Twit on a Road Trip [Finale]

As the sun rose on Thursday, my TwitOnARoadTrip2012 time was winding down following the events of  GORUCK DC. Though we were drained from the previous day's efforts, we were able to make our way to Dupont Circle to throw back drinks with Brent, Lou, Jason, and assorted GORUCK family at James Hoban's Irish Bar. Fatigue and alcohol quickly took their toll on our ragged group, though, and we slowly broke apart to our homes, hotels, and squares of carpeted floor. July 4th, 2012 was in the books.

Very few people would be able to function after the day we had, but we awoke and made our way to the National Mall and Smithsonian Museum of American History - an impressive home to war artifacts, the fabled Star-Spangled Banner from Fort McHenry, and the Gunboat Philadelphia. Any grand plans we had to further investigate our nation's capitol disappeared at the first mention of finding a bar. This is not an uncommon occurrence when GRTs congregate in large numbers. Hell, it's usually true when we are wandering the streets alone, too.

Elephant & Castle. The sign across the road called to us, so we opted for an afternoon of rejuvenation and cellular repair, drinking up a storm and causing a general uproar. We were loud and slightly obnoxious. I say 'slightly' in reference to our own scale. When compared to societal norms, we were off the chart.

Relaxing together offered the chance to experience the best aspect of GRCs and the GRT family. Sharing stories and drinks, we talked the afternoon away. It's impressive how quickly people that you've just met can become like old friends. Sweating together during a challenge - any of life's challenges - has the strange ability to add depth and respect in any relationship. Friends, both new and old, bonded to bring the conversation to hilarious and felonious levels.

As a starter, I told the story of my epic 1988 National Spelling Bee victory and ensuing controversy.

Going back to the night before, Chris repeated the hilarious and extremely disturbing way Cadre Lou hoped to create a "T-1000 baby."

Your argument is invalid

Eventually, we started discussing when we'd get together again and talked upcoming GRCs to choose from. Kevin erupted in annoyance. "We don't have to do a GORUCK every time we hang out!"
  
Recounting the horrors and heroes from the day before, we enjoyed the A/C while the sun marched across the sky. Drunken discussions were had on the acceptability of hand-holding during a GRC. The topic of disease-infested ponds was touched upon. I blame the previous day's GORUCK and dehydration for the disaster that followed.

A fuzzy fifteen minutes later, we had women exchange an orange peel from mouth to mouth... followed by two guys doing the same thing. We then requisitioned a shopping cart and proceeded to roll all over Pentagon City. One of us did handstands on the bike rack outside a Costco.

Crazy. At 3PM... on a Thursday. We are not well in the head.

Ending up at one of the bars near the mall, we waited as one of our number attempted to get a new phone. [NOTE: Don't trust a pelican case in your ruck to protect an iPhone during GRCs. Just in case you were considering it...] Doing so, we ran into some GRTs from another July 4th class (remember.. there were five) and chatted up the differences in our experiences. At least, I think that's what we did. We were getting smashed.

To bring it all together, we headed out to GORUCK HQ in DC and threw back some beers with cadre. It was nice seeing some of them in their native habitat, and since none of my past cadre were in

GRHQ: Behind the Curtain

attendance I had a unique relationship. No one in the room had yelled at me to do divebomber push-ups or pick up an effing log. We all hit a couple Georgetown bars and closed out the night as friends.

It was a great bookend to my road trip, so after breakfast with my GRT family, I jumped in the car and made the executive decision to push on toward home for the night. It made for a long drive and I didn't get to the house until after 1AM, but it was worth it. I was going to need the entire weekend to relax and get myself in some semblance of order for Monday.

Monday... Work... I did it up hard for over two weeks and came out of it with a ton of new memories and more than a few new friends. I came up with ideas for future vacations and found new people that shared my passion for stupid crap that would be willing to do them with me. That's the best you can ask for, and I can't wait until the next one. It's only been five days, but I'm having GORUCK withdrawal. I'm having GRT withdrawal. And, I can't wait for the next trip.

