A Beer in Hand is Better than Two Birds in the Bush Leagues

ONEOK Field
201 N. Elgin Ave.
Tulsa, OK




You’ve got to love minor league baseball.

Nothing exudes those wholesome middle-American values like a hot summer night at the local ballpark.

Who needs diversity training when you have bush league baseball?

On any given weeknight at any given minor league park in America, you can find the full spectrum of mid-major America.

Little kids smearing themselves in cotton candy.

Bigger kids screaming at fuzzy blue mascots for a free t-shirt.

Old time baseball traditionalists keeping score behind home plate.

Yuppies networking with coworkers in the group party boxes.

Fat guys gorging themselves on hot dogs in the all-you-can eat section.

Drunks chugging cheap beer in the bleachers while incoherently heckling the umpires.

Busty small town girls in tube tops looking for love.

Where does Suit757 fit into all this, you might wonder?

I consider myself to be something of a Renaissance Man who can appreciate all of the above.

That’s why on those rare nights in summertime when my flight lands before 6pm, you can find me here.

At the ballpark.

Making note of the prospects, chugging beer, gorging on hot dogs and admiring the view of America at its best from the aluminum bleachers.

Tonight, I just happened to be in Tulsa, home of the AA Texas League Tulsa Drillers who were taking on the Springfield Cardinals in a game featuring Rockies prospect Kyle Parker.

The Tulsa first baseman from Jacksonville, Florida was last seen by most sports fans throwing touchdowns for the Clemson football team in 2010 before being relieved by current Heisman candidate Tajh Boyd.

But any ole ballpark will do. From AAA all the way down to the Independent Leagues.

Heck, I’ve even endured the Appalachian League in forgotten hollows like Princeton and Bluefield where the Pentecostals have managed to ban the sale of beer.

Here in Oklahoma, it’s not so much the Pentecostals you have to worry about, but the Southern Baptists.

Different flavor, but the same joy-killing agenda.

By law, virtually all mass-produced American beer sold in Oklahoma must be no more than 3.2% alcohol.

The last game I attended in Oklahoma City a few years ago featured nothing but 3.2 beer.

I know. Why bother, right?

The thought of nothing but a steady stream of watered-down, low alcohol American puke beer almost resulted in my staying in my Comfort Inn room tonight.

I probably would have if the Reds - Cardinals game wasn’t blacked out by ESPN here in Cardinals territory.

As it turns out, I’m glad I came out for what was the last regular season game of the year here at ONEOK Field. (The Drillers will have a few more games to play in the Texas League playoffs.)

Much to my pleasant surprise, there seems to be a loophole in Oklahoma’s 3.2 beer law.

Imports and local craft beers are exempt.

Yeah. Like I need any more incentive to avoid the yellow mass-produced pisswater brewed by Miller and Anheuser-Busch.

So my choice was watered down, low alcohol Bud Light (even more so than normal) or Tulsa’s own Marshall Brewing’s offerings.

Hmmm.

So who would you rather be stuck between in the middle seat on a trans-continental flight?

Kate Upton and Scarlett Johansson?

Or Chris Christie and Anthony Weiner?

Tough decision, I know.

Believe it or not, there was a steady line of misguided Tulsa beer drinkers opting for the Weineresque 3.2 Budweiser all night long.

See Suit757’s rant about America’s love affair with mediocrity.

My Marshall IPA was dark, hoppy and strong.

Definitely NOT 3.2.

And generously poured into a 24 ounce plastic cup for just $7.50.

Bargain!

I also tried a 16 ounce can of Native Amber from Coop Ale Works in Oklahoma City for $6.50. It was a flavorful balance of sweet malt and spicy hops. Not bad at all.

This is just the third season for ONEOK Field (pronounced “one oak”, after the Oklahoma natural gas conglomerate). And a big improvement over the old ancient ballpark near the Fairgrounds where I saw Drillers play a decade ago.

Wide aisles, cup holders at every seat, a fantastic view of the Tulsa skyline and a fun variety of ballpark junk food.

Capitalizing on America’s latest culinary fad, a gourmet hot dog stand was serving up a wide assortment of dog-condiment combos on pretzel buns.

I opted for the Fritos Chili Dog -- like a hot dog topped with a Frito Pie.

A Frito Pie is a Texas/Oklahoma specialty.

It’s not really a pie. There’s no crust involved.

