July 14, 2013
New York, New York
Jacob Javits Center
M.L.B All Star Fan Fest
Day 10, The Final Inning:
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| Grandpa, Ryan and Me, Outside Fan Fest |
Right away I could sense something was "off." I wasn't sure how, or why, but I had this impending feeling that things were not as they should be. I had the very uncomfortable feeling that I was being watched and as I opened my eyes I knew exactly why.
"What the hell?" I said loud enough to make Nicole grumble and wiggle further down under the covers
.
.
That alone startled me, as I had forgotten where I was. After being on the road for over a week I was not used to sleeping in my own bed and for a moment I was wondering what city as I was in. The fact there was a woman next to me should have given me an indication, as she was my wife and hadn't gone on the trip. I should have realized I was home, but my brain was still a little foggy.
"C'mon, get up," the voice to my left said. "We've got to get moving."
Once again I was startled back into the present. I turned my head and quickly took in the sight of Ryan standing at the side of the bed, fully dressed and looking impatiently over at me.
"For the love of God, and all that's holy, what's wrong with you?" I hissed. We've talked about this."
Apparently this was a little too loud because Nicole smacked me in the head with her pillow and told me in no uncertain terms to shut up. Apparently she was less thrilled about being woken up by me than I was for being woken up by Ryan, who just laughed. Now I may not be the smartest person on the planet, but I know that a two-fronted battle was not the smartest thing to engage in, especially when one of the combatants was my sleep-deprived, cranky wife. I quickly retreated to the living room to get my bearings and a cup of coffee.
After a quick shower, and a lot of coffee, we headed out the door. The first stop was Tenafly to pick up my dad, who is known affectionately as "Grandpa Crazy." He had been tagged with that moniker many years ago by our friend Heidi, because she loved how he interacted with all his grandchildren and always reverted to a youngster when around them. The name stuck, and has been used in a playful, reverent way ever since. Ryan was hoping that his grandpa would have been able to join us for some games on this trip, but since he couldn't this was the next best thing. In fact, this was not the first MLB Fan Fest the three of us had attended; we had gone back in 2008 when the All Star Game had been held at the "old" Yankee Stadium in its closing year. We had a great time back then and were looking for more of the same today.
Major League Baseball has, for a number of years, showcased its All Star Game with the collaboration of the host city. The break in the MLB schedule by no means is a break from baseball activity and the league puts on quite a show, centered around the game itself. The Fan Fest was created as a traveling celebration that came to the All Star City each year and became the world's largest baseball theme park. Fans can wander through exhibits that celebrate the history of the players and the game; meet, greet and collect free autographs from baseball legends; participate in training drills; and take batting practice in portable cages, as well as meander through the world's largest MLB memorabilia and souvenir shop. After having gone to one a few years earlier, Ryan was eager to return again.
We picked up my dad and headed to the bus stop. After driving all over the "Rust Belt" for the last ten days, I was more than happy to take mass transit into NYC; besides, parking is a nightmare and way too expensive. The ride over was quick and I got to relax; Ryan spent the entire time telling his grandpa all about our trip, showing him the pictures that were still on the camera and planning our every move for the day. I was glad to hear how much he enjoyed our trip and listened intently to him recap it for my dad, putting his own spin on our adventure.
The bus dropped us off at the 42nd Street terminal and we walked a few blocks from there to the Javits Center. I was glad we were headed indoors, as the sun was starting to turn the Big Apple into the Baked Apple and I was not in the mood to wander around outdoors, sweating all day. Our plan was to purchase tickets at the Javits Center Box Office, but before we could get there we were approached by a young lady on the street, outside the front door.
"Do you guys have tickets?" she asked us.
"No," I responded. "Our plan was to get them at the box office."
"You guys look like big baseball fans," she surmised.
That was all Ryan needed to tell her about our last ten days on the road. She listened, intently, to his five-minute speech and then completely floored us with her generosity.
"I work for T-Mobile, who sponsors the Fan Fest," she told us. "I have some passes to give you, so you don't have to purchase tickets."
"Are you sure?" I asked, in disbelief.
"After what this cutie-pie just told me," she said, nodding at Ryan, "You guys are huge baseball fans and I can't think of anyone better to give them to. In fact, I'll even throw in some 'jump the line" passes, so he won't have to wait at the interactive exhibits."
"Thank you very much. But please let me offer you something," I said pulling out my wallet.
"Just seeing how much this means to you guys is thanks enough," she said, sticking three tickets and ten passes into my hand, before walking off.
"Thank you very much," Ryan said, excitedly. "I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome, sweetie," she said, as she walked away smiling.
Once again, I couldn't believe our luck. Out of nowhere, a stranger comes up to us and offers $75 worth of tickets and another $35 worth of "jump the line" passes. The generosity of yet another baseball fan left me speechless.
We were all smiles and laughter as we walked into the Javits Center. Ryan was quite happy to walk past the ticket booth and straight to the exhibit entrance, and after seeing the lines, so was I. As we patiently waited for the gentleman at the "gate" to take our tickets, we were able to watch MLB highlights on a giant television screen just over the entrance. In fact, we waited just a few moments longer to go in, so we could see the ending.
As we walked into the first floor exhibition hall we were shepherded to the left. Right in front of us was what
was billed as the world's largest baseball, complete with autographs from Willie Mays, Derek Jeter, Hank Aaron, Ted Williams and a host of others. Ryan insisted we get a picture of the three of us in front of it and I wasn't going to argue. I am never one to turn down an opportunity to photo-document our adventures.
