#456 Go To A LLWS Game

So a few years ago, Becky and I were seeking out another adventure. We are diverse gals. We can pretty much find enjoyment and fun in just about anything, even things we don't necessarily follow or practice religiously. We live by the mantra that life is short but life is also an adventure. Every positive experience there is to have, should be had.

Adventure Girls! Fessminski! 

This particular adventure brought us to the Little League World Series and Williamsport, PA. In 2014, Mo'Ne Davis and her Philadelphia Little League team took the world by storm. The lovely Mo'Ne Davis' made history in 2014 by becoming the first female to pitch a shut out LLWS game. She was also the first ever Little League baseball player to make the cover of Sports Illustrated.

Mo'Ne Davis brought my attention back to the LLWS. What kept my attention was the unbelievable display of sportsmanship these kids exhibited. Every team playing in the series was so impressive in how they interacted not only with their coaches and teammates but with the coaches and players on the rival teams. They all gave props and cheers where due, even if it meant giving them to an opposing team.

In August of 2015, a phenomenal Pennsylvania Little League team from Redland, PA was taking Little League world by storm. Redland represented the Mid Atlantic part of the United States in the series. They were crushing their opponents left and right. The Pearland, Texas team, representing the Southwest, was also rocking their opponents so, a friendly rivalry between the two teams was developing.  Becks and I decided we needed to check this rivalry out in person.

We have arrived! 

So, off to Williamsport we went!

Turns out, admission to the Little League World Series is free. Yes, you more than likely will have to pay to park somewhere, but the parking really isn't very expensive. I think we paid $5.00 one day and $10.00 the day of the championship. Once we went through the required security check, we were free to roam around Howard J. Lamade Stadium and perhaps slide down the hills on cardboard boxes.

Yes, cardboard sledding is an actual thing and it is HUGE at the LLWS. Kids and even some adults, bring flattened cardboard into the stadium, trek up the really large, grass covered hill, and slide down the hill on the cardboard. It is quite the sight. Very amusing to say the least. The kids have such a blast doing it and I think that is pretty damn awesome.


I am not sure how or why the cardboard sledding tradition started but it is almost as major an event as the games themselves. Even the little league players partake in this cardboard tradition. And some grownups do too. Maybe I found some cardboard. Maybe I slid down the hill on the cardboard. Maybe my butt hurt afterwards. Maybe I only went part way up the hill and not all the way to the top. There are a lot of maybes going on here. Maybe I'll shut up.

Watching the game from the hill. And sledding with cardboard.

What isn't a maybe and is definitely a definite is that the energy in the stadium was electric. The 2015 LLWS playoff and championship broke records for attendance over the course of the two week run. That August, almost 500,000 people attended the two week event. Becky and myself attended twice. We attended the Redland Vs. Pearland game as well as the championship game between Redland and Japan.

The first Redland game we attended was on a Wednesday night. We stood near the giant flag pole to watch the game. The enormous American flag was flowing beautifully in the dark of night, illuminated by the stadium's bright, glowing lights. The crowd cheered wildly every time Redland scored a run. Naturally, many people in attendance were rooting for the Pennsylvania team to win but plenty of cheers also went to the kiddos representing Pearland, Texas and their outstanding coaches.

My first LLWS game. Total blast. 

Well, most of the people were cheering. Yes folks, there is always one in every crowd. There was a guy nearby whom was taking the game way too serious. Not only did he know more about coaching than the actual coaches in the game, he also knew more than anyone in the entire world about the sport of baseball.

I'm pretty sure he was the only one who believed this but maybe there is one other person out there that buys into him. The negative things this man sputtered towards the players and coaches were obnoxious, rude and uncalled for. These were kids, not major league ball players.

Yes, they were playing important games that were being televised around the world. Yes, this was the opportunity of a lifetime for all of the young players and their coaches. Yes, winning or losing a game was a huge deal but, that did not take away from the fact that these kids were only eleven and twelve years old and still developing their ball playing skills.

Eventually, the people around this man, myself and Becky including, began glaring at him with disgust. A few people even told him to knock it off. He didn't take it too well. He was just an all around a-hole. I was honestly waiting for a fight to break out. The people attending the game with the obnoxious man were also getting pissed at him, telling him to simmer down. Thankfully he sulked off after spewing a few more insults.

As for the game being played out of the field, it was a very exciting to see the top two teams representing the United States give their all for one heck of a ball game. These youths has so much talent. I remembered looking up at the scoreboard each time a kid came to bat thinking to myself, what MLB team will this child be playing for one day? Because, some of the Redland and Pearland players will definitely find themselves in the majors no doubt.