Eagerness is one thing... but where to? I heard Jason Aldean's "Fly Over States" several times over those many miles, and it really hit home with me how little people in our big cities know of our country and how much we take for granted. When I drove to Florida from San Francisco, I was struck by how far apart people were. Hundreds of miles separated cities and homes. The west-east trip showed me how big our country is, but this trip showed me how close together we are. I visited Civil War sites and realized how near everything was - even 150 years ago. Louisville, considered by most to be in a culturally 'southern' state, was a Union bastion. The two capitol cities, Richmond and DC, were 90 miles apart. I left Washington, DC at nearly 1:00 PM and was in my Florida bed that night. We are so much closer than we think. We think in terms of 'here' and 'there,' but we share the same land and air. I could have spent days in some of the cities I blitzkrieged through on my drive - Louisville, Nashville, Chattanooga, Lafayette, Cleveland. This country is full of amazing places and fascinating people. My trip gave my dozens of ideas for future travels. If I do half of them, I'll see more of this country than 95% of Americans, and that's too bad. Go check out your country - not in pictures or television... GO - and let me know what you think.

FIN

Twit On A Road Trip: By The Numbers

Miles Covered: 5309
Days on the Road: 15
States Visited: 16 (plus Washington, DC)
New states checked off the list: 3 (Indiana, Iowa, Minnesota)
Countries Visisted: 2 (Canada is a country... for now...)
Half Marathons Completed: 2
Bricks purchased: 16
GORUCKs completed: 1
Patches earned/received: 4
ToaRT2012-Related Facebook Updates: 181 (I'm not joking. I counted. Irony... or destiny?)
ToaRT2012-Related Tweets: 94
Blog Updates (including this one): 11
"Halls of Fame" visited: 3
 Oil changes: 1
Highest Mileage Day: Day 15 - 852 miles from DC to Florida
Most Expensive Gas: $3.67/gal (New York)
Least Expensive Gas: $3.04/gal (Georgia)
Gallons Purchased: 134
Average mpg: 39.6
Baseball Games attended: 7 (4 MiLB/ 3 MLB)
Active MLB Parks left to see: 7 (down from 10 pre-trip)
Most nights spent in one city: 3 (tie; Buffalo and DC)
College Campuses Visited: 9
People Convinced I was David Boreanaz: 4 1/2*
Beers drank: Countless. And priceless. And now I'm even more senseless.

*One woman asked if I was the actor  on 'that show.'

Knowing my Boreanaz history, I asked, "Bones?"

She said, "No... that's not it."

? - For those of you still following along, the prize is up for grabs.
Both the question and answer are out there somewhere.

 I'd like to give to thanks to my 2007 Honda Civic for making all of this possible. She was a champ.

5309 Miles of the eastern United States

Twit on a Road Trip [Part 7 : Day 11 and part of 12]

Have you read the previous posts? You should... they're moderately entertaining...

Day 11 - also known as Monday, July 2nd - started off with something I've never done on any vacation or road trip I've ever been on. I had to get my oil changed. It seems that I had been on the road so long that it became necessary to get some maintenance done. So, I changed my car's oil and transmission fluid in Buffalo, NY. While I waited, I walked across the street and got a haircut.

This was apparently a looooong road trip.

Thankfully, I had a short drive on the 2nd, so I took my time getting out of Buffalo. It was nearly noon before I got back in my car, and I still had a quick stop at Home Depot to buy bricks and duct tape. Ordinarily, a statement like that will get me put on some predator website, but I had an reason for such a strange purchase: I was going to Washington, DC the next day to carry bricks around the city, following a Force Recon Marine for my third GORUCK Challenge.

Ok, so maybe the 'predator list' thing is less strange.