A little past the baseball picture area was an exhibit on the history of the Mets, entitled "Hometown Heroes," which included a photo-mural, a pictorial timeline and lots of memorabilia from the team's history.
"Do we really have to see this?' Ryan asked his grandfather and me.
"It is baseball history," Grandpa Jim informed him, "You love the history of the game, so let's see if there's something you can learn."
"I didn't realize we were going to be studying minor league teams," Ryan said, shaking his head.
"Pipe down, before you offend someone," I laughed.
As the three of us studied the franchise history, Ryan became so immersed that he lost all track of time. He
was constantly reading, commenting, taking pictures and discussing the team that he forgot he didn't want to see this exhibit in the first place.
"Oh good Lord," I heard him exclaim.
"What's the matter" I asked, walking to him.
"This must have been during his mid-life crisis phase," he said, pointing to a picture of Yogi Berra during his Mets' years.
"He did win a World Series with them," I reminded him.
"Even the blind squirrel finds the nut every now and again," was his response.
"Now this is what I like," he said, excitedly.
"Go figure," I laughed, looking at the exhibit for the 2000 Subway Series that the Mets lost to the Yankees.
"Just making sure things are kept in context," he told me.
The next section of the hall was dedicated to the "Negro Leagues" and their place in baseball history. This might have been my dad's favorite exhibit in the place. As many people know, he grew up a huge Brooklyn Dodgers fan and loved the players that Jackie Robinson paved the way for. His favorite was Roy Campanella, who he says was the best catcher in the National League, surpassed only by Yogi Berra, and not by much. You could see his eyes widen as he and Ryan walked the exhibit, read the timeline, looked at the pictures and saw the artifacts. It was almost as if he were magically transformed back to Ryan's age as he told us of growing up and watching these men ascend to baseball immortality. He grew
especially wistful at the sight of a re-created locker, which housed Robinson's
uniform and gear. We told us about how walking Jackie was the same as giving up a triple, because he would steal second and third before the pitcher could throw another four pitches. He explained how great Don Newcomb was, even though the knock was that he could never win the big game. He told us of seeing Satchel Page, in his later years, and how he had been told that Satchel might have been the best there ever was, had he been allowed to play in the majors years earlier. We discussed Buck Leonard, "Cool Papa" Bell, Oscar Charleston, Josh Gibson and all the others who never had the chance, but would have been stars had they only been white.
"Grandpa, come here," I hear Ryan call. "I need this picture with you. Dad, please take it."
I looked over to where my son was and thought I saw my dad get choked up. Standing right in front of a giant baseball card of Roy Campanella was Ryan, with a giant smile on his face.
"C'mon, Grandpa. This was your favorite player when you were a boy, let's get a picture of us with it. That way you can put it in your office and always look at it."
Once again, my eldest son showed a maturity beyond his years. He remembered his grandfather's favorite player and wanted a picture taken, specifically for his grandpa. I was so proud I could have burst.
After the emotional Negro League exhibit we walked through the "MLB
Auction" area. Here we saw many, many items from MLB history that were being put up for sale in a silent auction. There were jerseys, autographed by players such as Ted Williams, Derek Jeter, Mickey Mantle and Tom Seaver. We saw autographed photos, paintings, equipment and even a motorcycle that was once owned by Ken Griffey, Jr. There were even non-baseball items, such as a watch that belonged to Lou Gehrig, an engraved ashtray from Babe Ruth, a set of golf clubs that once belonged to Lou Pinella and what I thought was interesting: a drivers' license from a former MLB star. If you could place a bid on an item, they had it. Ryan's favorite item was a game-worn Derek Jeter jersey, while I was partial to a painting of the 1998 Yankees, signed by the entire team.
The next stop on our trek was the "Baseball Around the World" exhibit. The official title was the "World Baseball Classic" exhibit, but in reality it was outlining all the countries that play baseball and charting where some of the more famous ones came from, outside of the United States. The first person Ryan looked for was Roberto Clemente. After finding his plaque, he gave my father a "tutorial" on who he was, how great a player he became and how he perished in an airplane crash, delivering supplies to Nicaragua after a deadly earthquake.
"Who drafted him, Ryan?" my dad wanted to know.
"C'mon, Grandpa, that's easy. The Brooklyn Dodgers, but they tried to hide him in the minors and the Pirates grabbed him. Anyone who knows baseball knows that."
I looked over at my dad and laughed. He just shook his head, smiled and rubbed the top of Ryan's head.
"You get an "A" for that answer, Ry," he told him, smiling.
Our next stop was the Minor League Wall. Here there was an interactive map of the United States and they had listings for every MLB team and their affiliates throughout baseball. Ryan went through every level of every organization and determined which teams he had seen, which teams he wanted to see and what might be available to us the next time we hit the road. He was a little disappointed that he hadn't seen more than he had, but when we did the math of all the minor league teams that belonged to the major league clubs, he got a better understanding of how many teams there really were throughout the country.
"There, there, there," Ryan yelled, running ahead.
Ahead I saw what caught his attention: The Trophy Room. Here were all the major awards that were handed out to the players every year. Ryan ran right over and waited his turn to pose with our favorite, the Commissioner's Trophy, which is given out every year to the World Series Champion.
"We need to stop lending that one to other teams and take it back," Ryan laughed.
"We'll get it back when we earn it," I reminded him.
"Just so long as Boston doesn't win it before us," he said, ensuring the disaster that would come three months into the future.
