Finally got to see the Yankees live and in person over the first three days of this week and left Target Field a mostly satisfied customer. Yes, there's still some second-guessing abounding from Girardi's ill-fated decision to lift a still in-control Phil Hughes in the middle game, but CC Sabathia quieted many doubters yesterday with eight, very strong innings leading an 8-2 win.

Going to two of the games by myself -- and note: those were the ones the Yanks won -- lead me to be forced to listen to the Twins fans around me who leave a lot to be desired when it comes to not only knowledge of the game, but of their home team as well. In a reverse of what I used to experience at the old, Yankee Stadium (I've only been able to catch a few games at the new, big ballpark in the Bronx) the better my seats got over the course of the three game series, the more knowledgeable the fans were. This really did shock me. My season tickets in the Bronx were in the upper deck at the Stadium and the best baseball conversations went down up there. I often wound up with friend's tickets -- most notably a friend who worked for TOPPS at the time -- and would find that in those great seats everyone around me talked about nothing but how great their seats were.

In section 222 on Monday night, second deck at Target on the third base side, I had no choice but to hear a fan near me yell for a "review" when Granderson nailed their guy at the plate. The call for review was seconded by a couple other people. This is not the NFL, Twins-fans, this is MLB and there really still is no such thing except for the disputed fair/foul, over the wall etc. homerun calls and the foul lines thing.

They talked a lot about team salaries and were generally off by about $50M in regards to both the New York and the Minnesota team. When the guy beside me, who seemingly was a little better informed than some of the others despite his insistence that every single pitcher threw only fastballs and junk, started bemoaning the unfair advantage the Yanks had he took to the middle infield as his proving ground. As he checked the stats for our amazing double-play team of Captain Derek Jeter and Robinson Canoe, he cried that the Twins never, ever could have middle infielder who could hit 20, 25 HR's.

Out of the side of my mouth, and it was the only time I opened it during the Yankees 6-3 win behind the six scoreless innings by Andy Pettitte, I mentioned Roy Smalley. He's still quasi-famous in the Twin Cites although his eponymous bar near Target closed down this season. Smalley's not ancient history either (although the Twins only have 50 seasons so what is for them?) but the guy stumbled. He wasn't sure. I wasn't positive either, but I did have to cop to that maybe, just maybe Smalley only did that in New York Yankees pinstripes, but nope - Smalley hit 24 for the Twins, 20 was his highest mark for NY. Uh hem.

Yesterday, in my best seats of the series, section 111 where I was about 20 rows behind the Twins on-deck circle the guy behind me starts yakking about the fact that the Yankees didn't have a hit. It was the third inning. I goaded him into saying the words "no-hitter" and then after the immediately resulting base-knock ended that, I got him to say, "Well, he still has the shut-out." I'm not sure, but he and his three friends may have moved seats before the sixth run scored that inning. I never got a chance to thank him.

Having vowed to bike to game before season's end, yesterday was the day despite being kind of sick. Sunny day, good exercise, less germs than on the bus were my rationalizations, but biking to a baseball game is pretty great. Shame the season ends this week or I would do more than that.

Rooting for the White Sox to get their heads out of their asses and get back to taking the AL-Central. Yesterday's miserable walk-laded loss to the Tribe coupled with the Tigers come-back victory saw the Detroit club take over 1st place for the first time since July. Chisox have a tough schedule the rest of the way; the Tigers not so much. And with the duo of Verlander and Cabrera, Detroit is a team to worry about in a short series. If the season ended today (one more week if you're wondering) the Yankees would face Detroit, albeit with home field advantage.

Oakland is making the Rangers sweat bullets, pulling within three games with seven to play and a few more left head-to-head. Some Texas losses coupled with some more Yankee wins (seven games left vs. the Blue Jays and the awful bosox) could land the Bombers with the best record in the AL.

Okay, baseball before work is the motto for today...

Cheers

B.

Well, I was going to open this blog with a photograph of the proof copy of my novel, "Live Fast! (Die Out of Town)" that arrived today, but between the new cellphone and the old computer, no one is talking. It's not the final copy in any way, shape or form. Actually, that's nearly entirely untrue: it will have the same shape for cure and perhaps even the same form. Right now, there's a lot of black border around a photograph I had taken many years ago outside the grave of "Elvis Aaron Presley" from Graceland.