Since I was driving into DC and several of my fellow participants were flying, I volunteered to supply the bricks. Thankfully, I didn't have to explain my purchase to the HD employees, as they are used to seeing people buy bricks. Still, the image of me pulling the little red basket behind me through the store drew some fascinated looks.

Get in the trunk, and no one gets hurt!

Who cares if they suck?
Awesome stadium.

Eventually, my car loaded down in the back end, I jumped on the toll roads (are you freaking kidding me?) and headed southwest and back the way I'd come. This time, though, my destination was Cleveland. I took my time as I skirted Lake Erie and arrived at the city around 4PM. I had several hours of free time, so I wandered the downtown area, snapping pictures and eating at PotBelly Sandwich Works. Tasty. With my free time, I braved the scalding temperatures to walk out to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (this brings the HoF number to 3 on the trip) and past Cleveland Browns Stadium. I loved the waterfront area, and the city's passion for sports is impressive. This is especially true given their teams' less-than-stellar success in recent years. Still, they are behind them. I decided then and there that I could easily make the city my home. I was warned about cold temperatures... Yankee, please! I lived in the north until I was 10. Back the truck up.

I ended my wanderings back at Progressive Field. Not being a huge Indians fan, I hadn't realized that the name had changed from Jacobs Field in 2008 and was slightly miffed. This corporate sponsorship crap is really getting out of hand. Admittedly, "Progressive Field" isn't too bad a name, but c'mon. At least choose something related to sports. "Coca-Cola Field" was ok. "Miller Park" is great. "US Cellular Field Home of the Chicago White Sox" is unacceptable.

Let's see this fixed, people.

And, while I'm on it, can we get away from these ankle-length baseball pants? You look like a moron. Baseball is meant to be played in 3/4 pants that stop at the calf so that you can flash those bad-ass stirrups. It's in the Bible. I read it. You can't tell me Jesus would approve of full-length baseball pants. Similarly, he would denounce the Designated Hitter Rule as idolatry and/or totally lame as Hell.

"If thou desireth to pitch, thou must wield thine own mace and striketh true."

The "Jake": Most impressive

What the hell was I talking about? Oh, the Indians. So, this team royally sucks. It's true. But, I love a loser and found myself really getting behind them. Listening to Cleveland sports talk that night and the next day, I came to sympathize with the wait-till-next-year love for the team. And, the stadium is really, REALLY nice. It's top 5 for me.. possible top 3. Great atmosphere and fans. They were promoting a 4-miler race that started at the football stadium, ran through the Cavaliers' arena, and finished on the track at the Jake (Progressive Field? Bah!). I wish I lived in a city that did this kind of stuff.

Alas, I jumped in my car and drove down to Akron in an attempt to get a clean start on the next day's drive, a long one that took me through the Pennsylvania woods and past Pittsburgh. Fortunately, it was all on toll roads. (We wouldn't want to break tradition and drive on roads my tax dollars are already charging me for, would we?)

The 12th day went by in a blur as I hauled literal and metaphorical ass to DC so that I could meet up with my buddies at the hotel. As this entry is already getting long, I'll hold off till the next for GORUCK DC. Be warned, the next one will be long, strongly censored, and make liberal use of my keyboard's characters to intimate the naughty words.

It was epic. Illegally... Amorally... Alcoholically... EPIC. I hate that word. It's overused. But, oh so true.
_

Twit on a Road Trip [Part 6 : Day 10]

Ok, I know. Another post that only covers 1 of the 15 days on the trip. Trust me... it was a long day and deserved its own entry. As Day 10 started, I was starting to run on fumes. Up to this point, I had stuck pretty close to my rather non-existent plan. This whole thing started as an attempt to hit five baseball stadiums, though random wanderlust and nation-wide zigzagging would imply otherwise. Still, I wasn't going to hit Milwaukee because the Brewers ignored my repeated emails instructing them to stage a home game for my benefit. As I saw the days coming, I realized I was going to be unable to get to Detroit, also.

