Perfect Pitch

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  • Welcome to the Major Leagues!

    Pavarotti_collage This composite image is over seven years old.  (Hopefully, I’ve gotten more sophisticated with my PhotoShop skills since then!)  I used this image for the cover of a card I made and then had members of the MET Orchestra sign to send to then Mets First Baseman John Olerud who had a few nights before, we learned from the papers, attended a performance of Berg’s Wozzeck at the Metropolitan Opera House.

    We Mets fans (and baseball fans) in the orchestra at that time were so surprised and touched that Olerud had been there–and at the same time were so frustrated that we had missed recognizing him or seeing him there (was it the tie?)–that we wanted to send him a little note just saying something along the lines of "We heard you were here.  Glad you came.  Boy, you picked some repertoire for your first opera!  Come back again and, hey, maybe next time see something a little more accessible if you found Berg a bit hard on the ears like, oh, La Boheme, for instance!"

    I made the card and the orchestra members signed it–none of us expecting a thing in return.  Lo and behold, I received 30 or so Mets caps in the mail from the New York Mets organization some weeks later.  Obviously, Olerud was responsible for the thank you in return.

    But back to the image of Pavarotti. 

    The point I wish to make is that in choosing an image for this card, I used a picture of Pavarotti.  Not a picture of him in La Boheme, actually, but as Cavaradossi in Act I of Tosca.  But that’s the point, really.  It would not have mattered what costume, what role, what picture. 

    To most people, Pavarotti was THE image of opera. 

    And for good reason.  Call it what you will:  innate talent.  God-given gifts.  He had it.

    Pavarotti had the goods.

    That "ping" in the high notes.  Musicians refer to the special timbre of his voice making him a true "Italianate tenor", usually associated with a high male voice of great power, with a certain clarion brightness and, yes, a "ping" or "pop" on the uppermost notes.

    But now, back to baseball.

    Among the many things I enjoy reading in Sports Illustrated are the brief sidebar interviews with athletes, asking a series of four or five questions.  Often, one of the questions–in the case of a baseball star–is, "What was your ‘Welcome to the Major Leagues!’ moment?" 

    From the many issues I have read, I’ve seen some extremely entertaining answers to that question.

    *******

    Now, bear with me for a moment here.

    I started my young professional life as an oboist in a woodwind quintet in Pittsburgh and Principal Oboist of the Wheeling (West Virginia) Symphony for one year.  I moved on to become Principal Oboist of the Spokane Symphony for four years while simultaneously holding down various other jobs to make ends meet AND taking auditions for positions in more prestigious, i.e., "major league" orchestras as those positions (few and far between as there are only four oboists in an orchestra ) became available.

    After four years, many frustrating attempts, and lots of lost airfares and money spent on hotels in cities across the country, I ended up the winner of the audition for the position I currently hold and have held for the past 15 years.

    I mention the above saga not to engender any sympathy from the reader but merely to set the stage for the following:

    I moved to New York in August of 1992 to begin my new job.  My first assignment?  A recording session of an opera–Puccini’s Manon Lescaut–which I had never played before and certainly had not rehearsed nor performed with the Metropolitan Opera.

    This did not seem to concern them in the least.

    ********

    MY "Welcome to the Majors Moment", then, was walking into the Manhattan Center recording studio on West 34th Street in New York City, shyly saying hello to the few people in the MET Orchestra whom I barely knew, nervously finding my seat, self-consciously warming up, and, finally–when all were assembled, the orchestra had tuned and had practiced the first passage to be recorded–out walked, larger than life and to immediate applause by the orchestra, the Maestro:  Luciano Pavarotti.

    Seeing Pavarotti walk into the room,

    hearing that voice only a few feet away from me,

    and having the privilege of playing along and supporting that voice that day:

    THAT was truly my

    "I know I am now in the Major Leagues!" moment!!

  • Phestivities, Tomphoolery (and Phiasco) in Philly

    08280747_1 Well, I guess there’s one good thing about being so tardy in posting:  sometimes the very worst losses don’t look quite SO bad when looking back at them with a few wins tucked on the end.

    But before what became the successful trip to the Deep South, the Mets had the horrible, awful, stinky, putrid, philthy stand closer south at Citizens Bank Park culminating in four losses and rumors of the Phillies stealing signs in the first two games.

    I wouldn’t actually want to remember and, therefore, post anything about that nightmarish four-game phiasco had it not been for the fact that there were some kinda neat things about the game which we attended:  the Tuesday night game, August 28th:08280754_5

     

    (1) Tuesday was my daughter’s birthday and we attended the game at her request.  "Happy Birthday" was sung to her by–yes, believe it or not–Phillies fans!  (I had not ruled out the possibility that fans that are capable of booing their own players for any minor infraction, their own manager, heck–even Santa Claus–might boo a ten-year-old kid in Mets gear celebrating a birthday, but they did not.) 