After getting our picture taken we walked around and saw the Jackie
Robinson Award (Rookie of the Year), the Warren Giles and William Harridge Trophies (NLCS and ALCS winners), Cy Young Award (best pitcher), Silver Slugger (best offensive player at every position), Gold Glove (best defensive player at every position), the Kenesaw Mountain Landis Award (AL/NL MVP), the World Series MVP Trophy, the Roberto Clemente Award (sportsmanship/community involvement and contribution to his team), the Hank Aaron Award (best hitter in each league) and the Mel Ott Award (Home Runs), as well as the WBC Championship Trophy.
"Is this like Cooperstown?" Ryan wanted to know.
"Yes, but a lot smaller," I told him.
"Look over there," Grandpa pointed out.
Right around the corner, as if ion cue, we saw the traveling Cooperstown exhibit. Ryan made a beeline in that direction, but stopped dead in his tracks halfway there.
"Picture, please," he said, pointing to a giant banner of one of his favorite players...Buster Posey.
"How did he become a Posey fan?" my dad wanted to know.
"We watched him as a college player, for Florida State," I told him. "He saw him on TV and followed him to the majors."
"Hey, Ryan," Grandpa called out. "Tell me about Posey."
Well," Ryan started out. "He started out as a shortstop, then was moved to catcher after his freshman year. He became a great catcher, finishing second in the Johnny Bench Award then won the award for best college player and even played all nine positions in one game. He struck out both batters he faced that day, as a pitcher. In the summer he played in the Cape Cod League for Yarmouth-Dennis and won championships there as a shortstop one year and a catcher the next. He was drafted by the Giants, won the Rookie of the Year and a World Series in the same year."
"Wow," my dad said looking at me. "He knows his stuff."
"You expected anything less?" I wanted to know.
As we entered the Cooperstown area, Ryan's jaw dropped to the floor. ThereA League of Their Own." There were placards around the exhibit reminding people that in a few weeks the Hall would be inducting three new members: Hank O'Day, Jacob Ruppert and Deacon White.
were jerseys from Babe Ruth, Willie Mays and Christy Mathewson. We saw Willie Mays' plaque and a very cool section on "The Women in Baseball," which was basically the real story and memorabilia that was depicted in the movie "
"Do any of those names look familiar?" my dad quizzed Ryan.
"Jacob Ruppert was the owner of the Yankees. He was the guy that rescued Babe Ruth from Boston and brought him to New York."
"I never really thought of it that way," my father said laughing. "You know, he was a very good ballplayer in Boston," Grandpa reminded Ryan.
"Yeah, but he became BABE RUTH here."
"Are you done 'correcting' him?" I wanted to know.
"I give up, he's like you...an answer for everything."
"Where do you think I got it from," I asked.
"Look, a trivia contest...c'mon," Ryan called to us, running towards the front of the room.
Sure enough, at the front of the exhibit there was a small stage
with a few chairs on it, in front of many more chairs set up to accommodate an audience. We sat down and listened to the lady on stage say that they were going to pick contestants to come up and win prizes for correctly answering baseball trivia questions. We tried to get them to pick us, but unfortunately we were never chosen. We sat for about three rounds and answered the questions between the three of us, while those on the stage struggled to get the correct answers. After staying for about twenty minutes, we got up to go, but Ryan wanted to learn more about the Hall of Fame. We walked over to the customer service table and I decided to purchase a membership to the Hall. My dad thought it was a great idea and decided he wanted in on the deal to, so I bought the basic membership and my father chipped in the rest to get a family plan.
"This is because you've impressed me with all your baseball knowledge, Ryan, and I want you to learn even more and tell me all about it," my dad told his grandson.
"Thanks, Grandpa, but I'm only going if you come with me," he said, giving his grandfather a huge hug.
"Lets get something to eat," I told them. I was suddenly hungry.
"FOOD!" Ryan said, heading towards the concession area.
On the way to the eating area, Ryan found a replica of Andy Pettitte's Yankee Stadium locker. Of course he had to move the rope across the front (which was there to presumably keep people out), sit in the chair, and have his picture taken. I didn't exactly discourage him, so he got in, got his picture taken and got out, right before we were chastised for moving the rope. C'est la vie.
Lunch was nothing special, a sandwich for each of us and beer for my dad and I, while Ryan sucked down a root beer. He was interested in now doing all the interactive stuff that we had "jump the line" passes for, so we finished rather quickly and headed back out to let him "show off" his skills.
The first spot we stopped was a large cage, broken into four sections, with a
pitching machine in each section. Each station had the pitching machine shooting balls out and you had to field a grounder, a line drive, a pop up and a fly ball. Ryan presented his ticket and was immediately taken to the head of each line, much to the chagrin of the people that had been waiting their turn. It was here that we got the full appreciation for the passes we were given, because some folks had been waiting over twenty minutes for their turn. Ryan took his spot and went through each of the drills flawlessly. The fly ball gave him a bit of trouble, as he first took a step in, instead of out, but he quickly corrected himself and made an over the shoulder, Willie Mays-like, catch. After nonchalantly tossing the ball back in, he turned and bowed to the crowd and walked out of the cage. My father and I just shook our heads at the little hot dog.
Our next stop would be in the cages that tested arm strength and accuracy. Ryan has never been a pitcher, nor will he ever be, but he has never met a radar gun that he hasn't wanted to try out. He walked to the front of the line, handed his passes, took his turn in the velocity cage and declared himself a second baseman. This elicited some laughs from those waiting and showed he does, indeed, have a sense of humor about his skills. The next cage, however, I do have to say, he rocked. The accuracy cages had tires hanging from the ceiling at different distances and the idea is to see how many of the eight you can put the ball through. Ryan made perfect throws through all eight and again made it look easier than it was.
