Our very own Tony Blengino will be a contestant on a quiz show on MLBN! The show is called Baseball IQ, and the first episode airs on Tuesday, February 7th, at 6.30pm PST. According to Larry Stone’s article at the link there, the contestants will include everyone from front office types to scoreboard staff, and Blengino takes on the Oakland A’s account manager David Nosti in what Stone describes as his “first-round match”, which I hope means that Blengino made it farther than just the first round. Maybe I’ll have Tom fix some hot wings for dinner and revel in the fact that February 7th will be much closer to Opening Day than, well, today is. This is old news, as Stone’s article was published a while ago, but I haven’t seen anyone make a big deal out of it, and I think it will be a fun watch, as long as the Mariners have a horse in the race.

Since I haven’t had much reason to pay attention to the Houston Astros, I hadn’t realized exactly how much change the team has been going through. The new ownership is currently considering not only a name change for the team, but uniform changes as well. After refreshing my memory on what the colors and designs are for the team, I think a color change couldn’t hurt since we already have a lot of red in the AL West, and I doubt the Rangers or Angels are in any hurry to change, but I see no reason to change the name. Houston will always be synonymous with the space program due to the Apollo 13 project, so they might as well leave the name alone. It’s likely going to be difficult enough on the team and it’s fans having to field the occasional Jack Cust this season, then to be thrust into the American League and the world of the DH, which I know a lot of NL fans are not cool with. Leave the name be. They’re the Astros, the Astros they should stay.

I had something else to mention, but I’m going to sit on it for a while. It’s really only relevant to me anyway. FanFest is this weekend, and I have to admit I’m getting a little jumpy. It will be good to be back in my summer home, even though the temperatures are forecasted to be rainy and in the mid-40s if we’re lucky. I’ll be armed with a camera, my phone, and untold amounts of insane glee. See you there!

Twitter is still blowing up as I write this. I’d link to some of the Tweets, but they’re coming in too fast and a thirty-minute lunch does not give me enough time to really investigate that option. Most of the reactions seem to boil down to a few things: 1) that the contract is way too much, 2) that Fielder’s agent Satan Scott Boras is good at his job, and 3) that it was really a complete and total surprise to everyone, most of all Tigers fans. I have not seen the complaints coming in about the Mariners not sealing the deal, but I’m guessing that those will be somewhere online in the very near future. Maybe not on my Twitter feed, as I seem to have surrounded myself with a stream full of level-headed individuals, but they’ll be out there.

I won’t be one of them. Congratulations to Detroit for the upgrade, but I don’t know if people truly understand how much money $214 million dollars really is. We toss around numbers a lot in baseball, but I could take my and twenty of my best friends’ yearly salaries and not be anywhere close to $214 million dollars. The Mariners may or may not have been able to afford this, but in the long run, it would have been a terrible decision. Fielder will be in his mid-30s by the time his contract ends. I am not normally a person who cares about athelete’s weight where pitchers are concerned, but being 268lbs at 5’11″  and having to run and work bases will only last so long. Fielder is a great athlete, and I think the Tigers will get a lot of use out of him (that word “use” sounds awful, I know), but if he goes down, he’s going to go down hard, and I’d rather that it wasn’t the Mariners that pumped all that money into another high-priced player’s injury year. Or years. We have better things to do with our money. I don’t know that I started this offseason out thinking like that, but over the past month and a half or so, I have been more keenly interested in staying small. We tried the big moves, and they didn’t really work out for us. Maybe now it truly is time to lay a little lower, make some smaller moves, and use the guys we have. And I know I’m preaching to several choirs here, and I know I’m not saying anything that multiple other places online haven’t already said and said better; I just think that the reality of this deal now has made me fully realize what a massive bullet this organization has just dodged. And “dodged” isn’t even the right word. Jack Zduriencik knows what he’s doing, this wasn’t a matter of us losing out on something.

The question is, what happens now?

Aaand that pretty much ends it for me here today. I was going to write more, but I woke up at 9.45 with a headache that has not gone away. It is now 2pm. I’m not asking for sympathy here, but I should put it out there that we had to take my cat to the emergency vet last night at around 11.30, and I have not slept well. As far as this post is concerned, there is no real point to it other than to say that I’m happy about Millwood, I hope he makes the starting rotation, and now I’m going back to laying down on the couch and trying to get rid of feeling like I got hit in the head with a rubber mallet.

It looks like we might be seeing Jack Cust again, but not the way one might think. The Houston Astros are very brave to give a 33-year old batter with Cust’s line any sort of contract, particularly one that will most certainly see him as a position player, but who am I to complain, it’s not our issue anymore. I never had any grievances with Cust. Being upset with Jack Cust would be like being upset with those dead optical cells you see if you look at a sunny blue sky. They’re there when you look up, and gone when you start paying attention again to whatever it was you were doing when you weren’t staring at the sky. If I’m making with the full disclosure, I’m not sure I remember off the top of my hand that we released him as soon as August. That was approximately how much his tenure here affected me. You’d even think I’d remember the Phillies grabbing him; but he only lasted like a week in that organization, and that was right around the time my laptop died, so I had stopped trying to pay super close attention because I really couldn’t.  I don’t cry for Cust though – if he finds his career grinding to a halt, he is definitely using his powers for good off the field, and that’s pretty cool.

I spent about three minutes this afternoon getting excited over this, until I realized that Joe Saunders is not John Lackey. Then I realized that John Lackey might not even be John Lackey anymore, and I calmed down a bit. OK, a lot. It can be amazing what playoff games will print indelibly into one’s mind. John Lackey is still in Boston, and it has been several years since he complained to Mike Scioscia about being taken out of a game against New York after getting in a jam, and you could see the pain on his face, how badly he wanted to stay in the game, and it made me kind of like him. Then we discovered that Scioscia really should have left Lackey in the game, and the LA loss made the situation worse. I was rooting for the Angels. I just admitted that freely, you’re welcome.

Randy Johnson and Dan Wilson will be inducted into the Seattle Mariners Hall of Fame before a Kansas City Royals game on July 28th this year. I may have to go. Though the Mariners Hall of Fame is not the Hall of Fame, I am guessing that this might mean something to the players themselves, and to Mariners fans in general – at least a little. Since there will only be six members after their induction, it seems to be an elite club. Congratulations to them both. I will give thought to attending, but that’s a bit far into the future to be thinking about right now. Instead, I’m just going to sit here and stare out my window, waiting for the snow that will never come.

