates weren’t going to open until 5pm, so I had plenty of time to wander and take photos.
One minute later, I found myself here . . .
. . . and met up with my friend and fellow ballhawk Wayne Peck, who had traveled to Australia from Seattle. He and I seem to cross paths at MLB events in far-off places — remember this photo of us from 3/28/12 at the Tokyo Dome? We decided to wander together around the outside of the Sydney Cricket Ground and recreate that photo.
We started by heading in the opposite direction from which I had come. After a couple of minutes, we walked completely past the stadium and found ourselves here:
Did you notice the big black gate in the previous photo? That was our first opportunity to turn left, and this is what we saw:
It seemed like a weird route to take a lap around the stadium, but where else were we supposed to go? We walked farther . . .
. . . and saw the stadium on our left, way off in the distance:
As you can see, we were blocked by smaller buildings, so we kept walking and found ourselves blocked by a parking lot gate:
By this point, we were already thinking “WTF?!” but the day was young, and the weather was perfect, so we kept going. Here’s what we saw next:
We decided to cut across the field . . .
. . . and ended up so far from the stadium . . .
. . . that we headed back. Evidently the Sydney Cricket Ground is part of a huge complex, so that’s why we weren’t able to take a simple stroll around it.
On the way back, I was recognized by this guy:
His name is Daniel Keane, and despite the fact that he’s a native Australian, he loves baseball more than words can describe. He had tweeted at me several days earlier, so I was glad to run into him and catch up for a bit. Before we said goodbye, he pointed us in the right direction. Sort of. Look what we ended up seeing:
A security guard pocketing baseballs and a fan wearing a “JETER” jersey? Don’t get me wrong — I love Derek Jeter, but ucchh, some things never change.
Wayne and I kept walking for another minute or two, and when we turned right, we saw another stadium:
Did you notice the jumbotron? Here’s a closer look:
We made our way into the “baseball shop” . . .
. . . where commemorative baseballs were being sold for a silly price:
Back outside, Wayne and I made our way to the oldest and most scenic portion of the Sydney Cricket Ground. Here we are rekindling the magic from Japan:
On our way to Gate E, I saw a funny (but important) sign:
Soon after we reached the gate, I did a live radio/phone interview with Jeff Sammut and George Rusic on SportsNet 590 The FAN in Toronto. Then Wayne and I were joined by another American ballhawk named Leigh Barratt, aka “Padre Leigh.” Here we are:
With Wayne and Leigh holding down a spot at the gate, I wandered a bit more. The area surrounding the stadium was now bustling with fans:
In the photo above, that’s a Speed Pitch booth on the left, and did you notice the small blue tent up ahead? That belonged to the Australian Baseball League:
Before I got to Sydney, I was concerned that Australians might not care about Major League Baseball, or worse, be pissed off that Americans had transformed their historic cricket stadium for a stupid sport that made no sense — but that wasn’t the case at all. Most of the people in attendance were Australian, and the whole city was embracing it. Why? Because Australia is so isolated from the rest of the world that the natives are delighted when people come to visit. I got the sense that Australians were honored to host these games and show off their beautiful country, and of course the economic boost didn’t hurt.
Here’s a makeshift Wiffle Ball field that was set up for kids:
Did you notice the solid mechanics of the little girl at bat? Look at that leg-kick and weight-shift!
Not surprisingly, there was a mob of fans surrounding the merchandise trailer:
I waited in line for 20 minutes and bought an “Opening Series” T-shirt:
It cost $40, which is arguably a sillier price than $45 for a commemorative baseball, but hey, we all have our priorities, and whatever, it was Australian money, which isn’t worth quite as much as American money these days, ha ha ha.
Just before the stadium opened, this was the scene outside Gate E:
And then . . . it was showtime!
When the gates opened, I had no idea which way to run or which escalator to take, but eventually I found my way to the left field seats:
Many months earlier, when tickets first went on sale, I paid $189 for a decent seat in foul territory. (FYI: the cheapest seat in the stadium was $69.) Several days before I left for Australia, when I heard about the newly-added party decks in the outfield, I paid $149 for an extra ticket in left field. It was an awful lot of money, but (a) being at the Sydney Cricket Ground was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and (b) I wanted to be in the best possible spot to catch the first Major League home run ever hit in the southern hemisphere.
Anyway, look how much room there was beside the Miller Party Deck in left field:
I knew right away that I was gonna love it, and it didn’t take long for me to get on the board. The Diamondbacks were already taking batting practice, and I got a ball thrown to me by rookie pitcher Zeke Spruill. It was a huge relief, but unfortunately the ball was not commemorative:
At the Opening Series in Japan, many BP balls were commemorative, so I was hoping that things would be the same here in Australia. And then it happened. I snagged a pair of home run balls, and BOTH of them were commemorative! Check it out:
The first of those home runs had cleared the wall in left-center, bounced toward the back of the blue area, and deflected into the scaffolding beneath the actual party deck. Just as I was about to climb in there, an employee who was setting up some cables offered to get it for me.
