The other day my uncle said in passing, "Oh, I think the Fish are coming to town this weekend." Immediately, flashes of leather mitts and wooden bats crossed in front of my eyes. The smell of fresh-cut grass and May rain clouds invaded my nostrils. The salty taste of peanuts and sunflower seeds, hot dogs and pistachios caused my salivatory glands to ignite. I wiped the drool off my chin as I drifted back to reality.
Later that day, I figured I'd take a gander, sneak a peek, 'window shop' (you know... just for the heck of it...) to see what kind of seats I could, might, maybe, possibly, get. After a few clicks and disinterested sighs later, I rubbed my eyes. I looked a little harder at the screen. Then I looked around to see if anyone was behind me, waiting to see my reaction then burst out laughing as if they had pulled the ultimate prank. No one was, and no one did.
I couldn't believe it! What had I just found?! I couldn't STILL hardly beleive it, and yet, there they were! Four tickets... Section 138... sixth row.
Armed with my tickets and my Florida Marlins shirt, myself, Bret, Dad, and Curtis set off to Denver. We arrived just in time to watch Florida's batting practice.
We strolled down to our section and down the rows. 10, 9, 8, getting closer and closer, 7... but we were far TOO close to be in the sixth row? Maybe they misnumbered the seats... or we were in the wrong section. But there it was... two rows up from the dugout... row number six. "Is this right?" came the question amid 'Holy Cow!'s and 'Wow!'s. No one ever told us that the dugout actually consists of rows 1-4.
"Do you want to move back?" asked the usher.
"Yeah, we're a little TOO close to enjoy anything," replied Dad.
So there we were. Row two... er, uh... six... right above the Marlins dugout. We took in batting practice and warmups. I got a thumbs up from Emilio Bonifacio, the third basemen, when I showed him my Marlins shirt. Cameron Maybin, the center fielder, came and signed autographs.
And I just took it all in.
It was almost game time and Hanley Ramirez and Jorge Cantu came out of the dugout right in front of us to get in a few final warm-up tosses.
Here's Hanley going up to bat in the 1st inning. Notice I'm wearing a white ball cap and blue jacket...
Then, all of a sudden, a loud SMACK...!
A thing of beauty!
Did you notice anything unusual? Watch it again.
What about right around the 25 or 26 second mark?
Did you notice the guy in the stands with the blue jacket and white hat? Here let me work some magic and get the guys in the booth to pause it for a second... and John Madden to draw some stuff on it... "Now here's a guy if he wasn't standing he'd be sitting."
Thats right folks. I was on TV. But you all already know that. The guys on Sportscenter can't stop talking about the 'only guy cheering for the Marlins', and after my brief appearances on Letterman and the O... who wouldn't know who I am?
The game was tied 3-3 after 3 innings... but then during the 5th inning the Marlins exploded for 5 runs. Here's Hanley with an RBI single.
Later in the game, Dan Uggla, the All-Star second baseman, was hanging around the top step of the dugout. Curtis yelled at him, "Hey, I want a ball!"
"I don't have any!" he yelled back.
"I want a ball!" said Curtis again.
"And I want to pitch," said Uggla with a grin.
"Yeah, I'd like to see that too!" I said, showing him my shirt. He gave me a thumbs up, and went back into the dugout.
My flag football team lost in the playoffs… again. Now, normally I would care a whole lot because I’m a competitive person and I HATE losing. But this time, I didn’t really have any expectations for the team, and so I shrug my shoulders and continue on. The only problem is that when I actually shrug my shoulders, I have a sharp pain in my chest. I think I may have dislocated a rib… from my sternum. (The last time I checked, that’s not normal.)
Anyone that knows me knows that I like sports. I like the thrill of competition. I like the excitement that comes with success. I like the anticipation that I just might see something that has never been done before.