EDIT; it has just been brought to my attention that the difference in salary for Vargas and League is due to the arbitration years they are both in. I’m sure this is old news for anyone reading, but I fear I may never fully grasp the contract system in this game.

I was really looking forward to seeing more Felix/Pineda action this year. Those two at the top of the rotation with Jason Vargas following would have kept me warm and secure in 2012. But we need offense. Everyone knows this. And I hate to break it to some of you, but I really don’t think Prince Fielder is coming here. There are players we already know want to be here. Felix. Mr Kawasaki. Ichiro. By and large a lot of the bullpen. If Prince Fielder wanted to be a Mariner, we’d have him by now. Jack Zduriencik would have nailed the trade, and all of this would be over. If you’re holding your breath for Fielder, you’ll pass out before you’ll ever see him in a Mariners uniform. Fielder’s indecision is nearly Favre-like in its scale, and I think he’d go to the Rangers before he’d ever come here. All I know is that I am on the verge of uninstalling the MLBTR app on my iPhone, because I’m tired of getting pinged with “Prince Fielder rumors: (insert day here)” every day. Be done with it and sign somewhere. Even if Fielder did wind up in Seattle, I think it would take me a while to warm up to the idea, just because of harboring a grudge over the length of time I’m being made to wait for him to make a decision.

So anyway, enter this post on USS Mariner. I may not be good with numbers, but I can rely on Dave Cameron to inject some sense into a situation that starts off with nothing but raw emotion for me. The stats guys are like a nice big mug of chamomile tea on a rainy day where everything is going wrong, or the furry cat-ear hat I often wear when I’m at home and not feeling well (but you don’t need to know about that). After reading that post this morning, I’m not nearly as agitated about this situation as I was last night. I know that a lot of people have been talking all offseason (and even towards the end of last season itself) about trading Pineda, and my knee-jerk response was always ‘why would they do that?!’ But it was something that needed to happen. We had a big trade chip in Pineda, and even though I don’t like it, he was someone we could technically afford to lose. With this Jesus Montero fellow, we are neck-deep in catching and/or first basemen. I would say more about him, but that would be redundant, because Cameron says it all already in the link above.

This is always the worst time of year for me – the roster is still awash in guys who will probably spend more time in Tacoma than up here, FanFest is still weeks away (and Pineda will not be there, which I know will disappoint a lot of people), and then after the SuperBowl we face the Longest Month in February, 20+ days of pure, unadulterated torture for the baseball fan. And just like every year, I’ll buckle down and deal, and just like every year, it will suuuuuuuuuuck, to use the vernacular.

In non-baseball news, I’ll be attending a hockey game tonight, the Seattle Thunderbirds play the Portland Winterhawks at Showare Center. The Seattle/Portland battle on the ice is always a good one, and I may get further opportunity to familiarize myself with my camera. I’d relate a funny story about how the friend I’m going with thought that we were attending a Tilted Thunder Railbirds match up until last night when I corrected him, but I have the feeling it’s only funny to me, and now you’ve kind of heard it anyway.

Keep breathing, Mariners fans. We’re not out of the woods yet, but we’re really really close…

Maybe I will settle down later, but right now, on two hours of sleep and an entire night of being interrupted while trying to obtain said sleep, and after a full day of work, I am absolutely in no way, shape, or form pleased with this decision, nor am I ready to deal with it. At all. Ever. This has actually made me angry at the internet, so I’m going to have some dinner, knock back a few cans of Guiness, and hopefully when I wake up, this will have been a really nasty dream, and this blog post won’t even be here. And to the Yankees?!!? Unreal, Mariners, un-freaking-real. Feel free to squeeze out some lemon juice into the gaping wound you’ve just left by cutting out my heart with this one. Not cool.

*Please note that I would put the Mariners on notice if the stupid online generator wasn’t busted. Ooooo! I want to kick a puppy! And I LOVE puppies!

Now, on to the not-as-great-but-still-good news…

I cannot and will not verify where this came from, it’s not concrete information, and nothing anyone can say or do will make me say anything further than that, but here is what a TV and radio broadcast schedule of Spring Training and exhibition games might look like if it came from a reliable source and was concrete information:

Please keep in mind that this is not solid info and has not been verified. But if there was going to be a schedule for Spring Training and its subsequent broadcasting, this might be what it kind of, sort of, but not really looks like. Maybe. Bolded font migt be home games. If it was verified and concrete, which it’s not.*

*Seriously.

Other than that, today I’ve seen some minor he said/she said (but mostly he said) over the Mariners payroll, and boy, oh boy that’s not something I’m interested in dealing with here or anywhere else. Even the idea of talking about the payroll makes me feel like I’m in a dysfunctional marriage. And really, I just can’t bring myself to care. It’s an aspect of baseball I’m just not interested in. I can barely deal with my own bills, let alone someone else’s. I prefer to leave the Mariners’ money to the Mariners. It’s better that way, and keeps me headache-free.

And now, back to the desert…

But I haven’t, so I can’t. Good luck, Mr Seddon. Try not to punch yourself in the face. Ichiro would want it that way.

Now, back to trying to get through the entirety of Ken Burns’ Baseball. I just managed to finish Inning Three.

So for me, there has not been a lot to write about lately. I’m already well aware that we’re going to get our pants ripped off by both the Rangers and the Angels, and not thinking about it is comforting. We have our new pitcher Hisashi Iwakuma, who comes cheap and might have a little bit of a learning curve with MLB batting. I don’t know much about him, and even the sources I count on (ie; Those Who Are Smarter Than Me) don’t seem to be exhibiting much excitement, though those two beautiful words “no downside” are nice to hear. It’s a smart move, but not an exciting one. We have George Sherrill, which is great because hey, George Sherrill’s back. Munenori Kawasaki has been signed to a minor league contract. I don’t know if it’s because I’m looking in the wrong place or what, but I cannot find out what sort of contract/where he will be placed, just that he’s signed. Based on what I’ve read, it sounds like Tacoma, unless he takes Spring Training by storm. Whatever the case, this situation sounds like a no-lose as well, since his presence in the organization will not only provide us with some depth but also perhaps a cheerier Ichiro.

So right now, I’ve simply been setting my sights on FanFest at the end of this month, because it will provide me the opportunity to go get my season seats again. Upon handing over my credit card to the nice woman or man who will take it from me, I fully expect the sky to open up and a sunbeam to shine down on me – at least, that is what will be going on in my head. My sanity will be restored soon, and that is important. I’m starting to get to that point in the year where there is a little Mariners-shaped hole in my heart. The Superbowl’s approach is a little calming, but it’s not baseball. The lineup for FanFest is so far not what I was hoping for or expecting, but it has occurred to me that I don’t really care who is there player-wise, just so long as I am.

