cws 2011: meet the new park, cooler than the old park

Yesterday, I headed up to Omaha with Katie to catch at least a day of the College World Series.

For me, this is tradition. It's one of my favorite things about summer, is spending a day or two up in Omaha, enjoying the weather, enjoying some baseball. The College World Series is a freaking blast, and I highly recommend it to anyone.

Having said that … I’ve been going to this thing for longer than I can remember, and I’ve never experienced a crazy ass day like yesterday was. Here's a look back at one of the weirdest weather days I've ever experienced in my life ...

* Katie and I left for Omaha at 9am. I knew it would take a little longer than usual, because I-29 is under water and shut down, as is Nebraska 2. The only direct route into Omaha was to come up US 75 from Topeka, which is what we did. After flying along at a solid 85mph pace for the first 90 minutes, we were nearly to the Nebraska border ... when we hit the first ridiculous delay of the drive up. Unfortunately, US 75 drops to a two-lane rural road from the Sac and Fox Casino, all the way to Nebraska 2 about 60 miles north. And there's very few truck lanes to get around the deadbeat traffic. Monday, we got stuck behind:

1. a RV that was leading the pack at 55mph, nearly 10mph below the posted speed limit, and
2. a semi that kept trying to get around the RV, only he could never do it.

* Nearly ran out of gas as soon as we crossed the border into Nebraska. I assumed Katie's car was a normal, rational vehicle, and that when the check fuel light came on, you still had a solid couple gallons of gas to play with. At least 50 miles or so. Uuh, no. Turns out her car can go about another 20 miles after the light comes on. Getting a little nervous, we pull into the lovely community of Dawson (population 209), which sparks this exchange:

(katie) 209 people. What a metropolis!
(steve) (really needing to pee) hopefully one of those 209 people operates a f*cking gas station.

Well, none of them did. Thankfully, her car has that GPS stuff built into it, so we found the nearest gas station, veered off a couple miles off of US 75 into the sleepy village of Humboldt, and pulled into the second gas station we saw.

* Which is where something that, to be honest, I don't think I've ever experienced in my life before happened.

It was a full-service station.

I didn't even realize it at first. I opened the driver's door and was prepared to head back to the fuel cap, when this nice elderly gentleman came up and asked me if I wanted to fill it up. I was like "yes, please", and before I know it, he's pumping the gas. Impressed, I headed in to use the bathroom ... and immediately became un-impressed. Let's just say, that toilet ... hell, the entire bathroom, hasn't seen a cleaning agent in at least three decades. There were used motor oil containers tossed in the back. Oh, and the toilet didn't flush. (jose voice) Other than that, yo.

* Filled back up, it was back onto US 75, and like Texas, North Carolina, Vanderbilt, Cal, Virginia, Texas A&M, defending champion South Carolina, and the team we were interested in seeing, your Florida Gators, we were on the road to Omaha!

* thankfully, the RV ducked out of line at some point. But eventually, we had to deal with the semi again. Thankfully, I still drive like a Texan at times, and we flew around that guy ... only to rapidly approach the vehicle in front of him. I kinda, sorta thought it was a cop from a distance, so I slowed down somewhat, but was still going a solid 75. Sure as sh*t, it's a Nebraska highway patrolman. I slam on the brakes, maintain some distance, and hope this guy will forget that "hey, that guy behind me came out of nowhere, I guarantee you he was speeding ..."

This strategory worked brilliantly for about 3 miles. Then, we hit a truck lane. The patrolman pulls over into the right (non-passing lane), and then comes to a stop on the shoulder. Sonofabitch. I know what's coming. (I haven't had a speeding ticket in almost two years. I am long, long overdue for one.)

Only, the cop doesn't turn on the lights and come after me -- he hangs a u-turn across three lanes of traffic to go after some guy that passed us going the other direction. Major danger dodged. (You never want to get a ticket on the going part of a roadie. Then you have to reign it in on the drive home, and that sucks.) This would not be the last time a cop factored into a scary moment on this trip.