Anyone that knows me also knows that my affinity for sports endows me with a magnetism for injury. Sprained wrists, pulled hamstrings, twisted ankles… bumps, bruises, scars… jammed fingers, dislocated ribs, strained ligaments… concussions, fat lips, and a broken nose. You name it, I probably hurt it.
But I, like many others, keep coming back for more. Are we athletes? We think we are. Are we idiots? Maybe. Are we quitters? Most definitely not. (Should we quit? We shouldn’t have even started.) As a tribute to all of you who almost won the State Title in high school, to all of you who played JV ball as seniors, and to all of you who ever tripped before crossing the finish line, I offer a way to erase all the disappointing yesterdays and once again hope for a promising tomorrow. Three words: Full-contact triathlons.
For those of you who don’t know what a triathlon is, (stop reading this, get into your Toy Story sheets, and tell your mom via text message that you’re ready to be tucked in. If she brings you cookies and milk, it will be the greatest achievement of your life.) it is an endurance sports event that includes swimming, cycling and running various distances. The standard "Olympic Distance" is 1.5 km swim, 40 km bike, and 10 km run. (For those of you uneducated in the metric system, that is the equivalent of 0.93 mile swim, 24.8 mile bike, and 6.2 mile run.)
My friend recently completed one last month. He said, “It is super lame. No one even got tackled. And when you try to tackle someone you get DQ'd.” (That’s ‘disqualified’ not ‘Dairy Queened’.) So all of us here at Barttimesnow (which is basically… me, myself, and I) have decided to help evolve the often boring triathlon world by creating the very first full-contact triathlon.
Although the total distance may vary between the “Olympic Distance” and the “Sprint Distance” (which is half of the “Olympic Distance”), the race will be just like any other triathlon… except now every competitor will be armed with a bucket of tennis balls. This will incorporate the ‘dodging’ element. Every competitor hit with a tennis ball will get 5 seconds added to their total time.
Some members of the Barttimesnow Alliance of Revamping Triathlons, aka the B.A.R.T., had reservations about allowing full-contact in the swimming portion of the race. (Okay, even I’m still laughing at that acronym.) Here is a sneak peak of their Alliance meeting:
I said, “How much contact is allowed? We definitely don’t want anyone drowning.”
Me responded with, “There is no room for sissies when forging ahead with a new sport.”
Myself scratched his head.
And after several minutes of silence, Me caved in. “Okay, fine. Water contact will be limited to leg pulling, kidney punches and dunking.”
I: Good... now on to the cycling. I think tire slashing should be allowed… but only if the slashing is done by organic/natural items found within the racing boundaries.
Me: Oh! I know you are itchin’ to wedge some sticks in some spokes!
I: Oh you know it... I also think we should make it mandatory that all cyclists have 'baseball card motorcycle noise makers' attached to the rear of the bike. If the noise makers fall off, they have to let Nitro, from American Gladiators, put them in an Ultimate Death Scorpion Headlock for 1 minute and 23 seconds.
Myself stopped scratching his head.
Me: Absolutely. The competitors have to keep track of their baseball card noise making devices or pay the price. Also I want that Michael Buffer guy who announces the wrestling matches to MC. And I want fireworks.
The B.A.R.T. has also decided that if this is going to be the sport of the future it must be the ultimate challenge. It will also test the mental abilities as well as the emotional stability of each contestant. To enter you must have family and friends compile a list of your most embarrassing moments and then as you race you will be taunted by an old man who will be given the list (and by ‘old man’ I mean Major Payne). You must also recite the Bill of Rights and do some basic mathematics after you complete the swim, but before you cross the finish line. (Upon further review we have decided to rotate from the Bill of Rights, the Declaration of Independence, and the Emancipation Proclamation... so every race you will have to recite something different.)
Now all we need is funding and some on call medics... (aka a plethora of paramedics).
If anyone has connections to the following companies/sponsors, please notify the B.A.R.T. as soon as possible: Nike for Women, Budweiser, and Oprah… Fisher-Price, Kellogs, and Miley Cyrus. Implementation will begin as soon as funding is received.