Looking at this has not helped either. For whatever reason (probably my knack for not paying that much attention the past few months), I was unaware that the Ms were actually going to play Japanese teams toward the end of Spring Training; I just thought that we were going to take on Oakland in a more interesting clime. But no! We have challenged both the Hanshin Tigers and the Yomiuri Giants to back-to-back duels during the last week of ST. What bothers me is that I don’t see anything listed so far as to whether or not those two games will be on TV. The thing is? Sunday and Monday are my days off – I can totally watch both of these games without having to worry about work. I am keeping my fingers crossed that ROOT Sports or MLB Network or someone makes this happen. I have never actually seen Japanese baseball played in Japan…or anywhere else, for that matter. I don’t know that I will ever actually make it to Japan, so I would love love LOVE to at least see it on TV. Keeping my fingers crossed for a televised or online miracle.

Yeah, so that’s all I have to yap about today. I felt like I should write something, even though really there is not much to write about if one does not make with the analysis. I’ll just keep hitchhiking across the Death Valley of the offseason, the Mariners will bring me some water soon enough.

Happy New Year! I hope everyone is safe and had a good New Year’s Eve. I did my part by giving up the fight against jet lag and falling asleep, mid-gathering, at around 11.30. I was surrounded by a few close friends and woke up long enough to see the fireworks go off at the Space Needle on TV, wish people a happy 2012, and fall right back to sleep again. I spent all of yesterday indoors doing as little as possible, and I still don’t think I’ve caught up after my traveling just yet.

And the Mariners have remained consistent over the past week and change by making no moves and having no news to tell (aside from the George Sherrill thing, which I am still happy about). In my short fandom, I think this may be the least newsy offseason I’ve encountered. I’m kind of OK with this, but it is making keeping a blog up a little difficult. All my peripheral teams have pretty much done what they’re going to do, there are no more really big free agents left out there, though there are quite a few without homes.

I have to say I’m actually a little surprised that Prince Fielder has not been signed – not just by us, but by anyone. I know that the asking price is high, and that Scott Boras is a pain for pretty much any team to deal with, but after Albert Pujols went to Florida, I figured Fielder wouldn’t be too far behind in securing a home, even if it meant a panic buy from someone (or especially if it meant that). But at this point, I’m pretty much done with it. I’m not in the camp that believes that 2012 is wasted without Fielder, and if we don’t wind up getting him, I still plan to buy my tickets at FanFest this year. I know that there are those who will give up on the Mariners if they don’t make this move, and maybe some have already given up on them, but I feel that is a pretty shortsighted way to support one’s team. Those same people would undoubtedly be first in line to complain if Fielder had a bad first season, or even a complete collapse, and they would be calling for members of the front office’s heads. Again (doesn’t it get tiring, by the way, always needing something to complain about? Just watch some freaking baseball!)

But that’s not me; you won’t find me saying that the Mariners “don’t want” to win if they don’t sign Fielder, because I simply don’t believe it. I saw an article yesterday (I’m not going to bother linking to it) talking about how, if the Ms don’t make a giant move this season, they are nothing more than Felix and garlic fries. I hate to break it to the writer of this article, but I go to Safeco to see the Mariners play baseball; not to eat, not to drink, and not specifically to see Felix, but to actually watch baseball. Crazy, huh? Also, what a way to spit on the rest of the team; I guess Ichiro, Brendan Ryan, Brandon League, and Mike Carp did so little last year that we’ve been boiled down to a pitcher and food. Nice.

So yeah, I’m just going to say it – I no longer care where Prince Fielder signs. If he signs here great, and if he signs for a decent contract even better; but I’m over waiting for it, and I’m done holding my breath or being up or down over this situation. In fact, after reading USS Mariner this morning, I kind of like this guy. And whatever happened to everyone’s excitement over the young talent that we already have? Did the fan base as a whole just decide they no longer care about Justin Smoak or Dustin Ackley? Did I miss a memo? I don’t mean to sound annoyed, I think I’m just tired of the concept that we need to be “rescued” by Fielder, and that if Fielder does not find his way into Mariners blue, that we are absolutely doomed for 2012. I’m not buying that. Maybe it’s just that the winter days are wearing on me and that as we are coming down the stretch to pitchers and catchers reporting, and I just want to see some baseball. But if I never hear Fielder’s name again, it will be too soon.

Sorry to sound all “get off my lawn” about things, but I can’t deal with the pro-Fielder negativity. So get off my lawn.

The photos in this post will not be as numerous as the ones from yesterday. They’re actually pictures from my live-Tweeting spree, but one or two didn’t make it to Twitter due to bad reception in a few areas of the Museum, and I would feel remiss if I didn’t put them here, even though they are of lower quality. The iPhone camera in low light is a fickle beast. I also wanted to explain some of them further, and my hope was that they might be a little easier to see than on TwitPic. Live-Tweeting on an iPhone is not an optimal way to carry on in a museum, a place where eyes and attention are necessary in order to A) learn, and B) avoid running into the people around you. In general, I thought I did an alright job of both of those things, though I did nearly take out a 7-year-old in the Women In Baseball section. They are being posted in the same order in which yesterday’s were, as far as our circuit through the building.

So without further adieu, here we go again!

Like I mentioned yesterday, the first room of the Museum – the one where you wait for the introductory movie – is filled with fun facts and information about the Museum itself – how it came into being, how they obtain their artifacts, and the support they’ve received over the years since opening.

The baseball timeline room started off with various woodcut prints and other types of pictorials demonstrating that stick-and-ball games have existed all throughout human history. Even back in the time of the Egyptian Dynasties, these games were played, though I don’t know that anyone knows what the specific rules were, or maybe even what they were called:

I would love to know what exactly was being depicted here. One stick, three balls, and a family of four. It might have been an early form of hockey. Based on another site I just skimmed, games like this were mainly for wealthy Egyptians, as a wooden stick would have been a commodity in the sandy desert. It wasn’t baseball, but it was certainly related, if only lightly.

An early bat and ball.

The plaque explains everything, pretty much, but it was very cool to see this item up close. It is painted in gold, which seemed to be an early form of turning things into trophies, though there was nothing explaining the color, or the writing on the ball.

This is a clock that was in the first formal front office of the Cincinnati Red Stockings. If memory serves, it was also the official timepiece by which games were started at home for the team.

