Ultimate Baseball Road Trip (71 page)
Read Ultimate Baseball Road Trip Online
Authors: Josh Pahigian,Kevin O’Connell
Kevin:
For hating each other so much, the two towns have an awful lot in common.
Josh:
I suppose you could say the same thing about New York and Boston.
Kevin:
Yeah, they both have arts and cultural landscapes that …
Josh:
I was talking about the food.
Kevin:
I should have known.
Although it seats nearly as many people as Oriole Park, the Prog feels considerably larger. Perhaps this may be attributed to the three levels of luxury boxes that push the upper deck so high. If you stay on the first level, this isn’t a problem, though. The most distinctive feature of the field is the left-field wall. Directly below the left-field bleachers—down the line at 325 feet in the corner and 370 feet in left-center—the nineteen-foot-high “mini monster” invokes comparisons to the nearly twice as altitudinous Wall in Boston. In straightaway center, the wall abruptly drops down to a more conventional eight feet, at which it remains for the rest of its path around the outfield. Behind it in deep center, the batter’s eye takes the form of some decorative trees that blend in with the rest of the park. While a similar living backdrop drew the ire of batters in Minneapolis and had to be replaced before Target Field’s second season, there have been no such complaints about the trees in Cleveland. Tucked behind them, where there once existed a picnic area for fans, sits a classy tribute to past Indians who have left their mark on the franchise. This is Cleveland’s version of Monument Park and it’s very well done. In right-center, nearly 400 feet from the plate, the Indians relievers warm up in an elevated bullpen that allows fans to easily spot who’s warming up. The visiting pen is situated in the right-field corner at 325 feet from the batter’s box. In both pens, the relievers throw toward the outfield fence, rather than parallel to it. This orientation allowed the Indians room to place more seats along the top of the home run wall than a more conventional bullpen approach would have allowed.
Ray Chapman
The twenty-nine-year-old Chapman was just entering his prime when he stepped into the right-handed batter’s box at the Polo Grounds to face the Yankees’ Carl Mays on August 16, 1920. A submarine-style right-hander whose ball ran back in on righties, Mays was known as a headhunter but had no reason to be throwing at Chapman given the game situation; the score was tight and Chapman was leading off an inning. Whether it was intended to or not, however, Mays unleashed one of his trademark deliveries that from the start appeared to be heading up and in. Battling the late afternoon sun, Chapman never moved. The ball crashed into his skull, making a thud so loud that Mays thought the ball had hit the bat. The pitcher picked up the ball, which had rolled nearly all the way back to him, and threw to first. But Chapman lay writhing on the ground. He was eventually able to stand and walk halfway to the Indians clubhouse with teammates supporting him. But then his legs gave out and he collapsed. He was rushed to a New York City hospital but by the next morning had slipped away. Today, Chapman’s plaque at Progressive Field reads: “Shortstop of the Cleveland baseball club from September seventeenth nineteen hundred and twelve until his death on August sixteenth nineteen hundred and twenty.”
Josh:
It just looks weird.
Kevin:
At least they’re not in foul territory like in Tampa Bay.
Josh:
Or half under the stands like in Houston.
HERITAGE PARK
In 2007 the Indians officially opened an expanded version of Heritage Park in the area beyond the centerfield batter’s eye. We liked the picnic tables that used to reside here. But we appreciate this classy tribute to the team’s history even more. Favorite Indians from every era are honored by monuments and bronze plaques. Recent honorees include popular Indians like Sandy Alomar Jr. and Charles Nagy, while team legends like Feller and Boudreau are represented too. The Andre Thorntons and Al Rosens of the world are honored too, as is “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, who played for the Indians from 1910 to 1915, just before his infamous turn with the White Sox. The plaques sport player busts above a
few words to memorialize each man. The saddest belongs to the ill-fated Ray Chapman, who remains the only big league player to die as the result of a game-related injury.
