The Last Stop

I made it back to Maryland! The last day of the trip, I drove straight home from Chicago, stopping only to fill up on gas and take two 15-minute power naps. Even with hitting a little traffic here and there, I made it home in less than 12 and a half hours. The last 200 miles were the same as the drive home from Pittsburgh, so I got a second wind when everything began looking familiar. Nonetheless, what a drive! With three cross-country road trips under my belt, I feel like a long-haul pro. Here are some more pictures.

The sun began to set behind the Rocky Mountains as I watched a ballgame in Denver. (left) The Rockies won 8-2, and I then went on to dance my pants off at the Michael Jackson tribute concert. All in all, this was the best night of the whole trip.

The previous night, however, also ranks high on the list. Reuniting with old friends, meeting new ones, and enjoying a backyard BBQ is hard to beat. Plus, Greg and I discovered this random dude, who has an eerie resemblance to another guy I know who wears a red (ketchup) hat. (right) His t-shirt says it all.

Driving across the plains is always dangerous because I get distracted by the crazy clouds. Luckily, someone else was driving while I snapped this photo of a fledgling storm. (left)

And how could I forget to include a pirated copy of the fan photo I had taken at Wrigley Field in Chicago? This was my first visit to Wrigley, so I went cheesy-tourist-mode all the way. The Cubs won 12-3. I had a fantastic time, especially since I sat next to this adorable retired couple who filled me in on all the good Wrigley traditions, helped me keep score of the game on my souvenir scorecard, and basically made me fall in love with Chicago all over again.

The Amazing

As I sit watching the Home Run Derby, I am marveling at Josh Hamilton. His story is incredible: former coke-head/heroin addict who was out of baseball for three years, had a dream he was hitting in the home run derby at Yankee Stadium, got clean, and is now in the running to be the first Triple Crown winner in decades. He hit 28 homeruns in the first round of tonight's derby at Yankee Stadium. What did he have to stay after the historic performance? "It's amazing what God's done in my life and how quickly he did it." God, god, god -- I feel like his name is on the lips of half my favorite ball players these days. I'm not a religious person, so my first reaction to all this god talk is to be turned off. I mean, people should recognize that working out and physics has something to do with baseball, not just god. But then, who (or what) is god?

Josh Hamilton's psychic dream brings to my mind the idea that the human brain is capable of way more than we can even fathom. And time, that's a fluid concept. We understand and can experience time moving forward, but in all other aspects of existence that which moves forward can also move backwards. And sideways. Maybe we don't consciously experience it, but time is moving all around us. Maybe our little-understood brains actually experience time in all its dimensions, even if our bodies cannot.

Some people would call these ideas science fiction. Others call it quantum physics. And still others, they call it god. When one person see things others cannot, people call it god. When someone is able to overcome enormous physical obstacles, people call it god. They call it god because they can't explain it. "It's god's will," they may say. Well I think there is an explanation. I don't necessarily have that explanation, but I believe it's out there. Put me in the quantum physics camp. But from that camp, I feel like I have to reach a hand out to the god folks. They're recognizing all the same amazing things I am -- they've just decided that instead of finding an explanation, they're better off trusting in the existence of the amazing for what it is. I'd rather acknowledge that the explanation for the amazing is possibly the most amazing of it all, and only by seeking understanding can a person truly appreciate it -- but that's just me.

Streak Squared

It was more than 47 years ago that Ernie Tyler began the second most famous streak in Baltimore baseball history.

Tyler, the umpires' attendant at Oriole Park at Camden Yards, has worked 3,773 consecutive games, dating back to the start of the 1960 baseball season. Like Cal Ripken, Jr., Tyler has let nothing stand between him and his duty to show up to work everyday. Neither births nor deaths, severe weather nor illness persuaded Tyler to take a day off. But one 30 second phone call has changed everything.

This weekend, Tyler's streak will end at 3,775 games. The reason? A personal invitation from Cal Ripken, Jr. to attend the Hall of Fame Induction festivities and ceremony in Cooperstown. Ernie said it took him less than half a minute to accept the invitation. Somehow, this seems the only fitting ending to such a fabulous tale -- one iron man reaching out to another and both celebrating the glory of Baltimore baseball together.

Tyler plans to take a week off after his trip to Cooperstown, but says of his streak "part two will start August 7." At 83 years of age, Ernie still jogs to the home plate umpire with fresh baseballs between pitches. He skips to his stool near the Orioles dugout dozens of times each game. And he still rubs down dozens of balls by hand each night, preparing them with the special New Jersey mud that is available only to professional baseball teams.

It may seem that Tyler's streak isn't as remarkable as Cal's, after all, he only works home games and gets long breaks when the team is on the road. But taking into consideration the fact that Tyler did not begin working for the Orioles until 1954, after retiring from his career with the U.S. government; given that he has worked every single home game for almost 50 years, even as he aged well beyond the years that most Baltimoreans consider working age; and recognizing that he has not been collecting 7-digit (or even 6-digit) paychecks for his labor, Tyler is indeed more the symbol of the hardworking Marylander than any professional ball player could ever be.

I love that it is the Orioles that inspire this type of dedication (although I suspect that no one gaining employment in the Angelos era is starting any of these streaks). I am proud of Maryland for raising men with this type of passion and grit. And I love that it's Baltimore that kept these men smiling everyday of their legendary streaks.

In a day and a half, I'll be heading to Cooperstown to celebrate Cal. He was about so much more than The Streak (Rookie of the Year, World Series, MVP, 18 consecutive All-Star selections, redefining the shortstop position, The Oriole Way, I could go on...), but knowing that Ernie will be among Cal's entourage really shows how much The Streaks mean not just to baseball fans, but to the hardworking guys that created them.

Bob L. Head

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