AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 23 - Cincinnati, OH

Winston Churchill called Cincinnati “the most beautiful of America’s inland cities.”
     Hmmm …
     Maybe back in the 50’s, but now … not so much.  Sorry, Sir Winston.
     Cincinnati was first platted in 1788.  By 1850, it had become the world’s largest pork-packing center, a status that brought the city the nickname: “Porkopolis.”
     I bet the city fathers just loved that.
     We also weren’t too crazy about Cincinnati, especially after seeing the transformed beauty that has become Pittsburgh.  But a mid-week change of direction softened our feelings about Cincinnati, home of the pork chop, professional baseball, and Pete Rose.

 Sunday, August 31, was our travel day.  We landed at the Winton Woods campground, a very pretty state park with nice facilities and a great walking path around a most scenic lake.  It must have relaxed us a bit … a BIT too much.  We hardly did anything for three days.  Labor Day was exactly the opposite for us as we did everything most un-labor like.  At least on Tuesday we managed to struggle out that night to the James Brown bio movie, “Get On Up” which was pretty good.
     After the movie, we got daring and made one of our rare visits to a fast-food establishment.  Of course being that we were in Cincinnati, we had to try the city’s famous “Skyline Chili.”  Although it was definitely not like regular Texas-meat-chunk-infused chili (really more finely ground sloppy Joe like), I liked it, especially since in a nod to my childhood, they had hot dogs in it.  Diedre put up with it.
     Bravo, young lady!
     By Wednesday we had finally been shaken out of our stupor and boarded Zippy the Wonder Car for a chance to see the Queen City.  Our first stop was SUPPOSED to be the Harriet Beecher Stowe House.  Stowe, the great author who wrote “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” lived in Cincinnati in the 1830’s.  At the time, her book was a huge shot in the arm in the fight against slavery.  Being an old history major with an emphasis on slavery and the Civil War, I was very excited to see the Stowe House.  The house, however, wasn’t so accommodating.
     It was closed, no matter what the web site said.
     We moved on.
   

 We had better luck at the William Howard Taft National Historic Site.  This wonderful house was the birthplace and boyhood home of the 27th president of our United States.  The home reflects his time there from his birth in 1857 till he graduated college at Yale University in 1878.  Previously, I had known little of the big Taft, only, of course, that he loved baseball and in 1910 inaugurated the tradition of the President throwing out the first ball of the season.
   After Yale, Taft graduated from the University of Cincinnati law school.  Working his way up through the legal system, he eventually became the Dean of the Cincinnati Law School (1896-1900) and then became the Governor of the Philippines (1901-04).  From there, he was chosen to be the Secretary of War under the Teddy Roosevelt administration (1904-08) before attaining the presidency (1909-13).  In 1921, he was named our country’s 10th chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, the only man in history to hold the highest posts in the land in both the executive and the judicial branches of our government.
  Other firsts for our 27th president included: 1) being the initial chief executive to have a motor car; 2) becoming the first president to preside over 48 states when he signed the statehood bills for Arizona (YAY!) and New Mexico; and 3) probably being the first president to have the family cow, “Pauline Wayne,” grazing out in front of the White House and other nearby public buildings.  And no slouch Mrs. Taft, she was the one who arranged to have the cherry trees planted along the tidal basin in Washington D.C.; they were a gift from the mayor of Tokyo and they’ve flourished ever since.

     President Taft died in 1930 at age 72 a month after resigning from the Supreme Court.  He’s buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
     OK, enough with the history lesson.
     We then went and parked at the downtown Horseshoe Casino and had a nice buffet lunch.  In fact, everything about this place was incredibly “nice.”  All of the other casinos we’ve run into have had just a small section allotted for non-smokers.  Those casinos were very unfriendly to Diedre’s asthma and allergies.  But the Horseshoe Casino reserves their small section for SMOKERS and leaves the main part of the casino smoke free for the rest of us civilized gamblers.  VERY nice!
     The town of Cincinnati, at least to the north, was not so nice.  It was pretty dumpy, actually.  We made our way about ten blocks to the famous “Findlay Market.”  It’s been in operation since 1852 and is Ohio’s oldest continuously operated market.  We had high hopes for it.  Unfortunately, it was in an “iffy” part of the city amidst shuttered buildings and unemployed people hanging out on every corner.  The market itself was not much to see or shop in.  So far, especially after enjoying downtown Pittsburgh so much, we were very disappointed with Cincinnati.
   