Batting cages were up next, but Ryan wasn't overly eager to jump in.
"Whatsa matter?" I asked
"I don't have my bat," he told me. "I'm not going to do well here."
"Go in, have fun and enjoy yourself," Grandpa told him. "That's what we're here for.
In he went, more than a little unnerved. The first cage was for bunting, which Ryan is pretty good at. He laid down three perfect bunts, which put a smile on his face, and moved on to the next station where he would be hitting away.
Things did not start well, as he swung and missed at the first three.
"Relax," I called in. "You'll be fine."
He took a deep breath, stepped back in and proceeded to hit five of the next seven, well. He came back out of the cage smiling and laughing, which made me feel good.
"You did well," I told him.
"I could have done better."
"You were fine. Now, let's head over to the sliding pit. That's the last station here."
The "Sliding Pit" is an interactive exhibit, in the middle of the Javits Center, which allows multiple people to simulate stealing a base at the Major League distance of 90 feet. Ryan loved the idea and quickly walked to the front of the line, handed his "jump the line" pass to the man in charge, and walked into the staging area.
I looked around and marveled at the setup of the exhibit. The "players" would stand on an MLB base, run 90 feet down what looked like a base-path carpet and slide on a frictionless matt, into the next base. Above the base each participant was sliding into was a video screen where a projected a shortstop would try and apply the tag in a myriad of different ways.
"This ought to be interesting," I said to my dad, as Ryan studied the video board trying to detect a pattern.
"Think he makes it?"
"I'll bet he does. Look at him watching the different ways that the shortstop makes the tag, he's looking for a pattern."
Just as I said that, Ryan was off like a streak. OK, maybe not a streak, but definitely faster than I anticipated. He ran all out until he was about five feet from the bag and then launched himself headfirst towards the bag. The shortstop attempted a swipe-tag to Ryan's right, but he reached out with his left hand and got in around the glove.
"SAFE!" the lady acting as an umpire indicated.
"YES!" we heard Ryan exclaim, as we laughed to ourselves.
He picked himself up, dusted himself off and trotted back over to where we were standing.
"Lucky steal," my dad said, rubbing his head.
"Lucky, my butt," Ryan laughed. "I found a pattern in where the video applied the tag and slid to the other side."
I looked at my father, as if to say "I told you so," and we all walked towards the exit.
"Is there anything you want as a souvenir?" my dad asked Ryan.
"Can I get one of the McFarlane figures, please?"
"Those are the statues that look just like the players, right?" Grandpa wanted to know.
"Yup, I collect them and want to find a Mickey Mantle," Ryan informed him.
"Well, let's go look," my dad told his grandson, putting an arm around his shoulder and walking toward the area that housed all the collectables.
Ryan quickly found his way through the maze of jerseys, t-shirts, pins, baseball cards, books and stickers, to the item he was looking for. There in the center of the floor was the stand he wanted, the one with the McFarlane figurines. Now for those that don't know, these replica figurines were created by Todd McFarlane and run the gamut from rock stars, to comic book characters, to sports figures. They are highly detailed and look amazingly like the person they are depicting. Ryan had started collecting Yankee players years ago, but had now expanded his collection to one player from every team on our road trip. His bedroom has overflowed and has now spilled out into the boys' playroom, where they can be seen by everyone who comes in the house.
It took two times around the booth to find the one he wanted, but he knew what he was looking for and once he found it, he locked in.
"May I please see the Mickey Mantle?" Ryan asked the man behind the counter.
"Which one?" he said, pointing to four different versions.
"The one in the pinstripes, batting from the right hand side, please." Ryan replied.
The man took the figure down and handed it to Ryan, all the while keeping an eye on him in case he decided to make a break for it without paying.
"That's the one you want?" Grandpa asked.
"Yes, please," Ryan said, looking up and doing his best puppy-eyed expression.
He didn't need to do that, as my dad was happy to get it for him and the look on his face was priceless when he was handed the bag.
"Thanks, Grandpa," he said, giving my dad a big hug.
"Did you want anything else?" my dad wanted to know.
"No thank you, this is perfect."
"You got off lucky," I said.
"He's a good boy, he knows a lot of money was spent the last ten days. He's not greedy," my dad said.
As we headed out we walked past the autographed memorabilia section. Here they had specially signed baseballs in commemorative All Star Game cases. Ryan walked over and quickly came running back.
"Do you have the receipts for the things we bought today?" he needed to know.
"Somewhere, why?" I asked.
"Well, if we add them all up we might be able to get a signed baseball. Can I please get one, if we're able to?"
"Absolutely," my dad told him, rifling through the bags and his pockets for all the receipts.
"Here you go," he said, handing them over. "Go pick out a good one."
Five minutes later Ryan came running back with a big smile on his face and a huge box in his hands.
"I see you got one," I said to him.
"Yeah, with what we spent here today I was able to get a Goose Gossage ball, and he signed it with his Hall of Fame year," he said proudly.
"You've made out pretty well today," I told him.
"Yeah and I still have about six jump the line passes left," he said, looking around.
Now I thought he was thinking about doing some more interactive exhibits, as he carefully scanned the room for just the right one.
"There," he said, pointing. "C'mon."
He walked right up to a family with two little boys, waiting in line at the end of the sliding pit. He tapped the father on the back and when the man turned around, Ryan made me the proudest person in the Javits Center.
"Sir, these were given to me and I used a lot, but I'm done now and your boys might like them." I heard him say.