When the game came to an end, Redland walked away with the victory. A few days later, they would find themselves in the World Series championship game. Their opponent... an outstanding team from Japan. Of course, Becky and I attended that game as well. How could we not? This was too exciting for the state of Pennsylvania. We had to witness the championship game that Saturday.

The stadium was huge, the atmosphere, amazing and Old Glory was waving and welcoming all!

I decided to bring out my red white and blue, star spangled leggings to represent the USA for the big game. I looked silly, but also received quite a few compliments on them as well. I was representing the USA all the way! Becks and I were super psyched and ready for Redland vs Japan. However, we were not ready to get scorched in the 90 degree, very humid, super sunny weather that Saturday afternoon. It was a super hot in Williamsport, PA. It may have sucked a little.

Anyway, the game started out great for the USA. Redland scored 10 runs to Japan's 2, including a grand slam home run in the first inning. The crowd was completely wild. Becky and I were hooting and hollering and dumping bottles of water on ourselves. It was hot but the excitement was too immense to care.

Unfortunately, Japan was just getting warmed up.

Spying on the sportscasters. 

Japan answered back with seven runs in the second inning. They kept loading the bases and the runners kept crossing home plate. Redland was having great difficulty getting to three outs in that inning. Japan then took the lead in the third inning. The score was 13-11. The summer temperatures were almost as unbearable as the deflated energy that quickly crept across the stadium. There were still three more inning to play though. Anything could happen.

Becks was scanning the crowds and noticed the really cool coach with the dreadlocks from Pearland, Texas walking around. Becks suggested I go ask to take a a picture with him. So I did. Andrew Solomon is an outstanding coach and mentor for the boys he manages. He was also a really nice person. He obliged my request to take a photo with him. I wasn't the only one though. So many people approached him to shake hands and take pictures. He didn't refuse anyone although I am sure he really wanted to just watch the game. He was a celebrity in that stadium no doubt.

Championship Day! Had the pleasure of meeting Pearland, Texas manager Andrew Solomon. 

Ok, back to the game. The fourth and fifth innings proceeded to be scoreless. Neither team was able to do anything against their opponent. The heat had to be getting to them as well I thought. It was sweltering out. When the sixth inning rolled along, Japan managed to put up five more runs, sealing the fate of the championship. Sighs.

Dejected, the Redland team fought tears and sadness to congratulate Japan on a well earned victory. What was even more endearing was watching the kids from Japan consoling the Redland players after their heartbreaking loss. All of these kids were so special I thought. They were my heroes.

Becky and I discussed how impressed and proud we were of the sportsmanship, conduct and human spirit all of these kids displayed. We hoped that life would not change these kids at their cores. All of us know how tough and disappointing life can be at times. It can and does change us. But, if we can keep in our core, a faith in humanity and continue to nurture our childlike spirit while applying wisdom and experience, the good will always outweigh the bad, even if it seems the opposite.

Chrissy

#185 Attend The Belmont Stakes

It's all about the hat and the horses! 

The Triple Crown is a showcase of some of the most talented and phenomenal thoroughbreds in the world. These three races provide it's spectators with 2 minutes of sheer excitement and pulse pounding thrills. And for some, it also lends to paramount anxiety and perhaps a little spike in blood pressure depending on the stakes you have at risk.

It all starts the first Saturday in May at Churchill Downs in Louisville, Kentucky. The Kentucky Derby is the crown jewel of the Triple Crown no doubt, but there is much pomp and prestige that accompanies the other two jewels in the Triple Crown. 

From Kentucky, the race for the crown continues two weeks later at Pimlico Race Course in Baltimore, Maryland for the The Preakness Stakes. From there, three weeks later, the Triple Crown journey ends at Belmont Park outside of Queens in Elmont, NY for the Belmont Stakes. 

I plan to attend all three Triple Crown Races one day and complete a trilogy of Bucket List goals. And thanks to another wonderful opportunity provided by one of my nearest, dearest and kindred free spirits, Becky Brominski, and a lovely, free spirited friend named Crystal, last year I was able to check one of these races off the list. 

Last year not only was I able to attend the Belmont Stakes, but I was able to attend as a VIP. This was such a grand adventure indeed. Honestly, I had to pinch myself about 100 times because this couldn't possibly be real. I was going to attend a Triple Crown race live and in person! No way! Not me. 

Entering Belmont! 