 After a day of recuperation which included a hair appointment (Diedre’s, not mine), we got ready to take another shot at Cincinnati with a ball game that evening being its climax.  Today the city would be served much better, at least in our eyes.
     Parked at the casino in our usual manner, we began our walking tour of the south side of the downtown Cincinnati area, this time much closer to the river.  Our opinion of the city quickly changed.
     After getting DK’s glasses repaired, we made our way to the heart of the downtown area, Fountain Square.  There were a lot of things going on there.  In the center was the majestic “Tyler Davidson Fountain,” dedicated in 1871 to the people of Cincinnati.
     We then checked out the massive “Aronoff Performing Arts Center.”  Although we weren’t able to see inside any of the theatres, Diedre did get a chance to rub snouts with the star of the play being performed at the Center, “The Phantom of the Slopera.”
     Cute.
 While I then took my mandatory time at “The Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame” right next to the ball park, Diedre Kaye got some “Grand Canyon Training” in by walking across the John Roebling Bridge.  Seemingly a Brooklyn Bridge knock-off, it was built in 1867, three years before the famous New York borough bridge was started.  You could get some great views of the ball park from the middle of the bridge.
     At the Hall, I enjoyed seeing the Reds’ last three World Series trophies.  They also had a three-story wall covered with baseballs, one for each of the 4,256 hits Pete Rose had to set the all-time hits record.  I loved hearing about the history of the Cincinnati Redlegs, baseball’s first ever professional team, who went pro in 1869 three years after they were founded.  Led by Hall of Fame brothers George and Harry Wright, they finished the 1869 season with an incredible 57 wins, 0 loss record.  In fact, they didn’t lose their first game until June 4, 1870.
     Other things I enjoyed seeing at the Reds’ HOF:
 -an all-Reds man-cave, complete with a giant TV, a long bar, and stadium chairs, decorated totally Redlegs, maybe the perfect place for some buddies and me to watch the game;
 -the baseball from the last out of the 1919 “Black Sox” World Series, which was a ground out by White Sox star
 Shoeless Joe Jackson;
 -a Cincinnati Reds giant “Mickey Mouse” statue seen here with an unknown fan.
     The Hall gives out a different bobblehead free each month to patrons on Fridays and Saturdays.  I lucked out because I had not only just happened to stumble in there on a Friday to get a free bobblehead, but also because it was now September, and that month’s prized piece of memorabilia would be a Pete Rose bobblehead.
     YAY!
     Pete just happens to be my favorite Cincinnati Reds player of all time, regardless of what soon-to-be-deposed-commissioner-Bud Sleazebag has to say.  In my eyes, Pete is guilty only of not being too bright.  I don’t think he would have ever done anything close to trying to have the Reds lose.  The Reds Hall of Fame loves Pete, too.  They’re hawking Pete Rose stuff like crazy in there and making a ton of money off him.  They sure as hell have no trouble selling anything to do with his image, yet they won’t induct him into their own Hall of Fame for the same reason the National Hall of Fame won’t let him be inducted.
     Hypocrites.
     (Deep breath)
     So anyway, Pete will go nicely on our AB1 dashboard next to the bobblehead of Dante Bichette, which we got last year at the Colorado Rockies game, and the statue of Betty Boop we bought on Beale Street in Memphis, also last year.  I’ll bet no other RV in the country has a triumvirate like that.
   

 Diedre met up with me at the Hall, then we walked around the stadium to check out the team statues.  There was a nice one of all-time great catcher Johnny Bench.  
And they had a wonderful three-man statue set up on a pitcher’s mound and home-plate area with Reds’ hurler Joe Nuxhall (the youngest man, at age 15, to ever play in the major leagues) pitching to Hall of Famer Frank Robinson as another Hall of Famer, catcher Ernie “The Schnozz” Lombardi, waits behind the plate.  I filled in as the novice umpire in this life-sized diorama.
     From there, Diedre took me to a place she found for lunch.  It was down a cleaned up alley and was called “O’Malley’s in the Alley.”  Of course, our waitress was the owner’s wife, Sally O’Malley.  We had great Cincinnati sandwiches called “Smashers.”  They were regular, hoagie-like sandwiches that were beat up, smashed, and pummeled so that they’d be flatter.  Surprisingly, they were very good.
     

