The Brooklyn Alphabet
As some of you know, I spent much of the summer of 2002 traveling around New Jersey reviewing all the minor league parks in the state for an enterprise piece I did for the Courier News.
And when the story came out the following May, well, let's just say Somerset Patriots owner Steve Kalafer was none-to-pleased with his ballpark being ranked fourth of eight -- as he showed by pulling about $250,000 worth of advertising and writing a letter to the editor, ripping me.
Anyway, four years later, I finally had a chance to check out another minor league stadium, a park I had been meaning to get to since it opened six years ago.
Jersey Girl and I made the trip into Brooklyn on Monday evening to take in the Cyclones game at Keyspan Park vs. the Staten Island Yankees (I'm sure she will blog about the trip, too, so forgive us if we duplicate).
The park is great. It's on Coney Island, right on the boardwalk, a stone's-throw from Astroland, which features the world famous Cyclone, the roller-coaster from which the Mets' NY Penn League affiliate (A ball) got its name.
Among the great features of the ballpark is the famous Coney Island parachute jump tower, which is just beyond the right field fence, the lone landmark remaining from the old Steeple Chase.
It was Hawaiian night at Keyspan Park, with former Mets left-hander Sid Fernandez on hand to throw out the first pitch.
As a Mets fan, the game itself was stench. Very sloppy. Plus Jersey Girl kept smacking me because I couldn't control my potty mouth around the young children. So that was not very pleasant. To her credit, however, she did atone later in the evening with a fantastic Spike From Bensonhurst reference (fucking A!). I didn't think there was anyone left who still remembered that flick!
Also, Cyclones pitcher Tobi Stoner -- my new favorite sports name -- did not make an appearance, and neither did Mets catcher Ramon Castro, who was supposed to be in Brooklyn on a rehab assignment.
The Cyclones took a 4-1 lead after an inning, but by the time the third inning had concluded, nearly an hour and a half later, they trailed 9-6.
The game ended with a 21-6 Staten Island victory.
Much like the disaster I experienced a few years ago when I trekked down to Philly to see Guns n' Roses, only to have Axl not show up and a riot ensuing, at least there was a bench-clearing brawl in the top of the ninth inning to somewhat satisfy me.
All in all, despite the outcome, I had a great time, and was very impressed with the operation. I recommend you all make the trip if you can.
In other news, the Local Shill's engagement party was held Saturday in Freehold, and a nice group of clowns were on hand.
Joe Pendleton and family, Jersey Girl, Todd A, The Professor, as well as several other luminaries were present to celebrate the Local Shill's impending nuptials.
Perhaps the most impressive part of the festivities was the pool shed, which was stocked to the max with beverages, both alcoholic and benign. We all enjoyed it.
We were also able to head into the house at 7 p.m. to watch the ceremonies at Shea Stadium honoring the 1986 Mets World Championship. A very emotional thing for me, since my life pretty much peaked that season.
Every member of the Mets 1986 team was on hand, including coaches Bill Robinson and Bud Harrelson. The only cats missing were manager Davey Johnson, who is coaching some junior Olympic squad; Roger McDowell, who is the pitching coach for the Atlanta Braves; Lee Mazzilli, who is the bench coach for the Yankees; World Series MVP Ray Knight, who had some speaking engagement he supposedly couldn't get out of; and Dwight Gooden, because he's in fucking jail.
After victories Saturday night, and again Sunday, the Mets completed their much-needed series sweep over Colorado and are rolling once again.
Sunday's news that Tom Glavine might be done for the season with a possible blood blot in his pitching arm did put a damper on an otherwise enjoyable weekend. If that happens, we can pretty much forget about a championship, and possibly even a World Series appearance.
Speaking of bad news, the fucking Yankees swept five from Boston over the weekend and Monday afternoon, in sometimes dominant fashion. But I blame Sunday night's extra-inning loss to manager Terry Francona.
After a leadoff double by David Ortiz, and an intentional walk to Manny Ramirez, the Red Sox had runners on first and second with no outs in the bottom of the ninth against Mariano Rivera.
Why Francona didn't immediately pinch-run for Ortiz, is beyond me. It is a managerial miscue of Grady Little proportions, and Francona deserves to be locked in a small room with Wayne Tillman for three hours as penance for his crime.
Of course, Ortiz was promptly gunned down at third base on Mike Lowell's ensuing bunt, which was followed by a passed ball that would have plated the winning run. As it was, the Yankees got out of it and scored three in the 10th, and held on to win.
The only positive to come out of Sunday night was that I bought my poker winnings for the month over the $4,000 mark, as I took down just over $1,000 during a Sunday night/Monday morning cash-game session in Montclair.
I love that game!
And when the story came out the following May, well, let's just say Somerset Patriots owner Steve Kalafer was none-to-pleased with his ballpark being ranked fourth of eight -- as he showed by pulling about $250,000 worth of advertising and writing a letter to the editor, ripping me.
Anyway, four years later, I finally had a chance to check out another minor league stadium, a park I had been meaning to get to since it opened six years ago.
Jersey Girl and I made the trip into Brooklyn on Monday evening to take in the Cyclones game at Keyspan Park vs. the Staten Island Yankees (I'm sure she will blog about the trip, too, so forgive us if we duplicate).