"Are you sure?" the man said, as his sons' eyes grew wide.
"Yes, I'm going home, but you're Yankees' fans and there can be two for each kid. I hate waiting in lines and I bet they do as well."
"Thank you, son. Boys, what do you say to the young man?"
"Thank you," both boys said and clapped Ryan on the back.
"I'm really proud of you," I told him. "That was a very generous gesture."
"I got them for free, I used the ones I needed, now someone else can have some fun too. Always try to help, you always told me that."
"You're a good kid," I said again, and gave him a big hug.
As we walked out the door, a lady with a microphone approached us. She had just witnessed the exchange that had taken place and wanted to talk to Ryan. As it turned out, she was from the Channel 11 News (WPIX), and was doing a story on the Fan Fest. After asking Ryan a few questions about what he had done today the topic turned to how much he loved baseball and that's when he started talking about our trip. What started out as a quick question and answer segment turned into a real interview about where we had gone, what we had seen, what were his favorite things along the way and where he wanted to go next. My dad and I stood back and let Ryan have his interview, while a small crowd gathered to listen to his story.
After the news lady finished the interview, we stayed a few more minutes and answered questions from the people that had listened. I let Ryan handle all questions, unless someone directly asked me, or he deferred to my answer. He enjoyed his time as a mini-celebrity and as the crowd moved away I noticed he was yawning and just a little glassy-eyed.
"Tired?" I asked him.
"It's been a long week," he smiled and said.
"Ready to head home?" Grandpa wanted to know.
"Yeah, I think it's time to head back to the bus.
We walked back to the 42nd Street terminal, got on our bus and headed back to the car. Five minutes into the ride, my dad tapped me on the shoulder and gestured towards Ryan. He was holding his Mantle figure in one arm, cradling the Gossage baseball case in the other, and fast asleep.
I pulled him closer, leaning him on me, and turned towards the window. It had been a long week, but it was amazing in its scope and depth. We had travelled about 1500 miles, had visited six cities, seen five MLB games, two minor league ones, the NFL Hall of Fame, Thurman Munson's grave and visited a few long-demolished stadiums. We had visited old friends, made new ones, enjoyed the hospitality of both, eaten some fantastic meals, seen some eye-popping sights, took a riverboat cruise and had gotten to share every mile of the journey with people we loved to be with. In the end, for me, the best part was watching the world through my son's eyes and seeing him grow, as a person, with each different destination we visited. I always knew our baseball adventure was going to allow me to watch him interact with the world around him, allow him to find his way and become more self-assured and confident, but I never imagined the changes would take place on a daily basis and be as profound as they were.
As I leaned my head on his, I sighed loudly, closed my eyes and started to put together some baseball- themed activities for the fall and winter, as well as some ideas for next summer. I knew where I wanted to go and I didn't think I would get much argument, but first I had to talk to Rob and Tony. That could wait for a couple of days though; first Ryan and I had to spend every waking moment with Nicole and Brendan, telling them every detail of our trip and listening to them tell us about theirs. Right now, though, all I could think about was; New Jersey to Cincinnati to Columbus to Canton to Cleveland to Toledo to Detroit to Pittsburgh to New Jersey to New York City and back to New Jersey, all in ten days. It was a fantastic trip and I couldn't wait to start planning the next one.
We picked up my dad and headed to the bus stop. After driving all over the "Rust Belt" for the last ten days, I was more than happy to take mass transit into NYC; besides, parking is a nightmare and way too expensive. The ride over was quick and I got to relax; Ryan spent the entire time telling his grandpa all about our trip, showing him the pictures that were still on the camera and planning our every move for the day. I was glad to hear how much he enjoyed our trip and listened intently to him recap it for my dad, putting his own spin on our adventure.
The bus dropped us off at the 42nd Street terminal and we walked a few blocks from there to the Javits Center. I was glad we were headed indoors, as the sun was starting to turn the Big Apple into the Baked Apple and I was not in the mood to wander around outdoors, sweating all day. Our plan was to purchase tickets at the Javits Center Box Office, but before we could get there we were approached by a young lady on the street, outside the front door.
"Do you guys have tickets?" she asked us.
"No," I responded. "Our plan was to get them at the box office."
"You guys look like big baseball fans," she surmised.
That was all Ryan needed to tell her about our last ten days on the road. She listened, intently, to his five-minute speech and then completely floored us with her generosity.
"I work for T-Mobile, who sponsors the Fan Fest," she told us. "I have some passes to give you, so you don't have to purchase tickets."
"Are you sure?" I asked, in disbelief.
"After what this cutie-pie just told me," she said, nodding at Ryan, "You guys are huge baseball fans and I can't think of anyone better to give them to. In fact, I'll even throw in some 'jump the line" passes, so he won't have to wait at the interactive exhibits."
"Thank you very much. But please let me offer you something," I said pulling out my wallet.
"Just seeing how much this means to you guys is thanks enough," she said, sticking three tickets and ten passes into my hand, before walking off.
"Thank you very much," Ryan said, excitedly. "I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome, sweetie," she said, as she walked away smiling.
Once again, I couldn't believe our luck. Out of nowhere, a stranger comes up to us and offers $75 worth of tickets and another $35 worth of "jump the line" passes. The generosity of yet another baseball fan left me speechless.
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| TV Screen In The Lobby |
We were all smiles and laughter as we walked into the Javits Center. Ryan was quite happy to walk past the ticket booth and straight to the exhibit entrance, and after seeing the lines, so was I. As we patiently waited for the gentleman at the "gate" to take our tickets, we were able to watch MLB highlights on a giant television screen just over the entrance. In fact, we waited just a few moments longer to go in, so we could see the ending.