This had the added effect of me planning ANOTHER trip to the Midwest that involved drinking in Milwaukee and Madison and then taking the ferry over to Michigan and hitting up Detroit. I eventually came to the realization that I should end this trip (and the other ten that I have planned) before putting thoughts down about the next one (or, the 11th one).

This fell out largely due to my goal for Day 10, Sunday July 1st: Cooperstown, NY. There was no way I was going to get this close to the Baseball Hall of Fame and not check it out. This was especially true seeing as though it was in the middle of nowhere. It was unlikely I'd be in this neck of the woods again anytime soon.

I should point out here that I damn near planned a 12th future trip after I got to Cooperstown. But first... It was a more than a three hour drive to Cooperstown, so I hit the road early. Toll roads (sonuvabitch) stretched out before me, and it was hours before I slipped off into the central New York hills. I cut through some of the saddest little towns you've never heard of - Mohawk, Richfield Springs, Exeter - and became convinced that the baseball HoF was contained in a cave under a bridge. The Hall is located in this god forsaken area on the (completely incorrect) understanding that noted Civil War nobody Abner Doubleday invented the game in the region. I don't understand why he would choose this location for such inspiration other than he was hoping someone would hit him in the head with a rock. Instead, he swung a branch at the rock and hit a soft liner to left field (all corn by the way). This is the mythological and completely untrue birth of baseball (I'd stake my completely unworthy reputation on it).

Thus, I had mixed emotions as I crossed through a cut in the hill and found Cooperstown spread out below me. It. Was. Awesome. Respectably sized and all about baseball, Cooperstown is heaven for lovers of the game. The downtown area is like the set of a '50s television show. Cafes and diners mark the main road. Shops with baseball gear and equipment are on every corner. Pubs and restaurants line the side streets. Kids play stick-ball everywhere, and all the talk is of baseball.

I'll be honest, I thought I had hit a cow in Exeter and died. It was the only explanation.

Dodger great
Jackie Robinson

People were everywhere. They sat on the benches eating ice cream. They tossed baseballs. I thought, "How will I even park?!" Why... right here is fine. Right next to the baseball Hall of Fame would be perfect. It was like I was standing next to James Earl Jones in Field of Dreams as he explained what the sport means and what the field would mean to the lovers of the sport.

"People will came, Ray. People will most definitely come."

The front door to my personal religious institution

Sorry... I lost myself there for a second. Anyway, I ducked into Copperstown's Baseball Hall of Fame. So very cool. They had hundreds of artifacts on the history of the game. Each team had a locker with notable accomplishments recorded. Stadiums were highlighted including Ebbets Field, which will always be one of the great regrets I have. Nothing I can do, but I would give anything to watch a game in Flatbush.

Records were highlighted... Rickey Henderson, Cy Young, Christy Mathewson, Cal Ripken. An entire section was devoted to the works of Hank Aaron (a truly great individual, in baseball and life). Then, plaques for those honored in the Hall. A humongous apse filled with legends of the game. Some are well-known to the average person. Many are unknown except to the most ardent of fans. It was great. I could have spent days in this building. Alas, I only had four hours (they went by shockingly fast).

And, this is how I ended up planning ANOTHER trip (in addition to the aforementioned Milwaukee-Detroit sojourn) that would put me coming up to Cooperstown and staying for a weekend. Yes, there is that much to do and, yes, even someone that isn't as diehard a fan as I am would love it. The town itself is fascinating and home to a few thousand people. There's certainly enough to keep someone busy for a couple days, and - so - I will be returning eventually. I made myself a promise.

But, I had to get back on the road to Buffalo. I had another obligation. This time... a concert. When I checked on things to do in and around the 5000+ mile track I drove, I paired it off with some of my favorite bands. Sadly, most aren't touring right now. But, one was. And, damn if it wasn't one of the best ones out there today.

