Memorial Stadium Love Affair

Posted on November 25, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

David Stinson, a friend, and author of the novel Deadball, recently took me on a trip to Baltimore to visit some interesting and little known baseball sites. We visited the spot where once stood Union Park, home of the National League Champion Orioles. This was the team of John McGraw and Wilbert Robinson whose graves in New Cathedral Cemetery we also visited. The final stop on our tour was a gravesite of Imageanother kind; one I had visited before and was not anxious to visit again. Our final stop was the site of old Memorial Stadium.

Back in the spring of 2009, I had ridden down 33rd Street, and seeing those white houses out beyond where center field had been caused a surreal kind of confusion. The houses were there, but where was the stadium? For a dumfounding second, I waited for it to come into focus, but what became clear was the reality of its demise. I felt half sick. I knew that it was gone, but actually seeing it gone was akin to talking about love in the abstract as opposed to actually being in love.

I felt as if I was about to revisit a very painful breakup.

Much to my delight, however, as David and I pulled into the site that now contains town houses and a YMCA, there also came into view a Little League-sized baseball diamond. “Memorial Field at the Y” proclaimed a plaque which had been placed at the base of the screen. Below the name appeared the following:

Memorial Stadium formerly stood on this spot and was named in memory of those who did not return from World War I and II. In November, 2010 it is rededicated to serve youth in Baltimore City. Memorial Stadium opened in 1950 and was demolished in 2001. It served as the home field for both the Orioles (1954-1991) and the Colts (1953-1983) where they featured several championship teams. The Orioles won the World Series in 1966, 1970, and 1983. The Colts won the NFL Championship in 1958 and 1959 and Super Bowl V in 1971. This is the very site where so many Baltimore legends once played and represented our city with pride. In 2010, the Cal Ripken, Sr. Foundation dedicates this field creating a safe, clean place for kids to play, learn and grow.

The very site . . . I can see those Baltimore legends now, even as I can see the flags fluttering atop Memorial Stadium, just as I can hear and even feel the buzz of the crowd as it makes its way inside . . .

David pointed out to me that when Memorial was razed, the masonry was simply pulverized on the spot, then spread over the area and covered with dirt. After a couple years of rain and wind, chunks of concrete and brick can be found throughout the grassy areas. I picked up a fist-sized piece of concrete and half a brick. Not very rational, perhaps, but reason has little application in affairs of the heart.

I could have stayed and stared at Memorial Field until a disappearing sun made it impossible to see, but it was soon time to head for home. Replacing Memorial Stadium may have felt like a bad break up at the time, but looking back, it was necessary. And now with the passage of time—and the construction of that little ballpark—the universe feels more properly aligned. Yeah, it may not be Brooks and Frank and Johnny U., but somebody is playing baseball and football where Memorial Stadium once stood and that’s as it should be.

Those white houses are still there, beyond center field.

This post originally appeared on Seamheads.com on November 16th.

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It’s a Grocery Store! No, It’s a Sex Shop! No, It’s Both!

Posted on October 22, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

Driving along America’s highways, you may come across some odd combinations of retail outlets. On old Route 40, just west of Middletown, MD stands a shop in front of which hangs a sign that reads, “Rudy’s Cold Beer and Welding. The little shop that stands half way between the towns of Winchester and Berryville along Route 7 East, however, is far and away the most unusual in its combination of services.

Situated on the right side of Route 7 lies the Oak Hill Grocery although if you read the fine print on the sign they’re a little more than a grocery store. Yes, if you read that sign carefully, you’ll see that this quaint little establishment is actually a grocery store/adult video and novelty store. You don’t see that combination very often, and by “very often,” I mean never–except on Route 7 between Winchester and Berryville.