At its simplest, a Frito Pie is a bag of Fritos split open with chili, cheese and diced raw onion poured on top.

On my Fritos Chili Dog, the chili and cheese added the flavor while the Fritos contributed the crunch.

It may be a bit faddish, but the pretzel hot dog bun was perfect as a sturdy yet tasty delivery vehicle for all this messy goodness.

Much preferred to the more traditional approach of just eating it out of the plastic Fritos bag.

My evening of minor league baseball was going great until I checked my smart phone between innings.

I felt a surge of panic course through my body.

Lo and behold, I discovered that one of my music heroes, Hank Williams, III, was playing at the legendary Cain’s Ballroom tonight -- just a couple blocks from ONEOK Field!

Here I was enjoying my evening of America’s favorite pastime, but I might be missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the greatest outlaw in Outlaw Country Music at one of America’s most famous music venues.

Do I leave the game I paid for -- and was enjoying immensely -- early?

Suit757 NEVER EVER leaves a game early.

Ever.

No matter the sport.

Friends who go to games with me start looking at me out of the corner of their eyes in the fourth quarter.

When the home team is up by four touchdowns. And the sky opens into a deluge of rain. And every other fan in the stadium has fled to the parking lot.

But they don’t say a word.

They know.

Suit757 NEVER EVER leaves a game early.

As the hour approached 9pm, I did the unthinkable.

I walked out of ONEOK Field in the top of the 7th Inning in a tie game and dashed down the street to Cain’s.

Out of breath and sweating in the 95 degree Oklahoma heat, I slung open the front door of Cain’s and there he was -- in all his sweaty, tattooed, vulgar, strung-out glory.

The son of Hank Jr. The grandson of Hank Sr.

Only one problem. Hank seemed to be fully lathered into his set of Outlaw classics like “Straight to Hell”, “Whiskey, Weed and Women” and “Cocaine Blues”.

I turned to the ticket seller by the front door and asked, “Did he just go on?”

“Nope. He went on about an hour and a half ago,” the Cain’s ticket dude yelled over the din of the pedal steel and screaming vocals.

What? I missed it?

What self-respecting coke addict goes on stage before 8pm???

I couldn’t believe it.

I’m not paying $22 to get in now.

Now look what I’d done -- standing in the Tulsa heat with no baseball AND no Hank III.

And I walked out of the Drillers game in the 7th inning!

Every baseball fan knows what that means.

No. Not the signing of “Take Me out to the Ball Game.”

I mean last call.

Get a clue, man.

Crap! No way am I missing Hank III AND last call.

I literally ran back to ONEOK Field in my flip-flops.

By some miracle -- and a few strategic pitching changes -- I got back with two outs in the bottom of the 7th. And ran straight toward my lifesaving microbrew lady who served me the last Marshall IPA of the night.

Whew! What a relief.

There was some saying about birds in a bush that would have been appropriate here that I couldn’t recall in my sudsy state of mind.

As I settled in behind the visitors’ dugout with my 24 ounces of hoppy bliss and watched the Drillers mount an exciting late inning comeback victory, I made a solemn vow to myself.

I am NEVER leaving a game early again.

Ever.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Racing the Wrecking Ball at Rosenblatt

Rosenblatt Stadium
1202 Bert Murphy Ave.
Omaha, NE
Visited August 10, 2010

Beer selection: Pretty pathetic and over-priced

Food: Ditto

Ah, minor league baseball.

It is one of my Suit757 philosophies that if you want to get the best feel for a true cross-section of a place, go to a minor league baseball game.

You’ll see the families with the cotton-candy smeared kids. The die-hard score-keeping baseball fans. Teenagers on wholesome date nights. And the rowdy town drunks heckling the opposing pitcher incoherently.

If you are lucky enough to be in town on dollar beer night (usually designated “Thirsty Thursday”), you’ll get the added bonus of 20-something coeds prowling the concourses in skimpy little halters looking for love.

Yes, a minor league baseball game is a perfect slice of Americana.

It’s always at the top of my to-do list on those rare occasions my plane touches down before 6pm and there is a home game at the old ballpark.

Tonight was just such a night.

I was especially excited, because Omaha and Rosenblatt Stadium are synonymous. Rosenblatt was built in 1948 and has most famously hosted the College World Series since 1950.