The Riverfront walk along the Ohio River turned out to be a lot of fun.  There were wonderful parks for blocks and blocks all along the river.  We made it to and crossed the Newport Southbank Pedestrian Bridge, more commonly known to the locals as “The Purple People Bridge” due to its odd paint job.  Once again, we found that on a walk over a bridge in the east, there were padlocks and more padlocks all clamped onto the bridge’s protective pedestrian fencing.
     Padlocks?  What’s up with that?
    As game time was nearing, we stopped for a few beers at the German brewery, “The Moerlein Lager House.”  It was just across the street from the Cincy stadium, “The Great American Ballpark” on Pete Rose Way.
     Before the game, we were sitting in the courtyard waiting for the gates to open when I started up a conversation with a guy sitting near us.  You know how these “guy-sports-talks” go.  Soon enough, I found out that my new nameless friend’s high school basketball coach had played for the very small-school Mylan Indians basketball team when they upset the big-school Indianapolis team in the 1954 Indiana state tournament.  I knew a lot about that team because they were the inspiration for one of my favorite movies ever, “Hoosiers.”
     The Great American Ballpark would be the 10th and last major league stadium we would be seeing on this year’s trip.  Our overall stadium total is now 26 ballparks visited with four to go (Los Angeles Angels, San Diego Padres, San Francisco Giants, and Seattle Mariners, all to be seen in 2015).
     By the top of the 9th inning, the visiting New York Mets had scored in EVERY inning except the 3rd while pounding out 17 hits.  In the end, they trounced “our” hometown Reds 14-5.  There was excitement all over the place as the Mets hit five home runs and the Reds hit two.  Mets’ third-baseman David Wright, who always seems to do well when we’re at his games, got four hits.  The loss blew our winning streak all to hell; our final home-team record for the summer ended at 10-5.  The “Reds” were probably jinxed that night because they were really more the “Greens.”  
Yes, they were wearing green for their promotion, “Irish Heritage Day.” They even had the world champion “River Dance” kids there to entertain.  You know Riverdance, don’t you?  That crazy dance where the arms stay at your side while the legs go flying all akimbo.  Sort of spasm-like.  Still, a lot of fun.
     To assuage our loss, the Reds organization had the requisite Friday night fireworks after the game.  And these ones were good, coming fast and furiously, never stopping for what I timed to be a solid 15+ minutes.  Our “oohing” and “aahing” face muscles took a real beating.
     Our luck for the evening did a 180 when we returned to the wonderful mostly-smoke-free Horseshoe Casino.  Once again, we brought a mighty financial institution to its knees, walking out of there at 1 AM (pretty late for us oldsters) a cool $18 ahead.  Now I can finally get that brain operation I’ve been saving up for.
     This turned out to be a great day.  It allowed us to appreciate Cincinnati so much more than after Wednesday’s debacle on the north side.
     After getting home quite late and showering, we finally hit the hay at 3 AM.  Fortunately, all we had left on the schedule in Cincinnati the next day was oldest cat-child Charlie’s 8th birthday party.  Then it would be on to Music City on Sunday, Nashville, Tennessee, where we can really get our country-music Jones a-hoppin ...
        “Trailer for sale or rent,
                Rooms to let fifty-cents.
                        No phone, no pool, no pets;
                                ain’t got no cigarettes!”
     Grand Ole Opry, here we come!
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Diedre here...There are just a few more snaps I want to share with you from Cincinnati.  While Alexx explored the Sports Museum I decided to wander the river side of the city to see if I couldn't feel better about the town.  On our previous days it just felt dirty and uncared for by the community - not at all what we were experiencing in the other towns we have visited.  But this day was different.  

The sun was shining and the water glistened as I walked the bridge.  I was determined to hit my Fitbit goal of 13,000 steps so I was happy to have the time to explore.  After crossing the bridge in both directions on both sides, I realized that I had missed the best shot of the baseball stadium , so I walked halfway over and back again just to get this shot.

The river side of the town is really nicely developed and I discovered a beautiful building that was dedicated to the underground slavery railroad.  I'm not much for museums, but when we were in Memphis we visited a home of one of the abolitionists and the stories were amazing.  Had I realized earlier that Cincinnati had this exhibit I would have made time to explore it.  Just from the outside it was obvious there was much care and attention that went into this attraction.

As my walk was winding down and I headed to the stadium to meet up with Alexx I noticed a wonderful mural on the side of one of the buildings.  It was just one more example of the dedication the city has to its ball team and the sport of baseball.  I wasn't much of a baseball fan before we started our rv tours, but I must admit I am converted.  It's not the game as much as it is the spirit that the game inspires in it's fans.  I love watching the joy that lights up the faces of the fans when their ballplayers run the bases.  The energy that boosts us all to our feet when a home run ball flies over the fence is exactly why we always cheer for the home team.  And besides watching Alexx's face when he tours each stadium, I love imagining what's going on in his head when he studies the memorabilia of his favorite old time players.  I can just see him standing on deck when Ted Williams is at bat or rounding the bases behind Ricky Henderson or Ty Cobb, and perhaps crossing the home plate after a home run is hit by Hank Aaron or Babe Ruth.  

So who would think that I would feel a bit verklempt when realizing this was the last baseball stadium we would visit on this year's trek?  I've learned much more about the game and the players this year.  I've talked to strangers who are nearly as enthusiastic about the game as Alexx.  One fella pointed out to us as we stood overlooking the stadium plaza that the design of the courtyard was that of an infield. We didn't realize this when we took the shot of Alexx earlier with Joe Nuxhall, Frank Robinson, and Ernie Lombardi. But if you look closely you can see the paths between the bases   Now that's just cool. 

   The day was a success - I felt totally different about the city and I surpassed my 13,000 steps on the Fitbit!

   The blog will be on hiatus when game 7 of the World Series is played (if we are lucky enough to have it go to 7 games) so you will have to watch it yourself or the box scores to hear how it all turns out.  I am predicting the St. Louis Cardinals will meet up with the Kansas City Royals.  I guess I'm biased now because those are two teams that we have seen play on their home stadiums.  I'll be cheering for St. Louis as I fell in love with that stadium last year and it still remains my favorite of the 26 we've seen.  The rest of this trip will be site-seeing and a few more visits with friends which I always enjoy, but I will miss sitting in the stands of major league ball parks and being a part of America's favorite pastime.  It's truly been a most enjoyable part of our 2014 trek.

Now give me some of that good ole' country music!

AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 22 - Pittsburgh, PA

We made it to our Pittsburgh campground early enough on Sunday, August 24, to catch the championship game of the Little League World Series.  Japan had won the last two years and three of the last four, but they were knocked off this year by a strong Korea team for the International; title.  Korea then went on to beat Chicago, the U.S. champions, in the over-all title game.  It was so much fun to see the kids play, especially now that I had been to some games at the actual LLWS.
     

