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- Meg, said in Kansas, but too good to ignore. |
 Praise to PNC The day's plan was one of the most ambitious of the trip - get to Pittsburgh, a nearly eight hour's drive away, in time for the 7:05 start at awe-inspiring, drool-inducing PNC Park. Just the thought of getting to see a game at a stadium not yet a year old was enough to make me giddy, but that hadn't happened yet. I've been known to screw up a short drive to the liquor store, never mind a trip that includes a jaunt through West Virginia. Oh yes, West Virginia... Back in the weeks following the trip to Scotland in '98, there was talk of a reunion of the eight of us who went, mainly started by me and agreed on by everybody else. We went as far to plot out a trip, planning on leaving my house at midnight and driving all the way to Indiana in a day, passing the driving around between the six of us from the east. Our planned route has some exciting stops, including the mystical Tappan Zee Bridge and, heavenly heavens, a 12-mile drive through the northwest tip of West Virginia, near Wheeling. That trip predictably fell through, when all of us realized we a) all had jobs and b) didn't want to get fired from said jobs, but the mysteries of West Virginia still remained. Since I live nowhere near Mississippi, Alabama, Wyoming, Montana or a Dakota, West Virginia has always provided the greatest chance for me to pass through a state reminiscent of a former Soviet republic. The barefoot children in their tattered dress, birthed by toothless mothers, married to coal mining fathers who can only take solace in Mountaineer football and the embrace of a cold Löwenbrau. It's funny because I don't live there... As I said, all that was far off, because we were still sitting in Bloomington. My plan was originally to be on the road by 11, giving us at least a conceivable shot at making the first pitch. Of course, at this point in life I've learned my plans never come to fruitition, so we weren't on the road til 11:30. I'm not really sure why either. After everyone got up, we all just kind of sat there watching MTV. Andi chatting with her roommates, me glancing at Meg to see if she was going to get up to go, she glancing at me to see if I was going to get up to go, stupid stuff. I recall a conversation about J.Lo's hair, but as with most conversations to ever take place near me, I did my best to act like I was mute. And for some reason I changed my clothes in the parking lot. I didn't write down why that happened, though I think it had something to do with me being an idiot. So we finally did say our goodbyes, which is always hard for me because I never really can be sure when I'm going to see Andi again. But, you gotta deal. Once we were on the road, I began to realize how screwed my dawdling had made us. And it was state highways up to short of Indianapolis before we could really start speeding toward our destination. Indiana state highways have always seemed strange to me. You're going along, surrounded by nothing, going 60-65 miles per hour, then all of a sudden you're at a stoplight. Then you're speeding again, then another spotlight. Guess the Mass Pike has just spoiled me. It was also strange to see Larry Bird car dealerships. I'm looking at them thinking, "Now, is that THE Larry Bird, or just some big fat guy in a cowboy hat named Larry Bird?" Strange things fascinate me, like why we got gas in every state we didn't barely cut through except for Indiana. Or why Ryan Stiles has never gotten his own show. Or why Press Your Luck went off the air if it was so damn popular. Or why Tostitos are good for you, but Spicy Quesadilla Tostitos aren't. You get the idea. We passed into Ohio with much fanfare, or at least it seemed that way because at the state line, there was this road-spanning, sky blue arch screaming "Welcome to Ohio!" It would have been awe-inspiring if it wasn't so ugly. It was so 1974. Like totally. Anyway, the path we took through Ohio took us through only three towns of any significance: Dayton, Columbus and Zanesville. Much like Kansas City, Columbus is a very nice city surrounded by nothingness in every direction. Cleveland, Cincinnati, and all the other nice places in Ohio are along the state's borders, leaving the state capital just to be there. It has a very nice skyline, but I still have to wonder how long it'll be before the NHL realizes that Columbus isn't a pro sports market... And Zanesville, that's only significant because I convinced Meg it was where Jell-O was invented. I must have seen a billboard or something to inspire