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| Three Generations of Baseball Fans |
As we walked into the first floor exhibition hall we were shepherded to the left. Right in front of us was what
was billed as the world's largest baseball, complete with autographs from Willie Mays, Derek Jeter, Hank Aaron, Ted Williams and a host of others. Ryan insisted we get a picture of the three of us in front of it and I wasn't going to argue. I am never one to turn down an opportunity to photo-document our adventures.
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| Hometown Heroes: NY Mets Exhibit |
A little past the baseball picture area was an exhibit on the history of the Mets, entitled "Hometown Heroes," which included a photo-mural, a pictorial timeline and lots of memorabilia from the team's history.
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| Mets History |
"Do we really have to see this?' Ryan asked his grandfather and me.
"It is baseball history," Grandpa Jim informed him, "You love the history of the game, so let's see if there's something you can learn."
"I didn't realize we were going to be studying minor league teams," Ryan said, shaking his head.
"Pipe down, before you offend someone," I laughed.
As the three of us studied the franchise history, Ryan became so immersed that he lost all track of time. He
was constantly reading, commenting, taking pictures and discussing the team that he forgot he didn't want to see this exhibit in the first place.
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| 1969's Miracle Mets |
"What's the matter" I asked, walking to him.
"This must have been during his mid-life crisis phase," he said, pointing to a picture of Yogi Berra during his Mets' years.
"He did win a World Series with them," I reminded him.
"Even the blind squirrel finds the nut every now and again," was his response.
"Now this is what I like," he said, excitedly.
"Go figure," I laughed, looking at the exhibit for the 2000 Subway Series that the Mets lost to the Yankees.
"Just making sure things are kept in context," he told me.
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| The Negro Leagues |
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| Negro Leaguers in The Hall of Fame |
especially wistful at the sight of a re-created locker, which housed Robinson's
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| Satchel Paige |
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| # 42 |
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| Grandpa, Ryan and Roy |
I looked over to where my son was and thought I saw my dad get choked up. Standing right in front of a giant baseball card of Roy Campanella was Ryan, with a giant smile on his face.
"C'mon, Grandpa. This was your favorite player when you were a boy, let's get a picture of us with it. That way you can put it in your office and always look at it."
Once again, my eldest son showed a maturity beyond his years. He remembered his grandfather's favorite player and wanted a picture taken, specifically for his grandpa. I was so proud I could have burst.
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| Jeter Jersey For Auction |
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| 1998 NY Yankees Print |
Auction" area. Here we saw many, many items from MLB history that were being put up for sale in a silent auction. There were jerseys, autographed by players such as Ted Williams, Derek Jeter, Mickey Mantle and Tom Seaver. We saw autographed photos, paintings, equipment and even a motorcycle that was once owned by Ken Griffey, Jr. There were even non-baseball items, such as a watch that belonged to Lou Gehrig, an engraved ashtray from Babe Ruth, a set of golf clubs that once belonged to Lou Pinella and what I thought was interesting: a drivers' license from a former MLB star. If you could place a bid on an item, they had it. Ryan's favorite item was a game-worn Derek Jeter jersey, while I was partial to a painting of the 1998 Yankees, signed by the entire team.
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| Baseball Around The World |
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| "El Magnifico" |
"C'mon, Grandpa, that's easy. The Brooklyn Dodgers, but they tried to hide him in the minors and the Pirates grabbed him. Anyone who knows baseball knows that."
I looked over at my dad and laughed. He just shook his head, smiled and rubbed the top of Ryan's head.
"You get an "A" for that answer, Ry," he told him, smiling.
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| Minor League Baseball Map |
"There, there, there," Ryan yelled, running ahead.
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| Spending Time With "Our Trophy" |
Ahead I saw what caught his attention: The Trophy Room. Here were all the major awards that were handed out to the players every year. Ryan ran right over and waited his turn to pose with our favorite, the Commissioner's Trophy, which is given out every year to the World Series Champion.
"We need to stop lending that one to other teams and take it back," Ryan laughed.
"We'll get it back when we earn it," I reminded him.
"Just so long as Boston doesn't win it before us," he said, ensuring the disaster that would come three months into the future.
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| AL Rookie of The Year |
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| World Series MVP |
Robinson Award (Rookie of the Year), the Warren Giles and William Harridge Trophies (NLCS and ALCS winners), Cy Young Award (best pitcher), Silver Slugger (best offensive player at every position), Gold Glove (best defensive player at every position), the Kenesaw Mountain Landis Award (AL/NL MVP), the World Series MVP Trophy, the Roberto Clemente Award (sportsmanship/community involvement and contribution to his team), the Hank Aaron Award (best hitter in each league) and the Mel Ott Award (Home Runs), as well as the WBC Championship Trophy.
"Is this like Cooperstown?" Ryan wanted to know.
"Yes, but a lot smaller," I told him.
"Look over there," Grandpa pointed out.
Right around the corner, as if ion cue, we saw the traveling Cooperstown exhibit. Ryan made a beeline in that direction, but stopped dead in his tracks halfway there.
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| Buster and Ryan |
"How did he become a Posey fan?" my dad wanted to know.
"We watched him as a college player, for Florida State," I told him. "He saw him on TV and followed him to the majors."
"Hey, Ryan," Grandpa called out. "Tell me about Posey."
