The Chris Moeller Archives

My first trip to Busch

I got my first glimpse of the new Busch Stadium yesterday-- a chance to sit in the bleachers and watch the Cardinals and Reds on a gorgeous Easter Sunday. Three aspects of the park are remarkably similar to the old one-- the colors (fans dressed in red and red seats, and a green grandstand,) the route from Iowa to the ballpark, and Albert Pujols. You may have already heard that Pujols thumped a game-tying two run homer in the 5th, added to a one-run lead with a solo shot in the 7th, and then walked off with a two-run homer in the bottom of the ninth, down a run. The game feels like the equivalent of going to see Michael Jordan and watching him score 60.

As for the ballpark, it still feels like a work in progress, and I'm not talking about the section of seats in left that hasn't opened yet. I'm talking about the little things in a total ballpark experience that may not seem like much to casual fans, or even serious fans in casual baseball cities, but mean the world to hard-core fans in baseball's best city. I'm not a bleacher fan, anyway, so that detracted from the experience, but perhaps unfairly. On a bright day, it was difficult to pick up the ball out of the white shirts behind home plate. I had to crane my neck around to get information for my scorecard. Lineup changes were posted remarkably slow, and a couple Reds pinch-hitters' names never appeared. The outfield scoreboard has more info than ever on out-of-town games (batters and baserunners,) but less it seems on the game we're all there to watch. If you miss a play result, the player's batting history for the game is gone for good, and the sound system went virtually undetected by outfield patrons. Sound is one of the most difficult things for architectural engineers to calibrate, but I missed the booming reverberations of the PA announcer and organist off the coliseum-style pavilion of Old Busch.

The thirdbase side "balls-and-strikes" scoreboard has yet to be installed, and the firstbase side is half reserved for this ridiculous gimmick in which fans can text-message public comments from their wireless phones, presumably even from home. My brother, an employee of the particular phone company offering the service, spent the first two innings and $2.99 waiting for his "Go Reds" to appear on the board. It's all just another way for cell phone users to become more of a nuisance at the ballgame.

The view from behind home plate is utterly spectacular, with the Gateway Arch towering over the skyline in right-center field, but you don't get the sense you should that you are in the home of one of baseball's most storied franchises. The team's retired numbers are lost in the centerfield picnic area amidst a sea of advertising (of which only the classic Budweiser banner atop is acceptable,) Rogers Hornsby, the greatest secondbaseman in baseball history but a man who played before uniform numbers, and long-time broadcaster Jack Buck are not remembered at all, and the team's 16 National League pennants and 9 World Championship flags are nowhere to be found.

Hopefully with time, the new mailing address will precipitate a whole new rededication of all these elements, and they'll remember to leave space for a new statue to accompany Stan Musial's at the ballpark's entrance. The Great Pujols is already leaving an imprint inside.

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As promised last week, here's the account of that other time I believe a higher power may have been speaking directly to me. Esquire magazine published an issue devoted to "What I've Learned"s. "What I've Learned" is a one-page collection of wisdoms and witticisms from older celebrity men-- and some celebrity women-- relaying the knowledge they've accumulated during their lives and careers. For example, Negro Leaguer Buck O'Neil: "A nickname means you belong," and Homer Simpson: "I don't need a surgeon telling me how to operate on myself."

This issue had pages upon pages of such pearls, and the last page was devoted to a clever scribe's listing of Almighty God's "What I've Learned"s. The final nugget (out of possibly a thousand in this particular magazine) was "Always finish off a shave with cold water. It's better for your pores." As coincidence might rather have it, that just happened to be the week I switched from an electric to a straight razor, and let me tell you, my skin immediately appreciated this helpful hint. Clean, open pores going on four years now.

posted by CM @ 12:39 PM