Lzzy.... Sxxy

So, I went to the Town Ballroom in Buffalo - a venue that had seen better days but was clawing its way back - to see Halestorm. Fronted by Lzzy Hale, the band had become a rousing success, especially with its latest offering that made it the first female fronted rock band ever to take the No. 1 spot on the Active Rock airplay chart. The music is great, but I hadn't ever seen them live. But, Lzzy is hot and I couldn't pass it up. Turns out that Lzzy isn't necessarily the most talented (in my humble opinion) of the Hale siblings. Her brother, Arejay, plays drums, and he put on as impressive a performance as I have ever seen in a live show. Totally unstoppable.

The crowd was diverse and devoted. It was quite the audience as I saw kids in their teens and adults in there 50s (60s?). Even the bartender pulled me aside during one of my (frequent) trips for libations to ask more info about the band. Even he was fascinated by the cross section of society in attendance. But, when they started rocking, Halestorm brought us all together. Town Ballroom was a great place to watch them, intimate and awesome. Orlando may have a glut of live music venues, but I have never been overly impressed with them (Hard Rock Live is the closest to 'good' in the area). Not only did the TB have a nice set-up, the history of the place was palpable. Well done, Buffalo. Below are some face-melting videos for your enjoyment. Trust me, they don't do the experience justice.

"Rock Show"

"Here's to Us"

"I Get Off"

"It's Not You"

 

 

Twit on a Road Trip [Part 5 : Day 8 and 9]

First, I apologize for my slacking. I was a few days behind, and then my laptop died on me. I had fully expected to get behind in my blog once I hit Washington, DC solely based on the fact that I would be exhausted and/or drunk with my GORUCK family. But, the loss of my laptop was unexpected.

Mea Culpa.

Anywho... I left Akron with the goal of Buffalo. I knew I was going to be spending a few days in the city, but organizing the to-do list while there was a bit overwhelming. This all revolved around a half marathon *supposedly* scheduled for Saturday, June 30th (Day 9 of the trip). But, the organizers of said race, Rapid Running (Don't EVER run one of their races), had their heads so far up their backsides that they couldn't organize a trip to the grocer. The day before I left on my trip, they canceled the half marathon. Knowing I was screwed, I still sent them an email asking for a refund. The 'we had too many people sign up for the race' excuse seemed flimsy to me, but getting my $85 appeared to be a longshot. So, I planned on not racing and planned my trip around a Blue Jays game. Well, visitbuffaloniagara.com realized that this would piss off people visiting the city, and they pulled together a race in EIGHT DAYS. It wasn't great, but I give them credit. More on that on my upcoming race report, here (I'll post link when it's done).

American Falls from the overlook

I drove up to Buffalo (short trip from Ohio) across the unnecessarily-expensive toll roads and arrived around 2PM... plenty of time to head up to the falls and see Niagara. They were most impressive. I went out on the overlook and even rode the Maid of the Mist into the falls themselves. It was amazing. I also came to understand that the Canadians have a much better view than we Americans do. They've capitalized in this by allowing what amounts to the combined efforts of DisneyWorld-wannabes throw up on their side of the bridge. It's quite the display. The American side? Parks and preserves.... I know, right?!

Horseshoe Falls from Canada

I took some pictures from 'our' side and then walked over to Canada. It was my first time in the country, though I doubt those 1000 yards of Canada should really count. It was mostly Americans and Swedes. Beautiful views, though. I ate an early dinner there and then returned to the States. I would imagine my 'singles' trip to Niagara puts me in the minority, as I wasn't on a honeymoon or couple's retreat.

I left there in a hurry, though, anxious to make the Buffalo Bisons AAA game that night. I had been to MANY games on my trip and thought I might pass on the Bisons. But, I drove near the stadium on the way to the Falls and couldn't pass up a game. Right downtown, Coca-Cola Field is a great place to watch a game. I made it to my hotel late and hit the bed hard. But, I had a long day ahead of me on Day 9, as I headed back into Canada.. this time by car....