The second home run had landed in the seats down the line and ricocheted in my direction. I ran quite a distance and scooped it up on the move, but I’ll admit that I was much more lucky than skillful on that one.
A few minutes later, I headed up onto the deck . . .
. . . and got my fourth ball from the player pictured above on the right — rookie pitcher Bo Schultz. It was not commemorative.
Meanwhile, this was the view to my right:
A little while later, this guy walked up to me . . .
. . . and said in a charming Australian accent, “Excuse me, are you Zack Hample?”
I asked him how he knew, and he mentioned something about a documentary — very cool to be recognized so far from home.
Given the fact that he was wearing that beard, I felt bad when I realized that I’d outjumped him for a toss-up from Brian Wilson, but here’s how it happened — you’ll see that it wasn’t my fault:
1) A ball rolled onto the warning track.
2) I ran over to get near it.
3) Wilson walked over.
4) I asked him for it.
5) He lobbed it right to me.
6) I sensed that there was someone behind me who was going to try to snatch it.
7) I drifted forward and jumped as high as I could and gloved it.
8) I turned around, and the dude with the fake beard was standing right behind me.
I told him that if he didn’t get a ball during BP, I’d give him one.
My next eight baseballs were a blur — yes, EIGHT baseballs (none of which were commemorative). One of them was thrown by Josh Collmenter, but I forget which. The rest were home runs, all hit by the Dodgers, I think, and I’m pretty sure I caught them all on the fly. I remember running back and to the right and back-handing one of them near the seats. I also remember running far to my left for another and drifting back for an easy catch while everyone in front of me scrambled helplessly. There was another homer that I caught in the middle of a pack of adult fans; I just happened to pick the right spot and jump higher.
My first game of each season tends to be a struggle. The winter makes me rusty. But here in Sydney, I was truly on fire. Each time I caught another ball, I could hear the entire stadium behind me yelling “OHHHHHHHHHH!!!” and applauding. I ended up giving three baseballs to little kids, snagging an Andre Ethier ground-rule double in left-center, and giving a ball to the guy with the fake beard.
For a while, I lost count of the number of balls I’d snagged. I knew for sure that I’d given away four, so after BP, I discretely counted the remaining balls in my backpack. There were 10, which meant my total for the day was 14. All of left field was buzzing, but a small portion of the attention was negative. Take a look at the following photo, and then I’ll explain:
See the two guys holding $50 bills? They had begged me to sell them each a baseball, and they would NOT take “no” for an answer. Over the course of BP, they had seen me give away several balls and place a bunch more in my backpack, so they couldn’t understand why I was “being like that.” I tried to explain that I only give baseballs to kids (“It’s FOR my kid!”) and that I don’t sell baseballs (“Name your price!”) and that they could buy commemorative balls for less money than they were offering me (“But we want ones that came from the field!”). It was bad. They wouldn’t leave me alone, and by the way, don’t be fooled by their smiles. Wayne told me later that he overheard them talking about stealing my bag and breaking my jaw.
In the photo above, the guy in the Cardinals jersey asked me if I knew how to get Mark McGwire’s autograph, and the girl on the right begged me for a ball by using the line, “How can you say no to a pretty face?”
ANYway . . .
Things calmed down a little bit after that, but there were still a dozen people who wanted to talk, some of whom recognized me from who-knows-where.
Leigh caught up with me and showed a nasty scrape on his elbow:
If I’m remembering correctly, that happened to him on my third snag of the day — the commemorative home run ball that deflected out of the seats and into the open blue area. (Sorry, Leigh. For what it’s worth, I really do feel your pain.)
Then I got an unusual autograph request from a guy named Paul:
He had me sign his copy of Baseball Scorekeeper, for which I had written the introduction.
More and more people kept coming over to talk to me, and I was getting antsy. The time between BP and the game was my only chance to wander and explore the stadium. I finally managed to excuse myself, and to my delight, it began raining. The grounds crew pulled out the tarps. This gave me a little extra time to do my thing.
Wayne and I headed up the steps . . .
. . . and into the cramped concourse:
Here’s a look at the “food” that was available at one of the stands:
The word “food” belongs in quotes because it was TERRIBLE. I’m sure there was good food somewhere, but the lines were stupid-long, so I didn’t bother. You’ll see what I mean in a bit, but for now, let me explain why the Sydney Cricket Ground is weird and fascinating and annoying. In the following photo, do you see the old-fashioned stands across the field with the green roofs?