If it’s one thing people in the 19th century were good at doing, it was coming up with wacky inventions. I am sure that Mr O’Neill meant well when he filed his patent for a base will a bell under it, but he failed to take into account that any pressure on the base – whether by runner or baseman – would ring the bell. In general, I’d say umpires did an alright job without this contraption, but I have to give O’Neill credit for giving it a shot.

If watches were a somewhat odd item with a lot of prevalence in the Museum, decorative plates were another. This plate encourages a fielder to catch the ball on the fly, rather than after one bounce. Up until the late 1800s, catching a ball after one bounce was still considered an out – then the rules changed, and now, of course, it’s a base hit.

This is pretty self-explanatory, but I liked that they put these three players in exhibits with each other where they could.

This is a copy of a book about the life of Babe Ruth. It was signed by Ruth just previous to his passing, like literally, as he was lying in his hospital bed. The letter in the back is a letter of authenticity, written and signed by his nurse, and also signed by a witness. Ruth reportedly said, “If I don’t do it now, I never will.”

I have always sort of written off the connection between professional baseball players and golf as a charity thing. But it looks like the connection goes back a ways. Ruth was apparently good at golf, and played quite frequently. I am sad that this photo did not come out as well as I wanted it to; the glare from the overhead lighting was just too much to get rid of.

An original Philadelphia Athletics jersey. Mmmm…comfy, sporting wool…

A very dapper and serious Cy Young.

Oh, things must have been so much easier back then. The concept of a one-page contract – for anything – completely blows my mind.

This is another one I looked at for a good long while.

This is Dorothy McGuire, catcher and outfielder for the All American Girls Professional Baseball League. I found the action and the expression on her face intriguing, because I’ve seen that posture and expression before – on every single male professional ball player today. These women were not messing around. I would have loved to have been around to watch their games.

This came out awful, but my purpose in taking it was to demonstrate the terrible uniform conditions the first women in baseball had to play in. Living in a time period where one had to maintain femininity and modesty did not make for a good baseball atmosphere. Of course eventually women were able to play in bloomers, but even those were still made of wool. It must have been like playing while wrapped in WWII army blankets. I cannot imagine.

For every two steps forward in the world of women’s sports, there surely must be a step back. After all the work done by women to gain respect and a little bit of equality in the early days of baseball, why not set it back a little by making the Phillies a little more “sexy”? Oh, baseball, you scamp!

I saw this in the case, and my immediate reaction was that part of the exhibit had either fallen apart or fallen over. But no; this is a glove (yes, glove) and baseball used by kids for street ball in the Dominican Republic. If this is what they start out with, no wonder we get so many truly amazing players from that country.

I hate to say this, because I know the man is so much more accomplished, but I just can’t even see Brett’s name in writing without immediately thinking of this. I am a terrible baseball fan.

A clipping from a newspaper of the pre-integration times.

This was an ad for the sushi at Safeco Field, from 2001. I can promise out-of-towners that the real thing is far more attractive and appetizing.

Hank Aaron’s uniform.

I love seeing stuff like this. I was born in 1971, so it is terrifically strange to me to know that there was a time where cigarettes and booze were considered not only healthy but medicinal. I’ve had my fair share of both, but always with the knowledge that it was not the best thing for me; it’s incredible that baseball players used to smoke, even while in the dugout!

I took a few phone pictures of other records…

I am not a Red Sox fan, but for whatever reason I like Jason Varitek and Mike Lowell.

This picture actually grosses me out a little, and I’m not a squeamish person usually at all.

How awesome is this?

I wanted to post this larger here so that people could see it in its stunningly impressive glory. This is a painting of Hank Aaron. A painting. You have to get about 6 inches away from the thing to figure it out, but then you can see the brush strokes. I was not far away from it when I took this picture. As you get closer to it the first thing you’ll notice is that his hair looks painted, but you have to get right up on it to see how the light was done in his eyes. When I first walked into the room, I thought it was an Annie Leibovitz photo.

And then from here, some Hall of Fame plaques:

I have no particular affinity for Rollie Fingers one way or the other, but this might be the most hilarious plaque in the entire place. The mustache forever set in bronze just kills me.

Thus concludes – for real this time – my trip to Cooperstown and the Hall of Fame.

Now, I need to grab some breakfast, pack all my stuff up in a manner that enables me to get on the plane without having to check more bags than I came over here with, and fly back home. We have a few hours’ worth of layover in Philadelphia again, and I will attempt to find a Phillies shirt again…and at the end of it all, I get to sleep in my own bed, which is the best end to this day that I can currently think of.

Also, I don’t intend to post over the next day or two, so this is me wishing all of you a very Happy New Year. Thank you for bearing with me during my month or so plus of silence while I waited for my new computer, and thank you for continuing to read my little spot on the internet. Stay safe, have a great New Year’s Eve, and hope you all get kisses or at least a nice pat on the head at midnight. Cheers!

Alright so it’s just coming up on 9am EST as I’m starting this, and I’ve got a cup of coffee, a blanket, and I’m settled into the couch for as long as it takes to finish this up. I feel I must post a bit of a disclaimer here, though, because there are so many pictures. I want everyone reading this to know that for every photo I took yesterday at the Cooperstown Baseball Museum and Hall of Fame, there were 15-20 photos that I did not take. I took pictures of what was significant to me, things I have read about, players I like or am interested in historically, and the occasional display that I found visually appealing. But there were so many other things that I did not take any photos of, simply because there were so many other things. If I could have, I would have taken pictures of all of it; but there is no way to sum this wonderful place up in photos, and my pictures do not do justice to actually seeing these items in person. I think I must have stood there looking at Eddie Cicotte’s watch for at least a good 60 seconds, if not more. There was nothing to read, it was just a simple item in the case, something the player owned, and it was fascinating to me. I did the same thing with Charles Radbourne’s hat. Every baseball fan will find things like this, historical wonderful things that helped create the history and present of the game that we love. I took pictures for myself, I took pictures of things I thought others might enjoy, I took pictures even when there was a near-impossible glare on the glass (and everything was under glass); I tried to bring the experience to life as much as possible via photos, without detracting from the actual experience one might have if one actually went there (and you all should). I hope I succeeded.

I also want to just say, if there is a chance that anyone who works at the Hall of Fame might see this post, I was on my honor in the Baseball and Cricket section, and did not take a single photo, even though Tom and I were the only ones in there, and you people put a near-400-year-old cricket bat in the exhibit, something I would have loved to get a photo of, just to have a picture of it. I was good, I promise.

