For the first time since graduation in 2000, I caught Big Game in person this year. Jim Harbaugh has turned around the Stanford program in a big way after a 1-11 season in 2006, the last year under Walt Harris. Coming in to this year’s game, most Cardinal fans were very optimistic: Stanford had just beaten Oregon and USC in consecutive games, exerting their will on the opposing defenses, and Cal would be without Jahvid Best, their best player. Unfortunately, things did not work out as we had hoped, but I had a good time nonetheless with my friends Siedel and Cynthia.
Some photos from the day (click for larger versions):
Siedel and I with our styling fraternity Big Game shirts from 1996 and 1998, respectively. We sold these as fundraisers.
We met up with some old friends, who were also former players, at a tailgate next to the stadium.
Cynthia poses with a Weenie.
I was able to get some good shots of the game action with my telephoto lens.
[Note that this post continues after the jump. You have to click on Continue Reading on the bottom right at the end of the post.]
Recently, some disparate events have come together to make me increasingly uncomfortable with the impact on the brain from extended football playing. Given my position in life, with no role in the NFL or public health decision making processes, this manifests itself in reduced enjoyment when I’m watching football. I have a low-level thought in the background, when I’m not focused on this exciting play or that terrible call, that these players are beating up their own brains with every play and every impact. Each time a pulling tackle slams into a defensive end, the OT’s helmet is protecting his skull, but his brain is hitting the inside of his skull and causing some level of damage.
For some time, I have had similar feelings about the impact of football, but especially extended time in the NFL, on players’ joints and their bodies as a whole. Sports Illustrated has run several commendable articles over the years, profiling retired players who, at 45 or 50, have the bodies of a 65 year-old. That problem is only going to grow worse, despite advances in health care and increased retirement health care and pensions for NFL retirees, because average player weight at nearly all positions has increased dramatically over the decades–every collision is that much more violent. Force = mass x acceleration, after all.
Last night (June 29) I met up with Siedel and his wife Cynthia at the Network Associates Coliseum–or whatever the current name is, there may be a McAfee in there–to catch the Tigers and Oakland playing a little beisbol. The last time that I saw a game with Siedel was Game 1 of the ALCS in 2006, when the Tigers were making their run to the World Series.
Unfortunately, this game was not such a special occasion. The atmosphere at the Net is never great, given the football-centric stadium and the cruddy location (surrounded by parking lots in southern Oakland! yeah!). Last night, it failed to meet even my meager expectations. The claimed attendance was 10,000 fans and change, but I’m not sure they even hit that. Despite closing off the upper deck for baseball, the Net still felt empty. I imagine on a big night (such as when the Giants visit during interleague play), the concourses are abuzz, but last night half of the concession stands were closed.
Tigers fans were out in force, hoping for a good effort after a disappointing weekend series against Houston. Our section in the bleachers was about 50% Tigers supporters. ‘Twas not to be, as the hitters left their bats at the hotel and rookie pitching phenom Rick Porcello laid an egg. After the sun set, a cold wind rolled in, such that we could have been across the bay at PacBell. Final score, 7-1 A’s.
My evening ended with a BART ride home, made surprisingly interesting by a random old guy that started chatting me up on the Coliseum BART platform, apparently because I had on a Tigers cap. He used to live in Detroit, etc. and loved to prattle on about different cities where he had seen Detroit sports teams play.
There is a great back-and-forth here between a play-by-play man and the color guy, Steve Lyons, your usual old ballplayer that perhaps feels threatened by and doesn’t understand new stats. Good responses from Collins.
Collins: I was talking last inning about Gordon Beckham and his OPS. OPS, some people just kind of gloss over that. But it is fairly indicative of a quality player. You look in the history of baseball, you look at the on-base percentage plus slugging percentage, and without fail, the top ten players are all the elite of the elite in the history of major league baseball.
And I know it’s college baseball, but Gordon Beckham last year…”
Vanessa and I are out in the NY metro area for her older brother’s Saturday wedding. She’s a big Mets fan (go Jose Reyes!), so we asked the Papa Hopp ticket connection if it could deliver some seats to the Thursday afternoon game between the Mets and the St. Louis Cardinals. Sure enough, he came through with some pimp seats that were 13 rows back of home plate, slightly to the third base side.
I was excited to see Albert Pujols, linchpin of my fantasy team and object of my man-crush, in-person for the first time. Vanessa was excited to wear her new home whites Mets/Jose Reyes jersey. And off we went!
Well, first we had to deal with some great Long Island traffic and difficult parking in Port Washington, such that we jogged from the car to the Long Island Railroad station. But anyway.
Citi Field is a nice stadium with an appealing brick facade. I believe this is supposed to recall Ebbets Field. The historian in me gets a kick out of that, because Robert Moses, master builder of New York, blocked the Dodgers from replacing Ebbets Field in Brooklyn (leading to their departure for LA) and then had Shea Stadium built in Flushing Meadows as part of the World’s Fair complex. » Read the rest of this entry «