I’ve travelled past Oak Hill Grocery numerous times now in the past year and finally decided that I had to find out exactly what a grocery/adult video store looks like. Manager Tina Geary is extremely friendly and bade me look around to my heart’s content. As a grocery store, Oak Hill makes a great adult video and novelty store. In the corner to the right of the door, stand four shelves, each about three feet long and none very deep. One shelf is home to a few cans of Campbell’s Soup. Another shelf houses a few bags of chips, although the chips share some space with (I kid you not) Hustler Trading Cards. Boy, and I thought getting a Cal Ripken Rookie was cool. Anyway, once I had checked out the grocery aisles–aisle–shelf, Tina urged me to inspect the rest of the store, which I did although I covered my eyes. I had to look through my fingers in order to navigate the multiple rooms and numerous aisles of this section of Oak Hill Grocery.

I know many of you might be a bit reserved about visiting a place such as Oak Hill Grocery, but now you can put your minds at ease for I have investigated for you and you need not stop by. On the other hand, if you like old-fashioned friendly service–and you’re out of soup, then stop in and tell Tina I sent you.

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The Pentagon Monster

Posted on October 9, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

It only seems appropriate for October to offer a story about the creation of a monster.

Frank Shelley had sat at this briefing-room table many times before, but it was the first time, as he waited his turn to speak, that he had wondered what the square footage of it was.

Eight hundred and twenty square feet he estimated to himself as he fiddled with his tie and rubbed his clean-shaven chin.

Nothing but Colonels and Generals sat around the table with the exception of Frank and his boss and his boss’ boss. One after the other, the officers extolled the virtues of the MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher. Frank’s job was to make sure that the numbers were correct; that the system, the howitzer, the cannon, or in this case the MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher, functioned in the manner that their designers said they would function. The numbers never lied, although Colonels were known to stretch the truth now and then. Frank almost always gave the final report and almost no one ever listened because whatever numbers Frank presented were never as persuasive as which Congressional district was home to the factory that would build the weapon system.

It was finally Frank’s turn to speak, which he dutifully did as everyone else at the table snapped open brief cases and prepared to leave.

“Anyone with any final questions?” asked the Colonel in charge almost rhetorically.

“I have one,” answered Frank. The brief case snapping ceased immediately.

“Mr. Shelley?”

“Where’s the design for the ammunition trailer that needs to accompany the MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher has 18 tubes that fire at a rate of .5 seconds per tube and the unit carries a maximum of 72 rockets assuming that it’s fully loaded to start. The self-loading process takes 7 seconds between firings which means that the MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher will be out of ammunition and therefore, useless on the battlefield in 57 seconds. That is unless there’s an ammunition trailer that hitches to it from which additional rockets may be drawn.”

The Colonel who had asked for any final questions responded by staring sternly at Frank at which point the General sitting to his right, rose and leaned over the table.

“Mr. Shelley, your job is not to question the capability of one of the finest weapon systems ever to be presented to this committee. It is merely to present the numbers. Now if there are no further questions, this meeting is adjourned.”

There were no further questions.

“Well, Frank, you almost gave Colonel Graves a stroke,” said Frank’s boss’ boss as they drove back to their offices.

That Friday afternoon, a letter was delivered from the General to Frank’s boss’ boss, who gave it to Frank’s boss, who walked it down to Frank’s office. The letter “encouraged” Frank’s boss’ boss to remove Frank from the final report which would go to the Congress, and to replace “an obvious trouble maker with a team player.”

“What!” said Frank bolting straight up in his cubicle as he read it. “But the numbers are what the numbers are! How can anyone justify spending—it’s not my fault that they didn’t—’troublemaker’? I’ve double and triple checked every number that I ever—”

“Don’t take it personally, Frank. They had their minds made up before we ever went to that meeting. Heck, watching Graves’ face turn red made it the best meeting that I’ve been to in 15 years. And don’t worry about it over the weekend; you know they like to deliver bad news on a Friday so you’ll stew about it for the next two days. I’ll see you Monday.”

Frank was indeed a “stewer.” He stewed over his numbers and he stewed over his reports; he even stood in the supermarket and stewed over which toothpaste to buy. All the way home, he stewed over that word “troublemaker” as it echoed around in his head and flashed before his eyes. He stewed all weekend and was still stewing when he went to bed on Sunday night.

He arose shortly after midnight and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t even need to turn on the light as the glow from a full moon lit the way. He glanced out the window and the moon caught his full attention. He stared at it and in that moment, a transformation took place. Aloud he growled something about the General and about the General’s mother, finished in the bathroom, and went back to bed.