And now, the pictures. I will be posting some verbiage to explain some of these, but a lot of them speak for themselves, and some even have plaques that come with them. Enjoy.

The drive from the hotel. It had been snowing a little, and was pretty cold and miserable outside.

The sign that greets you as you enter the town proper.

These three greet visitors at the front door, before you pay entry. Entry tickets look a lot like a baseball ticket, and feature a player’s name. Mine was Cy Young. I still have it, and plan to maybe put it in a frame because why not.

The whole thing starts of – or should start off – with a little 15 minute introductory movie, just a little bit about what all of us already know; how awesome baseball is. The theater you watch it in is decorated like a stadium, and the seats are actual stadium seats. It’s pretty cool. The movie starts every hour on the hour, so if you can time your visit right, you should start off with this. There is a room of stuff to look at about the beginnings of the actual museum as you wait, as well.

At the end of the movie, there is an usher who comes out and gets the room involved in singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game”. I am only mentioning this here because it was early for me, and I was completely unprepared for audience participation. I sang, but quietly. I think it took the other people in the room by surprise as well. I also think it would work much better with a room full of people. Next time I will sing louder. After the movie, you get rerouted to the start of the museum.

An early trophy of the Eckford Base Ball Club, a team out of Brooklyn in the mid-1800s. The balls were all hand decorated by the players.

An early trophy bat. This photo doesn’t properly display how gorgeous this thing actually is. The craftsmanship  and metal etching is just marvelous, and it is really beautiful. We noted as we went through the exhibit that as time went on in the sport, the trophy bats all got less and less appealing. None of them were as pretty as this one.

Trophy bats and balls.

A homemade trophy.

Cy Young’s Cleveland Spiders jersey, along with a cane given to him, and (I believe) his bat.

Baseball trophy case.

This is a baseball converted into a lighter signed by Babe Ruth and others, from a tour to Asia in (obviously) 1934. There were several other items in this particular case from other significant baseball trips to parts of Asia, but you’ll just have to go there to see those.

Joannes “Honus” Wagner’s locker, uniform, and bats. Like the real thing (without the glass, of course). If you go around the side, the wall is made of a strong steel mesh.

Babe Ruth of course gets his own room to himself. Here are a few photos from it.

The finger holes in that ball are massive.

There was a lot more in the room, including a video reel on a loop that was short but interesting. Ruth’s shoes, incidentally, were the first shoes in the exhibit that far that actually looked like they could be worn by athletes today. He was truly a giant among men.

A trophy given to Cy Young. I am sad that it did not come out as shiny in the photo as it was in person. But you can see my dress reflected in the trophy itself, and my hair and hand reflected in the case. The museum is truly a photographic challenge, for sure. The thing to the right there is a bat that was carved for Young. Also very pretty.

I love John McGraw because from all accounts I’ve read, he sounds like the very definition of “ornery”. I also like the he is pretty much responsible for the long belt loops on uniforms today, due to his penchant for grabbing the belts of opposing runners to delay their advancement from his base.

Christy Mathewson’s uniform!

Before they were from Oakland, they were the Philadelphia Athletics, and they spent a lot of money on player contracts for the time. They were referred to as a “white elephant” due to their overspending, and the club’s owner decided to reclaim the phrase for the team. The elephant patch is, of course, still on the Athletics’ uniforms to this day, and the whole thing is made a little ironic by the Moneyball phenomenon. History can be funny that way.

A word about pocket watches. The museum is full of them. In the 1800s and early 1900s, a pocket watch was an important part of mens fashion, and the proper pocket watch could be a status symbol. Watches were regularly given to players by club owners, as awards, and for other occasions. Most of the watches in the museum are in good condition, though their ability to keep time may be long in the past.

Lou Gehrig’s jersey and locker.

Joe DiMaggio’s jersey.

Stan Musial’s locker, and below, some balls he hit around…

After this, came the Women in Baseball exhibit, which I was happy to see was still up – I thought it might have just been a temporary installation for some reason, but it is a permanent spot in the building.

This is 10-year-old Edith Houghton. She played professional baseball on a women’s team. Did I mention she was TEN?!?

Some uniforms from the war days. I should also mention something I put up on Twitter yesterday, as we were going into this exhibit; I overheard a conversation between a man and his son as they were headed into this section. The man was explaining to his son that women were allowed to play baseball because of the war. His son’s response: “Were they bad?” Ah, youth. Of course, we’re all well aware of the story of this period in American history due to the movie A League of Their Own, and they did address in that movie the hazards of sliding into base in skirts this short. A photo to the immediate left of this case demonstrates this clearly, as a player shows her hip to a nurse, with a dirt rash on it the size of a dinner plate. Ouch.

A set of woolen bloomers, a uniform that was developed due to complaints about having to wear the original uniforms for women’s baseball, pictured lower right.

Bernice Gera fought a legal battle that lasted five years to win the “privilege” of umpiring minor league games. She umpired one, but resigned immediately after, the fight for her rights having taken its toll.

And there’s no way I could pass up this picture of Geena Davis’s costume from A League of Their Own.

Ted Williams’ stuff!

Ted Williams was apparently a consummate statistician of…himself. He designed this chart of his own strike zone, with what his batting average would be if pitches were thrown to those areas within it. This display hit me between the knees and shoulders, so either Ted Williams and I share an approximate strike zone, or this thing was a bit too close to the floor.

Mickey Mantle’s number 7, accompanied by one of the many words of wisdom of Yogi Berra.

After exhibits and exhibits of old baseball history, finally a bunch of stuff I can relate to! (Just kidding) A little fun fact, though, that I did not know until our visit yesterday – the New York Yankees were actually the Baltimore Orioles for the season of 1900-1901.

I took this picture for my friend Su, the littlest biggest Clemente fan.

At this point, the exhibit turned to Latin Baseball, where the explanatory plaques were written in both English and Spanish. There were even Spanish-only informational recordings that one could press buttons for, but my Spanish is pretty nil, so I didn’t press any buttons. I think it’s great, though; these countries have contributed so much to the game, I like the fact that there is something specifically for Spanish-speaking fans to come and see.

The next two photos, again, for Su:

Manny Ramirez was wearing this helmet when he did this against Section 331 favorite Chad Bradford. This is as close as Bradford gets to “being” in the Museum.