The park is great. It's on Coney Island, right on the boardwalk, a stone's-throw from Astroland, which features the world famous Cyclone, the roller-coaster from which the Mets' NY Penn League affiliate (A ball) got its name.
Among the great features of the ballpark is the famous Coney Island parachute jump tower, which is just beyond the right field fence, the lone landmark remaining from the old Steeple Chase.
It was Hawaiian night at Keyspan Park, with former Mets left-hander Sid Fernandez on hand to throw out the first pitch.
As a Mets fan, the game itself was stench. Very sloppy. Plus Jersey Girl kept smacking me because I couldn't control my potty mouth around the young children. So that was not very pleasant. To her credit, however, she did atone later in the evening with a fantastic Spike From Bensonhurst reference (fucking A!). I didn't think there was anyone left who still remembered that flick!
Also, Cyclones pitcher Tobi Stoner -- my new favorite sports name -- did not make an appearance, and neither did Mets catcher Ramon Castro, who was supposed to be in Brooklyn on a rehab assignment.
The Cyclones took a 4-1 lead after an inning, but by the time the third inning had concluded, nearly an hour and a half later, they trailed 9-6.
The game ended with a 21-6 Staten Island victory.
Much like the disaster I experienced a few years ago when I trekked down to Philly to see Guns n' Roses, only to have Axl not show up and a riot ensuing, at least there was a bench-clearing brawl in the top of the ninth inning to somewhat satisfy me.
All in all, despite the outcome, I had a great time, and was very impressed with the operation. I recommend you all make the trip if you can.
In other news, the Local Shill's engagement party was held Saturday in Freehold, and a nice group of clowns were on hand.
Joe Pendleton and family, Jersey Girl, Todd A, The Professor, as well as several other luminaries were present to celebrate the Local Shill's impending nuptials.
Perhaps the most impressive part of the festivities was the pool shed, which was stocked to the max with beverages, both alcoholic and benign. We all enjoyed it.
We were also able to head into the house at 7 p.m. to watch the ceremonies at Shea Stadium honoring the 1986 Mets World Championship. A very emotional thing for me, since my life pretty much peaked that season.
Every member of the Mets 1986 team was on hand, including coaches Bill Robinson and Bud Harrelson. The only cats missing were manager Davey Johnson, who is coaching some junior Olympic squad; Roger McDowell, who is the pitching coach for the Atlanta Braves; Lee Mazzilli, who is the bench coach for the Yankees; World Series MVP Ray Knight, who had some speaking engagement he supposedly couldn't get out of; and Dwight Gooden, because he's in fucking jail.
After victories Saturday night, and again Sunday, the Mets completed their much-needed series sweep over Colorado and are rolling once again.
Sunday's news that Tom Glavine might be done for the season with a possible blood blot in his pitching arm did put a damper on an otherwise enjoyable weekend. If that happens, we can pretty much forget about a championship, and possibly even a World Series appearance.
Speaking of bad news, the fucking Yankees swept five from Boston over the weekend and Monday afternoon, in sometimes dominant fashion. But I blame Sunday night's extra-inning loss to manager Terry Francona.
After a leadoff double by David Ortiz, and an intentional walk to Manny Ramirez, the Red Sox had runners on first and second with no outs in the bottom of the ninth against Mariano Rivera.
Why Francona didn't immediately pinch-run for Ortiz, is beyond me. It is a managerial miscue of Grady Little proportions, and Francona deserves to be locked in a small room with Wayne Tillman for three hours as penance for his crime.
Of course, Ortiz was promptly gunned down at third base on Mike Lowell's ensuing bunt, which was followed by a passed ball that would have plated the winning run. As it was, the Yankees got out of it and scored three in the 10th, and held on to win.
The only positive to come out of Sunday night was that I bought my poker winnings for the month over the $4,000 mark, as I took down just over $1,000 during a Sunday night/Monday morning cash-game session in Montclair.
I love that game!
posted by SJPSandman at
1:35 AM
6 Comments:
I'm a little disappointed that you didn't mention your tremendous verbal smackdown of the preteens sitting behind us.
By
jersey girl, at 8/23/2006 3:14 PM
Yes, Sandman, tell us how you punked down children?
By
Bich, at 8/26/2006 4:39 PM
Clark; do you, perhaps, know from the term, "Chilul L'Hashem?"
By
SJPSandman, at 8/27/2006 1:26 AM
I am years late to the game on this particular tale, but I have never heard about Kalafer pulling advertising because of your rankings.
That is tremendous. Well, well done.
Someone should have put that overrated clown in his place years ago.
By
Pete, at 8/27/2006 9:53 PM
Can't say that I do. Care to explain for me and the goyim?
By
Bich, at 8/31/2006 9:45 PM
A Chilul L'Hashem, basically, is a term used when someone who is obviously a religious Jew behaves in public -- specifically in front of non-Jews -- in a manner that makes Jews look bad.
When these young'ins started talking about their balls, I turned and simply told them they were doing just that.
They uttered not another word for the rest of the game. It was shockl= and awe.
By
SJPSandman, at 8/31/2006 11:18 PM
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