* With the cop now gone, it was back to full on 80mph (20 over the speed limit). Surely and steadily, we managed to make it to the southern suburbs about 12:15, about an hour before first pitch for Texas / UNC was scheduled. Still plenty of time to make it, and we're almost to the point where 75 goes from rural highway to full on freeway.

And then we hit that point. Where a solid couple of inches of standing water was across the freeway. Then, I look off to the right, and notice all the farmland is under water. Then I look to the side of the freeway, and notice that there is a massive temporary levee on both sides of 75. Then I look down at the river below, and notice it's almost up to the bottom of the bridge itself.

This ain't good.

* Even more spooky than realizing you're driving in standing water, and that the river has jumped its banks and flooded everything within a mile of it under a few feet of water? Easy. Where 75 usually turns into a freeway, now saw both directions of traffic traveling only on the northbound lanes. When you looked to the left and the southbound lanes, and first it was like "what the hell?" The southbound lanes had just been rebuilt a couple years ago. There was no construction crew(s) around. It made no sense to shut the thing down ... until you looked a little past the freeway, to the hills of Plattsmouth.

And there, the Corps of Engineers was literally digging out every inch of dirt, gravel, sand and clay that they could, were dumping them into huge haulers, and were using the (now closed) south lanes of the freeway to cart the earth they were digging to the riverbank, to strengthen the failing temporary levee walls along the river and along the freeway. It was surreal. The idea ran through my head for a brief second that "this must be what a war zone is like". Everywhere you looked on the south bank were bulldozers, trench digging equipment, and frantic Corps of Engineer workers trying to save the town of Plattsmouth from the (still not even close to cresting) Platte River.

To say nothing of trying to save the last southern artery into Omaha that is still open and not under a couple feet of water.

Anyways, hold the "war zone" thought -- we're coming back to this in a little bit.

* Finally manage to get downtown and head towards the new ballpark. We got totally lucky -- we got the last spot in one of the closest lots to the stadium. Of course, getting into the parking spot assigned for us was interesting. We had to drive up a loading dock ramp, turn the Jeep at a 90 degree angle (and attempt not to drive off the narrow loading dock and totally screw ourselves), and then fit into the supervisor's area of said loading dock. We were lucky here too -- the two folks who parked right before us, had to drive backward after hanging the 90 degree turn. The loading dock itself was maybe 12 feet wide, and there were already a line of cars you were trying to avoid hitting.

Safely, finally, at the College World Series, it was off to buy some GA tickets and enjoy the day.

* And on the walk in, man, not even I could have scripted a more perfect day. It was pushing 90, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, but there was also enough of a breeze that it didn't feel 90. It seemed like a perfect "work on the tan" day. Emphasis on the work "seemed", because man, was that assumption wrong.

* After some ridiculous gate antics by the head of security there, we finally get in, and man, the view as you are standing in center field is absolutely breath-taking. Whoever built the new TD Ameritrade Park, did an outstanding job. You could not have scripted a more perfect setting for baseball.

Until you sat in a seat.

Sweet Jesus, was it hot. They kept the metal bleachers in GA, as opposed to individual seats. (At least they poured concrete as the walkways, instead of more metal like Rosenblatt was.) By the top of the fourth inning, it was decision time. Either kick the feet up, ditch the shirt, and just bake for a while ...

Or realize that Texas was getting its ass kicked, realize there were like 20 bars within a block of the stadium, and instead of frying all day, just fry for the late afternoon / evening game. That seemed sensible. So, that's what we did. Left after Carolina opened the floodgates in the fourth, and headed across the street to a bar named Goodnight's.

* Goodnight's was an interesting place. This was our initial encounter with our server:

(steve) uuh, what do you guys have on tap?
(server) we don't have anything on tap.
(steve) (stunned) really?
(server) yeah, we still serve everything in cans.
(steve) (still stunned) ok ...

