"I don't believe what I just saw"

The other day, Matt mentioned the Cubs' track record at games he's attended. And the other night, Jordan and I fell into talking about memorable things that happened at ballgames we've seen. And so I give to you:

The three most famous things I've seen in person at a big-league ballpark:
-Cal Ripken sitting one out for the first time in 2,632 games
-Willie Mays handing the torch to Barry Bonds when he hit his 660th home run on Opening Day 2004
-Bonds hitting #73 off Dennis Springer, on the foggy final day of the 2001 season

Three very unusual things I've seen in a ballpark:
-Eric Chavez hitting for the cycle against Baltimore, and connecting for the home run about three seconds after I said, "Hey, he could hit for the cycle."
-The last of Mike Schmidt's three career inside-the-park homers, on my tenth birthday
-Paul Lo Duca going 6-for-6 on Memorial Day at Dodger Stadium

Heartstopping plays I remember distinctly, though not necessarily famous ones:
-Tino Martinez's opposite-field grand slam in the rain, in the 15th inning at Camden Yards, the night after the longest 9-inning game in major league history (spring 1996)
-Nick Swisher scoring from first on an infield error, beating Vladimir Guerrero's throw from right field to win a 1-0 ten-inning game
-Eric Young diving over the pitcher to score on a wild pitch, ending a 2003 Giants-Padres game at PacBell
-The Orioles' David Dellucci catching a fly ball horizontally on a dead run, in right field at Camden Yards (lots of serious O's fans seem to remember this one from 1997)

Most unusual ballpark experience:
-1994: My lone visit to Fenway Park, when the Sox hosted the Mariners in what was supposed to be a Sox road game. The Kingdome roof in Seattle had partially collapsed, prompting the league to relocate a three-game series between the M's and Sox to Boston. There were no season tickets and only a skeleton crew of park employees, and they had to squeeze three games into two days, so they sold general admission tickets for a Saturday doubleheader for $10. We showed up for the second game and sat in the fourth row behind the third-base dugout. As I recall, there were no vendors, scoreboard operation was minimal, and they may not even have had a PA announcer. The whole thing felt like a time warp, vaguely like baseball in 1950: no blaring music, small crowd, one-ticket doubleheader, historic park. A couple of weeks later they canceled the season, the bastards.


FMFM: Fontessa, the Modern Jazz Quartet's first LP for Atlantic (1956)