After a day of revelry and adventure in Wisconsin’s biggest city, Brew Town, we met up with a dear old friend, Charles Huyett, and his 13-year-old son, Elijah, and the four of us made our way to Miller Park for the Brewers’ meaningful game against the Tigers. I’ve (Brent) known Charles since age 18 and his wife even longer; he’s about as kind and thoughtful of a person as you’ll ever meet, he helped keep me sane through college and seminary, he likes to fly model planes, and he enjoys Tarheels basketball more than any reasonable person should. We had a blast and it meant a lot that he’d trade two bison, four pounds of sugar, a horse, and a wagon wheel in order to make the long and arduous trek from his home in the literal middle of nowhere about 30 miles outside Milwaukee. Anyhoo, trailing the Cubbies in the NL Central by just one game with only three to play, the Brewers were sure to be hunting for a win, and we were excited to see the imminent NL MVP play some ball in Christian Yelich. Coming from a couple guys who crown Mike Trout as the best ever, trust us, this Yelich kid is gooooooooooood. Continue reading
We woke up early Friday morning and bid our new favorite city farewell as we headed downtown to catch an Amtrak up to Milwaukee. The trip is only about 90 miles up the coast of Lake Michigan was peaceful and scenic. We got in to “downtown” Milwaukee at about 10 am and, luckily, our Airbnb hosts were kind enough to let us drop our bags at the house.
We met our hosts, Susie and Ron, and their hyena looking dog, Tristan. Very hospitable Milwaukeeans with a creaky, old, eclectic home. We made our way to the ballpark for our 12:15 tour. We try to take as many tours as possible when we’re on the road, but Milwaukee was the only stadium that we could book on this trip. Brent will get into more specifics about the stadium in his game recap, but as we approached Miller Park for the first time both of us were struck by just how ugly it is from the outside. It’s a mixture of brick, concrete, and steel beams and, quite honestly, is hideous.
Wrigley Field. What can we say? Delightfully (and accurately) referred to as “The Friendly Confines,” this one-of-a-kind venue was completed in 1914 as Weeghman Park, has been home to the Chicago Cubs since 1916, and is the second oldest ballpark in the majors behind Boston’s Fenway Park (a whopping two years older). Maybe it’s the charming neighborhoods that flank Wrigley’s irregular city block on all sides, maybe it’s the lush ivy-covered brick outfield wall (the only major league field without padded outfield walls, grandfathered in after a MLB rule change), maybe it’s the iconic bright-red marquee behind the home plate entrance, maybe it’s the hand-turned scoreboard that’s been in place since 1937, maybe it’s the complete and utter absence of a single parking lot, or maybe it’s the fact that lights weren’t even added for baseball after dark until 1988. Bottom line for us: there’s no better place to watch America’s game. Period. Continue reading
After playing over 80 years in famed Comiskey Park, the White Sox of the south side have played the last 20 years in this ballpark which has changed names about as many times as Gregg has asked Brent to help him move (a lot). Its current moniker is Guaranteed Rate Field and before even entering we agreed that name would likely be the worst part of the whole ballpark. (That, and the fact that the White Sox play there; curse you, AJ Pierzynski and the entire 2005 ALCS). Brent thinks he’s super creative and that “The Griff” (G.R.F.) could easily catch on, and while he may be right, by the time it catches on the name will have changed another four times. At any RATE (see what we did there?), in the end we were right. If you can get past the name and the home team, it’s not a bad place to take in some baseball, we GUARANTEE it! Okay, that’s enough.
On the road again. Well, at the airport again, but you know what I mean. As we checked in to our flight early on Tuesday morning, the kiosk informed us that the flight was overbooked and to see the gate attendant if we were interested in volunteering to give up our seat.
Now normally, that sort of thing wouldn’t be of interest to us, but today was our travel day anyways. We did have $20 bleacher seats at Wrigley for the 7 pm game, but we also had tickets to a second game later in the week so if the offer was enticing enough and we could get to Chicago at a semi reasonable hour, we could be persuaded. When Brent first inquired about giving up our seats, the offer from Delta was a $400 voucher and they could get us into Chicago by 11:30 pm. Obviously, we’d miss the game that night, but a couple of extra hours waiting for $400 was no joke. He came back to our seats and we mulled our options. Continue reading
About seven years ago as we sat together one night watching baseball on TV, one of us spoke up and said, “wouldn’t it be awesome to be one of these dudes who travels the country watching baseball and visiting every ballpark along the way?” We didn’t immediately quit our jobs, drop our lives, and hit the road, but by the end of that night we had decided to do the next best thing: slowly but surely visit all 30 Major League ballparks, together, no matter how long it took. And this blog became the diary of our great quest!
In the years since, quite a bit of life has happened for both of us–four kids between us, for starters–but two things have remained: our friendship, and our journey for 30! After a couple seasons of hitting a ballpark here and a ballpark there (mostly in our own state), we decided we were due for a lengthier trip in the 2018 baseball season. Our destination? The Midwest! And we leave in 36 hours.
Brent here. So maybe you’re reading this blog and thinking, “what a crazy undertaking to try and see all 30 MLB stadiums…where does one begin with such an idea?” Good question. I guess it starts with your wife taking a crazy, fun girls’ trip without you, and you realizing you need to do something to get even, I mean, to get excited about yourself.