Pittsburgh, contrary to what I had always been led to believe, is a very pretty town.  Their Renaissance of the 1970’s-80’s really spiffed up the city.  And Diedre just loved their breweries and beer selections, one of the best places for that we’ve yet visited.  In most of the towns we visit, there’s a church on every corner.  With Pittsburgh, it was a BAR on every corner.  And that was fine with us.
     Monday was an “R&B Day” (rest and blog); our major expenditure of our limited energies was to watch the Emmy's.  We were glad to see two of our favorites, Jim Parsons (“The Big Bang Theory”) and Juliana Margulies (“The Good Wife”), take home the gold … statues.  We needed the rest as tomorrow would be our big “Pittsburgh” walking day.
   

 As is our usual style on game days in big cities, we went into town in the morning and parked at the Rivers Casino, just a few blocks from the baseball stadium.  We then started with the Riverwalk at the confluence of the three rivers: the Allegheny, the Monongahela, and the Ohio.  During the day, we would manage to cross four of their 11 bridges over those same rivers as we wove to and fro across downtown Pittsburgh.
  I spotted our first statue on the Riverwalk near the Steelers football stadium, so I assumed it was Steeler owner Art Rooney.  Diedre disagreed, saying it looked more like “Mr. Rogers” of children’s TV fame.  And it WAS a wonderful day in the neighborhood for DK ... it was Mr. Fred Rogers.

 We then walked over to the Pirates PNC Park where we could get photos without so many other people clustering around.  We posed with the wonderful statues of the Pirates’ all-time greats: Honus Wagner, Roberto Clemente, Willie Stargell, and Bill Mazeroski.  Particularly thrilling for me was the Mazeroski statue. 

Near it, they had the wall section of the now-demolished Forbes Field with the 406’ marker over which on October 13, 1960, at 3:36 PM, with the Pirates’ game seven of the World Series with the Yankees knotted at nine-all in the bottom of the last inning and the count 1-0, Mazeroski forever entered the pantheon of greatest Pittsburgh heroes by blasting the only walk-off home run ever in the final game of any World Series going back to 1903.  I had to touch the wall to feel the mojo from a ballpark in which I had never been.
  From the ball park, we crossed bridge #1 to get to Point State Park, a beautifully restored area right at the confluence of the three big rivers.  It is also the home of the now restored pre-Revolutionary-War Fort Pitt.  This peninsula-park with the huge fountain is a wonderful place to just sit and take in the city’s beauty.  We sat there and snacked on gyros and popcorn.  The local birds enjoyed our snack also.
     Bridge #2 took us off the peninsula and over to the Duquesne Incline.  There, a restored cable car in use since 1877 took us up the wooded slopes of Mount Washington.  DK got her first use of her Medicare card, flashing it to the ticket-taker for a whopping savings of a free ride up the Incline.  I, of course, being a youngster of just 63, had to pay the full $5 fare, although TECHNICALLY somebody else wasn’t quite 65 (Diedre still has less than a month to go, but the government sent her a Medicare card anyway.)  At the top, we got an incredibly panoramic view of Pittsburgh and its three rivers. (It's the photo at the top of the blog.)
     Two bridges later, the Roberto Clemente Bridge, which looms in the background behind the ball park’s center-field fence, brought us back to PNC Park.  Earlier that day we had visited the Pirates’ team shop to get some Buccaneer booty (Yeah, I know, Pittsburgh has a nickname for their team’s nickname).  I wanted a Pirates shirt with the name “Clemente” on the back to go with my St. Louis Cardinals’ “Musial” shirt.  I like to get shirts with retired players’ names on them.  That way, they won’t go on to disgrace themselves or get traded to another team (a la Diedre’s “Sammy Sosa” jersey) and I’ll be able to always proudly wear them.  Diedre loved a black T-shirt with gold “Pirates” lettering on the front and “Clemente” on the back.  I ultimately bought that style shirt, only it was gold with black lettering.  Diedre was adamant that I bought that one only because when I would eventually spill mustard on my shirt, and I know I will, it would match.
     She had a point.
  We then wandered around the ballpark to soak in the atmosphere.  There were more statues, only inside the park this time.  “Legacy Square” honored the rich Pittsburgh history of Negro Baseball with their league’s greatest pitcher, Satchel Paige.  And then I was glad to see one of their greatest hitter, maybe the greatest hitter of all time, catcher Josh Gibson immortalized with a statue.
     During the game, I was out walking the concourse as I am wont to do (Really?! You used the word “wont”?) when I saw an older guy standing there yelling, “STELLA!”  I was sure he was doing a bad Marlon Brando “Streetcar” impression.  Turns out, he was simply hawking “Stella Artois” beer.  I was glad as otherwise, Tennessee Williams would not have been too happy about it.
   