I mean, a bar, in the prime location of the bar district (it's the first one you'd hit leaving either the stadium or the Qwest Centre), and they have nothing on tap? Hmm. I should have known this wasn't going to end well, but the next thought through my head wasn't "let's just down this one and find a different bar". Nope, the heat had fried my brain too much. My next thought was "well, if they serve only cans, surely it'll be cheap to drink here for a couple hours".

Oy. I could not have been more wrong.

For starters, this was a "pizza bar". No, seriously, that's the name of the bar -- Goodnight's Pizza Bar. The only food they serve is pizza and salad. Nothing else. I wound up going with the Ranch Club Salad, and immediately regretted it. If you have the appetite of a horse, then this is the place for you! The salad comes in a gigantic salad bowl, and by gigantic, I mean it's the family size bowl. I spent 30 minutes trying to make a dent in this thing, and it still looked untouched.

(The surest sign your portion is insanely large? When you actually ask yourself if “The Voice of Reason” could finish it. And you know what? I don’t think Gregg could have downed either of our salads. You definitely got $9 worth of food. Too bad it’s a freaking bar and a to-go option was out of the question.)

Deciding to just write the salad off as a sunken cost, I order another beer. Seeing as how the Texas / UNC game was only in the eighth inning, I order a third beer, and we ask for the tab.

Between the two of us, we had:

* 3 Miller Lite cans.
* 3 Budweiser cans.
* 2 salads.

Care to guess the tab pre-tip?

It's ok, take your time. Oh, and have a defibrillator ready, because you're going to need it.

$52.93.

$53 f*cking dollars for (literally) a six pack and two salads! Jesus freaking Christ, that is insane! Compare this to my dinner with "The Voice of Reason" on Friday night at Yardhouse:

* 3 draws (a summer shandy, Sammy Summer Ale, and Free State Copperhead Ale) of a non-cheap, non-mass produced domestic quality.
* an order of barbeque bacon sliders.
* an order of chicken lettuce wraps.

Care to guess what that tab came to, for two fancy food items and three artisan draws?

$31.96, according to the receipt in my wallet.

$32 at Yardhouse for damned good food and beer. $53 at Goodnight's for a six pack of crappy domestics and a pile of lettuce.

After leaving a $10 tip (our server was good, we were never hurting for anything, although now I see why ...) and me dropping a few expletives about how expensive this joint was, it was off to stand in the GA line for game two.

(Should probably note: the one good thing about Goodnight's? Hilarious company t-shirts. Amongst the witty sayings:

* "That's What (Goodnight's Logo) Said"
* "Goodnights often become Good Mornings!"
* "A Goodnight is a Terrible Thing to Waste"
* "We Bring Goodnights to Life (Please Use Protection)"
* "Goodnights. Too bad you won't remember most of them."
* "One Goodnight Deserves Another ... and another ... and another ..."
* "Goodnights. It's the mornings that are bad"
* "Goodnights. Always Cuming! ... Street and 13th."

They've got potential. They just need to adjust the prices and invest in some taps. Preferably before I’m back a year from now for CWS 2012.)

* The conditions had changed in the 90 minutes or so we were in Goodnights. When we walked in, it was hot, humid, and sunny. Now, it was still hot, not as humid, and overcast. And getting darker by the moment.

* And yet, not a single drop of rain fell when the first roll of dark clouds made its way past the stadium. In fact, right before first pitch of the night game, the sun came back out, and for a couple minutes, it seemed like it was going to be a perfect evening for baseball.

* Then round two of storm clouds rolled in, but like round one, didn't drop any rain. But it did drop the temperature and kick up a nice breeze.

* I'm guessing the lack of heat inspired some really creative college minds last night. For starters, one of the CWS traditions is the beach balls in between innings. Somehow, despite the prohibition on these things, at least 15-20 make it in each game, and in between innings, they're just flying around GA, at least until they inevitably fall onto the field. Then, one of two things happens. Either (a) a player comes over and "saves" the ball by tossing it back up into the crowd, endearing the player to GA for the rest of his career ... or (b) the mean security nazis come out and grab the ball and destroy it.