When it was originally installed in 2004 the video board in left field was the largest such screen at any sports facility in the world. It has since been surpassed, of course, several times over by the ever-expanding boards at other stadiums. We’re not sure if these newer cheaper boards have been made in China, like the three progressively larger widescreen TVs Josh has bought during that time, but we wouldn’t be surprised. Being so large however, we wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to have a smaller scoreboard elsewhere at the Prog so the view of downtown could loom above the field to a greater degree. Then again, you have to keep up with the Joneses.
The distinctive ballpark light towers are shaped like toothbrushes. No, not like the electric Oral-B you use today to clean your pearly whites. They look like the old-fashioned handle and brush devices we used back in the 1990s when we thought nothing would ever replace the CD as the most space-efficient recording device ever invented and we thought Grunge was here to stay. We like these lights. They project a nice clean image above a city that sometimes feels like it could use a little scrubbing.
A distinctive feature of the field is the gray dirt. On the mound, around the bases and on the warning track, it is a lot less red than the Georgia clay or crushed brick used at most parks. The first time Kevin saw this on television, he futzed with the color-control knob on his set, but once seen in person, the gray dirt is wonderfully unique. Dredged from the Ohio River, this playing surface is considered a local treasure. We’d like to point out that we’re not advocating that every ballpark in America comes up with its own color of dirt—orange dirt for Baltimore, teal for Miami, and so on. This isn’t the NBA.
Above the right-field seats appear the names and numbers of the Indians who have reached the Happy Hunting Grounds. While most of the retirees are standard, there is one that’s pretty cool. Number 455 has been retired to honor the fans who sold out the first 455 games at “The Jake” as the park was then nicknamed. Now our memories of twenty-five hundred people watching a day game at Municipal are officially erased. Oh wait, the Indians drew about that many for a pair of April games in 2011. Maybe those memories will never die. But the memory of “the streak” lives on too. And that’s worth something in a city where the sports psyche has often oscillated between despondent and despairing. The other retired numbers belong to Bob Feller (19), Bob Lemon (21), Earl Averill (3), Larry Doby (14), the shifty Lou Boudreau (5), Mel Harder (18), and Jackie Robinson (42).
Incidentally, the Indians were one of the first two teams to play a game in which both squads wore uniform numbers. After the Indians experimented with numbers on their sleeves during the 1916 season before abandoning the practice after just a handful of games, they squared off against the Yankees on May 13, 1929, at League Park with both teams sporting digits. No. 3, Babe Ruth, and No. 4, Lou Gehrig, led the Bronx Bombers to a 4-3 win.
We found the food inside the Prog improved upon our return, but this is still a park where you’ll want to visit the first level to get your meal, even if your seats are upstairs. Just about all of the good stuff is down below.
The Indians sell approximately 400,000 hot dogs per season, or, to put that in perspective, about a quarter as many as the Dodgers sell at Dodger Stadium. Cleveland’s isn’t the best dog in the world, but it isn’t the worst. The taste is big league material, but the texture is Triple-A. Topped with the right mustard, though, it does the trick.
The Indians also serve a massive half-pound all-beef dog at the “Sausages and Dogs” carts. We were tempted but wanted to save room for other treats. Eight ounces is a lot of hot dog.
As far as great sports rivalries go our favorites will always be Red Sox v. Yankees, Cardinals v. Cubs, Lakers v. Celtics, Army v. Navy and Ohio State v. Michigan. In the world of stadium condiments, though, there is no rivalry more ferocious and contemptuous than that between Authentic Stadium Mustard and Bertman’s Ballpark Mustard in Cleveland. Both of these brand names are widely available at Cleveland grocery stores, but only Stadium Mustard is available
at the Prog’s standard concession counters. Thus, it garners our vote as Cleveland’s trademark food. Yes, we are aware that it’s “only” a condiment. But whether you put it on your dog, an Italian, or a brat, nothing will make you feel more like you’re in the land of Cleve than biting down into something (anything) slathered in Stadium Mustard. It’s brown and spicy to the point of even being a little hot. Now while it would be our preference to have both mustards available at all of the park’s concession stands (as was the case at Municipal Stadium), such is life. Why not pick up a container of both on your way out of town and conduct a taste-test at your next tailgate? Did we mention Milwaukee’s only 430 miles away?