That area is known as the Members Pavilion. It has its own entrance, and the stands are old and funky and fancy — kinda like Fenway Park combined with a 19-century gentlemen’s club. I got to check out the pavilion the previous day during the photo shoot. The rest of the stadium, however, is a disjointed bundle of crap — kinda like Olympic Stadium minus the roof. Granted, it’s a cricket stadium, and I’m judging it by baseball standards, which isn’t really fair, but still, you get the point.
Another thing about the previous photo — did you notice the fans walking on the lower level? The upper portion of the concourse ended where we were standing, so in order to proceed toward home plate, we had to go down a flight of stairs. That’s not a big deal — it’s just mildly interesting. There are a few major league stadiums with stairs built into the concourses (PETCO Park’s left field foul line comes to mind), but it’s rare.
Take a look at the foul pole:
How’s THAT for weird? Have you ever seen a foul pole set so far back from the outfield wall? No, you haven’t.
Here’s a closer look at the blue surface:
It was made of plastic, and the traction was great. I was concerned, though, that it would get slippery, but thankfully it didn’t rain much.
Check out the left field foul line:
Wayne and I worked our way through the seats until we got here:
In the photo above, do you see the railing one section away, perpendicular to the seats? It blocked us from going any farther because it extended from the front row to the very back of the section. Therefore we had no choice but to head back into the concourse.
More weirdness: there was a small open-air portion . . .
. . . that connected to a sloped, garage-like tunnel. Here it is heading down . . .
. . . and here it is slanting back up:
The folks who run the Sydney Cricket Ground need to make it look less like a construction site and more like a stadium. Paint the walls. Hang some jerseys or pennants. Bring in some memorabilia. Throw in a few concession stands (with decent food). Come on!
In the following photo, do you see the green barricades and blue-shirted security guards in the distance?
That was as far as we were allowed to go. The space beyond that served two purposes:
1) It was the entry point at Gate G for fans with the fanciest tickets near home plate.
2) It was a smoking area.
Naturally I asked one of the guards if we could go out there to smoke. He said yes and handed us each one of these:
Unfortunately it didn’t do us much good. We got to take a photo of Gate G and the outside of the stadium . . .
. . . and that was it. The guard made us hand over the smoking passes on our way back through the barricades.
Gate G, I realized, had its own entrance. The barcodes on tickets for any other part of the stadium would not scan there, and if you had a ticket that said “Gate G” on it, you *had* to enter there, and you couldn’t leave. I felt bad for Ray and his family. He had bought the most expensive seats near the 3rd base dugout, and they weren’t allowed to go to the outfield during BP.
Wayne and I headed to the second deck along the left field foul line, where I happened to run into someone else who was looking for me:
That woman’s name is Marika. She lives in Australia and had gotten in touch months earlier to see if I’d be attending these games — and BAM, here we were, face to face. We chatted for about ten minutes, and then I resumed my journey with Wayne around the stadium.
We walked through the seats toward the outfield . . .
. . . and checked out the concourse:
In order to get to the upper deck, we had to go down to the field level and then head back up a different set of stairs. (See what I mean about the stadium being disjointed?) This was the path from the field-level concourse to the stairs . . .
. . . and this was one portion of the stairs:
This was the scene in the upper deck concourse:
All those people were waiting in line for food. (Terrible, overpriced hot dogs!! Yayyyy!!)
I avoided the crowd and headed through this tunnel . . .
. . . on my way to the last row of the upper deck:
Then I headed toward the bottom of the section to get a photo of the sky:
It looked like it was gonna rain like hell, and apparently every MLB official in Australia thought so too because the tarp remained on the field for a long time.
What was going on?
I would’ve preferred to photograph the stadium without the tarps covering the field, but the delay *did* give me extra time. Here’s a photo of me that Wayne took:
Here’s a side view of the Miller Party Deck:
Here’s something cool that I’d never seen before — a machine that rolled up the smaller of the two tarps:
After a while, I got bored of the upper deck and headed back down to the field level. I photographed the clutter behind the center field wall and planned to head to right field . . .
. . . but when I realized that the player introductions were underway, I hurried back upstairs. Here’s what it looked like from the very last row:
Eventually the first pitch was announced for 8pm, so once again, I headed back downstairs. (I really need to start wearing a pedometer to games. Distance covered in steps and miles — that would be a fun stat to add to the end of my entries, huh?)
At the very start of BP, I was able to access the blue portion beside the party deck by walking down into the regular seats and passing through the little gate at the bottom. At game time, however, this was the only way to get there:
As you can see, there was a staircase to the deck from the center field concourse, and there were two guards there checking tickets. After I got past them, I headed down onto the deck . . .
. . . and took a peek at the Dodgers’ bullpen:
Then I turned to the right . . .
. . . and headed down the last of the steps into blue heaven.
The first thing I saw was a Homer Simpson wannabe dancing badly:
Then I chatted briefly with these Dodgers fans . . .
. . . and settled into a spot deep in straight-away left field.