that one... As the clock ticked later and later, as 5:30 passed while we were still in Ohio, I became resigned that we probably weren't going to make it to Pittsburgh in time for the baseball game. As I wasn't driving, I was hanging over the computer, calculating the miles, figuring we would get to PIttsburgh at like 7:10. I had it down to the minute. And I was also counting the miles to somewhere else... We hit Wheeling, West Virginia, right around six o'clock and everything became OK. The state was exactly as I expected it would be - mountainous, rocky and completely barren of civilization. The only building I remember seeing was a hospital, Wheeling Hospital I believe. I'm not sure why being in West Virginia for those dozen miles was so exhilarating to me. Maybe because I knew I was cooler than everyone in the state, or because I knew this was a place where Agawam would be one of the state's largest metropoli. Nevertheless, I wanted to get to Pittsburgh in time for the ballgame. And we did, sort of. One of the most stirring views I had on the whole trip was coming into Pittsburgh. I stood on top of a mountain in the Rockies, looked across miles of corn in the nation's midsection. But coming through the Fort Pitt Tunnel, the view of the Steel City was spectacular. Out the side of a mountain, in front of you is the city skyline. Below and to the left, the confluence of three rivers, with Heinz Field and PNC Park in full glow. PNC was rapidly filling, and Heinz was having equipment tested in preparation for the upcoming football season. It made me forget all the things I'd said and heard about how filthy a city it is. Some of it came back on the walk to the stadium, passing the morons on the city's park benches, but we won't talk about that... Saturday 8/25/01 - Astros vs. Pirates @ PNC Park, Pittsburgh - Since PNC is a new ballpark, it wasn't on the maps of Pittsburgh we had in the computer. Considering we had to wing it, we found a parking lot in downtown Pittsburgh without a whole lot of trouble. From there, it was a stop at Eckerd for film and a short walk across the Robert Clemente Bridge and Allegheny River to reach one of the most beautiful parks in the major leagues. It was by no means a perfect trip. As has been said, we didn't make it into the city in time for the first pitch. As we left the Eckerd a half mile from the ballpark, a roar went up from the stadium, a roar we would later find out came from Aramis Ramirez hitting a grand slam to highlight a six-run Pirates first. Crap. All the scalpers on the bridge were adamant that there were no seats left for sale, but I held out partially because I hate scalpers and partially because I was hoping against hope for another miracle. When we passed the second block of ticket booths and Meg saw a sign for $7 standing room tickets, I felt much better. In the end, the Pirates won the game 8-2, and we missed most of the excitement other than the Mrs. T's Pierogi's race and the excitement of the T-shirt shooters. But that wasn't the story. PNC Park was the story. The ballpark is the most amazing facility I've ever gotten to see a ballgame in, and other than Pac Bell in San Francisco, I have to think no other park could ever compete. Pittsburgh's skyline, lit up at night, is breathtaking over the right field wall. The ballpark itself fits perfectly into the surrounding neighborhood, as though it was there all along. Smaller than only Fenway, the fact that the Pirates suck doesn't affect the "packed house" atmosphere. It's an excellent ballpark for standing room holders, with a large sprialing walkway in left, an open walkway/cafe along the right field side and nooks and crannies everywhere to stand and watch til an usher eases you on. We ended up spending much of the game at the base of the flagpole in left-center - not the best place in the world, but it got the job done. It's all the little things at PNC. The chain link gap for people to watch under the bleachers out there. The closed-captioning board underneat the huge main scoreboard. The Outback Steakhouse and jazz club under that. The blue highlights on all the support beams. The kids selling Sunday papers right at the end of the game. And the four grown people, dressed as pierogis, running around the field in a season-long race to determine superiority. Ignore the overpriced merchandise they try to sell you, including pierogi dolls. PNC was incredible, incredible enough to make you forget you're in Pittsburgh. :) | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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AOL IM: JonCoochBU |  |