The
Loaded Burgers
stand behind Section 107 also serves a grilled chicken sandwich, fried fish sandwich and veggie sandwich. We were impressed by the plethora of toppings that range from banana peppers to pizza sauce, buffalo sauce, chili, and blue cheese crumbles.
The Cleats stand, at Section 164, serves
chicken wings
in BBQ, Buffalo, and Kentucky Bourbon sauces.
The Cleveland Pops stands serve a delicious
Triple Pop
of Caramel Corn, Cheese Corn, and regular buttered Popcorn.
We managed to find some
Bertman’s Ballpark Mustard
at the Food Network Cart behind Section 172. They were slathering it on a tasty
Cleveland Steak Sandwich
that came on a rustic roll with a bed of potato sticks. The sauerkraut was a bit much for our taste, but the rest of the sandwich was a winner.
The
half-pound brats
and
third-pound Italians
at the “Sausages and Dogs” carts are solid options but almost too filling.
The Fresh Cut french fries and Potato Wedges
at Spuds and Suds
(Section 163) are worth the extra buck if you’re a potato lover.
Kevin found a number of craft beers—including Great Lakes Dortmunder and Great Lakes Burning River—at a bar behind Sections 102 and 103, where they were also pouring Guinness, Blue Moon, Labatt’s, Leinenkugel Summer Shandy, and Leinenkugel Sunset Wheat.
What says baseball like a bag of Pork Rinds and one of your dad’s favorite old-time beers? If you say “nothing,” then visit “Your Dad’s Beer Stand” behind Section 119. Blatz, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Schaeffer, Genesee, Rolling Rock, Stroh’s, and Iron City are available. And they have old-fogey munchies like Pork Rinds and Andy Capp Fries too!
Josh:
I think I’ll stick with the fresh cut fries at Spuds and Suds.
Kevin:
I like pork rinds.
There is a prevalent feeling among Indians fans that the Supreme Being will not allow any team from Cleveland to win a sports championship ever again because “God hates Cleveland,” for some unspecified reason. Upon first visiting Cleveland and rubbing elbows with the locals, Josh took umbrage at this attitude, claiming the Tribe had won two World Series since his beloved Red Sox had last triumphed. After the BoSox became the first team to win two World Championships in the new century and the ChiSox won one too, Josh thinks the Cleveland fans just have to hang in there a little longer. Either they’re going to see their boys of summer win the big one soon, or the Cubs fans will finally have reason to throw a postgame party and Cleveland will have to wait another fifty years or so for its turn.
Josh:
At least the fans will stop whining in one of those cities.
Kevin:
I’m surprised you’re not more empathetic after all those years rooting for the Sox.
Josh:
There’s no crying in baseball.
Kevin:
You cried for three weeks after Boone’s homer against Wakefield.
Josh:
I have no memory of that.
Despite the expectation that things will eventually go wrong for the Indians, there is an endearing sense of fraternity among Tribe fans. After all, Indians apparel has never reached critical mass in “coolness” across the country, and you’ll rarely see the latest hip-hop star donning Chief Wahoo on a cap the way he might wear a Yankees or White Sox lid. Rather, if you see someone brandishing Chief Wahoo, dirtied and road-weary, you know that person has a Cleveland connection. He has either lived in Cleveland, has relatives there, went to school there, or recently saw his first game in the land that boasts Bob Feller, Halle Berry, and Jesse Owens as its own.
This sense of camaraderie all comes together at the Prog to create a great game-day atmosphere. Wahoo Nation is an excited and friendly faction. Fans are crazy, mostly about their Indians. The atmosphere is infectious, so don’t be surprised to find yourself rooting for the home team.
The shaggy purple fellow imploring Tribe fans to get involved in enthusiastic fan behavior is one of the hardest working mascots in the game, even if we’re not sure exactly what type of animal he is. Back during the 1995 playoff run he got a little overzealous and fell off the outfield wall, doing permanent damage to his knee.