Last night though, saw some really creative balls. There were a couple blown up baseballs floating around. There was a humongous rainbow colored beach ball that was bigger than my old dog Priest (and P Diddy wasn't exacly a "lightweight". I still miss my special little guy.) And the piece de resistance?

A gigantic inflatable blue hippo. Yes, a gigantic inflatable blue hippo was being batted around left field GA last night. Epic.

* As to what fueled the creativity, yeah, it might have been the weather change ... but far more likely, it was something else. When I went up to pee before the game, there was a gigantic dump of cigar tobacco in the pisser. Uum, not that I would know what you would replace that with inside the cigar wrapper. Wish I'd known who dumped it -- I haven't smoked in a while.

* The most creative thing though was the Wave. And hear me out on this, because other than "The Voice of Reason", nobody hates the Wave more than me. But this one, was inspired. (That, and the first three innings of this game were tear-inducing boring.)

First, they just did the normal wave, and got it going around the stadium. Impressive, even if it is annoying. But then, the students who started this over in 125 (start of left field GA) took it up a notch.

They decided to do a "slow motion" wave that had the entire stadium laughing ... and participating. It was hilarious.

Then, they followed up slow-mo with a rapid fire wave. Even I was joining in by this point.

Finally, they decided to end it after rapid-fire with "just stay standing with your arms up". The entire stadium was standing up, arms skyward, all breaking out into applause when it was done. Really cool stuff.

Even cooler? That meant the whole stadium was standing when Preston Tucker absolutely tomahawked a pitch into the right field stands for a 3-0 Florida lead. It took an additional day, but that lead held up, eventually.

(Should note: Katie was impressed that there were a lot of Florida fans there, and there were. Me? I was beyond shocked that about 70 percent of the stadium was rooting for Vandy. The CWS crowd almost always favors the underdog unless the Huskers are playing. Florida is the 6 seed, Vandy the 3. Surprised me.)

* What wasn’t cool was the family next to us. Granted, you choose to sit on the aisle, you have to expect to stand every now and then to let someone out. I’m fine with that – I have to be, considering I sit smack dab in the middle of section 132 at Chiefs games, so I always make a point to thank the folks for standing for my bathroom or beer break at games. But the guy next to us and his kids literally were getting up and going somewhere every five minutes. We must have stood and moved to let them out at least 15 times. It was ridiculous.

* Starting in the fifth inning, things really started to change. First, the somewhat dark clouds that had been harmlessly passing over the stadium for the last couple hours, now was giving way to a massive line of dark black clouds to the southwest. You could see it coming. This did not look promising.

Finally, after the top of the sixth, the line had reached downtown. The top of the Woodmen building (Omaha's most famous skyscraper) was disappearing from view, it was so black outside.

* And remember back like three pages ago, when I said that the Plattsmouth levee building was like a war zone? Well, now, it really was a war zone in parts of the town, because the sirens started sounding throughout downtown. (OK, ok, I know I'm weird, and I watched way too many war movies growing up ... but every time the sirens go off, am I the only one who immediately thinks "air raid! We're about to be bombed!" I am? OK, that's cool. But that's what runs through my head when the warning sirens start blaring.)

Meanwhile, in the stadium, it was completely surreal. About half the folks heard the sirens and headed up to the concourse. And yet, they kept playing the game! Katie and I stuck it out, under her theory that "if this was really bad, they'd be stopping the game right now", a point I completely agreed with.

Finally, with two outs and a run in for Vandy in the inning, round two of the sirens bellowing out their warnings began, and this time, folks sprung into action. The grounds crew hauled ass out onto the field to get the tarp set up. The PA guy came on and announced that heavy rains were coming and mentioned something about heavy winds as well. I didn't think much of it. I've lived through thunderstorms before, as all of us have.

So Katie and I leisurely stroll down to the Fan Experience area where most folks were at (because there were tents there in case it started pouring). And about two minutes after we get there, the Emergency Team starts running around ordering people into the Qwest Centre across the street. Some folks hauled ass to get over there. Us? Katie was enjoying a cigarette and I was in flip-flops, I wasn't about to run.