There was of course an autographed Albert Pujols jersey in this section, and I took a picture of it, but have decided to leave it out of this post. Pujols is great, and his role in the game today is undeniable, but the jersey is nothing technically special, since he is a current player in the game. If you think I’m leaving this one out, though, you’re nuts:

Pete Rose may never get into the Hall of Fame, but there is a lot of him in the Museum itself. For the record, I am in the camp that he should be allowed in. His affront to Major League Baseball had nothing to do with his actual playing career. He set many records and was an excellent player, and has never been accused of using PEDs. I don’t find this a controversial decision at all, but I’m not the MLB.

Thurmon Munson’s glove and Reggie Jackson’s bat. Everything in this case is important, but I took the photo because I liked the way the display was set up.

These things were enormous. The photo does not convey the weight they must surely be.

We realized at this point that the Museum path did not go into the Negro Leagues section like we thought it did, so we had to wind our way back through an increasing amount of people to get back to the room that showcases this particular time period. This section of the Museum was much smaller than it could be, but I would hazard a guess that all the really super cool stuff from the Negro Leagues is located here, in Kansas City. Some day, I’ll get there, too.

The one and only Satchel Paige’s jersey.

Jackie Robinson still went out to play, in spite of numerous death threats and other horrible things that were said about his presence on the Dodgers roster. Robinson was a brave brave man. A note to parents; the above letters were put up above the line of sight of children, which I found very tasteful. Even I, at five foot eight inches, had to hold the camera a bit above my head to get the first picture. The room was educational without being assaulting; marvelously done.

Cool Papa Bell’s hat, jersey, and sunglasses.

The tone of the letter attached to this picture notwithstanding, this is an unidentified player and his wife. Portraits were not inexpensive back in these times, and required the person having their photo taken to stand or sit for lengthy periods of time while the film was exposed. It surely must have been important to this couple to have their image taken, with him in his baseball uniform. I found the photo touching, so I took my own.

An early integrated team.

After the Negro Leagues section, we went back to where we had left off, a room full of “lockers” and memorabilia from teams as they currently stand. I took a few shots, even though all of this stuff is pretty much within my own personal baseball timeline.

Yes, that is Chone Figgins’ photo there to the right. Figgins was also featured in the Angels locker; if memory serves, a ball he hit that helped the Angels in some way back in 2007. If I was a gambler, I’d say those sorts of things will never be in our locker, not from Figgins.

And that, ladies and gents, concludes…the second floor. Seriously. It’s 1pm here, and all of that just took me four hours. But wait, there is more! Oh yes, much more…

A flight of stairs or short elevator ride up, and you are sent onto the third floor, with it’s fan section and Hall of Records. If you have two days to be there, this is where that sort of time would come in handy, because there is a lot of reading to be done. A lot. We didn’t have that kind of time, of course, and I don’t know that my back or feet could have handled it anyway, but wow, the information contained on that floor! Here are just a few things; and again, I didn’t even scrape the surface.

This one needs no introduction, but it is worth noting that I had Tom take a picture of me standing next to it, which I won’t bother you with. I look terrible after a week’s worth of eating holiday and restaurant foods in an elevated climate. It’ll be nice to get back home to my salads and sea level.

One of eight light pinwheels that used to adorn the “exploding scoreboard”, a Bill Veeck invention for his newly-purchased White Sox in Comiskey Park.

A turnstyle from the Polo Grounds.

When Ebbets Field was dismantled in 1960, there was a time capsule behind this cornerstone containing artifacts from 1913. You can touch this, by  the way, it was not under glass.

Hank Aaron also has his own section there, with plenty of artifacts and even bricks and a porch post from his childhood home. I have a few more photos on my cell phone, which I may be using to make a more in-depth post of my live-Tweeting experience from yesterday, if I have the time tomorrow morning before we leave for the airport back home.

Another one for Su.

It is at this point where you enter the Hall of Records. Trust and believe that if I didn’t get much from the fan section where the Phillie Phanatic resided (there were bobbleheads, tickets, signs from the crowd and so much more there that I didn’t get committed to “film”, I really didn’t get much from the Hall of Records. I didn’t even get most of what I wanted to, and I got quite a few. I will let them speak for themselves, as they should…

Of course, no Hall of Records would be complete without the Yankees being able to rub in their multitude of World Series wins.

A horrible picture of every World Series ribbon, button, or ring since about 1900-something, the early oughts. I did not use a flash (nor did I use it on any of the pictures I took), the glare comes from the track lighting above. There was no way for me to get a truly great picture of this. Suffice to say, it’s fun to look at and very shiny.

There was a small section featuring the trials of the St Louis Cardinals and Texas Rangers during the 2011 World Series. Beltre’s jersey worn during the Series was part of it. Of course I would take a picture!

After the Hall of Records and a pinstriped room with many photos of the New York Yankees’ heydays in the 40s, 50s and 60s, there was a sign saying “Please No Photography”, and a room containing baseball and cricket items both. Old and new cricket uniforms and equipment, a timeline of the games, bats and balls, and names unfamiliar to non-cricket fans; but a feature still worth taking one’s time in. It concluded with a massive wall of baseball cards both old and new. And that is the third floor. I feel I must reiterate that there is so much ground to cover there, I didn’t even bring a footnote here to the blog. So much information and so many artifacts. Just incredible.

So we headed downstairs to the actual Hall of Fame. Under the staircase, is this:

I believe the title is “Phil Rizzuto’s Sacred Cow”. If you’re from Seattle, then you’re aware of the multiple decorated pigs that we used to have around the city, some of which are still at various businesses and sites around the city. New York did the same thing with cows (they probably did it first, but my modern art timeline is hazy), and this one found its way to Cooperstown.

Next to it was John Fogarty’s notes on the song “Centerfield”, along with a specially-built guitar. I don’t care much for this song or Fogarty’s music in general, but again, it’s a pretty major part of baseball since its release.

Just after that, there is a room showcasing some of the art of baseball. I took a few shots of the sculptures and paintings there, and there was a relief sculpture of Fenway Park made of paper that a photo would not have done much for; but again, I will try and post these other photos I took with my iPhone in a separate post tomorrow.

I did not catch the name of the artist that did this painting, but it was massive and I loved the movement that the brush strokes conveyed, and the capturing of the moment, just like a snapshot.

Honus Wagner, captured in bronze.

From the art wing, you walk down a hall with several photos of players accepting their Hall of Fame awards, on your way to the actual Hall.

You almost get the sense that just out of your line of sight, there is a bronzed middle finger sticking out of his belt loop.

These two sculptures of Babe Ruth and Ted Williams are remarkable in that they are made entirely of wood. That doesn’t seem like a great feat, until you’re standing right next to them, and you see what you think is leather, wool, or cotton; but it isn’t.