This was my lousy view for the entire game:
To clarify, it was lousy for watching the game, but had incredible potential for catching a home run. Look how much space there was on my right:
That barricade was the cut-off point. For some reason (which no stadium employee was able to explain), no one was allowed to hang out on the other side of it, but lemme tell ya . . . if a ball ended up landing there, I was gonna go all out for it, and if I ended up getting ejected and/or deported, so be it.
This was the view to my left:
Those guards were extremely friendly and helpful. I explained baseball to them. They watched my backpack for me. And so on.
This was the view directly behind me:
Here’s a photo of me that Wayne took from the front row of the regular seats:
Here I am again, photographed by Ray from the 3rd base side:
Here I am on TV, tracking a deep fly ball that I hoped would *not* clear the fence:
It’s hard to tell from that angle, but I was at least 15 feet behind the wall. The area in front of me was crowded, so if the ball had squeaked over, I wouldn’t have had a chance.
In the top of the 4th inning, Scott Van Slyke dashed my home run fantasy by poking one just over the wall near the right field foul pole.
At one point late in the game, I moved closer to the field for a peek through the chain-link fence:
Look how crowded it was on my left:
Clearly, with heavy right-handed hitters in the game such as Yasiel Puig, Hanley Ramirez, Scott Van Slyke, Juan Uribe, Paul Goldschmidt, and Mark Trumbo, it made sense to position myself far behind the crowd in case someone really went deep. But no, Van Slyke’s opposite field homer was the only longball of the night, and according to ESPN Home Run Tracker, it traveled a measly 341 feet.
Here’s a photo of the jumbotron:
I was hoping for a blowout, but got somewhat of a pitcher’s duel instead — not surprising with Clayton Kershaw on the mound. He ended up allowing one run in 6 2/3 innings.
By the end of the game, Wayne looked like he was losing his mind:
Overall, though, I think he had fun, and if you have a few extra minutes to spare, check out his blog entry about the Opening Series.
Did you notice Leigh in the previous photo? He was sitting with his wife Dolly. (Did you notice the little kid in the Dodgers cap making a goofy face behind her? Tee-hee.)
Here’s my favorite sign of the day:
And that’s pretty much it. I didn’t bother going for a post-game ball from the Dodgers’ bullpen because I wanted to save my attempt for the following day’s afternoon game. I wasn’t sure if there’d be BP, and I was going to be trapped in the outfield, and I desperately wanted to avoid getting shut out. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’ll save all those details for my next entry and end this one with a few more photos of baseballs and the Burtons. Here they are in their hotel room:
Here are the ten balls I’d brought back from the game:
Of those ten, I gave two to the Burtons — one of the commemorative balls, which I had promised (if I got an extra one and they didn’t get any), and one of the regular balls, which I signed with my lifetime total:
Stay tuned for a whole lot more from Australia . . .
• 14 baseballs at this game
• 25 consecutive seasons with at least one ball
• 967 consecutive games with at least one ball
• 51 different major league stadiums with at least one ball; click here for the complete list.
• 61 different commemorative balls; click here to see my entire collection.
• 4 different countries with at least one ball: America, Canada, Japan, and Australia
• 7,190 total balls
(I’m raising money again this season for Pitch In For Baseball, a non-profit charity that provides baseball equipment to underprivileged kids all over the world. Click here to learn about my fundraiser, and if you donate money, you’ll be eligible to win one of these prizes.)
• 10 donors for my fundraiser
• $0.72 pledged per ball (if you add up all the pledges)
• $10.08 raised at this game
• $38,674.08 raised since I started my fundraiser in 2009
As you might already know, I have a rather large rubber band ball. My mom helped me start it when I was four, and I’ve posted several photos of it through the years. Two months ago, I posted this photo of the ball on Reddit, and somehow the whole thing went viral. An Irish TV station got in touch and interviewed me via Skype. Then a European photo agency requested more images. Then this article was written about me by a newspaper in England called The Daily Mail. (They got my age wrong, but hey, still cool.) And finally, just when I thought it was winding down, I heard from the Canadian branch of the Discovery Channel. They invited me to appear on a show called “Daily Planet,” but get this — in order to do it, I had to drive *with* the ball from my home in New York City to their studios in Scarborough, Ontario. Long story short: I recruited some friends to help me lift the ball into a car, and three of them joined me for this bizarre road trip.
Now that you know all of that, let’s get to the photos. Here I am with the ball outside the hotel in Canada:
I thought about leaving the ball in the car overnight — that certainly would’ve been the easiest thing to do — but it was so damn cold that I was worried about it freezing.
Best way to remove the ball from the car? Roll it out, of course!
The ball now weighs 259 pounds, which is much too heavy for me to lift, so this was the first time I’d seen it bounce in more than a decade. It held up remarkably well, as I expected — a good thing because the folks at the Discovery Channel were planning to drop it the following day from much higher up.