Until we got onto 9th Street. The wind was so strong that it literally was pushing you down the street. So much dirt and sand and dust blew up that Katie couldn’t see for a few minutes after we got into the Qwest Centre. My way of saying -- you can bet your ass that after looking up at the sky one last time, and seeing how pitch black it was, that the sky coupled with the wind got me motivated to run.

* Plus, and this was the real motivator, there wasn't a drop of rain falling. Swirling pitch-black clouds, high winds, and no rain falling? Uuh, shelter please!

* To the Emergency Team's credit, and how they did this I don't know, because apparently nobody thought the storm would be as bad as it wound up being, they somehow got 20,000 plus folks evacuated from an open-air stadium and into a point of safety in less than five minutes. It was like the Bizarro New Orleans. And to the fans credit, nobody got irate, nobody acted like their sh*t didn't stink and they deserved special treatment, nobody acted like the spoiled beauty queen -- everyone was calm and orderly and just followed orders, as it should be. It's why nobody was hurt in this thing last night, an unbelievable feat.

After about twenty minutes, the Emergency folks begin going around to let everyone know that they're free to go, but be careful, the storm wasn't over yet. Again, I can't state enough how professional, competent, and well-handled the Emergency folks did this situation yesterday. Hopefully someone besides me points this out. Those folks were the model of professionalism last night. I’ve rarely been as impressed with cops, firemen, and EMT’s as I was last night.

When we went outside the front doors to look around, unbelievable. It was pouring down rain and hail, and the wind was ridiculous. The hospitality tent set up in front of the Qwest Centre are lying on their side. This thing had four concrete blocks -- not cinder blocks, but the "huge as a Home Depot Homer's bucket slab of concrete" holding them in place, and they were no match for what rolled through town. Tree limbs down everywhere. Up above us on 480, you could see sirens everywhere and no traffic moving. (Turns out the storm blew over a few cars. Now THAT'S a storm! As we'd soon discover ...)

Finally, the rain dies down enough to try to make a break for the car. Seven rain-drenched blocks later, we make it. After somehow backing the thing out of the loading dock and getting it down the ramp (it was so dark outside still that even with the brights on, I couldn't see four feet in front of me, because the lot wasn't lit up), it was off for home.

* The first order of business was figuring out how the hell to get onto 480. It took me about 10 minutes and a couple illegal turns to pull it off, but we managed to get on past the overturned vehicles. Whew.

* Of course, the rain and hail is still falling, there's still some serious gushes of wind blowing around, making the car tough to control, but I was ready to get the hell out of there and get home. Because honestly, for once, my brain was working, and my fear was we couldn't get out.

Keep in mind that 75 had standing water driving in, and that was on a 90 degree cloudless day, the fifth in a row for those in Omaha. Now, with 2 plus inches of rain and hail falling in not even 45 minutes? As Scooby Doo would note, "whroot whroo!"

* For one of the few times on the trip home, we had cell phone reception. Katie’s mom called and was like “just stay there tonight!” My response? “It’s just a little rain, no big deal.” Uuh, as usual, I’m not the brightest bulb in the room.

* We finally made it to the Plattsmouth Bridge on 75 after about 40 minutes. (Normal driving conditions from Dodge and 480, should take maybe 15 minutes tops, 20 if there’s a backup in Bellevue.) And go figure, the bridge was severely flooded. Thankfully, we made it across, but on the sides of the freeway where the standing water was rapidly collecting, there were three cop cars and a Corps of Engineers vehicle analyzing the situation.

Until you see in person just how flooded the whole area is, you can't comprehend what a disaster they're facing when the river crests in a week. If the levees are failing already, and the worst is yet to come? Not good.

(But once you saw what the Corps of Engineers is doing to save Plattsmouth and US 75, the criticism of them is ridiculous. You can possibly b*tch about the Corps upstream for all the water they’re releasing, but in Omaha itself, this is as professional, competent, and “makes total sense to me” effort as is possible at this point. These folks are good. Just let them do their job, and they’ll somehow find a way to make this disaster far less, uuh, disasterous than it should be.)