But today, instead of reading that in print form for the first time ever; it did begin life as something altogether different, I finished reading the two-year old "Giving In" for only the second time since writing it in November  of 2010. Not feeling quite ready to start working on an edit, I will be looking forward to reading Live Fast!

Below, is an excerpt though, from "Giving In" -- have I spun myself around enough for one day? I think so; I have some drinks before heading out to Target Field. Yeah, it's a beautiful day for the end of  September and yet here I am, about to finally attend my first Yankee game of the season.

Excerpt:

These are the times that try men’s patience; these are the times when you find out of you’re the man who throws his jubilant hands in the air or the one who grips the bar in front of him as if to squeeze the life out of it as the rollercoaster descends precipitously. Do you close your eyes as you head toward the fast approaching loop-dee-loop or when you’re going through it? Do you keep your eyes wide open, let the tsunami winds dry your contacts out? Damn the torpedoes! Go on another E-ticket ride?

The only real difference being is that you know this one is going to crash. Probably not the first time through or even the second; what’s better than a false sense of security? But do you get on the rollercoaster that you know is going to smash to bloody and broken pieces on the hard ground? And if you do, would you really throw your arms up in the air like you don’t have a care? Would you be able to keep your eyes open for much of it? He wasn’t suicidal in the least; he was cautious with his heart but it wasn’t boxed up then. It was what the rollercoaster ride was doing to these lovely and amazing young women that made cuts that wouldn’t be staunched.

There were the ones who didn’t communicate with him any longer. He would have to then long range project to know how they were doing. He would have to imagine both ends of conversations in far too many settings and situations.

For some time there were the ones who stayed in his orbit and he liked having their shining stars circling. He fed them what he could; they gave back only what he would accept, but they offered up so much more than that. So there was always the awkward air of indigestible rejection over these dinners and drinks.

He’s sitting there, musing over that old fact when he gets a message out of the blue offering to do something for him. Exactly what he needed from the Universe, right? And it’s not like he wanted to shoot the messenger; far from it and that was the rat bastard side of the Universe balancing his stupid ass out for him.

Billy sang about having to take the crunchy with the smooth and Bronson had stolen that so many times, most thought it was his line.

He was opening taped up boxes that should have stayed that way most likely. He couldn’t just poke his nose into one, he couldn’t just reach a hand in and bring one thing back out with him. It wasn’t even a case of all or nothing. Once it was rented open, it ripped at the very edges of the Universe is how he saw it. The galaxy expanding wherever it sees fit, Bronson got pelted from asteroids from all sides.

See? Salinger had it all wrong. If you really want to disappear, you don’t make it some great mystery. Not that Bronson was comparing himself to that great writer in any other way. But in this case, Bronson felt he won this chapter hands down.

He wrote them a letter. He left his poetry brush beside his unused comb. He didn’t want anything to be misunderstood. He needed to be simple and direct, for a change. It was such a new tact, he was almost afraid they wouldn’t recognize it. Bronson asked if he came there to help take care would they help take care of him. Offering his help didn’t stir any dust; clearly asking for help was an alien transmission.

No one was quick to answer. His noose tightened although they had no idea such a stricture was occurring. Each thought another would come back quickly with an ebullient reply so for an extended moment the 911 call was not made. Before all was lost, the elder statesman made the call. It’s how it should be; it should have come from the head of the table. The words landed on grateful, nearly crushed to death ears.

Gears began to shift. Oils were applied. Appointments and anointments came and went.

He left.

Again.

This time, though he didn’t feel as if he was coming back. The door didn’t hit him on the ass on his way out. He didn’t turn off the lights though.

A joke: How does an impatient man wait? Impatiently.

Having spent the actual time of yesterday's Yankee game at my 1st, but officially the 5th annual Surly Beer Fest, I wasn't quite ready to settle into what the baseball game turned out to be. The beer fest, held at their brewery in Brooklyn Center, was a great day out in some rather fast Fall weather but especially to taste a couple of their beers that haven't been - or won't be - available ever.

The big smash was their Cacao Bender variation on their standard Bender-style. Dark and rich and brewed with chocolate nibs most notably, was a big pow on the taste buds and could stay with you all day. We probably should have washed out our steins before moving on the to next beer as the Cacao had staying power. The Fest was a very tasty autumnal beer, even if they said it wasn't an Octoberfest style. The Fiery Hell, a rather peppery take on their lager, was perhaps slightly too spicy. It paired well with my mini Lobster roll, but I wished I had gotten the food right as I got the beer.