 The Pirates played a beautiful game in a beautiful stadium.  Their pitcher, Gerrit Cole, took a no-hitter into the 6th.  They ended up beating the St. Louis Cardinals 5-2 on Edina, Minnesota’s Ike Davis’s 3-run, pinch-hit home run in the bottom of the 8th.  It raised our home-team record to 11-4.  (Note that the next day, Davis again homered; it was also the decisive blow in a Pirates 3-2 victory over the Cards).
     On the walk back from the game to casino parking, Diedre’s Fit-Bit had us at 9.37 miles walked for the day … and counting.  Not bad for a Medicare gal.
   Recovering the next day by cutting our walking by two-thirds, we found a very nice “Rails-for-Trails” hiking path.  It was a part of “The Three Rivers Heritage Trail.”  It was calm and peaceful, and it went through a lot of little towns.  There was even a pizza and ice cream shop at our trail head.  The whole thing was 150 miles long, but trying not to be show-offs, we just did three miles.
     Rejuvenated, we attacked Thursday the 28th on the “divide and conquer” strategy.  Diedre dropped me off downtown at the Western Pennsylvania Sports Museum at the Heinz History Center, an affiliate of the Smithsonian, while she was off to a mani-pedi appointment.  Remember that those nine-mile walking days can be hell on your feet.
      The Sports Museum was pretty good; they largely stressed Roberto Clemente’s 3,000th hit which took place on September 30, 1972, and Franco Harris’s “Immaculate Reception” which also occurred in 1972 on December 23rd.  I especially noted an Andrew Carnegie quote there at the museum:
     “To die rich is to die disgraced.”
     Hmmmm …
     Well, I must concur.  In our travels, Diedre and I are making sure we do not die disgraced.
   

 DK picked me up several hours later and we made a mad dash over to the University of Pittsburgh where the Pirates legendary ball park, Forbes Field, stood from 1909 to 1970.  It’s all gone now EXCEPT for the outfield wall.  The Pirates last world championship came there in the very exciting 1960 World Series.  Interesting note about that series: the powerhouse Yankees outscored the Pirates 55-27, out hit them 91-60, and out homered them 10-4.  The Pirates only led in one important category: GAMES WON!  They took the Series four games to three.
     We then did another “divide and conquer”: while Diedre walked “The Strip District” along the Allegheny River, I continued my sports history immersion with a scheduled appointment-tour at “The Roberto Clemente Museum” which is located in old Fire Engine House #25 built in 1896.  It’s about three miles from PNC Park.
     The museum has the largest collection of Clemente memorabilia in the world.  They have the sign from the old Three Rivers Stadium wall commemorating the retirement of Clemente’s number 21.  On the huge fire department walls stands a giant mural of the Forbes Field scoreboard at the exact moment Mazeroski hit his epic home run.
     During the tour (tours are available only by appointment), the guide told us of a most mystical fact: the fire house in which the museum now stands was decommissioned on December 31, 1972 … the exact same day Clemente was killed in a plane crash while flying relief supplies to victims of the Nicaragua earthquake.  They even have a propeller from the unlucky plane.
     Then there’s the mystical visual: a giant photo on the downstairs wall is of Clemente during his rookie spring training season in Florida.  The photo is especially heart striking because, unbeknownst to the photographer, the clouds in the background seem to perfectly fit Roberto as a pair of angel’s wings.
     And yet one more eerie aspect of the building: during the Pirates-Yankees 1927 World Series when the Yankees had assembled perhaps the greatest baseball team of all time, the New Yorkers had stayed in a posh hotel in downtown Pittsburgh … well, almost all of them did.  But future Hall of Famer Lou Gehrig chose to bunk in with one of his college roommates from Columbia University.  The roommate had become a Pittsburgh fireman.  That’s right, you guessed it.  During the 1927 World Series, Lou Gehrig had slept at his buddy’s firehouse … the exact building where we now stood as part of the Roberto Clemente Museum.
     Weird, huh?
     Other things the museum has: 1) two of Roberto’s Golden Glove Awards; 2) Clemente’s 1960 and 1971 World Series rings; and 3) his Silver Bat Award, probably the most valuable item in the building.
   

 Hungry now after another long Pittsburgh day, we headed to the Carson Street area known for its Bohemian flair on the city’s south side to the much-talked-about “Fat Heads Saloon.” Our stomach pleasing goal: a “headwich” (a head-sized sandwich).  Diedre rated this place the best all-around dinner on the trip so far because of their beer selections, the monster sandwiches, and the home-made potato chips.  Her headwich, “The Head Brew Ben,” was handcrafted with smoked pulled-pork, hot pepper kraut, Swiss cheese, Head Hunter mustard, and Thousand Island dressing.  Her beer was “Fatheads Hot Juju Imperial IPA,” a supernatural beer with “a reckless use of hops creating dank aromas with high tropical fruits and citrus giving it a big, aggressive bitter flavor with grapefruit and oranges, a very sturdy malbec with a hint of alcohol.”
     Witchcraft?
     Maybe a little.
     Meanwhile, I had the “Mo Betta Beef and Chedda” headwich which had smoked beef brisket, sharp cheddar, portobello mushrooms, bacon, and chipotle mayo.
     YOW!
     My drink, a very substantial Diet-Coke, had far fewer adjectives than Diedre’s drink.
     For our last night in town, we got out of the city and made our way to a very fun, old theatre in Delmont, PA.  The Apple Hill Theatre was showing a clever comedy called “Squabbles.”  But the best part of the experience was that the theatre had been a barn for many years, only being turned into a theatre in 1956.  It had that real “let’s put on a show” feeling.
     All right, it’s on to Pittsburgh’s big rival: Cincinnati, the home of professional baseball.
     Catch you on the flip side.

AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 21 - State College, PA - Memorial Side Trip to MI

Mike Stack - 1949-2014

Alexx with cousin Anne Ready's family

Our trip to State College, PA, would be a mix of fun and sorrow.  We would be getting to see my cousin Anne (her father is my mom’s older brother), her husband Rich Ready, and their two kids, college soph Jonathan and high schooler Trine (TREE-nuh).  But on the sad side, as I told you last week, Diedre’s very close college friend, Mike Stack, had passed away.  His funeral is set for this Tuesday.  After some discussion, we decided Diedre should take Zippy the Honda and make the reasonable (400 miles) drive to the Detroit area on Monday and then return to State College the day after the funeral.  I would stay at AB1 and take care of the kids.  This would be a tough time for Diedre as Mike is the first person from her college group to pass on, but her going and seeing some of the rest of the group will be good for her.
     We reached State College the afternoon of Sunday, August 17.  You may well know that State College is the home of Penn State University, one big-ass college.  In fact, the city civilian population (42,000) more than doubles (86,000) when school starts in the fall.
     After pitching camp, we made our way over to the Ready household to join them for dinner.  Each family had surprises for the other: 1) Anne and Rich told us that Rich, a professor in agricultural economics at Penn State, had taken a similar teaching position at Montana State University in Bozeman, MT; it was a big surprise, the best part for us being that Montana is on the 2015 AB1 travel route, so we’ll be able to see them again next spring.  2) We surprised them when, out of the blue, we asked Jonathan what kind of volleyball player Eric Dushon was (you’ll recall that in last week’s blog, I recounted the chance meeting with Eric’s parents on the Niagara River Rapids Trail and because of their “PENN STATE” T-shirts, our conversation progressed to the point where the husband allowed as that he had been Jonathan’s volleyball coach and that his son, Eric Dushon, had been a teammate of Jonathan’s).  Just like on TV sitcoms, Jonathan started answering the question, but after several seconds, did a world class “double-take” as the whole family wanted to know how we knew Eric.  It was pretty funny.
     The next day, Diedre left for Detroit and Mike’s funeral.  This would be the first time either of us would be spending a night in AB1 alone … well, with Charlie, Casey, and Samantha, of course.
   

 I had decided that since the Ready’s had so graciously lent me Trine’s car (she will soon get her driver’s license, but as of today, does not yet have it), I would take a day trip to South Williamsport, PA, the home of Little League Baseball.  It was just my good fortune that the Little League World Series was going on that week, and it was just a 90-minute drive to their ballparks.  It was an excitement for me that goes back to my childhood, which a lot of people think was just a few days ago.
     Just outside of State College, they have an interesting way of discouraging tail-gating (the car-behind-car thing, not the drink-too-much-eat-too-much thing you do before football games).  They put great big white dots on the road spaced a set distance apart.  The sign then tells you to stay at least two dots behind the car in front of you.  Pretty easy, pretty ingenious.
     I was so excited to be going to South Williamsport for the Little League World Series.  They estimate that over 60,000 people travel there each year for these games.  The LLWS helps supply the local economy with 30-million in tourism dollars.  This year would be the 75th anniversary of Little League Baseball; the first game was played here June 6, 1939 (coincidentally, just six days later, the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown first opened its doors making it also 75 years old).  Little League is now the world’s largest organized youth sports program with 200,000 teams in all 50 states and in 80 foreign countries.  I played Little League in St. Louis Park, MN, from 1961-63; those were three of the most exciting years of my youth.
     Unfortunately this being the times and all, even the innocent LLWS has to take precautions.  Surprised at its presence, I bumbled through their state-of-the-art metal detector, setting it off three times.  First I forgot my phone, then my ring, and finally my belt.  Geez!  It’s like being back at the airport, only with courtesy this time.
     I figured it would be all downhill from there, but the day and the site turned me around.  Believe me when I say that everything there is absolutely GREAT!   

Doing my ritual ball field walk, I found the same wonderfully massive “Casey at the Bat” statue as we had seen last year in Amarillo, TX.  I then looked for a good seat.  There were a ton of people completely surrounding the field, but since all these games were losers’ bracket games, it was just a tad less crowded.  Plus, being a single, I could grab a seat where often people left one seat open between themselves and other people they didn’t know.  I found a great one between home and first in the 6th row.  Better yet, it was just out of the sun and it was behind the team parents who were also a lot of fun to watch.
     Each of the 16 teams there (eight American teams and eight international ones) was guaranteed playing a minimum of three games (for the most part, you were eliminated once you lost two games).  So even though the Rapid City, SD, nine and the kids from Czechoslovakia had each lost twice, they would play each other in a consolation game, and it would be the first one I would see.  South Dakota won 5-3 even though the little Czech lead-off hitter surprised the heck out of me by starting the game with a home run over the right-center field fence.
     The second game was one where the loser would be eliminated.  I watched a strong Texas team eliminate the boys from Washington 11-4.  One incongruous visual was when the 6’ tall Washington pitcher had to face the 4’9” pinch hitter from Texas.  Just like Eddie Gaedell, the only midget to ever play major league baseball, the Texas boy worked his way on base with a walk.
   