Oh, but first I ran a half marathon. A PR in 1:54:11. But, check the race report for that. And, CHECK it. The finish was amazing... even if the organization (understandably) left something to be desired.

The end was worth the rest of the headache

So, I pulled out my passport and headed to Canada. The border crossing was s-l-o-w. The fact that my Florida plates drew interest and that Canadian customs seemed perplexed by the fact that I "drove all the way from Florida for a Blue Jays game, eh?" didn't slow me down. They didn't seem to understand I was doing a dozen other things on this trip... but whatever. I crossed into traffic-filled Canada, armed with photos of my route on the iMaps application to limit my data needs on my phone. Though I extended some coverage to Canada, why take the chance?

Getting used to kilometers took a second, as the 'Toronto 130' sign threw me for a loop. WTF? That's two hours! Oh, wait... kilometers. Silly Canadians. It should be noted that I accepted kms by the end of the day and wondered why Americans didn't just stop being obnoxious and embraced what the rest of the world already has.

Traffic made me late for the Blue Jays - Angels game, but I parked and walked the downtown area for a bit. CN Tower. The Rogers Centre (yea... that 're' at the end of 'centre'? I don't get that either. Silly Canadians). Oh, and the people? Yea, I wasn't impressed. Canadians are NOT friendly in their native habitat. The nice ones? They were all AMERICANS. So, turns out Canadians are only polite when they travel to foreign countries. Yea, you read that here first.

On the flip side, the burning atmosphere at roughly 170 degrees Celsius (I'm not converting, but I'm pretty sure that's accurate) couldn't deny that the Blue Jays have a nice set-up. The roof was open and CN tower loomed over the field... a sickly, AstroTurf concoction that looked like Green Giant vomited on Canadian top soil. But, it was nice nonetheless.

I watched the game and ducked back on the Queen's Expressway to return to America. Traffic was grande (note the 'e' at the end). I crossed back at Niagara ("Wait, you drove up from Florida for a Blue Jays game?!" in an American accent this time...) and plunged into my bed at midnight.

It was a great day that saw me straddling two countries and sharing with our neighbors to the north. I understand my experience is somewhat unique in that it was scalding hot in Canada. But, that just means I need to get up there again. Vancouver next time, though. I hear good things...

But, Day 10... day 10 was to be a great one...
_

Twit on a Road Trip [Part 2 : Day 3 and 4]

My personalized bat

I've officially hit my stride on the road trip. Yesterday morning, I awoke in Nashville feeling much better, though the walls of the hotel were seriously thin. My goal once I hit the road was Louisville. I had visited the city once before but was looking forward to stopping at the Louisville Slugger Museum. They've really put together a nice exhibit there, but the big draw for me was the factory tour. It's not reinventing the wheel, but watching how accurately and quickly a bat can be carved out of a billet was impressive, as was learning how they tailor bats to individual players. Good stuff. I even picked up a personalized bat for my wall and a defect bat chosen specifically for my illustrious protagonist, Shawn Kidd. As a fan of baseball, tradition, and good craftsmanship, it was really a nice couple hours in downtown Louisville. I wish I could have stayed longer, but I had a long drive ahead of me.

Jumping back on the road and pointing the car north, I quickly crossed into Indiana. Honestly, I did feel a bit different crossing into the 'North.' The land and people's attitudes changed. I made a note to look up the Civil War history of the area - and Louisville in particular - since it seemed as if it would make for an interesting education given its proximity to the dividing line.

Harry's Chocolate Shop near Purdue

I made it up to Indianapolis, a city that I had never visited but hadn't heard anything that would make me want to, and cut northwest toward Lafayette. I had a specific reason for the rather strange detour, as the city serves as the opening scene for my novel, Number 181. The goal when I pulled off the interstate was to find an internet connection to reserve a hotel room and get a couple pictures. As I drove past Purdue, though, the city came within a sip of beer of convincing me to stay there for the night. I had a long drive the following day; though, and I didn't want to tack on another 2 hours.

