5-5-2011 Safeco Field

Batting practice was extremely slow. The Mariners were completely ignoring everyone in the centerfield ‘Pen area. Even friendly shout-outs from the fans like, “Hey, how are you doing today?” were blown off from them. I don’t know if they were all having a bad day or it was just one of those unfriendly days. So I decided to line up at the stairs early. The Mariners didn’t have anyone that could hit a baseball to the centerfield seats anyway. As soon as I lined up someone hit a monster bomb towards the vistors bullpen. The ball clanged off the bullpen bench overhang and shot right at a group of people. They all scrambled for it and somehow it got loose and rolled underneath the staircase. I darted around the stairs and gave chase but I was immediatly blind-sided by some middle-aged man that wanted the baseball more than I did. He shouldered me into the wall, and knocked my hat off in the struggle as he kicked the ball from my reaching grasp. I wanted to give chase and spear tackle him into the nearest brick wall. I was furious. I said a few choice words and decided it wasn’t worth it. If I engaged in physical violence with this shmuck I’d probably get thrown out of Safeco Field. That just wasn’t my style.

     Before the horn blew to allow us into the rest of the stadium I did witness a baseball hit into the seats on the first base side. So at the last moment I changed my decision to go up the centerfield steps instead of the bullpen stairs that led into left field/3rd base area. It paid off too. Well, I did have to run the entire outfield concourse and then chase down three sections. After that I diligently scoured the seats until I found the baseball. A security guard was watching me the entire time and smiled when I found the ball. I was lucky the baseball didn’t get free from a seat support then roll all the way to the bottom of the section. At least I got my cardio in for the day. 

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I lined up behind these two Texas Rangers. I could not identify them and I was hoping for an overthrow. The ball sailed high and to the left and it landed about six rows up when it happened. I jumped over the first two rows and saw that some girl was running farther up then she had to. Gravity is my best friend. The ball just trickled down to the row I was standing in and I reached over the seats to scoop it up. “I didnt know which row it was in.” The girl said with a laugh.

After that I decided to hang around the Rangers dugout.

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After batting practice concluded the Rangers pitching coach had a baseball in his hand. He was looking to toss it someone. So I gave him an upnod and sure enough he tossed me the baseball. It was the nastiest, most dirtiest baseball I have ever put my hands on. It also smelled of some kind of chemical. Maybe rosin. Im not sure what was on the baseball but it made my backpack stink for days.

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Here’s another picture of the baseball out of focus this time.

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After that I waited for the game to start. I even asked one of the security guards if I could stand in her section and wait on the warmup baseball. She told me I could stand in row 12 and back. She then proceeded to tell me it would be impossible to get a warmup baseball because the Rangers don’t always throw the ball into the crowd. And sometimes they leave the field on the other end of the dugout. And sometimes they give the ball to a kid. I just stood there and stared blankly at the roof. I even noticed a little trap door while she was talking.

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The trap door is the little white speck in the middle of the picture. It was very interesting. Anyway. After being denied by the Rangers on the warmup baseball I took my seat in the outfield and patiently waiting on a home run ball that never came my way. I keep telling myself that If I sit out there long enough I will be the guy that the baseball comes directly to.

 

 

Game; May 5th 2011 Texas Rangers vs Seattle Mariners

Gameballs; Three

Attendance; 14,205

Snagging Baseballs for Puppies has raised; $26.00 this season.

Snagging Baseballs for Relief in Japan has raised; $10.00 this season.

 

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