Well," Ryan started out. "He started out as a shortstop, then was moved to catcher after his freshman year. He became a great catcher, finishing second in the Johnny Bench Award then won the award for best college player and even played all nine positions in one game. He struck out both batters he faced that day, as a pitcher. In the summer he played in the Cape Cod League for Yarmouth-Dennis and won championships there as a shortstop one year and a catcher the next. He was drafted by the Giants, won the Rookie of the Year and a World Series in the same year."
"Wow," my dad said looking at me. "He knows his stuff."
"You expected anything less?" I wanted to know.
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| "Say Hey" Jjersey |
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| The Great Bambino |
were jerseys from Babe Ruth, Willie Mays and Christy Mathewson. We saw Willie Mays' plaque and a very cool section on "The Women in Baseball," which was basically the real story and memorabilia that was depicted in the movie "
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| 2013 Inductees |
"Do any of those names look familiar?" my dad quizzed Ryan.
"Jacob Ruppert was the owner of the Yankees. He was the guy that rescued Babe Ruth from Boston and brought him to New York."
"I never really thought of it that way," my father said laughing. "You know, he was a very good ballplayer in Boston," Grandpa reminded Ryan.
"Yeah, but he became BABE RUTH here."
"Are you done 'correcting' him?" I wanted to know.
"I give up, he's like you...an answer for everything."
"Where do you think I got it from," I asked.
"Look, a trivia contest...c'mon," Ryan called to us, running towards the front of the room.
Sure enough, at the front of the exhibit there was a small stage
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| Women In Baseball Exhibit |
"This is because you've impressed me with all your baseball knowledge, Ryan, and I want you to learn even more and tell me all about it," my dad told his grandson.
"Thanks, Grandpa, but I'm only going if you come with me," he said, giving his grandfather a huge hug.
"Lets get something to eat," I told them. I was suddenly hungry.
"FOOD!" Ryan said, heading towards the concession area.
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| Big League Dreams |
Lunch was nothing special, a sandwich for each of us and beer for my dad and I, while Ryan sucked down a root beer. He was interested in now doing all the interactive stuff that we had "jump the line" passes for, so we finished rather quickly and headed back out to let him "show off" his skills.
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| Tracking A Fly |
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| Making The Catch |
pitching machine in each section. Each station had the pitching machine shooting balls out and you had to field a grounder, a line drive, a pop up and a fly ball. Ryan presented his ticket and was immediately taken to the head of each line, much to the chagrin of the people that had been waiting their turn. It was here that we got the full appreciation for the passes we were given, because some folks had been waiting over twenty minutes for their turn. Ryan took his spot and went through each of the drills flawlessly. The fly ball gave him a bit of trouble, as he first took a step in, instead of out, but he quickly corrected himself and made an over the shoulder, Willie Mays-like, catch. After nonchalantly tossing the ball back in, he turned and bowed to the crowd and walked out of the cage. My father and I just shook our heads at the little hot dog.
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| Throwing Accuracy |
Batting cages were up next, but Ryan wasn't overly eager to jump in.
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| Batting Practice |
"I don't have my bat," he told me. "I'm not going to do well here."
"Go in, have fun and enjoy yourself," Grandpa told him. "That's what we're here for.
In he went, more than a little unnerved. The first cage was for bunting, which Ryan is pretty good at. He laid down three perfect bunts, which put a smile on his face, and moved on to the next station where he would be hitting away.
Things did not start well, as he swung and missed at the first three.
"Relax," I called in. "You'll be fine."
He took a deep breath, stepped back in and proceeded to hit five of the next seven, well. He came back out of the cage smiling and laughing, which made me feel good.
"You did well," I told him.
"I could have done better."
"You were fine. Now, let's head over to the sliding pit. That's the last station here."
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| The "Sliding Pit" Station |
The "Sliding Pit" is an interactive exhibit, in the middle of the Javits Center, which allows multiple people to simulate stealing a base at the Major League distance of 90 feet. Ryan loved the idea and quickly walked to the front of the line, handed his "jump the line" pass to the man in charge, and walked into the staging area.
I looked around and marveled at the setup of the exhibit. The "players" would stand on an MLB base, run 90 feet down what looked like a base-path carpet and slide on a frictionless matt, into the next base. Above the base each participant was sliding into was a video screen where a projected a shortstop would try and apply the tag in a myriad of different ways.
"This ought to be interesting," I said to my dad, as Ryan studied the video board trying to detect a pattern.
"Think he makes it?"
"I'll bet he does. Look at him watching the different ways that the shortstop makes the tag, he's looking for a pattern."
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| Getting In Ahead of The Tag |
Just as I said that, Ryan was off like a streak. OK, maybe not a streak, but definitely faster than I anticipated. He ran all out until he was about five feet from the bag and then launched himself headfirst towards the bag. The shortstop attempted a swipe-tag to Ryan's right, but he reached out with his left hand and got in around the glove.
"SAFE!" the lady acting as an umpire indicated.
"YES!" we heard Ryan exclaim, as we laughed to ourselves.
He picked himself up, dusted himself off and trotted back over to where we were standing.
"Lucky steal," my dad said, rubbing his head.
"Lucky, my butt," Ryan laughed. "I found a pattern in where the video applied the tag and slid to the other side."
I looked at my father, as if to say "I told you so," and we all walked towards the exit.
"Is there anything you want as a souvenir?" my dad asked Ryan.
"Can I get one of the McFarlane figures, please?"
"Those are the statues that look just like the players, right?" Grandpa wanted to know.
"Yup, I collect them and want to find a Mickey Mantle," Ryan informed him.