 Everything about Little League is miniaturized in about a 2:3 ratio, i.e. baselines, pitchers’ mounds, fence distances.  Although they do sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game,” they can’t wait till the Major Leagues’ standard middle-of-the-7th-inning, because Little League games only last six innings.  So, they sing it in the middle of the 4th inning.  The only time the miniaturization doesn’t work is when it comes to having six adult umpires and seven adult maintenance workers.  That many big men on that tiny baseball field makes it look like a bunch of Gullivers have invaded the Lilliputian Little League park.
     A new look I’m having trouble getting used to is how many of the fan-fathers wear baseball hats down OVER their ears like it’s the middle of winter.  That looks about as stupid as the new ball caps with the flat brims.
     Ahh, different generations.
     The games were spaced out pretty well, so after watching a little of the Venezuela-Mexico game and then taking a quick walk through a very fine (but miniaturized) Little League Museum (interesting museum note: George W. Bush was the first Little League graduate to become President of the United States), I had to get going.  It was an hour-and-a-half drive back to the campground.
     Tuesday was a big day for me and the whole Alexander family.  Cousin Trine had started researching the Dorothy Dunmeier (Anne’s and my (maternal) grandmother) family tree for a school project.  Amazingly, she had found out that we have relatives, both living and dead, near State College.  Three of them, in fact, were Revolutionary War veterans and one of them is buried in Centre County (State College’s county) not too far from Anne’s house.     

     Trine and Anne figured out that Randall Stover, a distant relative still going strong at 94, had restored the family cemetery in 1998 near Woodward, PA.  So on that day, Anne and Trine took me out to meet Randall and then have him show us the family cemetery.
     We first drove to Randall’s house which he had built by hand and still lives in alone.  His family has been on this property since 1894.  He’s a fun old guy with plenty of spark left in him.
     We headed out to the family cemetery.  It was funny, but a variance granted by the city allows us to drive right onto and through the current, non-related farmer’s property, going right between his house and the nearby barn on our way to the cemetery.
    The more than two-hundred year old, Hennig-Neidig family cemetery is quite scenic if small.  The relation buried there who I had come to see was my great-great-great-great-great- … let’s see, how many is that? … OK, one more “great,” grandfather, Christophel Hennig.  Old gramps came to Pennsylvania in the early 1700’s from Kisselbach, Rhineland, Prussia.  He owned a 700-acre farm right where we now stood.  I had goose bumps as I touched his grave stone.  His wife and children were also buried there.

     When we got back to the campground, we spotted three fire trucks at the camp manager’s house just a short walk away from AB1.  I immediately had visions of all the nearby woods going up in flames while I was racing over to AB1 where in no short time, I’d have to put the slides in, bring the levels up, and drive out of there before AB1 was all ablaze.  Fortunately for the kids and me, it was just a kitchen grease fire that the manager had managed to put out by herself.  The firemen were there to check her out for smoke inhalation.  They took her to the emergency room, but she ended up being OK.
     So it was first fire one day followed on the morrow with torrential rains.
     What next?
     Yes, I had scheduled a tour of the Penn State campus with Anne and PSU student Jonathan.  It’s really a beautiful campus, although it was hard to tell what with the intense rain and all.  Anne showed me all that she could between our sprints from one building to the next.  We then met up with the rest of the family for lunch at “Spats Speakeasy” followed by dessert (sugar-free for me, Diedre) at the college’s wonderful “Berkey Creamery,” a practical retail part for students at the school’s College of Agricultural Sciences.  It’s one of the most popular places on campus.
     Anne then had the incredible grace and persever-ance to join me on my self-guided tour through “The Penn State University All-Sports Museum at Beaver Stadium.”  The day’s highlight for me (after the wonderfully rich, yet sugar-free ice cream at the Creamery) was that I got to touch the 1973 Heisman Trophy won by Penn State running back John Cappelletti.  That’s got to be right up there with me posing next to the Minnesota Twins’ two World Series trophies.
  
  Diedre returned from her trip to Detroit and immediately got back into it as she cooked dinner for all of us at the Ready’s.  We had purposely not gone out for dinner that night so that we could watch the 13-year old, girl phenom, Mo’ne Davis, as she tried to pitch and win yet another game for her Philadelphia team in their Little League World Series game against Las Vegas.  Apparently a few other people wanted to see the game.  Attendance in Williamsport that night was over 32,000 fans, more than most of the major league games being played that evening.  Mo’ne played well, but unfortunately, her team lost.