First thing that came to mind was what would I wear? I had nothing to wear. Mostly I had nothing to wear because while I had a closet full of dresses, I got fat. LOL! I have been dealing with an autoimmune disease for a bit now that I am still not taking as serious as I should be. It has definitely affected my weight and energy levels but that is not the only reason. I love carbs, cheese and having a lot of slacker days too. But that is for another blog.

The hat and lipstick still fit so we are happy! 

Anyway, most of the dresses do fit, they are just a little or a lot snug and I like feeling comfortable, free spirited and breezy. I don't like feeling like a sausage stuffed in casing no matter what my weight.

Besides, none of my dresses really matched the fabulous hot pink hat I made. So, I opted for a white tank top, a nice black skirt, my suede Birkenstocks and some hot pink lipstick to match my hot pink hat.

It was all about the hat really. As it should be. The hat was the star of the show. 

Besides, my hat still fit perfectly. Donut consumption does not affect hat size so I was feeling pretty good about that. I also was happy to wear my fabulous bright pink Stila lipstick. I received it in one of my Ipsy bags. By the way, donut consumption does not affect lip size either. However, it can smudge the lipstick enough to make your mouth look like one of those blow up dolls. But, I am digressing. 

That Saturday morning, on June 10th, 2017, I handed over the keys for my Jeep to Becky, and she drove us through NYC to Belmont Park. ( Driving in NYC intimidates me. I never have and don't think I ever will. Becky however, drives NYC like a boss.) And while we didn't have to wait too long to get into the park, the signs for parking were a little confusing. Eventually with some help, we figured it out and took a shuttle bus to the park. 

Driving into Belmont Park

Belmont Park was grande and magnificent. I had only ever attended harness racing events on a much smaller scale so this Park was a feast for my eyes. Beautiful patches of flowers were scattered among the grounds while an assortment of very large trees provided cover from nature's elements. Tons of stunning green ivy climbed the walls of the racing arena while umbrella covered poles topped with flat screen TVs displayed races taking place around the country.

Green and white directional posts guided attendees to all the features the park had to offer. The paddock area had beautiful horses on display for all to admire while tables and benches were jammed with fellow race fans chilling and drinking beverages in between races. Large, white tents offering souvenirs and consumables dotted the lawns. You could even place bets in some of the tents. There was so much to see and take in. I was awestruck and dumbfounded.

The ivy crawling up the building was so beautiful.

All types of people love horse racing. A beautiful day for some races.

The paddock area. That tree though, so pretty.

I love signs and sign posts. 

I missed the duck pond. :(

Many, many of the attendees were dressed so fancy. Women wearing beautiful dresses, sparkly jewels and gorgeous hats mixed with men dressed in polos, khakis and linen suits. Some of the men were donning sauve hats as well. It smelled like champagne and Armani mixed with Miller Lite and man sweat. I was mesmerized by everything around me and the best was yet to come.

Once Becky and I located the girls, Crystal led us to where we were going to watch the race. We were walking along the ground level of the park, taking in more of the beautiful ladies and handsome men. As we made our way down the path, I noticed cute little fenced off patios right next to the track. I mentioned to Becky that they looked really nice.

Becky handed me a pass as a man opened a gate for the three of us. My eyes grew wide with excitement. Crystal led us to one of the patios next to the track. We were going to be watching the races on a patio. We were VIPs!!! I was literally beside myself. I became this animated, crazy little ball of energy and gratitude. This was beyond belief. This could not be true. I could not be this close to the track.

Smells like dollar bills yo!

But I was. I was so close to the track I could smell the dirt. I could see the dirt too. I was breathing in some of the dirt but I didn't care. I didn't mind breathing in a little Thoroughbred dust. It felt like money. Maybe it would bring me good luck. Maybe it would give me the shits. It didn't matter. I was a VIP at the Belmont Stakes!!!

The girls and I laughed and drank contraband vodka disguised in ice packs. We admired each other's hats and dresses. We snacked on Pringles and crackers. We discussed which horses we liked. The guys in our party were having a great time as well. It was a great time with awesome people.

Enjoying a lovely Saturday as VIPS with these beautiful ladies. 

I kept waking over to the fence separating us from the track to watch the horses parade and race around Belmont. It was so thrilling. To see and hear them up close was a phenomenal experience. The sound of their powerful hooves pounding the dirt gave me chills. There were so damn fast. The jockeys in their colorful uniforms led these stunning, shiny, gorgeous creatures around the track with such grace and professionalism. I hung on the fence, watching these races with such awe and admiration. I was so taken by everything that Becky had to remind me to place my bet for the Belmont Stakes.

