Where where you when Barry Bonds broke Hank Aaron's record?

I was there.

It’s tough to look back on last night without feeling a sense of surreal pride, knowing I witnessed a bit of history in the making that wasn’t related to a traumatic catastrophe, natural disaster, or act of war.

It was freezing, windy, and oh—did I mention FREEZING in the center field bleachers? I was in seat 3 of row 32 in section 142, right next to the score board of AT&T park – home of the San Francisco Giants. The audience was positively electric with excitement, and every time Barry Bonds got up to bat, the crowd stood up and went wild, shouting…BAR-RY! BAR-RY! BAR-RY!. I captured video of the single he hit…and marveled at how all the camera flashes that sparked like little fireflies or a complete poof of Drag Queen Glitter lit up as Barry took his swings. Later, I was filming again…when Barry broke Hank Aaron’s record of 755 home runs by hitting number 756.

Fireworks went off. Silver streamers glittered to the field. The crowd went wild. Some nutbar hopped over the guard rail, a teenage kid by the looks of it, and ran onto the field towards Bonds. Security quickly caught him and slammed him to the ground, then walked him off the green. Hank Aaron came on the score board (which we could not see, but I got audio on) to congratulate Barry and pass the torch. Willy Mays was in the audience. It was a surge of glee and audience pride unlike anything I’ve been a part of.

And then…suddenly…it vanished. After the fanfare died down, the coach took Bonds out of the game to give him the rest of the night in the dugout to reflect on his emotional win, despite the Giants loosing by two to the Nationals in the end (the score was 8 to 6). After several announcements of paraphernalia available – fans began scrambling towards gift shops and booths trying to buy programs or anything stamped with the date that said, “I was there!” in the way of pre-made shirts in the event of Barry letting loose during the game.

Where before the stadium was a giant belly-bowl full of enormous ogre-ghostlike buzzing energy…suddenly it was empty, and that absence of energy was so strongly felt it was astonishing. The fans were leaving. The game wasn’t over and the fans were leaving…a strong message to the Giants two-fold: 1) there was little to no support for anyone other than Bonds, and 2) the team would cease to make money without him, and probably be forced to charge what A’s tickets and concessions cost just to bring in the fans. It had to be disheartening for the other team players still in the game. It had to be distracting to look up and see a mass of dark green, empty chairs.

Still, I am in awe of the experience. You can check out two videos of the melee here (though I had two more which wouldn’t upload of the fireworks and fanfare):



Today it was back to business.

I sold the 7’6 board, and plan on using that money to put towards a cheapie new Blue mini-longboard of a slightly larger variety. Wise is having a sale through the end of august on 7’10 to 8’6 minis, starting at $315. Can’t really beat that price. I have to wait until I get paid though, to make up the other half.

DebG and I are going to Cobb’s tomorrow night to get some laughs off Dat Phan, staring with dinner at her place.

We are formulating a plan to visit Amacker now that she’s back from the hospital, and bring her treats.

Oh, and GODS I just love this video of this 7 year old kid chasing off a convenience store robber...she's my new hero. Mostly for her bravery, and wonderful use of "Po-Po," "feller," and especially for, "He should be strung up by the gills..."

Labels: Giants, surfing, vids

posted by Rain at 4:10 PM

Shark Weather

Shark Weather

It was shark weather all weekend. Foggy, overcast when the fog lifted, and so foggy when driving, that a slow sift-through-the-soup pace had to be administered just to get through the winding mountain roads on Sunday, and even on the freeway Saturday. It was windy, cold, and drizzly. The water was murky. We had a southwest swell from a storm making bigger, heavy waves at Linda Mar...and only two footers (but for three hours) in Bolinas.

On Saturday two surf buds and I met up at Linda Mar to check out the break, which was crumbly and mostly closed out, though there a ton of surfers in the water getting trounced. We stayed down in Tacobell Land, with the other novices. Nightshift was out in the far break, bold and fearless. It was freezing.

T-Bones and I stayed in the white water, but even that felt strangely intimidating to me. It was small when we got there, but got to be about shoulder high in the middle break, and after riding a bit of the white water I paddled in and sat on the beach for longer than I'd been in the water. There is something I really dislike about Linda Mar, and I've never been able to pinpoint just what. I have always felt uneasy there, despite how great it's supposed to be for beginners.

Sunday Nightshift, BurntRaisin, Canada, BigA, and I headed for Bolinas to check out the baby waves. It was cold as a witches tit, and we got there right at low tide, which gave us about 3 good hours before the surf disappeared. Canada and I had been discussing Great Whites on the way, and we passed the blood red sign leading on to the beach that reads "Great Whites Dine Here," with that conversation in mind. It was indeed shark weather.

We headed out past The Groin (a long phallic looking concrete wall that descends out like a point into the ocean before you get to the channel, marking depth and water level). There were fishermen casting out along the beach before the Groin, and boats hovering in the distance. It's never really a good idea to swim or surf where people are fishing (sharks are attracted to those areas), and the omnipresence of little pods of seals wasn't helping with the doom and gloom of the fog and murk. Still, we saw no fins, and the water was well populated with surfers trying to catch the ONE (yep one) long break far out amongst the shifting sand bars.

They were way, way, way far out in the channel. Scary far.