 

The next night we were back out at the ballpark, this one being Medlar Field at Lubrano Park, to see the State College Spikes, a St. Louis Cardinals’ minor league team in the New York-Penn Class A League.  We managed to drag Anne and Rich with us.  We were fashionably sporting our new “WHO” and “WHAT” baseball T-shirts we bought in Cooperstown (You know, “Who’s on First?”)
     In front of 3,005 somewhat wet fans on “$1 Beer Night” as well as “$1 Hot Dog Night for College Students” (of which Diedre is still one of them), the Spikes, after trailing 3-1 going into the bottom of the 6th, then sent 11 batters to the plate in each of the next two innings scoring 7 runs in the 6th and 6 runs in the 7th.  All nine hitters in their order got hits and all but one scored; seven of the nine had RBI’s in quite a late-game hitting exhibition.
     The team’s program was nice, because not only did it tell you about all the players, but more importantly, it showed you where each concession stand was and what each one was serving, making it particularly easy to find exactly what you were looking for.  The strangest food on the menu was something called “a walking taco.”
     I have no idea.
   Diedre really lucked out.  After missing yesterday’s trip to the college’s extraordinary creamery for ice cream, she actually found a small branch of the creamery at the ballpark.  From there, it was mint-chocolate chip all night.  I was allowed my obligatory “one bite.”
     It was wonderful!
     The Spikes ended up winning 14-3 (raising our home-team record this year to 10-4) .  They’re leading their division and are only three games away from clinching the title.
     The exciting night was topped off by a splendid fireworks show.  Best yet, we managed to stay dry for the entire evening.   

 Friday night we celebrated our week with Anne, Rich, Jonathan, and Trine as Diedre served up a genuine, campfire-cooked, “Hobo Dinner” at our campground.  It gave the Ready’s a chance to meet AB1 as well as Charlie, Casey, and Samantha.  They were charming, as usual.  We ended the night by telling horror stories around the campfire (Mine had to do with the I.R.S.).
     Saturday meant just one thing:       HERSHEY!
     Yes, we finally agreed on a day for our pilgrimage to that Mecca of Chocolate, Hershey, PA.  We were both way too excited, however, and it showed:  Diedre went sans belt while I simply forgot to zip up.
     Silly us.
     In years past, I had a few chances to come to Hershey, for free no less, in the 80’s when I was the State Director of “The Minnesota Hershey’s Track and Field Meet.”  After each meet, five of our state champions would then be invited to Hershey to compete in “The National Hershey Track and Field Meet,” all expenses paid, of course.  As state director, I had the option of going along as a chaperone.  Unfortunately, I was also the Minnesota state softball director then and August, when the Hershey Nationals were held, was always the busiest time of the year for me regarding our massive softball program.  We had approximately 75 regional and state softball tournaments going on that month which I ultimately had to oversee, so I always sent my assistant director, Randy Claussen from Pipestone, MN, to Hershey in my place.  And he’d always come back with wonderful tales of the whole town smelling like chocolate.  Now 25 years later, I was finally going to be able to achieve “Hershey-Nirvana.”
     Milton S. Hershey (the “S” stands for “sweet-tooth”—a lot of people don’t know that) was the first person to mass produce chocolate bars and make them affordable for the working class.  Up until then, chocolate was reserved for the “well-heeled.”
Milton had only a 4th grade education; he learned the confectionery craft as a teenager, although he failed in his first two attempts to become a chocolatier.  He introduced the first Hershey Bar in 1900 and opened his company in 1905.  So dominant were his confections in this small town in central Pennsylvania that all the city’s streetlights were made to look like “Hershey Kisses.”  Why, as Diedre can attest to, even the yoga classes there are chocolate based.  When Hershey died in 1945, he gave his entire fortune of $60-million to the local orphanage he founded in 1909.  It goes on today as a school for underprivileged kids.
     At Hershey World, the place was crazy crowded with kids.  Here's how bad it was:
     I saw a guy wearing a “Desert Storm” army hat and even HE looked worried.
     We enjoyed the entire chocolate atmos-phere, once a total way of life for me although now just a nodding acquain-tance.  Still, it was a lot of fun.  Diedre had a chance to hold the world’s largest Hershey Bar (retail sales).  It weighed in at five ponds.  There was even an informative yet entertaining ride we went on where the process of making chocolate was crooned to us by three singing cows.
     The only disappointing part of Hershey was that, as I said earlier, I had been told that the entire town smelled like chocolate.  But when we got there, no smell … no whiff … no luxurious odors wafting in the air.  I was quite disappointed.  Apparently, in the years since my pal Randy Claussen had been here with the track kids, Hershey had moved their factory out of town and into the rural countryside.  That wonderful Hershey smell in the city went with it.
   

 Side note: The Duck Soup Softball Fiasco, a tourney invented by my buddy Alps and me and which has been going on in its wacky fashion this weekend every year since 1983, had a couple get married on the field this year, a first for the Fiasco.  I ran the event its first 20 years and I’m so proud of everyone who has kept it going.  On January 20, 2011, Duck Soup Softball sent a check in the amount of $19,147.58 to Dollars for Scholars. Dollars for Scholars will award a single $1,000 scholarship for each of the next 22 years under the Duck Soup name. Since it's inception in 1983, Duck Soup has raised and donated $92,090.19 to various organizations. Of that amount, $85,197.58 was awarded to St. Louis Park students and youth programs.
     I just had to tell you all that.
     Now … on to Pittsburgh!