My fourth and final 1/2 litre was the good, ol' Furious. Spared the can and any kind of travel whatsoever, the Surly Furious was probably the best right at the brewery. Glad that I don't have to wait til next year; Surly Darkness Days are coming up to.

In the 5th or 6th I told the friend I was watching with that the Yankee game was going to go to extras. I wasn't expecting 14 though. But after 3 scoreless innings, Freddy Garcia got pounded in the top of the 13th. When all was said and done, the A's had 3 longballs and a 9-5 lead. But the Yanks battled back and tied it up on a two run smash by Raul Ibanez.

The craziness came in the 14th. Melka Mesa, making his major league debut as a pinch-runner, over-ran 3rd base on what should have been a game-winning, walk-off hit by A-Rod, but the kid had to go back to the bag and was forced at the plate on the next play. As the entire team was on the dugout steps, this poor kid was wandering the dugout alone -- not quite crying.

But when the A's firstbaseman botched a spinning groundball off of Nunez's bat, Ichiro scored the winning run and the Yanks could all laugh with Mesa.

Today, proving you can't win em all - the Yankees had for a week - the A's took the last game 5-4. The O's lost to the bosox so status quo.

Well, it's the new year - 5772 - and it's time to get this blog and the work on the others back on track. I haven't submitted a piece to BBD for over three weeks and it's high time to change that. I'm hoping that a fall schedule permits me to the time and the brain capacity to keep you (and me) posted on what's going on with the Yankees as they head into the last few weeks of the regular season - scant lead over the O's for 1st place in the AL-East - and into the post-season.

November looks like the perfect month to start doing readings/signings from "A Rose by Any Other Name" -- available here: https://www.createspace.com/3527985 - or there are still a small handful of copies on my shelf, available inscribed for the same $14 including shipping/handling (yes, I will actually handle your copy) - just drop me an email and some sort of form of payment.

I was outside the bookstore in Wisconsin this past weekend that is the exclusive (so far) retail outlet for my book; plans are afoot for a reading/signing there this autumn. But I was too busy watching my first, in-person, demolition derby from high atop a Ferris wheel and then kayaking down the Kickapoo (your foot gets smelly) River to even go inside the store; next visit.

Meanwhile, I am back to work on the pair of novels that are in varying states of completion. Today I ordered the first proof copies of "Live Fast! (Die Out of Town)" and while I am looking forward to seeing what that looks like in print, don't expect its release anytime soon. I still have a lot of miles to drive in the Rose-vehicle before unloosing anything else on the world.

Also, looking to spend some time in the more recently written novel, "Giving In." As of this moment, I don't know which comes out first. LF! could be somewhat more of the same as Rose, but Giving In is more of a departure for me as I still don't know if it makes any sense to any one...

The Yankees took two out of three from the Rays (football NY Giants also beat the team from TB this weekend) maintaining that one game lead over the O's who salvaged yesterday's game from the mighty A's. They have the day off today. Tomorrow night heralds the return of southpaw Andy Pettitte to the Yankee starting rotation finally after recovering from injury. The Yanks can really use his steadying force in the front of the rotation; hopes are high that he has enough time to get back up to 100 pitches and be their #2 or #3 starter when it's time for the post-season.

Weather calls for rain on Tuesday, but the Yanks have to hope that it doesn't get in the way of Pettitte getting in 70 pitches or so. I have tomorrow off so I am looking forward to seeing a complete game played live instead of waiting for late night viewings on archive.

Okay, l'shana tovah and stuff.

Brian

Hey y'all--

So, this blog and me are back from hiatus (no longer to be referred to as hiadust as you will read) and the next post will be looking forward. Below is most of the copy to my resignation letter to Burning Man in general and to my volunteer post as a Ranger, a service to Black Rock City that I was proud to provide for the last three and a half Burns...

wasn't necessarily planning on penning this today

but it seems appropriate:

the second rational act i performed after quitting my corporate job, my wife and my city and buying a one-way ticket out

was to buy my first burning man ticket for 2002;

was it prophetic - as the guy working will-call suggested - when my staff credential bracelet was number 911 this year?

