What We Did This Weekend:
Disco Night... Somewhere in Middle America
I can't really blame anyone if they don't catch the Counting Crows reference in the title, but anyway... Rather than go on a normal date night which might involve an upscale eating establishment like Applebee's or Waldo Pizza, followed by either an episode of Psych or whatever we most recently received from Netflix, we decided to take a quick trip to Omaha.
My plan started about a month ago. After being intrigued by Chris "Disco" Hayes' sub-80mph-submarine-stylings on the mound for the Omaha Royals (the AAA Class minor league affiliate of the Kansas City Royals), I decided that I had to try to see him pitch in person.* And, as the Winter Quarters temple is in Omaha, I could easily suggest that we tack on a baseball game to our monthly temple trip. Eventually we determined that we would leave work early Friday, attend a late-afternoon session at the temple, drive to the ballpark for a game, and then drive home to Kansas City. It made for a very long day, but one we won't soon forget.
In order for this story to make sense, you should probably read Disco's post about the day he was promoted from AA to AAA, aptly entitled: Promotions, Payback, and Poop Sticks.
With our trip to Omaha nearing, I started to wonder whether we should buy tickets ahead of time, or if there would be seats left for us to buy on gameday when we arrived at the ballpark. I had an idea to email Disco and ask him what attendance was like and if he thought we'd be okay buying tickets at the gate. But, when I hadn't heard back from him by Wednesday, my paranoia won out and I bought seats online.
Then, Friday morning we received a reply from Mr. Disco himself. I was thrilled that he had taken the time to send a quick note. He said that he hoped we would be able to make it to the game and that he would like us to come down to the dugout to say hi if we were there early enough. He also added, to "avoid a potentially awkward situation," he only signs brand new plungers. Well, that pretty much settled things. Although I was a little taken aback by his stance on active-duty plungers, I made up my mind to find a brand new plunger for him to sign.
When we arrived at the stadium, we had a chance for a Kindness Surprise before the game. It turns out that we had a pair of extra tickets. Not wanting them to go unused, we zeroed in on a father and his young son that got in line for some tickets. We asked if it was just the two of them that would be attending the game that night, and when he said yes, we explained that we had these two extra tickets that were really good seats (turns out the seats we gave away were better than the seats we kept) and that we would like to give them to him. He graciously and excitedly accepted the tickets, asked my name, and thanked me. Kindness Surprises make you feel good.
When we got to our seats, Mr. Disco was nowhere to be found. We had only managed to arrive 30 minutes early, so I figured that unless we were able to find him after the game, I would be going home with an unsigned plunger. But then, about 10 minutes before the first pitch, I saw him signing some autographs along the third base line, just past their dugout. Brookie and I grabbed our stuff and headed that way. It felt like everyone was staring at us (okay, at me) because of the plunger I was carrying. But before we could make it to where he had been giving his autograph to kids in the stands, he had left and was on his way to the bullpen further down the foul line, where the seats had been sectioned off.
Somewhat undeterred, Brookie and I sat in some seats at the far end of the open sections closest to the bullpen, and I watched for Mr. Disco to look our way. When it looked like he was looking in our general direction, I raised the brand new plunger above my head and waved it. This caught his attention and elicited a big smile, and he heading back down our way while we went down to the first row of seats to say hello.
When he got close enough to be able to talk with us he said, still grinning, "You must be Todd." I acknowledged, said hello, and then he looked at Brookie and said, "And you must be Brooke." I was impressed. Not only did he know my name, but he also took the time to learn and remember my wife's name. I handed him the plunger and the Sharpie and he signed it for me. We even had another fan take our picture as proof.
Maybe you knew some baseball players in high school or college. If so, please accept my apologies, as many of them may be accurately described as 'jerks.' In my playing days I always maintained that I was not a baseball player; I just happened to play baseball. And maybe that's why I admire Disco Hayes. Actually that's only one reason, but it's a big one. He seemed to me to be much more than just a spoiled jerk in a baseball uniform. And after our "Disco Encounter" I'm even more convinced that he's more than just a baseball player.
He was extremely nice. And genuine. And what really impressed me was that he seemed glad to have met us. Even though the game was going to start, a fact I was conscious of, along with the idea that he was at work and we were interrupting, he was the one making conversation. He asked about our trip up to Omaha. He had followed a link in my email signature and come across my makeshift online portfolio and asked about one of the pieces. Then, seeing that Brookie had her scorebook in hand, asked if she would like him to sign it. He was about to sign it big and in the middle of a page, and then thought to ask if she was going to keep score, which she was, so he signed it down in one corner instead. Brookie hoped he had been impressed that she knew how to keep score.
Anyway, I can't really say enough nice things about this decent man following his dreams who happens to pitch for the Omaha Royals. He was a bright spot in what turned out to be a bit of a tough weekend for us (which will have to wait for another post). The home team lost that night. Disco didn't pitch. But we still had a great time.
The ride home after the game was highlighted by our attempt at eating a pizza we picked up at Old Chicago in Omaha. It's tough enough to eat hot, cheesy pizza, covered with pepperoni, while driving on the interstate. It's even harder when the large pizza is only sliced six ways making each piece very large. It was messy. It was funny. And it was very, very good.
We were somehow able to make it home without me falling asleep. We were back in our cozy bed by 2:30am and didn't wake up Saturday morning until 10:00am. And that's what we did this weekend!
Go to the board!