I had three horses in mind for the race. I liked Irish War Cry, Tapwrit and Hollywood Handsome. Unfortunately Hollywood Handsome had scratched from the race so I had to scramble to find my third horse. I ended up choosing Senior Investment to round out the three. Becky and I went to the windows. Belmont had a gagillion betting windows so there really wasn't a long wait to place our wagers.

Some of the beautiful escort horses.

Prepping for another race at Belmont.

Stuffed horse heads. 

Once we got our tickets, we walked around exploring the
inside of the track and the outside grounds of the park. It was like one huge party. And while very crowded, it did not feel concert or football game crowded. It was strange. There weren't even long lines in the bathrooms. The only lengthy lines were the ones for the $10 beers and $8 bottles of water. Why must every event rip people off like that? Jerkheads.

Anyway, Becky and I headed back to our patio. I was standing by the fence yet again when a guy standing next to me looked at me and asked me in a cocky tone if I belonged in there. Not gonna lie, I can be the nicest, sweetest person in the world but I also located my bitch switch after 40 plus years and I can flip that baby on in .001 seconds. My demeanor immediately changed. I shoved my VIP pass in his face and said I absolutely belonged in there.

Right away my thoughts went on the defense. Yea, I don't look or smell like the Hamptons. I am wearing a homemade hat I that got at the Dollar General. My tank top was $2 at Wal-Mart. My skirt was $5 at K-Mart. My jeweled bracelets were a dollar a piece on the Wildwood boardwalk. I am wearing Bath and Body works body spray. I do my own hair. Can't afford to go to the hairdresser every month. And forget about getting my nails done. Can't afford that either.

But my sandals were $85 dollars, my Michael Kors purse was real and the make up on my face was top of the line. I do treat myself to some nicer things once in awhile. And, more importantly, my appreciation and love for live and every single blessing I have ever been given is priceless so F you buddy! I stood there glaring at him for a few moments before turning my attention back to the track. I wasn't pretending to be something I wasn't. I don't do personas and images. WYSIWYG. I was there to have a good time. Captain Judgmental Man could kiss my ass. I was livid.

Standing by the fence right next to the track. I do belong here and it was so amazing!

I guess he realized how rude he came off because he apologized to me in his cocky New Jersey accent. He explained that every year he and his friends paid a lot of dough to reserve a spot in one of the patios at Belmont. In the past, people who paid general admission would sneak into the patios, over crowding them. He stated that security has gotten better with forbidding access without a pass but sometimes people still push their way in.

He had noticed I wasn't there earlier in the day and thought I talked my way in. He pointed to one of the guards watching a gate whom had a bunch of girls in really short sundresses talking him up. He pointed to a bunch of drunk people giving another guard a hard time about not being allowed in the VIP area. I started to feel bad for thinking the things I thought.

I told the man I understood what he was saying. I would be pissed too if I paid a lot of money for something and other people ruined it. We both felt sorry for the security people just doing their jobs. That had to suck being harassed all day. The guy warned me to watch when the big race was about to begin. People were going to try to force their way in.

I kept his words in my mind. When it was almost time for the big race, I took my spot by the fence. I was not moving from that spot until the race was over. I watched as the escort horses walked the Stakes contenders around the track. I saw Tapwrit. I was really happy I chose him as one of my three. He was a beautiful horse. His tail looked as if it were dipped in grayish white paint. He was running from the #2 gate.

Irish War Cry and Senior Investment were #7 and #8 respectively. Again, both were stunning horses. I admired all of the horses as well as their silk clad jockeys donning a kaleidoscope of colors. After the parade it was time to move the horses into their racing stalls. I was too far down the track to really see this though. 

Tapwrit with Jockey Jose Ortiz- The Belmont Winner! 

Senior Investment with Jockey Dylan Davis

Irish War Cry with Jockey Rajiv Maragh

As soon as the last horse entered his stall the gates opened. It was crazy watching the race in person. On TV, the camera follows the horses around the entire track so you see everything. In person, the experience is a little different. Belmont in the largest of the three Triple Crown races. All of the tracks are huge but Belmont is the longest. There was a brief period of time where I could not see or hear the horses while the race was going on.

Eventually, one of the race spectators standing near me pointed across the field to show me where they were. Our eyes peered all the way across the track. It was surreal in a sense seeing these magnificent horses in the distance racing for position because you really couldn't hear them. As we followed them around the track, the cheers from the crowd grew louder and louder.