Around 10:15 on Monday morning, Frank’s boss tossed out a “Hi, Frank” as he walked past Frank’s cubicle while looking over papers in a red folder. Something caught his eye, however, and he backed up.

“Nice shirt. You going to a luau after work or something?”

“No. That letter clearly indicated that I needed to change my ways. Well, I changed ’em.”

Frank didn’t smile as he said this, but his boss did.

“You didn’t shave this morning either, did you?”

“No.”

Frank did not in fact, attend a luau after work, but he did run out and buy 9 more Hawaiian shirts. He remained true to the numbers and continued to double and triple check every one. After all, they had always been true to him. From then on, however, Frank always asked a question or two or three,much to the consternation of everyone around the big conference table.

As for the MAX 409 Ultra-Mobile Rocket Launcher, the joke that Captains and Lieutenant Colonels began passing around the Pentagon that started with “Who stars in the latest Gone in 60 Seconds movie?” was overheard by Colonels and Generals and certain Congressional liaisons and they didn’t find it funny. The system never did receive a hearing in the Senate and the plans for its manufacture were quietly buried, never to rise again.

 For a pdf copy of this story simply e-mail me at agisriel at yahoo.com!

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Oriole Magic

Posted on September 23, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

Check out my take on Oriole Magic on Seamheads.com

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The Radio Days of Charlie Hydes

Posted on September 8, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

I once knew a man back in my hometown who had the most wonderful gift of using exactly the wrong word at exactly the right time. Sometimes, it wasn’t even the wrong word; more like a close approximation of the right word. Naturally, he loved to talk, thus giving himself ample opportunity to share his gift; and because he loved to talk, he just as naturally pursued a career in radio.  Indeed, Charlie Hydes was the morning man on radio station WLGV when I was a boy in the mid 1960s.

The “LGV” in WLGV stood for “Long Green Valley” and that radio station could be heard its entire length; in the barbershops, the milking barns, the kitchens, and the car radios.  It was as small as small-town radio gets.  Folks would send in notices selling a sofa or looking to buy a corn planter, and so every morning at 9:15, Charlie would read out the Morning Swap Meet.  Long Green Valley ladies called in with their recipes on Tuesday’s “Recipe Exchange.”  On Fridays, the Long Green Valley News-Post and Observer was usually delivered by 9:00 a. m.; and so Charlie always read the obituaries at 10:00 and the coming Sunday’s sermon topics at 10:30.

Charlie loved the Valley and in turn was beloved because of his devotion to his community.  He was respected as a kind and giving person.  I’d be lying, however, if I said that those were the only reasons that we all listened to Charlie Hydes’ “Hydes and Go Seek Morning Show.”  No, we listened for those times when Charlie would mangle up his words with such sincerity and without any sense whatsoever that he had said anything amiss, that barbers would nick necks, farmers would miss their milk pails, housewives would spill their coffee, and drivers would about run off the road, so hard would everyone in the Valley be laughing.

One Friday, for example, Charlie dutifully read that Reverend Tutweiller over at the Lutheran Church would be preaching on the book of Daniel.  Charlie strayed from the newspaper copy, however, and this is when his gift would often emerge, as it did that morning.

“Hmmm, the book of Daniel, that’s one of my favorites,” Charlie intoned seriously.  “There’s not a one of us who couldn’t learn something from those three fellers, Myshack, Yourshack, and Abungalow.”

Without missing a beat, he added, “Today’s sermon topics are brought to you by Rudy’s Heating and Air Conditioning.  If there’s something wrong with your fiery furnace, give Rudy a call and he’ll run right over and see what in blazes is the matter with it.”

Charlie always knew exactly what he was talking about, but he never had any idea how he had talked about it.

