Don and I had a plan. We had been talking about taking in one of the final Indians games and since there were only two left, needed to act. He called his ticket broker and arranged a deal.
“We can get Club Seats for thirty bucks. They’re normally $45,” he said.
“Yeah...but we could get general admission for $8 and sit about anywhere in the stadium. I’m thinking they’ll be lucky to have 5,000 people there tonight,” I said.
“But John...with the Club Seats, you get to eat and drink for free,” Don replied.
Well...to my way of thinking, you’d get to eat for $22, which is about $22 more than I would normally spend on food at a game. I mean, $22 would buy me a hot dog and a drink with a nickel for change and not begin to fill me up, which I was not into at all. I normally ate before I went to a game. I sensed by the excitement in his voice that he really wanted a Club Seat, so I went along.
Since I would be paying the money, I would feel an obligation to eat a lot...which meant I really had to exercise. I went to the park and laced on the running shoes and headed for my favorite trail with a goal of 25 minutes of running. My first steps reminded me that I had the gout, but the pain was mild and I continued on. I managed the full 25 minutes and was still walking normally a little later when I returned with Dakota to hike and do an abbreviated Survival Workout. I knew I’d have to walk a mile to and from my seat in the stadium...I had a spot I could park for free that required a hike...so I had to stay reasonably pain free or I might have done more.
I met Don in front of ‘The Jake’ and we made our way to the Club Seat section. We were taken in the Suite elevator to the third level where we were given a wrist band like the one you’d wear in a hospital, to identify our status as ‘eat until you’re sick’ customers. And in the old days, that would have described me, too.
We found our seats...they were beauties in the first row and overlooking the field...and then returned to the food court. There were spots to grab pizza, burgers, dogs, sausages, sub sandwiches, fried chicken pieces and all other forms of fatty, calorie-laden selections. I was determined to rise above the fray and loaded my plate with steamed cauliflower, roast pork and a large, fresh salad. Don would have none of that as the game progressed and at the normal menu prices, he easily made up the $22 difference he’d paid.
As any true, die-hard Indians fans would, we bitched throughout the game about the sorry condition of the Indians roster, the management that had brought that team to Cleveland and the things we’d do to make it all better. They made it to the ninth inning getting only one hit...a home run by Shin Soo Choo, which had the score knotted at 1-1. Then Chris Perez, the Indians outspoken and normally reliable closer came in and promptly gave up a two-run homer. We entered the bottom of the ninth planning on going home a loser...again.
But fate stepped in that evening as Travis 'Pronk' Hafner, the much maligned designated hitter, stepped to the plate with a runner on first. I yelled sarcastically for him to hit one in 'Pronkville'...the designated area where he'd hit so many in his early, productive years.
"John...this may be his last at-bat as an Indian. What if he hits one out...like Ted Williams did in his final at-bat with Boston?" Don commented.
I was appalled that he would mention Hafner's name in the same sentence with the man who was arguably the best hitter in the history of the game.
"Maybe," I said.
And then magic happened. He wasted little time in pulling a pitch down the right field line that, if it stayed fair, would clear the bases. It grazed the foul pole, but was called a home run and we both congratulated ourselves on calling the shot. We were moving into extra innings. It took until the 12th, but the Tribe pulled it off with a walk-off single by Jason Donald, allowing us to return to our cars as happy fans. Even a blind squirrel finds an acorn sometimes.
Run Duration: 25 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 450.
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