Baseball Musings From a Weekend Away
After working way too many hours the last few weeks and finding out that the Amgen Tour of California was due to race right down our street, my husband and I fled both crowds and responsibility for the weekend up the coast to the Paso Robles Wine Festival. Originally I was going to be a good girl and skip this one, but who am I to argue with what was clearly fate…or at least the whim of Amgen tour schedulers? Regardless, I spent the weekend roaming wine country and Saturday evening under the stars on the patio of one of my favorite wineries, drinking great wine, enjoying street style tacos and chatting it up with the locals…and joining the band and several other guests in a silly mood in a rousing rendition of Stairway to Heaven in “honor” of the Rapture that wasn’t, but that’s another story.
We always enjoy great conversations at these events. Wine people, not unlike baseball people, really run the gamut in terms of professions, life experiences, ages, backgrounds and outside interests. When you get a lot of us in a relaxed environment, enjoying that libation for which we all share an affinity, the conversation begins to flow as freely as the wine from the bottles and combines the diverse characteristics of all present, much like the rich Rhone blends for which this region is becoming famous.
So, while I missed watching Saturday’s blown lead and all of Sundays heroics, I did observe and enjoy the following:
No matter how subtle you think you being when you check the score on your phone a few times over the course of the evening – even if you keep your expression neutral through a Herculean effort when your starter starts blowing his lead – someone is going to notice. Furthermore, that someone will then more than likely ask the score of his or her own game, thus providing the beginnings of a nice conversation. So, really, checking the score is not anti-social behavior…really, really.
When baseball fans get to talking about our favorite thing, our faces light up in a beautiful smile. We just can’t help it. Like the Professor from Cal Poly SLO who grew up in L.A. as he reminisced about Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale and times when L.A. baseball was a brand new idea. Or his wife, telling us about her nephew is a hot stuff potential draft pick out if UCSB. Or the Coast Union baseball players apparently freshly returned from kicking some serious butt down in Los Angeles…and many more. All fantastic stories to hear.
An Angels fan in Giants country gets less hisses these days, go figure. 2002 is apparently no longer Too soon! Too soon!
It is a small, small world after all. I was chatting with the Winemaker at Bodega De Edgar, the gentleman who makes the Spanish varietals I’ve waxed poetic on this blog about before, and a couple of other guests and the subject of baseball came up – and I didn’t bring it up, ha! They asked if Seth and I were Dodger fans. No, we’re Angel fans and then the vintner narrowly avoided a cartoon character worthy spit take. Do you by any chance have a blog? Why yes I do. Okay, because I have been trying to figure out who this lady could be that blogs about the Angels and my wine for a few weeks now. How funny and random is that? I could not stop laughing. And, ha, I mentioned the name of the winery again so, Edgar, now I’ll come up on your next Google search too.
If you are a younger sibling, you will never escape being called by your older brother or sister’s name, especially if your parents follow the tradition of giving everyone a name with the same first initial, like my parents did. Not even if you grow up to make millions of dollars. Not even if you are a Major League Baseball player. As we head into this evening’s match-up with the A’s, the number of national media folks I have heard call Jered Weaver Jeff makes me crack up. Seriously, on MLB tonight, on ESPN, it’s crazy. It does make me wonder though, does Mom Weaver ever do the “Jeff?! Jered?! Oh you know who I’m talking to!” thing?