2 things

1.

On October 3, 2009, my wife and I went to a Seattle Mariners game at Safeco Field. It was a meaningless game against the Texas Rangers, but neither Biscotti's sister nor Biscotti's sister's hubby had ever been to a baseball game, so the four of us enjoyed a cold evening at Safeco Field.

Growing up in Vancouver, the Mariners were pretty much the hometown baseball team. Seattle was the closest city with a major league team, and the closest Canadian team was waaaaay far away in Toronto. We used to have a triple-A team, but now just a single-A team. Anyway, my position was centre field for the various teams I played with, and I had much admiration for Ken Griffey Jr., who played centre field for the Mariners. His cool batting stance, his smooth swing, and his ability to make leaping catches to rob hitters of home runs were all things that made this boy's heart go all a-flutter.

At the start of that game last October, I was happy Griffey was in the lineup and was aware that it could be the second last - if not the last - game Griffey played. Sitting out the Mariner's final game of the season the following day was a possibility (in fact, he did end up starting), and retirement during the off-season was a distinct possibility. I thought, 'Wouldn't it be cool to be at the game where he hits his final home run?' Considering he'd only hit 18 all season, I knew it was a long shot (no pun intended). But guess what?! He hit a long shot! It wasn't that long of a shot, but I remember it clearly from the vantage point of our centre field seats. The ball left the bat low, and stayed low. It was heading towards right field wall, and although it was low, it was going fast. My focus was rotating between the ball, the wall, and the right fielder. It became clear, as the right fielder retreated, that he wasn't going to catch the ball, and I was getting ready to watch the ball bounce off the wall when I saw it disappear into the arms of the fans in the first row. Griffey had hit a homer!

The next day I paid online attention to the Mariners game and was happy when it ended with Griffey homerless. I waited all winter to hear news of his retirement and was disappointed when he began the 2010 season. Oh well.. Every time I watched late-evening baseball highlights on television I would cross my fingers that Griffey hadn't hit a homer that day. I knew it was just a matter of time, but I wanted to know when that time was. I would also check Griffey's stats online every few days to make sure I hadn't missed anything. April ended and he was homerless. May ended and he was still homerless. June started and two days in he retired. I promptly checked his season stats online - for what would be the final time - and it was confirmed: I was at the game in which Ken Griffey Jr. hit his final career home run. I saw it in person. I am happy.

2.

My name and a picture I took are in Vancouver Then and Now.

Tomorrow's to-do list

6:00 a.m.: One-hour run with the dogs
8:00 a.m.: Several hours of tennis with AM
1:30 p.m.: Eight hours of work

--------------------
The day after tomorrow revised-to-actual-time list:

6:30 a.m. - 7:25 a.m.: Run with (off-leash!) dogs
8:15 a.m. - 11:00 a.m.: Tennis with AM
1:30 p.m. - 9:30 p.m.: Work

Plus I got my hair trimmed between tennis and work.

Running four years to spell

I've continued to run regularly, and have kept to my promise of not blogging about it, but today I break my promise. But, hey, a now-and-then running update is good, right? It lets you know I'm still keeping it going without cramming that fact down your throat, or eye sockets as it were. Today was marvelous. Today was effin' brill. Warm without being too hot, the sun shining, the river's water glistening (would you believe I have yet to go tubing this year?!), and hardly anybody else on the trails. Plus, there were NO bugs!

Enough of that. Last week, Biscotti and I celebrated our four-year anniversary in part by attending a performance of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. It's being put on by The Arts Club Theatre Company, is showing at Granville Island Stage, and is a lot of fun. A LOT of fun. There were many, many highlights, such as the sundry "definitions" of words, and several clever riffs of the spelling theme. I loved the whole show, and here's a particular bit that stuck with me:

If you took the W from answer, the H from ghost, the extra A from aardvark, and the T from listen, you could keep saying "what" and no one would ever know what you're saying, 'cause the whole word would be silent.

One more thing: "Life is Pandemonium" was phenomenal.

REMiniscing

On my way to work one day last week - as I walked through the park and around the lake - I was listening to my Zen music player. The device was on the Random Play All setting and at one point Andy Kaufman's version of "It's a Small World" was playing. When that fun bongo-filled song ended, any one of the other 758 songs could have started; the one that did was R.E.M.'s "Man on the Moon". For those that don't know, that R.E.M. song is about Andy Kaufman.

Now, Andy did you hear about this one?
Tell me, are you locked in the punch?
Hey Andy are you goofing on Elvis?
Hey, baby.
Are we losing touch?