No one who lived in the Valley during those years, however, would ever forget the morning that Charlie related his experience about becoming a father.  It was mid-January on a Friday morning, of course, and the Long Green Valley News-Post and Observer was late being printed because it had snowed so hard the day before that Abe Prentiss, who ran the press, was late getting to work.  Friday morning dawned sunny and with a foot and a half of snow on the ground, and it found Charlie without a paper and, therefore, without any programming for the day.  He filled an hour taking calls from folks who had measured various amounts of snow that had fallen in their yards or drifted around their mailboxes, but it was still only 10:15 and he had almost two hours left to fill and with no paper in sight yet.  That’s when he began to talk about the day Charles, Jr. was born.

“Well, sir, I remember like it was yesterday when my wife Mary informed me that her men’s station cycle hadn’t repeated itself in three months and that she was quite sure she was pregnant.  We went to Doc Street’s, and he examined Mary and confirmed that she was with child.  Said everything looked good and that the baby should pass through the birth canal with no difficulty.  I told him that I didn’t care if he had to take ‘em through the Long Green railroad tunnel as long as they both came through it healthy.”

“Well, sir, it was a cold, clear day just like last Thursday, when Charles Hydes, Jr. came into this world.  I’ll never forget Mary yelled from the upstairs bedroom that her water broke.

“’I don’t know how to fix it!’ I hollered up the steps, but she explained that it wasn’t an issue with the plumbing, but rather it was time to get to the hospital.

“We met Doc Street there, and then the waiting commenced.  After several hours, Doc came out and told me that Mary couldn’t dial late.  I said, ‘No sir, I’m not surprised!  My Mary is never late with anything.’

“Doc said that be that as it may, they would have to induce labor and asked if I wanted to be present when they did it.  I told him that I was never afraid of hard work of any kind, and if he needed an extra laborer, then I was his man.

“Well, sir, Doc did what he was supposed to do, and Mary pushed and did what she was supposed to do, and I labored over them both until finally little Charles was born.”

“ʻCongratulations!’ Doc shouted as he slapped me on the back, ‘You have a son,’ he said, as he handed me little Charles all wrapped up in a blanket, ‘and he looks just like you!’ he added.

“Yes, sir, ladies and gentlemen; I’ve always been so proud of Mary, who never complained the whole time that she was expectoratin’, and here she gave me a son who was my spittin’ image.”

***

Michelangelo had his Sistine Chapel and those who gaze upon it are said to never forget the experience.  It is on a far lower end of the scale, perhaps, but I can assure you that anyone listening to WLGV radio the morning that Charlie Hydes told the world about the birth of his first son, will never forget that experience, either.

Dedicated to Mr. Don Harron, better known to fans of Hee Haw as Charlie Farquharson. Thank you for all the silly joy you brought to us as Charlie. The world could use more silly joy. You may be interested to know that I’ve been in touch with Mr. Harron and he has been most gracious in his responses.

For a printable, PDF version of this story, simply send me an e-mail at agisriel at yahoo.com and simply put the title in the subject line!

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Suns Hit a Gnome Run with Harper Promotion

Posted on August 26, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

Our 33rd wedding anniversary coincided with Bryce Harper Garden Gnome Night at the Hagerstown Suns’ game on August 4th. Since the 33rd anniversary is “horsehide” just as, for example, the 25th is “silver,” we went to the game. Please click this link to Seamheads.com for the full story and a couple photos, in case you are now wondering what a Bryce Harper Garden Gnome looks like. For the record, it looks nothing like Bryce Harper.

Posted in Baseball in General | 4 Comments

Five Minute Fiction for Free

Posted on August 2, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

I am very grateful that I have many dedicated fans, all of whom I consider to be my friends.

Well, friends, I need your help! I am calling on you for some assistance in furthering my writing career.

After studying the way authors write, publish, and market themselves, I’ve come up with a plan to continue the writing and publishing part, and I’m going to ask you to help me with the marketing part.

I intend to publish a flash fiction story each month on my blog which will be free for the reading. Flash fiction is a short, short story, usually between 500-1,000 words that you can read in 5 minutes or less. In this mad-rush world where information comes flying at your face from all directions, I figure that something short and savory is much better than something long and time-consuming.

I’ll post a story each month, on the 9th–nothing much happens on the 9th–and I’ll send out electronic notices in various forms for several days beforehand to let you know that the 9th–and a story–is about to arrive. (I’ll also continue to post my usual observations, particularly on baseball, as well.)