By the way, in the photo above, the guy on the right is my friend Mike Zimbouski. You might remember him from my trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame in 2011.
I should mention that most of these rubber band ball photos were taken by another friend — a professional photographer named Dave Stewart. If you see his initials (“ds”) following the numbers in the file names, it means they’re his. And they’re copyrighted. Therefore, if you feel like grabbing one and posting it anywhere, you must credit him and link to his website: www.david-stewart.net.
Here’s one final photo of me with the ball outside the hotel:
In case you’re wondering why the ball looks shiny, it’s because I’d covered it with Cling Wrap and clear packing tape. My plan was to keep it like that until it reached the studio, then uncover it for the filming and wrap it back up for the journey home.
Best way to get the ball to my hotel room? Roll it, of course!
As you might imagine, this caused quite a scene, but what else was I supposed to do? The employee who checked me in offered a luggage cart, but that would’ve required lifting the ball onto the cart. Not worth it.
In the photo above, the woman with the camera is my friend Mala Kumar. (To refresh your memory, my three friends on this trip were Mike, Dave, and Mala. You’ll see a lot more of them as you keep reading.)
Here I am rolling the ball along an elevated walkway . . .
. . . and yes, that’s a water slide in the background. I resisted the urge to roll it down THAT and headed into the elevator:
Then I proceeded to my room on the fourth floor — or rather *our* room. The four of us shared it. It was . . . interesting. And crowded, not to mention annoying, fun, and ridiculous — pretty much what I expected.
After throwing my jacket in the room, I returned to the hallway and posed with the ball:
Here are my friends in the room — Dave on the left, Mike in the middle, and Mala on the right:
Mike graciously offered to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor. That left me and Dave with beds and Mala with a cot. Prior to this trip, none of us had ever slept in the same room together, but it worked. Kind of.
The next morning was THE morning. I was due at the studio at 9am, and my friends joined me. They were allowed to hang out for the taping as long as they didn’t make noise or interrupt in any way.
Here I am rolling the ball back along the elevated walkway:
I paused for a photo at the front desk . . .
. . . and then headed outside to get the car.
Before I tell you what happened next, here’s a video that shows the entire process of rolling the ball downstairs:
Lifting the ball back into the car was going to be the biggest challenge of the entire trip. I just knew it. Back in New York, there were five or six of us who barely muscled it in, but here outside the Delta Hotel in Scarborough, Ontario? Mike filmed while Dave and Mala and I tried to lift it. (The Discovery Channel had requested that we get footage of the ball being moved. That’s why Mike was filming, so don’t accuse him of being lazy.) Here’s a screen shot from the video:
Not only did we fail, but I strained my biceps in the process — not a serious injury, but my arms felt tight for the rest of the day.
Mike had no choice but to put down the camera and help us make a second attempt. This resulted in another failure.
The studio was only a few miles away, but we were now going to be late. It was nearly 9am, and I had no idea what to do. I’m telling you, we could NOT lift the ball into the car. It’s not that 259 pounds was too heavy to lift. The issue was that the ball was big and round (and in this case slick because of the wrapping), and there was nothing to grab onto.
I ran back inside and asked some employees if they had a ramp or even just a plank or wooden board. The only solution, it seemed, was to roll the ball into the car, but they didn’t have anything on hand. They called maintenance and told me to wait five minutes — but that was more time than I could spare.
Back outside, my friends and I had a collective epiphany: why not try to get some other people to help? Yes! Did you notice the buses in the background of the screen shot above? They must’ve been there to pick people up for a tour of some sort because there were dozens of Chinese folks milling about. These people had seen us struggling, and they were intrigued, so when I waved a few of them over, they were glad to help. One guy had a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth that nearly poked the ball as he crouched down to get a hold of it, but I didn’t say anything. I just hoped the nicotine rush gave him strength — and perhaps it did. I’m not sure who else was helping or how many of us there were, but somehow we managed to hoist the damn ball into the back of the wagon. And somehow we neglected to take any photos or videos. Aarrghh!! I was tempted to roll the ball back out and do it all over again and get someone to film it, but screw it. We were already late. And it was freezing. And my arms hurt. And I was sweating. And I just wanted to get moving.
After missing a turn and wasting an additional five minutes, we finally made it. We were greeted by two people — the Associate Producer named Riley and a cameraman named Jay. They wanted to get footage of me removing the ball from the car and rolling it inside to the studio. Here’s how it started:
Here I am heading inside:
Here I am entering the lobby:
Here I am rolling the ball past Riley and the cameraman:
In the photo above, I was heading toward a door which led here:
I was SO sweaty at that point and wanted nothing more than to take off my jacket and hat, but for the sake of continuity, I had to leave it on. And keep the jacket zipped up.