My plan started about a month ago. After being intrigued by Chris "Disco" Hayes' sub-80mph-submarine-stylings on the mound for the Omaha Royals (the AAA Class minor league affiliate of the Kansas City Royals), I decided that I had to try to see him pitch in person.* And, as the Winter Quarters temple is in Omaha, I could easily suggest that we tack on a baseball game to our monthly temple trip. Eventually we determined that we would leave work early Friday, attend a late-afternoon session at the temple, drive to the ballpark for a game, and then drive home to Kansas City. It made for a very long day, but one we won't soon forget.
In order for this story to make sense, you should probably read Disco's post about the day he was promoted from AA to AAA, aptly entitled: Promotions, Payback, and Poop Sticks.
With our trip to Omaha nearing, I started to wonder whether we should buy tickets ahead of time, or if there would be seats left for us to buy on gameday when we arrived at the ballpark. I had an idea to email Disco and ask him what attendance was like and if he thought we'd be okay buying tickets at the gate. But, when I hadn't heard back from him by Wednesday, my paranoia won out and I bought seats online.
Then, Friday morning we received a reply from Mr. Disco himself. I was thrilled that he had taken the time to send a quick note. He said that he hoped we would be able to make it to the game and that he would like us to come down to the dugout to say hi if we were there early enough. He also added, to "avoid a potentially awkward situation," he only signs brand new plungers. Well, that pretty much settled things. Although I was a little taken aback by his stance on active-duty plungers, I made up my mind to find a brand new plunger for him to sign.
When we arrived at the stadium, we had a chance for a Kindness Surprise before the game. It turns out that we had a pair of extra tickets. Not wanting them to go unused, we zeroed in on a father and his young son that got in line for some tickets. We asked if it was just the two of them that would be attending the game that night, and when he said yes, we explained that we had these two extra tickets that were really good seats (turns out the seats we gave away were better than the seats we kept) and that we would like to give them to him. He graciously and excitedly accepted the tickets, asked my name, and thanked me. Kindness Surprises make you feel good.
When we got to our seats, Mr. Disco was nowhere to be found. We had only managed to arrive 30 minutes early, so I figured that unless we were able to find him after the game, I would be going home with an unsigned plunger. But then, about 10 minutes before the first pitch, I saw him signing some autographs along the third base line, just past their dugout. Brookie and I grabbed our stuff and headed that way. It felt like everyone was staring at us (okay, at me) because of the plunger I was carrying. But before we could make it to where he had been giving his autograph to kids in the stands, he had left and was on his way to the bullpen further down the foul line, where the seats had been sectioned off.
Somewhat undeterred, Brookie and I sat in some seats at the far end of the open sections closest to the bullpen, and I watched for Mr. Disco to look our way. When it looked like he was looking in our general direction, I raised the brand new plunger above my head and waved it. This caught his attention and elicited a big smile, and he heading back down our way while we went down to the first row of seats to say hello.
When he got close enough to be able to talk with us he said, still grinning, "You must be Todd." I acknowledged, said hello, and then he looked at Brookie and said, "And you must be Brooke." I was impressed. Not only did he know my name, but he also took the time to learn and remember my wife's name. I handed him the plunger and the Sharpie and he signed it for me. We even had another fan take our picture as proof.
Maybe you knew some baseball players in high school or college. If so, please accept my apologies, as many of them may be accurately described as 'jerks.' In my playing days I always maintained that I was not a baseball player; I just happened to play baseball. And maybe that's why I admire Disco Hayes. Actually that's only one reason, but it's a big one. He seemed to me to be much more than just a spoiled jerk in a baseball uniform. And after our "Disco Encounter" I'm even more convinced that he's more than just a baseball player.
He was extremely nice. And genuine. And what really impressed me was that he seemed glad to have met us. Even though the game was going to start, a fact I was conscious of, along with the idea that he was at work and we were interrupting, he was the one making conversation. He asked about our trip up to Omaha. He had followed a link in my email signature and come across my makeshift online portfolio and asked about one of the pieces. Then, seeing that Brookie had her scorebook in hand, asked if she would like him to sign it. He was about to sign it big and in the middle of a page, and then thought to ask if she was going to keep score, which she was, so he signed it down in one corner instead. Brookie hoped he had been impressed that she knew how to keep score.
Anyway, I can't really say enough nice things about this decent man following his dreams who happens to pitch for the Omaha Royals. He was a bright spot in what turned out to be a bit of a tough weekend for us (which will have to wait for another post). The home team lost that night. Disco didn't pitch. But we still had a great time.
The ride home after the game was highlighted by our attempt at eating a pizza we picked up at Old Chicago in Omaha. It's tough enough to eat hot, cheesy pizza, covered with pepperoni, while driving on the interstate. It's even harder when the large pizza is only sliced six ways making each piece very large. It was messy. It was funny. And it was very, very good.
We were somehow able to make it home without me falling asleep. We were back in our cozy bed by 2:30am and didn't wake up Saturday morning until 10:00am. And that's what we did this weekend!
Go to the board!
i think we are going to have to make a temple/disco trip ourselves. i need a new plunger first.
ReplyDeleteand i am very impressed that brookie knows how to keep score.
Agreed - Disco Hayes is not a AAA ball player. He just happens to play AAA ball. That poop story he blogged was hilarious! I can see now that it was definitely worth it to buy your $1 plunger.
ReplyDeleteI will autograph a roll of toilet paper for you free of charge (and poop).
ReplyDeleteWhat a great post - and what a great post from Disco too - thanks for the link! He's even #13 - that's my husband's number (from high school basketball, and yes he still signs his name with #13 at the end). Glad to see you're doing so well Todd. p.s. Happy late birthday!
ReplyDeleteBaseball, choir, and seminary. You are the man! Always have been. Always will be.
ReplyDelete