"Well, let's go look," my dad told his grandson, putting an arm around his shoulder and walking toward the area that housed all the collectables.
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| Mantle McFarlane |
It took two times around the booth to find the one he wanted, but he knew what he was looking for and once he found it, he locked in.
"May I please see the Mickey Mantle?" Ryan asked the man behind the counter.
"Which one?" he said, pointing to four different versions.
"The one in the pinstripes, batting from the right hand side, please." Ryan replied.
The man took the figure down and handed it to Ryan, all the while keeping an eye on him in case he decided to make a break for it without paying.
"That's the one you want?" Grandpa asked.
"Yes, please," Ryan said, looking up and doing his best puppy-eyed expression.
He didn't need to do that, as my dad was happy to get it for him and the look on his face was priceless when he was handed the bag.
"Thanks, Grandpa," he said, giving my dad a big hug.
"Did you want anything else?" my dad wanted to know.
"No thank you, this is perfect."
"You got off lucky," I said.
"He's a good boy, he knows a lot of money was spent the last ten days. He's not greedy," my dad said.
As we headed out we walked past the autographed memorabilia section. Here they had specially signed baseballs in commemorative All Star Game cases. Ryan walked over and quickly came running back.
"Do you have the receipts for the things we bought today?" he needed to know.
"Somewhere, why?" I asked.
"Well, if we add them all up we might be able to get a signed baseball. Can I please get one, if we're able to?"
"Absolutely," my dad told him, rifling through the bags and his pockets for all the receipts.
"Here you go," he said, handing them over. "Go pick out a good one."
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| Gossage Autograph |
Five minutes later Ryan came running back with a big smile on his face and a huge box in his hands.
"I see you got one," I said to him.
"Yeah, with what we spent here today I was able to get a Goose Gossage ball, and he signed it with his Hall of Fame year," he said proudly.
"You've made out pretty well today," I told him.
"Yeah and I still have about six jump the line passes left," he said, looking around.
Now I thought he was thinking about doing some more interactive exhibits, as he carefully scanned the room for just the right one.
"There," he said, pointing. "C'mon."
He walked right up to a family with two little boys, waiting in line at the end of the sliding pit. He tapped the father on the back and when the man turned around, Ryan made me the proudest person in the Javits Center.
"Sir, these were given to me and I used a lot, but I'm done now and your boys might like them." I heard him say.
"Are you sure?" the man said, as his sons' eyes grew wide.
"Yes, I'm going home, but you're Yankees' fans and there can be two for each kid. I hate waiting in lines and I bet they do as well."
"Thank you, son. Boys, what do you say to the young man?"
"Thank you," both boys said and clapped Ryan on the back.
"I'm really proud of you," I told him. "That was a very generous gesture."
"I got them for free, I used the ones I needed, now someone else can have some fun too. Always try to help, you always told me that."
"You're a good kid," I said again, and gave him a big hug.
As we walked out the door, a lady with a microphone approached us. She had just witnessed the exchange that had taken place and wanted to talk to Ryan. As it turned out, she was from the Channel 11 News (WPIX), and was doing a story on the Fan Fest. After asking Ryan a few questions about what he had done today the topic turned to how much he loved baseball and that's when he started talking about our trip. What started out as a quick question and answer segment turned into a real interview about where we had gone, what we had seen, what were his favorite things along the way and where he wanted to go next. My dad and I stood back and let Ryan have his interview, while a small crowd gathered to listen to his story.
After the news lady finished the interview, we stayed a few more minutes and answered questions from the people that had listened. I let Ryan handle all questions, unless someone directly asked me, or he deferred to my answer. He enjoyed his time as a mini-celebrity and as the crowd moved away I noticed he was yawning and just a little glassy-eyed.
"Tired?" I asked him.
"It's been a long week," he smiled and said.
"Ready to head home?" Grandpa wanted to know.
"Yeah, I think it's time to head back to the bus.
We walked back to the 42nd Street terminal, got on our bus and headed back to the car. Five minutes into the ride, my dad tapped me on the shoulder and gestured towards Ryan. He was holding his Mantle figure in one arm, cradling the Gossage baseball case in the other, and fast asleep.
I pulled him closer, leaning him on me, and turned towards the window. It had been a long week, but it was amazing in its scope and depth. We had travelled about 1500 miles, had visited six cities, seen five MLB games, two minor league ones, the NFL Hall of Fame, Thurman Munson's grave and visited a few long-demolished stadiums. We had visited old friends, made new ones, enjoyed the hospitality of both, eaten some fantastic meals, seen some eye-popping sights, took a riverboat cruise and had gotten to share every mile of the journey with people we loved to be with. In the end, for me, the best part was watching the world through my son's eyes and seeing him grow, as a person, with each different destination we visited. I always knew our baseball adventure was going to allow me to watch him interact with the world around him, allow him to find his way and become more self-assured and confident, but I never imagined the changes would take place on a daily basis and be as profound as they were.
As I leaned my head on his, I sighed loudly, closed my eyes and started to put together some baseball- themed activities for the fall and winter, as well as some ideas for next summer. I knew where I wanted to go and I didn't think I would get much argument, but first I had to talk to Rob and Tony. That could wait for a couple of days though; first Ryan and I had to spend every waking moment with Nicole and Brendan, telling them every detail of our trip and listening to them tell us about theirs. Right now, though, all I could think about was; New Jersey to Cincinnati to Columbus to Canton to Cleveland to Toledo to Detroit to Pittsburgh to New Jersey to New York City and back to New Jersey, all in ten days. It was a fantastic trip and I couldn't wait to start planning the next one.
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