But, I was able to grab a couple pictures that my readers might find interesting. The first, a shot of the door to Harry's Chocolate Shop, was a really nice view and just how I pictured it. The second one is a shot of Founder's Park where Bolu is killed.

I wanted to spend more time in the Purdue University area but jumped back in the car for a couple hours and crashed at a hotel in Bloomington, IL.

This morning, I woke up early and made it four hours down the road before reaching the first, real destination that I had put down on paper months ago: The farm used in the movie, Field of Dreams. It was... Un. Be. Lievable. I took about a hundred pictures of the field and farmhouse, and I spent an hour sitting on the very bleachers used in the movie and staring out at the field, corn husks pressing their way skyward in the outfield. The movie may be my favorite of all time, and I may be a huge Kevin Costner fan, but only true baseball fans can understand what I felt sitting there. It had very little to do with the movie. It was all about the history of the game and how its tradition brings us all together. All baseball fans are embodied in the film by James Earl Jones character, Terrance Mann... we are rough and distant, but we believe in the spirit of the game and what it means. Everyone that visits that field feels that way, and it was nice to be around people that shared my passions.

"Is this Heaven? No, it's Iowa."..... ..... Can't it be both?

The experience made the trip worthwhile, and I'm nowhere near the end of it. Still, I had a place to be for the night. I continued northward through small Iowa towns, and they made for a memorable drive. Corn stretched for miles, and little towns like Postville and Guttenberg marked islands in the green seas. Very cool experience. I made it to Minneapolis in time to get settled at my hotel and slip downtown to Target Field for some Twins-White Sox baseball. (Youkilis' first game in a White Sox uniform!)

Target Field is a great setup with plenty of parking, but its atmosphere leaves a lot to be desired. Food choices are slim, and there isn't much community around the stadium. It's all parking garages. And, worst of all, after Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the 7th inning stretch, they play that painful, "Red Solo Cup" song that makes me want to murder my ears. Inexcusable. But, I was able to watch former FSU QB recruit Joe Mauer play some baseball and cross one more stadium off my list. By my count, that leaves only 9 left, and that list will be halved by the end of the year.

Days 3 and 4 went well, and I expect the next three days to be interesting and slower paced as I make my way across the Great Lakes area to the northeast section of the country. MUCH more to come...

Five Books to Read: The Catcher was a Spy

After completing my own book (GetItHere), I thought it worthwhile to discuss books that shaped my mindset and style, those books that meant enough to me to warrant multiple readings and quiet reflection. One of those five books (all of which will be discussed in this blog but in no particular order) is detailed below...

Note:
The first post on Nothing Like it in the World by Stephen Ambrose can be found here.
The second on 127 Hours by Aron Ralston can be found here.
The third on Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer can be found here.

------------------------------------

As I put The Catcher was a Spy down, I was supremely irritated. The first half of Nicholas Dawidoff's biography of Moe Berg was superb. I related to the character of Berg and felt that I had an 'in a previous life'-type relationship with the man. Then, I reached the second half, and the enigmatic hero detailed in the first half becomes a sad, likely-delusional caricature of the man he once was. I was pissed.

But, I had to get over it. The story was true.

Moe Berg was born in the early 20th century to a Jewish family in New York City. He played an astounding fifteen seasons of major league baseball.. astounding in that he was a solid catcher that always seemed to find a team to play with while being a below-average hitter that seemed uninterested in bettering himself.

But, he's also the only guy with his baseball card framed and housed at CIA headquarters. He graduated from Princeton and Columbia Law School... and could have written his ticket with any of a dozen law firms. He chose to play baseball. He toured Japan, picking up the language immediately and sharing baseball with the locals... possibly single-handedly developing the sport there. He'd sit in the dugout for the White Sox, Indians, Senators, Red Sox (he played for several teams) and explain calculus to the other players. He'd talk on subjects so antithetic to baseball that he was deemed the Strangest Player in Baseball by manager Casey Stengel.