Five of the all-time greats.

The upper rotunda area, where a lot of the more recent inductees can be seen.

The Hall itself, decorated for Christmas. It was quiet when we were there, and I would not have wanted it any other way. I am actually glad we didn’t go in the summer, as the whole place would have been crowded and noisy, and there would not have been the opportunity to get the kinds of photos that I was able to get here. And it was nice to just sit on one of the benches with Tom for a few moments and enjoy the Hall just a little bit longer before we had to go…but there was one more thing I had to do, and that I was not leaving without.

I walked up the ramp past the Hall, and saw that it was still snowing out:

And just past where this picture was taken, I found what I was looking for…

It’s not a massive hall filled with bronze plaques, or a reverent space of any sort, really; and the broadcasters/writers area is really quite small because of course most fans focus on the players and the game itself. But Dave is there, and that’s important to us as Mariners fans.

And now it’s just after 3pm EST, and I have to make some salsa and have a beer or possibly congratulatory cocktail. This bad boy took me over 6 hours to put together, and boy are my arms tired. I hope to have part 2 up tomorrow, but it will be shorter, and most of the photos will have already been Tweeted. There will be some more explanation for them, though, so stay tuned. For now, hope you enjoyed this post, and hope the trip was as good for you in this extremely condensed form as it was for me in all its unabridged glory.

So I am currently holed up in the Cooperstown Best Western at nearly 4pm this not-so-fine December Tuesday. It is raining out, with the threat of a 2″ snowfall within the next 24 hours. It’s funny to think that as I start this post, it is nearing only 1pm back home, and due to the fading light and Cooperstown’s winter hours being what they are, my day is pretty much over, while my friends back home still have a good chunk of their days left. I have an open Yuengling, a really awful internet connection (by the time I post this, I am guessing at least an hour will have elapsed), and I have already crammed quite a bit into today (including a visit to the bountiful greatness that is Price Chopper), so let’s get started…

Between a multi-hour nap I took yesterday afternoon, my teething niece upstairs, the heat in the room we were sleeping in, and a cat that decided to use the bed as home base for a one-sided game of tag, I did not sleep well last night. I don’t think I’ve been able to deal with jet lag well at all this time around coming out here, and even though our bed is comfy and my sister-in-law’s house is awesome, I think I’ve got a bit of that ‘it’s not home’ thing. I was of course quite excited about our trip today, so with everything piled on, I just didn’t sleep much, if at all, and time has just sort of stood still today.

Tom and I got up and were graciously driven into town by my sister’s boyfriend Jeff, where we procured this sort of red station wagon-looking vehicle from the car rental place. We had originally tried to get a smaller car, but the two guys there ‘upgraded’ us to this one. I’m not sure why larger is an upgrade, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue, either, so we got the run-through on our new ride, hopped in, and after a few awkward turns, made it on our route towards Cooperstown, New York.

The drive here from Vermont is not terribly exciting. If you’re from Oregon, picture the stretch of highway between Eugene and Grants Pass, flatten it out a bit, and remove all the evergreens. Throw in a bunch of don’t-blink-or-you’ll-miss-them “towns”, and plenty of old weathered farmhouses, barns and sheds in such states of disrepair that they must surely be declared a health and safety hazard, by someone, somewhere in the state of New York. It’s a photographer’s dream for sure, but that was not why we were on the road. Some other time, perhaps.

We were afforded a little blue sky here and there, which made us think that we would escape what is currently going on and about to go on outside the hotel as I type this (rain, snow).

And after what seemed like forever (but was in actuality maybe an hour and change)…

The reason that the sign says “Museums” is because there are several here. Along with the Hall of Fame, there is also a farmer’s museum and an art museum. Both of these are larger individually than the building that houses the Hall of Fame. There is actually a country club here that is twice the size of the Hall of Fame. In fact, as Tom and I drove past it, I mentioned to him that the country club’s facade was more or less what I had expected of the Hall of Fame. But I won’t judge, because I have not yet set foot into the Hall, and I guessing that despite its smaller stature, it will still be worth more bang for my personal buck than both the farmer’s museum and the art museum combined. You may scoff, but I am a big fan of museums.

Seventeen miles of winding country road and several more small burgs and dilapidated farm structures later, we were driving past Cooperstown Hot Dog. Tom noticed that it looked closed, but since we had missed the driveway, we figured that we’d at least drive back and see what the hours were. Keep in mind, I just checked their website this morning. It is still up and running, and nowhere on the site does it give any indication of this:

Now, I’m no scientist, but I’m pretty sure that sign means they’re not coming back. This was a setback, of course, as I had been planning on making this my first meal in Cooperstown for at least the last week. But I have also been prepared for seasonal closures, and the fact that not everything might be as I had imagined it or wanted it to be. So I committed to flexibility, and we continued on downtown, to see what we could see.

This is the Cooperstown Bat Company, obviously. I knew it was going to be closed so it wasn’t a big deal, but after being able to look through the windows on my own, I really do wish it had been open. I was only in the doorway long enough to take this picture, but the store is really, well, full of bats. More colors, brands, and patterns than I figured existed. I would not have been able to afford to buy one, but I still would have loved to be able to go in and look. Maybe there will be another time.

After I took these pictures, we decided to find some lunch to fill the hot-dog-shaped holes in our stomachs, and Alex and Ika was open, so we wandered into it after slowly poking around the windows of some of the other closed shops. I had a Boddington’s and a sandwich called a B.A.T (see what they did there?) which was a bacon, arugula and tomato panini with a honey mustard sauce on it. It was delicious, but after that and the beer I was much more stuffed than I wanted to be. The staff was nice (we were the only two in there, aside from two women who came in as we were finishing up), and the food is good, so if you ever visit, check it out.

This is one wall in the restaurant. You can see me taking the picture in the mirror down below. Tom is probably messing with his iPhone.

After lunch, we still had some time to kill before being able to get into our hotel room, so we decided to see what was open and do the tourist thing. Main street had a few people walking around on it, but for the most part, the town was pretty calm. I have to think the difference between winter and summer is night and day there. Doubleday Field was right around the corner from the restaurant, but it was closed and tarped up of course. I got what photos I could.

You can see snow on the ground in the third photo. There has been a thin veneer of snow pretty much everywhere between here and Vermont. I wish I could have gotten better photos, but you have to roll with the punches. Even in Cooperstown, there is an offseason.