A lot of history has been made between the lines at Rosenblatt. But its days are numbered.

The last College World Series game ever played at Rosenblatt took place on June 29 when South Carolina took the National Championship over UCLA.

Rosenblatt has also been home to minor league baseball for most of its 62 years.

The final Omaha Royals game will take place in three weeks, after which the wrecking ball will mark the historic stadium’s demise once and for all.

In a typical ridiculous display of taxpayer funded waste, the NCAA and the Omaha Royals couldn’t agree on sharing a new stadium.

So what are the politicians in Nebraska doing to solve the problem?

You got it. Build two different brand-new baseball stadiums in Omaha.

One for the College World Series at a cost of $130 million for an event that takes place two weeks out of the entire year. And another one for the Omaha Royals, at a cost of $40 million.

But I didn’t want thoughts about the actions of idiotic politicians to bum me out. I was looking forward to checking out an historic baseball shrine in one of its final games. I felt like a lucky man.

I wish I could say I was impressed.

The stadium just doesn’t have that old-time throw-back minor league feel you get at other historic ball parks, like Jackie Robinson Ballpark (1914) in Daytona Beach, or Ray Winder Field (1931) in Little Rock, or Bowen Field (1939) in Bluefield, VA.

Those places have that cozy nostalgic feel as you contemplate all the decades of baseball fans and famous and not-so-famous players who have trod their rickety wooden stands. Those old ball yards could come straight out of a scene in “Bull Durham”.

But not Rosenblatt.

That’s probably because the stadium has been thoroughly renovated multiple times over the decades to accommodate the surge in popularity of college baseball.

So Rosenblatt just looks and feels like a soulless 25 year old throw-back to the 80s that needs a good scrubin.

There’s a fine line between nostalgic and shabby. And Rosenblatt falls on the wrong side of that line.

That impression is just reinforced when you make your food and beer selections.

Beer options are Bud Light, Miller Light or Coors Light. That’s like choosing between lethal injection, electrocution and hanging. And at $6 for 20 oz., that’s a bit steep for minor league baseball.

I did stumble upon a lonely guy selling Leinenkugel drafts for $6 for 14oz. Highway robbery, but at least there is another option.

Since this is Omaha, the food options include some items from hometown corporate mail-order giant, Omaha Steaks. You could get an Omaha Steaks burger or steak sandwich.

The steak sandwich wasn’t ready yet. And after watching the guy take a chisel to a giant block of frozen burger patties, somehow I lost interest in Omaha Steak products.

I opted instead for the bratwurst with peppers and onions and a hot dog.

The brat ($6) looked and tasted like it had been cooked hours or days ago. The vegetables were the same.

The tiny little hot dog (three dollars!!!) was quite possibly the worst I have ever had in my life. It had obviously been turning on the little hot dog rollers behind the cash register for days.

With food and beer choices this bad, no wonder less than 1,000 people bothered to show up for this titanic struggle between the Omaha Royals and the Tacoma Rainiers. Of course, to be fair, it was Tuesday night and literally 99 degrees at game time. It dropped all the way down to 91 by the last out.

But did the over-priced beer, lousy food and griddle-like temperatures get me down? No way!

I mean, what else would I rather do on a steamy summer night than kick back under the Nebraska stars with a cold beer in hand and watch some baseball?

Eating Taco Bell off the stain-covered bed spread back at the Best Western while watching reruns of “Entourage” just isn’t that appealing to me.

Plus, I was there to take in the last moments of a place that has hosted decades of baseball history.

And watch some baseball.

Oh yeah, the game.

One of the nice things about AAA (the level just below the big leagues), is that most fans who follow the game moderately will usually recognize a couple players in any given AAA game. These are the players who go back and forth between the minors and the bigs on a regular basis.

Tonight, I saw recognizable big leaguers like Mike Carp, Justin Smoak, Matt Herges and Scott Thorman, who hit the game winning home run in the 5th.

Also playing for the Rainiers was Dustin Ackley, one of the top prospects in all of minor league baseball.

So despite the fact that the place seems to deserve the wrecking ball, I enjoyed my evening at Rosenblatt. I saw a good game, recognized some big leaguers, drank some beer and left with the ability to say I’d seen a game at one of the most historic ballparks in America.

I’ll take that over the Best Western bed spread every time.

Rating: Would Wear the Shirt if They Paid Me