I smiled at that fortuitous one-two punch of songs, and then my thoughts wandered to a guy I knew named Scott. That often happens when I hear R.E.M. because one of the few times I spent time with Scott I was playing an album of theirs and he was asking about it. Scott was engaged to my stepsister when he was in a car crash and died in hospital a few days later. While growing up he had never shared living quarters with any animals - no dogs, no cats, no nothing. After presenting my stepsister with a kitten named Matilda for a Valentine's Day gift, he couldn't get over the fact that they were living with an animal! However, stepsister didn't want to keep the cat without Scott, so my mom expressed her desire to adopt her, and ours she was. Over time she became my cat, and when I moved out of my parents' place I was moving to a no-pets residence and had to leave her behind. It wasn't long before she was living with us in stealth. When it comes to Scott, I have R.E.M. and I have Matilda.

There are some other things that prompt memories of people I knew who have passed on:

• Diet Coke makes me think of Jennifer, a classmate in grade eight who would often - almost always - have a can on her desk in whichever class we were in. I didn't know her well and though I could tell that there was something a little different about her, I couldn't put a finger on what it was. It wasn't until after she died during our grade nine year that I found out that she had been fighting cancer.
  
• Will was a friend of mine from a very early age, when he was still Evan. We went to elementary school together and started high school together, at which point he was often singing the theme song to "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" . I suspect his name change had less to do with him thinking Evan sounded too childish and more to do with him wanting to be Will Smith. Now that Will Smith is a huge movie star I wish that Will could have enjoyed his many movies. He would've especially loved "Men in Black" and "I Am Legend", but he committed suicide mere months before "MiB" hit theatres. Anything to do with Will the actor reminds me of Will the friend.
• One day during grade twelve, I was walking into biology class and somehow found myself singing Montell Jordan's "This Is How We Do It" with Clare. We got to the point where neither of us knew the words - about halfway through the first verse - and then Clare mentioned that we're probably not supposed to know that song that well. Well, I'll admit I liked the song. I also liked Clare. She died a few months later after getting hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street. I hear that song, I think of Clare.

In all four deaths, parents were left to grieve the loss of a child. At the start of The Last Six Minutes: A Mother's Loss and Quest for Justice (a book by Sandra Martins-Toner about the murder of her 16-year-old son), there is a page with this quote:

When a child loses his parents, he is called an orphan.
When a spouse loses her or his partner, he is called a widow or widower.

When parents lose their child, there are no words to describe them.

~ J. Neugeboren ~

Reid it and believe it: All Whites are all tied

I woke up very early this morning. New Zealand was playing the first game of the day, at 4:30 a.m. local time, and damn straight I'd be up to watch. The first half was dull, and when Slovakia scored in the first five minutes of the second half it didn't look good for the All Whites. An equalizing goal was unimaginable since there were long stretches where a completed pass in their own half was cause for celebration.

BUT (all caps because it's a very big but), the All Whites managed a draw! They waited until the game was a couple of minutes into added time before Winston Reid directed a header past the Slovakian keeper. Here's the thing: I had been in and out of doze-mode for much of the second half and when the historic goal went in I was in doze-mode. D'oh(ze)! The post-goal noise - I guess mostly the excited voices of the announcers as the vuvuzelas are going all match long - woke me and I enjoyed the replays. Bravo, boys! Tied with Italy! And Slovakia and Paraguay! Group F is all square in all ways.

no mas

friend
-noun

1. a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

(source)

Why do I bother? I try and I try, and all that trying with no reward leads to feelings of annoyance more often than affection. No more. No more will I let my feelings of affection (diminishing as they are) result in annoyance and heartache.

"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for." - Bob Marley

From runs to runs

I was sick a couple of weeks ago. Very very sick. Yesterday I went for my first run since, and am surprised at how well it went. I was anticipating having to either run much slower than usual or end the run much earlier than usual, but I was right on my usual 50-minute-ish pace and felt fine afterwards. While I tend to go for my runs in the mornings or early afternoons, yesterday I went at around 6 p.m. which is the latest I've ever gone for a run. Today is a beautiful day and I'm probably playing tennis with my dad later. I'm tempted to go for a run right now. I think I will.

By the way, I am still thrilled that I am able to run with the doggies on forested trails and next to a river without having to drive anywhere.

Calgary is close enough. For now.

My watch is still set fifteen hours ahead of Vancouver time, but it's the date not the time that tells me it's been far too long since I've seen you.

What categories are you?

• “You like an epiphany or you like a surprise”
• “You talk loudly in airport lineups or you are Canadian”
• “You say ‘I love you’ or you say ‘I love you too’”
• “You say ‘Fuck you’ or you say ‘Oh yeah? Fuck you’”

- from this Georgia Straight book-review article, excerpting “Good Egg Bad Seed” in Susan Holbrook's Joy Is So Exhausting.

Running like a swimmer

I've moreorless kept up my increased running routine of late. The past few outings, though, there have been many, many bugs hanging out at face level in the middle of the path. A sure sign that summer's here. After having one too many of said bugs ending up in my mouth, I decided to adopt a swimming technique. Specifically, the breathing component of the front crawl. I would turn my head to the left to inhale, and then face forward to exhale. It worked like a charm, but it was annoying as puck and took my body and mind off of running's forward-progress mentality.