We got in, and started to paddle out, along the wall of The Groin. I got about 10 feet past it, and saw how much farther I needed to go, and noticed something peculiar about my board. I was on the 7'6 Terry Senate, which is a hybrid mini Longboard/funboard shape, and super floaty, like a training board, but it's fiberglass. The entire left side was sinking, so I had to compensate with weight on the right side, and everything was uncomfortably lopsided, though not yet under water fully. Looking up again, I decided to look back and see how far I was from shore...and yep, I was far out there. Way far. Not as far as the rest, but it was enough. BurntRaisin was not too far ahead and tried to coax me forward, but something of a panick was kicking in - almost like a terrible anxiety I can only equate to what I felt that day I nearly drowned at Ocean Beach.

I had this sudden feeling of terror. What if I couldn't make it back in? The board I was on wasn't a fast paddle...and I felt tired as it was. I started feeling sick to my stomach, and decided to paddle back to shore - angry with myself, and completely not understanding the fear factor at all. I mean, if it was a fear of getting eaten by a shark, that would be one thing - but a fear of baby waves and not getting back in? It was totally irrational. The waves were ankle biters and no higher than 2 feet at the bigger break, far out in the channel. A ton of people were around, including instructors. It wasn't even the loppy board I was on.

When I got closer to shore, there was some 1-2 foot white water angling in towards a deep dip in the sandy bottom, and I hung out there for a bit contemplating riding that a bit, but the sand was piled up to areas only mid-thigh to ankle high, and even THAT was bothering me. It was awful. I couldn't control it and it was so frustrating. I went in and sat on the beach, contemplating my wimpery, feeling like a giant puss. I watched the seals dive and re-surface in pods of three, trying to keep count in the event of a fin - but I didn't see anything disappear or get chomped.

I suppose I have some kind of post trauma stress from that day at OB, considering these were my first two days back out since then.

I checked over the board, and there is a crack in the squash tail needing repair.

The rest of the gang had a good time, even in the slow moving baby waves, and afterwards we had a short BBQ in the freezing cold drizzle, hung out with a few of the beach dogs that came by to visit, and then headed home.

I have been contemplating why I froze up ever since...but plan on hitting Cowells or 38th avenue with the gang in the next few weeks. I also seem to have tweaked my back yesterday - no doubt on the panicked paddle-in, on the lopsided board. It hurts like a mother!@#$er. I think I pulled a muscle in the lower left side.

In other news, Barry Bonds has tied the Hank Aaron record at home run number 255 - I have Giants tickets in the bleachers (where Barry hits 'em) tomorrow night...and I'm hoping he'll break the record while I'm there. I offered my spare ticket to (c)Superman, and he's taking me to dinner before the game, which will be nice.

Thursday, I have tickets to see Dat Phan (who won Last Comic Standing) at Cobb's Comedy Club. Looks like it's going to be a busy week, too.

:/

Labels: Giants, surfing

posted by Rain at 12:56 PM

The Imminent Selling of my Soul

Busy. Overly.

The bullet points:

--Giants game and company picnic was Wednesday. LAME, Giants. LAME LAME LAME! And of course, Barry wasn’t in the line-up. (it was the Padres…this should have been easy!).

--Much fun hanging with the gal-pals from the office after the game. It made up for it...though I did actually get some sun burn (yeah, I know - I brown over easy, but this was around the neck).

--Meetings. Lots of them. Too many of them to get work done.

--Ordered and Processed Dad's b-day gift. The caption on the card reads: "Happy Birthday to a man who has everything but more meat." On recommendation from Charmless (originally for Father's Day), I ordered stuff from here: Gary West.

Today I mailed off my package of samples to the potential new Agent...

Quick Sheet of Blurbs + 1 Sheet Bio
DEADLAND – Book 1 of 3+ (graphic novel, unscripted - dialogue/narr. Bubbles only)
MY 10,000 PERFUMES – 12k of novel in progress (mainstream, tango, dance)
DANNY – 11 pages of sample script
GARDEN OF ANGELS – beats only; 2 versions of treatment on request (one collaborative with Sephera Giron who sexed it up a bit).
GIRL – poetry book in progress; autobiographical. 1/3 of the completed book.
MASK OF THE DRAGONFLY – sci-fi/fantasy/horror – 30k words novel in progress.

Also included: Copy of THE GOSSAMER EYE (2002) and BARFODDER (Cemetery Dance 2008ish, I'm guessing).

First – a shout out to Wyatt on the WIP list. Thank you for your input on short notice! Also, thanks to all the fans that emailed all those blurbs from book jackets and etc...

Keep your fingers crossed. Now that it's sent I suddenly feel utterly unworthy of the opportunity at hand, and completely thinking everything in that package SUCKS. *bang head on desk; lather, rinse, repeat.*

T'nite...slumber party with MixerGal & Donnamite to celebrate the imminent selling of my soul (and getting off my ass to start bothering to send things out again).

Saturday: Work on pirate story. Full moon; good for stories. Good for mischief.

Sunday - a much talked about but highly unlikely surfing expedition with the new board (the Jazz Fest is Sunday, the Surfistas are complaining.)

Monday - Cry when check to my lawyer clears.

Labels: day job, Giants, writing

posted by Rain at 2:38 PM