Several shots required multiple takes, including — you guessed it! — the ramp. Of course, in order to keep shooting it, I had to keep rolling the ball back up it. Here I am getting a running start and giving the ball as much momentum as possible:
Here I am heading back down and through the hallway:
It was fun, but did I mention that I was sweaty?
Oh. My. God.
And to make matters worse, I’d only gotten five hours of sleep.
(Yes, I know . . . first-world problems.)
Here’s the ball sitting in an office hallway:
Here’s the ball nearly taking out a random employee:
That guy was not supposed to be part of the shot, and when he saw the TV camera, he apologized. Riley told him it was cool. In fact, she loved it because his baffled reaction to the ball was spontaneous.
I was told to roll the ball into this pile of boxes . . .
. . . which was lots of fun. My only regret was that I didn’t make a more direct hit, but at the time, I didn’t realize that Riley wanted the whole thing to come crashing down.
Finally, after half an hour of rolling and re-rolling my rubber band ball through the lobby, up and down the ramp, several hallways, and a warehouse, I reached the studio. Here I am just outside of it with a guy named Greg, who was going to be lifting/dropping the ball with a 5,000-pound forklift:
While I chatted with him, Dave poked his head in the studio and took the following photo:
Did you notice the huge, elevated, wood frame-like thing in the background? That’s where Dave, Mike, and Mala hung out for most of the morning, so they had a nice view of everything from above.
Here I am talking to the director named John:
In the photo above, that’s Greg on the right and Riley directly below with her arms folded.
Here I am with Greg and the enclosure that he constructed:
As you can kinda see, the forklift was attached to the barricades, which were linked up to each other and bolted at the far end to the hockey goal. In order to get the ball onto the forklift, I had to roll it onto the two big metal prongs and then hold it there for a moment while they tilted up. That’s what’s happening here:
In order to drop the ball, Greg gently tilted the prongs back down so that it rolled off. That’s why he built the enclosure. The ball wasn’t going to fall vertically; there was going to be horizontal movement.
Here’s a four-part photo that shows it bouncing from a slightly greater height:
Here’s a screen shot from a video that was filmed at ground level:
Although we didn’t measure precisely, it appears that the ball was dropped from a little under four feet high and bounced nearly two feet up. (Nice!) The plan was to drop it on camera from three different heights, the greatest of which would measure about 10 feet. When I predicted that the ball would bounce over the hockey goal, the others were like, “Naaaah, you think so? Really?” And I was like, “Trust me.” That’s when the crew moved all the fancy cameras out of the way.
Some people were concerned that the ball would explode, but I was certain that it would hold up pretty well. At worst, I thought the entire outer layer of bands might break because of the force. More likely, though, I figured a few bands might snap, but that seemed like a worthwhile sacrifice.
Here I am chatting with John and Riley:
After a few minutes, it was time for makeup. Here I am in the chair . . .
. . . and here’s a closer look at the torture I was put through:
I really REALLY don’t like makeup. I think it looks bad, smells bad, and tastes bad, but I know it’s important on TV.
Back in the studio, I got miked up . . .
. . . and then unwrapped the ball with some help from a guy named Grant:
I’d been asked to bring some rubber bands, so here I am showing them to the folks in charge — explaining the various sizes and sharing other info that might’ve been important:
In the photo above, I was wearing goggles for protection because I’d just added a band to the ball. Many years ago, I had a band snap and hit me just below the eye, so yeah, goggles are a must.
Here I am going over some last-minute details with Ziya Tong, the host of the show:
Once the camera was actually rolling, we greeted each other with a handshake:
(Wow! Look how pretty the ball is!)
Then we talked about the ball for a bit, and she decided to try to add a band to it. Here she is pre-stretching it . . .
. . . and here she is going for it:
I was impressed. Most people struggle the first time they attempt to add a band to the ball, but she nailed it.
The second half of the segment featured the forklift. Here I am rolling the ball in that direction:
The first drop was only about three feet high, but as you can see based on my posture in the following screen shot, I was really excited:
At the time I had no idea that I was crouching down so low. No one told me to do that. I wasn’t acting. I guess I just wanted an eye-level view of the bounce.
This was the greatest height from which the ball was dropped — not quite 10 feet as originally planned, but more like eight:
(What IS it with me and balls being dropped from high up?)
Did you notice Ziya’s reaction in the background? Did you notice that we were standing farther back this time?
Here’s the ball plummeting toward the concrete floor:
As you can see in the following photo, it bounced more than halfway up!
Look what happened next:
It landed on top of the hockey goal and kept going:
I darted after it, and Ziya (whose name, by the way, rhymes with “papaya”) stayed close behind.
Here’s a short video of the bounce, which Mala filmed:
I’m happy to report that the ball didn’t suffer any damage. Not a single band snapped at any point on the entire trip.