* We drove the whole way back in the storm. It literally never stopped raining for even a second on the drive back. The worst part though was when a semi would pass you on the other side of the road. The wind and rain was so bad, that it literally blinded you for a few seconds every time they'd pass, that's how much water was being dumped onto the windshield.

* And as if all that wasn't fun enough, lightning! Lightning everywhere!

* Even worse for me anyways? When I take a road trip, I like to enjoy a cigar on the drive, whether they be of a Macanudo quality, or an illegal type of variety. It was pouring down so much rain and it was so tough to simply see and keep the car straight, that I couldn't enjoy what I'd brought. Dammit.

* I have never been happier to see the Kansas state line than I was last night. Because the worst case scenario at that point was staying at one of the casino’s hotels and being 90 minutes from home in the morning.

* Around the time we got to the Sac and Fox Casino, it started hailing again. If Jesus had suddenly appeared in front of me, I would not have been surprised, this weather seemed like an Armageddon type of event.

* We finally manage to make it onto I-70. It took nearly 3 hours to get that far, and let's just say, I was not driving at even a semi-responsible speed for the conditions. I wanted to get home (because I had to work today), and I wanted to get the hell out of this storm.

So then, just as we get onto the Turnpike, lucky break numero dos with a highway patrolman happens. I'm going about 80 in the left lane trying to pass two semis (because again, the wind and water coming off their exhaust was blinding me). I see a vehicle rapidly approaching behind me, so I merge into the center lane. Turns out, its a Kansas highway patrolman.

Who just keeps on flying down the left lane of the Turnpike like it was a sunny 85 degree day. He didn't have the sirens on, there wasn't a single wreck that we passed he was on his way to handle. I'm guessing he was just like us, and wanted to get the hell out of this crap and home as soon as possible.

* Almost made it straight home without stopping. The gas light came on right as we hit the pay plaza before Bonner Springs. This was probably a good thing in hindsight, because I desperately needed to pee, and my nerves were completely shot from driving in this junk for four hours.

* Made it back to Katie's a little after 1am. Yes, it took nearly as long to get there in the morning in ideal driving conditions, as it did to get home in a storm that can best be described as "Katie Horner's Wet Dream". The lesson? You need to get somewhere on a road trip, I'll get you there far sooner than you should.

* Then it was my turn to head home. Normally, it's about a 15 minute drive from Katie's to home. It took me 40 minutes last night, that's how brutal the rain, hail, and especially the wind was once I hit Antioch and Metcalf. The Sonata does not handle as well in gusty conditions as my Blazer did, that's for damned sure.

* Finally walked in the door about 1:45am. I had to get up at 7 for work, and I wasn't even remotely tired, I was way too wired and coming off my nervous high to sleep. So I did what any rational person would do: I popped four Benadryls and made the stiffest vodka concoction I've ever made in my life. Straight vodka, no ice, with just a little splash of Sprite. Finally I managed to pass out about 3am and got a couple hours sleep, but man, what a day.

* So … for what it’s worth, I think we’re headed for an all SEC finale. South Carolina is going to win Bracket B, and get the chance to defend its title. (They’re pounding #1 overall seed Virginia as I finish this.) I think Cal will upset Virginia on Thursday to know the top seed out, and South Carolina will handle the best underdog story in this tourney since UC Irvine four years ago on Friday.

What I’m not sure about, is who wins Bracket A. Vandy will handle UNC tomorrow night. This ain’t the Tar Heels that made the Finals three of the last five years, these guys are running on fumes (just like Texas was this year as well.) But Vandy is the best team in Omaha. Asking Florida to beat them again is asking a lot.

So screw it, I say they do it, and Florida beats South Carolina in three to cap off another epic College World Series. Again, do yourself a favor and go to one the next chance you get. And as long as I am ambulatory and upright, you’ll always have a chance to go with me for a cession or three …