Ah, the Labor Day Weekend is here already for me. Hallelujah. A conclusion to an odd week.

Well, my Dad went through his cataract surgery and astigmatism procedure and what ever else he had corrected on one of his peepers today and everything seems fine at this point. I dunno, I was on pins and needles for this one. Probably goofily so, as I thought that maybe it was performed with pins and needles by some Medieval Opthamologist. I know, I know, routine surgery. But for some reason, I felt strange karma all week, so I tried to occupy my time with other things. Kinda minding my own business and watching way too much baseball.

But for some reason, I was apprehensive about this procedure, even more than when he got his ticker retooled. I rationalized that one by thinking if something went wrong, it would really go wrong. But for this one, if something went wrong, I guess we'd have to hear about it while the problem still existed. I am still amazed he may not need glasses when all is said and done. I can't ever remember him not wearing them. He thinks he'll be more handsome. My niece says not so fast.

I saw him today and he said he can see a lot better, Has to follow up tomorrow morning. I am very relieved. Just think if it was really serious stuff to go through. Yikes!

Meal of Links

It's the house of Anthony Kiedis. And he is not giving it away.

Oscar movies you should see. Are we in that season already?

Arsenal is trying to trademark "Gooner". I think the Browns went through this mess years ago or was it the Rock Hall, where certain photos were not allowed to be sold. Because of image rights or something.

Exercise Yard

















Tonight was the most fun at the the ballpark in a long, long time as Shaun, Gale and I were in attendance. They were by far the best seats I've ever had at Jacobs Field, surpassing even where I've sat recently. Section 136, Row B, one section from the Mariners dugout. Get this, Gale touched a living Hot Dog, Shaun ends up with a ball, and I got concussed. Again, me on the short end.

















To set the scene, when we arrived there were some college kids in the row behind us yelling, "Garko! Garko!". They wanted a ball and other such nonsense. I wanted to join in, but thought my favorite Indian would look upon me poorly. These chants continued on and on and became quite annoying actually, but more on them later.

You know you can text the Tribe now and they run a scroll of texts on the scoreboard. Unfortunately, none of my texts showed up. Anyhow, at one time I said I would run on the field to grab second base, but with my new phone and texting prowess ("New Toy, oh oh oh"), I would probably be texting and taking pictures all the way out there and would get caught fairly quickly.

It's a different world down there that close. A guy in front of us, in one of the middle innings, got a foul roller that he picked up. The camera guy came down later in the game and showed the Garko chanters, then all of a sudden someone's cap got whipped onto the field. It seems some old-timer was not happy everyone was crowding around his rows to get on the camera and mayhem ensued. Until a guy we named "The Rock", complete with his Green Beret uniform, kinda sauntered over to keep the peace.

Mom and Pop and son and daughter with mitts show up across the aisle from us after a few innings. The kids sit in the front row, parents behind. Everything is fine, until the boy receives a ball from Fat Batboy. Then the girl starts sobbing that she didn't get anything. I don't know who worked their magic, but an inning or so later someone from the Indians brings down a bag of Ricky Vaughan "Wild Thing" glasses from a previous giveaway. Yes, tears work. The kids get theirs, they're happy. Mom and Dad get theirs, they're happy. Oh, there are extras? They start getting handed out among the neighboring crowd and we clearly hear Mom tell son, give one to the lady over there, meaning Gale. Of course, he proceeds to give it to one of the Garko chanters. Hah!

That was not the highlight for Gale. As you know, the Hot Dog Derby featuring Ketchup, Mustard and Onion racing is now a staple at the old ballyard. I preferred the old animated version called by Frank Furter. For a time now, they have been using three people dressed as hot dogs and they run around the warning track from left field and end at the visitors' dugout. After the race, Ketchup stood up on the fence right by our aisle and Gale and a bunch of others ran over and high-fived and hugged him. So, Gale touched Ketchup.

In the warmup for the ninth inning, Garko realized that these clowns had yelled at him for nine innings and he better do something about it, because they were getting on him for not acknowledging him, etc. He hatched a plan where he would throw the infield ball to these guys to shut them up. However, his aim was not that good. Now, let me set the stage here. Gale is paying attention. Shaun and I are complaining about Joe Borowski, while I watch the same damn Borowski highlight film I've seen three times already this week. All of a sudden, whack! Someone behind me has crashed into my head. In the next few seconds, Shaun is standing next to me, then sitting down while holding a baseball. What just happened?

















From what I've been able to piece together, Gale determines that Garko throws the ball over. She alerts us by saying something to the effect of "Oh, oh, oh." Shaun apparently deciphers this as "Garko has just thrown the ball in our general direction." Hearing this, he stands up just in time to reach over a guy, a guy with a glove mind you, and catches the ball. While this is going on, I am oblivious, but in my ignorance, especially the left side of my head and neck, I have effectively blocked one of the Garko chanters from receiving a ball that was probably rightfully his (in his mind). But nothing was said. Shaun received no crap. Gale ended up with the baseball from Shaun. And I got nary an apology. But I do have a headache.

Oh, the Tribe won in the ninth. Kenny Lofton with a walkoff walk for the game winner. Overcoming two non-balk calls by this guy:

















Visitor

26 Across: Braddock took his heavyweight crown in 1935 (4 letters) Answer: Baer