The next stop was the Cooperstown Wax Museum. I didn’t expect a lot going in, and I didn’t technically get it, but for a small-town wax museum on one specific subject, this one isn’t terrible. The whole place was empty (we were the only ones there), and it was run by an elderly gentleman who complained about the cold when we came in the door. Entry fee is $9.95 for adults, which I happily paid for both myself and Tom. You get a token resembling an extremely shiny quarter, and are sent in to a turnstyle, and up an elevator to the third floor, which is where everything begins. From the third floor, you walk down two small flights of stairs to the second floor to finish up the tour, which is self-guided. I don’t know how much fun this would be for children; there aren’t really any interactive exhibits, and a lot of it is more informational than stuff to look at. But I consider myself good with reading, and I haven’t been a child for a while, so I liked it just fine. Also, it smells like cigars when you get to the top floor. I took photos of the better wax figures (I find wax figures to be a little hit or miss sometimes – Joe DiMaggio could have been standing on some stairs with Marilyn Monroe, or Gwen Stefani), and am quite sad that my picture of Ted Williams didn’t come out, as it was the best in the bunch. I will not be so careless at the Hall.

Not everything was baseball, some of it was just baseball-related.

NOTE: It was around this point that I had to stop trying to upload photos, or I was going to risk not being able to go to bed at a decent hour. From here on out, I am back at my sister’s house, so if the tense or editorial sounds odd, it’s because these photos were taken yesterday. So onto the rest of it:

I have a strange fascination with Honus Wagner; I don’t know much about him other than that his baseball card is ridiculously expensive, but for some reason I just like him.

This was not a terribly great wax figure setup, but it came with a story that I didn’t read because I was taking pictures of a few other things in the immediate vicinity; after being blackballed from the majors and supposedly playing some minor league games, Joe Jackson retired to owning and working a liquor store. Ty Cobb apparently came in once to purchase from him, and Jackson did not acknowledge him as anything other than a customer. When Cobb said ‘What’s the matter, Joe; don’t you know who I am?’ Jackson replied, ‘Sure I do, Ty; but I didn’t think anyone wanted to talk to me anymore.’ Tom read this and related the story to me last night at dinner, and it made me tremendously sad. I find Jackson to be a very sympathetic character, whether he actually took part in the Black Sox scandal or not. Not being able to read or write your own language in an increasingly developing world, and working in a somewhat corrupt industry must have been very difficult for anyone, let alone a guy who got caught up in something so much beyond his control.

I saw the photo that this was modeled after today in the Hall of Fame.

I tried to get some forced perspective for this shot of a wax Catfish Hunter, and his intended target, painted on the wall next to “him”.

Randy Johnson and Eddie Gaedel. Randy is not John Rauch, who is the tallest player ever in baseball, but I’m maybe they don’t have enough wax to make a Rauch? Maybe the extra few inches causes the wax to collapse? Who knows. The figures look like both men, so I’m not complaining.

These are not all the figures in the museum, but they are the ones I found most interesting, personally. If you’re a baseball history buff, this place probably won’t tell you much that you don’t know already, but it is part of the Cooperstown experience, and worth my ten bucks and 45 or so minutes to walk through.

After the museum, we walked down as far as the Hall of Fame, and I decided not to walk up to it; that would have to wait. Instead, we crossed the street and went into a few memorabilia stores. With all apologies to Mets fans, with whom I hold no grudge, I found this funny:

I also found an autographed Justin Smoak ball, which I had posted on Twitter:

In this same store, in a massive glass case with hundreds of others, was an autographed Babe Ruth ball, the price of which was some $16,000.00. Yes, that decimal is in the right place. I stood and stared at it for a few seconds, and Tom and I traded shocked remarks on the item before purchasing some small gifts for friends and leaving the shop to go in search of other adventure.

Other adventure, it turns out, was driving to find the Ommegang Brewery.  After some fighting with the GPS and a few wrong turns, we found it, and went inside…to a massive crowd of people. Cooperstown was nearly a ghost town, but this place was packed. We stood for a bit waiting to see if we had a chance in Hell of making it in to get a place to sit and have a pint, but there were already people standing up to drink in the very noisy room. We looked on the shelves for a bottle to maybe take home, but couldn’t decide on anything; so we wandered into what turned out to be the tasting room, and were told that we needed a glass. Since there were only five or so people there, we thought that might be a good idea – but the second we turned around, about 15-20 people had started to fill the room in behind us, so it was silently determined between both of us that Ommegang would simply have to be had back home, from our local beer store. The tour wasn’t even an option, as one had just left, and it would have required two very tired people to wait for 45 minutes for the next one.

So we drove back into town, and then thought maybe we’d try the Fly Creek Cider Mill. I thought I’d remembered something about it being closed for the winter, but what else did we have to do? Drive the four miles out there and find out that it was indeed closed, that’s what.

Exhausted and beer- and cider-free, we figured the hotel would probably have to let us in, because who else would be clamoring for a room a few days after Christmas in a town whose tourism revolves mainly around the summer season? So there was checking in, and a few sombre hours of just sitting in silence and trying to get photos uploaded and working on various website projects between the two of us, on an internet connection that was slower than dirt. After a bit, we were hungry and took off in the rental car and pouring rain to a place closer to town called Bocca Osteria. As far as I can figure, this is a fine-but-casual dining place, or it would be if it were in Seattle. In Cooperstown, it almost seems fancy. The food is amazing, and the word amazing doesn’t even begin to describe it. It’s incredible food. But the prices are absolutely criminal. One should not be able to get a bowl of seafood bisque for $5, and especially not the kind of seafood bisque that is on the menu here; it is absolutely delicious, and there is a lot of it, with bay scallops and prawns nesting at the bottom. I could have easily eaten my weight in it. The salad and pizza that we also had was wonderful, but I don’t think I will ever forget this bisque. Our entire meal was $36, and it was a STEAL at that price. If you ever find yourself in the area, and this place is open, I highly recommend you go.

After dinner, it was back to the hotel, settling in to ABC Family’s broadcasting of both older and newer versions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and then sweet, blissful sleep.

Tomorrow, I tackle the actual Hall of Fame visit. I took over 200 pictures today, so tomorrow’s post is going to be a big one. Hope I have been able to bring my trip to life for anyone reading as much as it was a lively trip for me.

Wanted to also put it out there that I am not sure of the hotel’s internet connection situation, so while I would love to do a post to sum up the day this evening, I am not wholly sure that I will be able to. Follow along on Twitter for mobile updates, and hopefully things will go relatively smoothly today. Gotta go!