Many thanks to the Discovery Channel, not only for inviting me to be on the show, but also for allowing my friends to be there and use their own cameras.
After the segment was done being filmed, Ziya and I got a photo together:
That was not the first time I’ve been photographed standing on my rubber band ball.
Unfortunately it was time to go, but there was still one more thing to do — re-wrap the ball with my packing materials:
When I finished, we could’ve headed straight back to New York City. It was only 12pm, so if we’d begun the 500-mile drive right away, we would’ve gotten home at a reasonable hour. But what would’ve been the point of that?! The Discovery Channel had offered to pay for two nights at the hotel, so we decided to take advantage and spend some in Toronto — and I asked Riley to store the ball for me overnight. That way it would be kept warm, and the forklift would be able to lift it back into the car the following morning as we began the long drive home.
Here I am with the ball on the forklift:
Greg took it to a storage area . . .
. . . inside a different building. And that was it.
Next stop? Toronto.
Here’s Dave, Mala, and Mike walking alongside a park downtown:
After wandering around aimlessly, freezing our asses off, and trying various donuts at Tim Horton’s, we picked a random sports bar for an early dinner:
Here’s a closer look at what I was eating:
That’s mac-n-cheese wrapped with bacon . . . and then fried. (Oof!) Then I had a couple of chicken taquitos and some “deep fried cheesecake.” I rarely eat like that, but hey, this was a special occasion, or something like that.
After dinner, Mike, who’s obsessed with music and occasionally blogs about it, headed off to go check out some record stores. Dave and Mala, meanwhile, joined me for a short cab ride to the Rogers building. Here they are outside:
My plan was to visit my friend Jeff Sammut, who hosts a sports talk radio show on a station called “590 The Fan.” He was scheduled to go on the air at 7pm, so I got there at 6:30 just to say a three-minute hello. To my surprise, Jeff rushed me into the studio and taped a 15-minute interview with his co-host, George Rusic, which aired the following night.
Here’s a photo that Dave took during the interview:
Here’s another photo that shows me talking to Jeff:
Can you feel the love in his eyes? That happens to people when I talk about my balls.
Seriously, though, Jeff is a great guy and was nice enough to let me plug my appearance on the Discovery Channel, even though it had nothing to do with sports. By the way, do you remember this photo of us from 6/28/12 at Yankee Stadium? We always have fun together. I just wish we didn’t live in different countries so that we could catch up more often.
It was only 7pm when I headed back outside with Mala and Dave, but we were wiped out. And it was freezing. And we’d already eaten dinner. We thought about seeing a movie, but eh, we decided to head back to the hotel instead. Here’s a cool photo from our taxi ride:
The following morning, we packed up all our stuff and checked out of the hotel and headed back to the Discovery Channel studios. Here I am pacing around outside, hoping that the rubber band ball was still there:
See the big white garage-type door in the photo above? Here’s what was inside:
I figured it would’ve be tough for anyone to steal the ball, but then again, these people *did* have the necessary equipment.
Before the forklift hauled it to the car, Grant (the guy who had helped me unwrap the ball) took a shot at lifting it himself:
That was as high as he managed to lift it, which probably doesn’t seem like much, but trust me, that’s VERY impressive. And by the way, Grant is about 6-foot-3 and probably weighs 250 pounds. Normal-sized people can’t lift the ball.
Here’s the forklift with the ball . . .
. . . and here’s Grant easing it into the car:
It was a smooth transfer — no issues or damage whatsoever.
Before hitting the road, Riley and I got a photo with the ball:
She was great to work with. The whole crew was fantastic. I’ve encountered some rather obnoxious TV people over the years, but there was no attitude here at the Discovery Channel.
On the way back to New York . . .
. . . we took a detour to go visit Niagara Falls. Here I am:
I’d never been there before and was thrilled to finally see it. The main riverbed (if that’s the proper word) was mostly frozen and covered with snow . . .
. . . but the Falls themselves were going strong:
Everything was coated in a layer of ice because of the mist, including the guard rail. Here’s a random kid with a snazzy chunk of ice from it:
I took dozens of photos at Niagara Falls, but I won’t bore you with any more of them. Instead I’ll just say that we made it through customs without incident (“So, what brought you to Canada?”) and shared lots of laughs on the way home. Here’s a photo of Mala and Dave at a rest stop in upstate New York:
In case you’re interested, Dave wrote his own blog entry about this trip with a few photos that I haven’t posted here, so check it out. And when you’re done with that, take a look at Mala’s personal website, which has nothing to do with balls.
Mala drove for a few hours in the afternoon . . .
. . . while Dave and I looked at all of his photos in the back seat.
Finally, look what we saw on the back of a truck as we approached New York City:
How perfect is that?
Oh, and one more thing . . . click here to watch the actual rubber band ball TV segment, which aired in Canada on March 10, 2014. It might take a moment to load, and then there’ll be a 10-second promo, so be patient. It’s worth it.