*******

having learned many burns back to not to pack the expectations, 

i sincerely did not expect this to be my last trek out to BRC:

but that's what it turned out to be...

going in i was eyeballing the ticket fiasco

and the fear of a newbie-swarm

as an opportunity to walk the dirt, dressed in khaki

and tell it how it is, how it can be

but found myself more often than not

encountering those who had come to a party, but not even knowing what they were celebrating

those who had no clue as to why we come and do what we do in that godforsaken desert...

people who i had camped across from for 3 years now, thought i was a cop

despite as they said, my propensity for wandering around naked (not nekkid)

big blue mohawk playafied up--

but then i'd put on my "uniform" and they were afraid that i was going to bust them for smoking...

i found myself face to face with far more stupid than i ever had in a decade's worth of burns previous

having realized some time ago that i am over certain aspects of the burning man experience

it was the "shooting fish in a barrel" ease of meeting people with whom to have amazing conversations

(or, at the very least, they'd get the joke...)

that had kept me coming back year after year after year

but i palpably felt that dissipate this year;

scales fell:

The Man has no clothes...

but what nauseated and turned me off me far more

was the attitude of "seasoned" burners

and their overwhelming sense of entitlement:

this was something i came across both on shift and off

and it made my decision to leave playa early

and not return the right call for me...

yes, i am long-winded, but i do have an anecdote

that seems worth sharing especially after a friend forwarded me a fb post today

(i usually return from the playa adding friends,

but this year found more call to drop "friends")

i'm on a bike mobile shift w/Geronimo 6p-midnight monday

it's very nearly the witching hour when we're cycling toward hq

when a sheriff driving past waves my partner down to tell us to clear some bikes that are blocking the road;

Geronimo also gets the call from khaki to the same camp/issue

(now here's the set-up:

on the very 1st shift Geronimo & I had walked together 3 years back

we had gotten a call to ranger a mountain of bikes on the esplanade

(btw: i refer to this as "pushing schwinn" but anyway...)

and we spend time/energy hauling chained together bikes out of the way;

there had been 2 more senior rangers working from the other side

who watched us finish up, sweaty and frustrated

(moving 4 bikes chained together no easy task)

the other pair of rangers comment "well, that's one way of doing it..."

they'd gone into the camp and asked the dj to make an announcement for the bike-owners to move them themselves--

brilliant!)

so, there's Geronimo about to go into the camp and speak to the dj while i monitor the radio and his back from the street

but then i look up at the camp's signage and volunteer to be the one to go in

since i had known a lot of people in the camp for a decade, 

known the dj very well from 2 years worth of toil w/mutaytor in los angeles

of course i am going to be the person who goes in to make our simple request

and i go in and find the dj in question (he's not spinning just yet but is about to start)

and i make the usual pleasantries, etc. before bringing up the bike situation.

but when i do, he asks if this is now me in an official ranger capacity

and i say that, yeah, i guess it is...

and he slaps me on the chest and says "that's great" although i heard what he really meant to say.

(had i known then what i know now - that these were my last 10 minutes of rangering at ttitd,

i may have responded "in kind;" that response could have included taking off my lammy 

and something else including my right fist and his mouth)

but instead Geronimo and i cleared the bikes...

pondering why someone other than an ass-hat wouldn't prefer dealing with the likes of me instead of LE)

so:

here's the fb post that said dj posted:

Deejay Wolfie
My experience of Rangers this year at the burn reminded me of the stanford prison experiment, where providing a uniform "swamps the internal moral judgement" of an individual. I went from "aww nice, they're helpful" to "wow, if one more uniform walks in here with that attitude, we're going to throw them out in the street" Just because someone is a cos play uniform volunteer in love with a rule book, does not mean us other burners can be approached as if your self appointed authority holds any water. We all see through the laminate and the brown shirt vibe to the hall monitor child, desperate for the authority one cannot command oneself, but instead must rely on a uniform to furnish. Try approaching us as fellow burners, start by introducing yourself, and you may then get some respect. However, if you ride in out of the dark and bark orders at women campers in the process of getting dressed for the evening, You'll get thrown out of our camp in the rudest way we can muster. 

it's rather amusing that i did EXACTLY what he says would have garnered respect from his camp...

*******

but when there's a self-appointed "neighborhood watch" around where i was camped

calling the sheriffs on disoriented participants who had been wandering around,

"he looked at my bike" was their justification.

fortunately, as i looked on (still a little on the fence about leaving and following a lovely chat w/Ultra in hq-- thanks!) 

the watch committee complimented themselves for calling the sheriffs so that they could keep "burning man good"

i felt done with this part of burning man

but as it took my people 40 years, i suppose i got off easy (good behavior?) after but 11 years wandering that desert...

Cheers
Brian