    She was also showered by confetti, and she got to see her name and age on the scoreboard.08280712_1 

    (2) Tuesday also marked the return of my personal favorite, Endy Chavez, and

    (3) We had some AMAZING seats! 

    While we were quite a ways down the left field line, we were only five rows from the field. 

    This meant we were privy to some neat plays by Pat Burrell and Moises Alou. 

    It also meant that we were able to witness some old-enough-to-know-better, drunken boors make passes at the Phillies foul ball girl sitting down on the field right in front of us.

    No class.

    The Phillies do truly have some of the worst fans (except the ones near us who did sing "Happy Birthday", of course.)

    Additionally, our right-on-the-field seats meant we witnessed first-hand the tomfoolery between the Phillie Phanatic and our players.

    08280727

    08280732crop_4 If I had it figured out correctly, it appeared that the Phanatic approached Paul LoDuca who was on the field stretching. 

    The Phanatic proffered a hand as if to offer to help LoDuca get up from the field.  As a gag, the Phanatic then let go of LoDuca’s hand, letting him tumble back onto the grass.

    But the shenanigans continued.

    08280736_1 Not to be outdone by LoDuca’s theatrics, Luis Castillo crept up to the Phanatic’s little dune buggy and did something. 

    (Maybe he stole the keys or flipped some switch?) 

    08280737_2 Then he scampered away.

    When the Phanatic became aware of the prank and looked  accusingly at Castillo, he pointed at someone else closer to the dugout.

    08280741_1 Although I’ve seen some of this shtick occasionally on television, seeing it so close, uncut–and seeing how much Wright, LoDuca, and Castillo were getting into it–was priceless!

    I still would’ve preferred the smiles that a Mets win would’ve given us, but I’m afraid Ryan Howard took that away from us that night.

    And the unfortunate interference call at second on Wednesday, and Billy’s blown save on Thursday…

    But now the Phillies have lost their series in Florida and are now four games behind us, so things don’t look SO bad, right?

    Let’s just try to rack up a lot more wins and stabilize that bullpen before the Phillies come here in 10 days or so, what do you think?

  • Addio, RFK!

    08180731 A better record of my family’s road trip following the Mets can be found in my online photo galleries posted in the side bar to the left of these posts, but before too much time goes by, I did want to just mention a few things about what will have been my final visit to RFK Stadium.

    Believe me, I shed no tears upon departing that charmless place.  But with the Nationals making a big to-do about their new stadium opening next year in Anaconda, er–AnaCOSTIA, I was well aware that this was my final opportunity to catch any baseball or Presidents’ Races at this locale.

    08170714 We had terrific seats for both games:  a StubHub purchase secured our seats eleven rows behind the Nationals dugout for Saturday night’s game.  (Here’s a sweat-drenched Dmitri Young returning from the field to the dugout.)  And for Sunday afternoon’s08180713crop  game we had the treat of using my husband’s company’s seats right behind homeplate, with a perfect view of El Duque’s wind-up.

    While I love our season tickets in the Mezzanine behind homeplate at Shea, I’ve found that that’s one of the fun things about taking road trips for me:  getting to sit in another part of a ballpark to get a different perspective.  While I might miss angles–and sometimes even plays–I often see other things that I would not normally see from our regular seats or get a better view of a particular play(s) than the view I have from our regular seats.

    While I might prefer our normal vantage point, it’s kinda fun for one game here or there to see things from another viewpoint.

    08170716 Of particular delight for me on Saturday night was seeing all of the action around third base. 

    We saw Reyes steal third, saw Moises (and others)  approach, tag, and round third–with Sandy Almomar wildly waving his arm, giving him the green light.08170762_1   

    While I’ve seen all of this from a distance and, close-up on television, there’s a certain excitement being right there on the line right on top of the action!

    The Mets may have won both of the games we were at, but the Nationals fans were really into it, booing down any chants of "Let’s Go Mets" that got started. 

    There is definitely some pride there and some fans who desperately want a chance to compete.  Maybe with a new stadium, the somewhat limited fanbase the franchise has now will expand and the team will command more interest and respect in this mostly football-centered city.

    08180721 Whatever the Nationals decide to leave behind at RFK at the end of this season, they simply MUST bring along the four Presidents for the Presidents Races.  The size of those guys is so astounding as to be positively surreal and hysterical at the same time. 

    And maybe–just once before they leave RFK Stadium–Abe, George, and Tom should let poor Teddy Roosevelt win a race just once…poor guy.  He’s beginning to give the Rough Riders a bad name.

  • Hands-down the very best mascot around!

  • Moises makes a catch and promptly makes a hard throw.

  • Moises prepares to make a play.

  • Moises tracks a fly hit to left field.

  • As promised: the scoreboard birthday message at the bottom of the fourth.

  • The Phanatic uses a Mets hat to stir up the fans.

  • The birthday girl is serenaded and gets confetti showered on her.