For the last five years, I’ve been raising money for a children’s baseball charity called Pitch In For Baseball, and for the last two seasons, I’ve given away a bunch of prizes to the people who’ve donated. I’ve decided to do it again in 2014, so let me start with a quick list of the stuff you can win. Then I’ll show you photos of everything and explain how this is going to work:
1) game-worn uniform pants autographed by Dwight Gooden
2) a 2001 World Series ball
3) a 2007 Home Run Derby “gold ball”
4) an inscribed copy of The Baseball
5) a signed copy of Miracle Mud
6) signed copies of The San Francisco Splash and The Wrigley Riddle
7) baseball cards from the 1987 and 1988 Topps Traded sets
8) ticket stubs from the Opening Series in Sydney, Australia
9) souvenir cups from the Opening Series
Here’s a photo of Gooden’s uniform pants (which he signed with his nickname “Doc”):
Why am I just giving this away? Because (a) I want to make it irresistible for you to donate money to this worthy cause and (b) the pants are damaged . . . slightly. Do you remember when the top three floors of the Argosy Book Store got soaked during Hurricane Sandy? (Here and here are two blog entries about it.) That’s how the damage occurred, and as a result there’s now a faint orange stain on the crotch:
It looks nasty, but I promise it was only water that caused it. Maybe that makes the pants extra valuable in a weird way — you know, getting damaged in a famous storm. Maybe if you win this prize, you can carefully remove the stain. Who knows? Your call. But anyway, the Argosy received insurance money for everything that got damaged or destroyed, so that’s why I’m able to give this away.
Here’s one more photo of the pants:
Obviously that’s a VERY special item, so good luck.
Here’s the 2001 World Series ball, which, as you’re about to see, is an alternate collector’s version:
Because of 9/11, Major League Baseball replaced the World Series logo with the American flag — not on balls that were actually used at stadiums, but just as a separate tribute.
Here’s the 2007 Home Run Derby gold ball:
No, I didn’t snag this ball at the Derby — although I *was* there. It was given to me (along with the 2001 World Series ball) when I got a private tour of the Office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball in 2009.
Speaking of balls, here’s the copy the The Baseball:
If you win this prize, tell me how you want it signed, and I’ll personalize it to you.
Here’s the cover of Miracle Mud . . .
. . . and here’s the autograph on the title page:
It was signed “2013” because that’s when the author, David A. Kelly, gave me a bunch of books to be used as charity prizes. Here are two more of his books . . .
. . . and this is how he signed them:
Here are the baseball cards:
As you can see, there are two sizable stacks from the 1987 and 1998 Topps Traded sets. They’re arranged alphabetically in the photo above, so don’t be discouraged by the Juans on top. There are more recognizable names buried within:
Here are the ticket stubs from the Opening Series in Australia:
In case you’ve forgotten, these counted as regular-season games — the first ones ever for Major League Baseball in the southern hemisphere — and I was there. These two tickets (one from each game) will be given together as one prize.
Here’s what the souvenir cups look like:
The image above shows one cup from three different angles; I will be giving away two cups together as one prize.
There’s a good chance I’ll add a few more prizes over the course of the season, so keep an eye on this entry for updates.
People who donate money to Pitch In For Baseball through my fundraiser will be eligible to win these prizes. (I don’t get any money from this because my fundraising page is simply a place for people to make pledges. After the final game of the World Series, I will email everyone with info about how to actually donate the money directly to the charity.) Remember how this worked last year? It’s all based on how many baseballs I snag over the course of the MLB season. For every penny per ball that you donate, your name will be entered into the drawing; in other words, someone who donates 25 cents per ball will have five times the odds of winning over someone who donates a nickel per ball. The person whose name is picked first will get to pick which prize they want; the person whose name is picked second will get the next choice, and so on. If I had to guess, I’d predict snagging about 500 balls this season, so if you pledge one penny per ball, that will end up being about a $5 donation. You can make a pledge anytime — here’s more info about my fundraiser — but in order to be eligible to win a prize, you’ll need to send in the money by December 1, 2014.
On a final note for those who don’t know, Pitch In For Baseball is a non-profit charity that provides baseball and softball equipment to underprivileged kids all over the world. Here’s a blog entry that I wrote last year about the charity helping Hurricane Sandy victims. Here’s a TV segment about the charity on the NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams. There’ve also been a bunch of articles about Pitch In For Baseball on MLB.com, which you can read here and here and here and here.
Look what found its way into my inbox last night:
Baseball in Australia, baby! Here I come!
18 days until I leave.
20 days until I arrive.
23 days until I’ll be running inside the Sydney Cricket Ground.
I kinda wish I’d gotten hard tickets instead of e-tickets, but whatever. Just being there is the most important thing.