So, what does the strangest baseball player ever do when he retires from baseball? Well, he joins the OSS and spies in Italy, of course. This man that spent nearly two decades playing baseball was suddenly sharing physics discussions with Werner Heisenberg and Carl Friedrich von Weizsacker. Berg spent the early '40s with the preeminent scientists of his generation and could hold his own in conversations with them. He even had orders to eliminate some (those behind the Nazi curtain) if they were found to be making progress on The Bomb.

He was knee deep in the beginning of the Arms Race and the Cold War. I was fascinated by this guy. He was eccentric and random. He told jokes one minute and completely ignored people the next. He was me... but Jewish. Then, the war ended. The mystique and aura of danger that his friends and family knew was gone. He had played his spy status for drinks and a warm bed to sleep on many occasions, but now what could he do? He still gave every indication that he was a spy. his friends assuming he was still in the employ of the CIA (the OSS's successor), but he wasn't. He was long gone from the CIA rolls. Still, he carried the act for years, possibly so caught up in his own lies that even he believed them. For decades, not even his closest friends and family knew what to make of the man. In hindsight, the story is depressingly sad, but he was treated as an eccentric while he lived. Relationships with his family soured, but he didn't seem to care, remaining aloof and apathetic about everything other than getting back into the field... though, it was the espionage and not baseball variety that kept his attention.

If one only reads the second half of his life, Berg was one closed door away from living on the streets. He was good-natured and friendly, and it won him dinners and spare bedrooms throughout his life. People kept him around because he was interesting. They certainly began to suspect that many of the stories he told were hyperbole, but no one cared. He was funny, exciting, and full of entertainment. Still, I wonder if he was alive today instead of 70 years ago if he would have been committed before his 60th birthday.

For the first 40 years of his life as chronicled by Dawidoff, I felt a connection with Berg and his interests. I saw the place he was in his life and saw my life reflected in it. And, as he made his decisions, decisions others saw as unusual, I thought I had found a kindred spirit given that I would have made the same choices. But, then Berg did something I feel was out of character: He chose to make something define him.

For years,he did what he wanted regardless of convention or society's definitions. If he liked it, he did it. If he was told to stop or it was seen as unacceptable, he stopped. It wouldn't matter if it was something he wanted. He'd just go find something else. He had limitless energy and interests, jumping at new topics and endeavors wholly and entirely. So, why did he latch so strongly onto the spy game that he made it define him so long after he was out of it?

I grab interests like a kid in a candy store, but it makes it so that - if one were no longer open to me - I could simply replace it with another. To find that Berg, a man I find eerily similar to myself, found something that he wasn't able to accept losing... made me question if such an activity/career exists out there that would do the same to me. What if someone told me that I couldn't run again? Couldn't write? Couldn't play baseball? Couldn't ruck? Could I accept that and move on?

Hell yes, I could... so what the hell happened to Moe Berg? The guy had everything and nothing.. and he combined the two into a strange amalgam of mystery and sadness. Read The Catcher was a Spy if you are a fan of baseball, espionage, or clinical psychosis. How's THAT for a recommendation?

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Congrats to Clayton Kershaw

Those of you that are familiar with me are aware of my passion for baseball, having played for years throughout school and then 10 years of amateur ball. In fact, I have such strong feelings on the sport that I made my protagonist in Number 181, Shawn Kidd, a former college ballplayer.

Shawn, like me, is a big fan of the Los Angeles Dodgers, and Major League Baseball announced that Clayton Kershaw has won the 2011 NL Cy Young making for a bright spot in a long year. Here's to hoping Matt Kemp can bring the MVP trophy to Dodgertown next week, also.