Here’s the part where I need your help. If you see the link to a story is up on Face Book, I need you to repost it on your Face Book page. If you see the link on Twitter, please retweet. If you subscribe to my blog via an RSS feed, please forward that to your friends who enjoy reading or who simply enjoy getting free stuff. If you have a blog or a website of your own and you feel it’s appropriate, please link to the stories that you like, or display a permanent link to the series.

Think of me as that lady in the supermarket with the tooth picked samples of those little sausages, and think of yourselves as my helpers. The idea is to pass out as much sausage to as many people as we collectively can. This is not about selling. If my writing is good enough and enough people notice me, then sooner or later, folks will buy lots of sausage. Until then, I want as many people as possible to get a taste of my work.

I’ll do my best to take care of the good writing part and I’m asking you to help me with the getting noticed part. If you really like what you’re getting for free you can certainly buy Safe at Home: A Season in the Valley or 3 Tales From the Grand Old Game. (Sure you already own a copy, but your Aunt Mary would much rather receive a book this Christmas than the fruitcake you always send her. I had an Aunt Mary who was a fruitcake, but that’s the subject for a story.) At some future date, I might ask you to subscribe to an upcoming story or book, but otherwise, I just want you to enjoy my work.

Of course, that begs the question as to whether I’m any good at it. That’s up to you to decide. In fact, I want you to be very active in making that judgment. Please leave comments, good bad or indifferent. The good ones I reserve the right to republish in any future marketing effort. The bad ones I reserve the right to indignantly reject for 24 hours or so, then examine and take to heart in order to improve.

Furthermore, I not only want you to be active, I want you to be interactive. I am deliberately NOT going to post any photos because I would love for you to post ones that you feel illustrate the story. Perhaps at some point we will have an illustrated story collection to publish. Any photos that I get, I will post to a Pinterest board.

In addition, I am more than happy to take requests. Have a theme that you’d like me to examine? Send in your request. Want to have a story written about someone (perhaps as a gift?) let me know. Want to be in a story? Tell me! Naturally, I’m hoping that there is a financial payoff for my efforts down the road, but as long as we’re having fun as we travel along, then the journey is worth the effort regardless of the ultimate destination.

I’ll post the first Five Minute Fiction for Free story entitled, “The Bedford Girl” this coming Thursday. Each day at various times between now and then I’ll post on Face Book and Twitter that it’s coming. Once you’ve seen the notification post or received the e-mail, just ignore those that follow; I want to make sure you know about it, but I don’t want to annoy you! (The surest way to receive the link is to subscribe to the RSS feed through the blog.) The story will be posted right in the blog and a PDF file will be available for those who like to have paper copies.

Thank you so much. I need a little help from my friends and I hope that you’ll enjoy the stories enough to say that it is worth your efforts on my behalf.

–Austin

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Off the Beaten Basepaths #4: Rebel Park in New Market, VA

Posted on July 21, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

In case you didn’t see the latest installment of Off the Beaten Basepaths on Seamheads.com, here it is! Episode #4 ventures up the Shenandoah Valley to Rebel Park in New Market, Virginia, one of the most scenic ballparks in the United States:

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Off the Beaten Basepaths #2: Spring Training 2012

Posted on July 21, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

I’m just catching up on posting my Off the Beaten Basepaths series to my website. This episode had been posted to Seamheads.com, but not here:

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Al Has Street Named in His Honor!

Posted on July 18, 2012 by Austin Gisriel

My non-genetic twin and fellow baseball vagabond, Al Smith, has received a wonderful honor. It seems that the good folks of Berryville, VA have named the road that traverses the county park at the town’s entrance in his honor. I’m not sure if this is a tribute to his baseball career or his dedicated service to the Department of the Army from which Al retired this past January. Al’s not sure either as it was a surprise to him when I showed him the sign, but there can’t be any doubt that it is he for whom it is named. After all, a photo doesn’t lie: There’s Al and there’s the sign.

Al standing by the sign marking the circle named for him. Don’t know why he wasn’t invited to the unveiling.

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