The energy was infectious. Watching them race towards us was so exciting. I noticed Tapwrit was in the lead. I remember screaming my lungs out. My heart was beating as fast as the race horses. Turns out, I have a New York accent when I scream. Who knew? And as soon as the horses were in front of us, they were already gone. It was so damned fast but so damned cool. I turned to Becky and informed her in a screaming voice that I won. She just laughed at me.

Thanks for the pizza and cupcakes Tapwrit! 

I also informed her that I was going to buy us NY Pizza with my winnings. And I did. NY pizza is so fantastic. Thank you Tapwrit for the free pizza. You are such a good horsey. We actually ate the pizza back at the hotel after eating other NY pizza in Crystal and Kristen's hotel room. We had a lot of NY pizza that night. It was a stupendous day for sure.

The only thing that made me sad that day was when we were leaving Belmont, the entire grounds were littered with trash. I mean tons and tons of trash. Water bottles, beer cans, food wrappers, programs and tickets were strewn all over the place. Pardon my french but people are freakin pigs. It was disgusting. There were hundreds of garbage cans everywhere. There was no excuse for that.



Humans really are the worst, most destructive animals on this planet.

Becks and I hopped in the Jeep after we found it. She was taking us to the Wyndham Gardens. We had pizza to eat. It was a fantastic night even though the hotel had no parking. They told Becky they had parking. They lied. More jerkheads. We ended up parking the Jeep eight blocks away in a residential neighborhood. I must say, it was a really cute neighborhood. I asked a local how much the little houses went for in that area. He told me the could go for anywhere between $700,000 to $1 million and upwards. Well ok. I will never be living here I thought with a laugh.

After we got settled, Becky and I hung with Crystal, Courtney, Kristen and company in the hotel for awhile. The laughs were plenty, the booze was flowing and the first round of pizza was 5 hours late. The delivery person must have gone to a few hotels before finding the right one. Not sure what happened there. The second round of pizza arrived in like 20 minutes which was a nice surprise.

The next morning Becky and I headed to the Jeep. We even got to walk across a bridge that spanned the Long Island Expressway. I had never walked over an expressway before. It was neat. And happily, the Jeep was exactly where we left it, untouched. I was so happy.

We stopped at a Japanese bakery for some treats then Becky took us for an awesome drive around the boroughs of NYC. Did I mention she is a boss driving around the city? Cuz, she is.

We visited the best family in Staten Island, the Rossos for a bit, stopped for some White Castle to bring back home and made our way back to NEPA. It was one of the most awesome and most unexpected weekends I have ever had. And it is those unexpected but amazing opportunities that makes life so much fun.

If you would have told me the week before that I would be hanging with one of my nearest and dearest at one of the Triple Crown races as a VIP, winning wagers, drinking vodka from an ice pack, shoving NY pizza down my throat and being the passenger in my own Jeep for an adventurous NYC weekend I honestly would have said.......... I could see that happening. Why? Because gals like us Carpe Diem like the queens we are!

Belmont Park

Iris Tea and Bakery

Romeo's Pizza

White Castle

Hot Pink And Tapwrit + Winning!!

Chrissy

#7 Do A Couple of Laps Around A Race Track at Full Speed

When I turned 30, as a present, I got to do something pretty adventurous to ring in the new decade of my life. That present was the Stock Car Experience. I was going to have an opportunity to experience what it felt like for a NASCAR driver to race around the track at Pocono International Raceway. At the time, I was still a huge NASCAR fan and was so ecstatic to have a chance to ride in a real stock car. The raceway, located in Long Pond, Pennsylvania, was only about 30 miles from my house so we didn't have to go very far either.

How freakin' cool was turning 30 going to be for me? Way cool, that's how cool it was.

Used to be a huge Mayfield fan! Everham Racing. 

Before I get to my experience though, here is a little rundown of the Pocono track. Pocono Raceway is 2.5 mile superspeedway with the unique characteristic of having 3 turns rather than the typical 4 turns at most speedways. It has also been called a road course disguised as a racetrack by many racers who have graced the asphalt at Pocono. This is contributed to the difficult degrees of banking on each of the different turns as well as the amount of shifting needed to drive the speedway. In other words, It's not the easiest raceway to drive.

Pocono Raceway has a reputation in the racing world as either being loved or hated among racers. Most believe the love/hate relationship with racers is attributed to each individual racer's style, course experiences and preferences. None of that mattered to me though since I would not be driving the track. ( I have driven on part of the track before but, it was with my Pontiac 6000 and I was finishing the overnight shift of guarding Gasoline Alley during race weekend. That's for another blog though.)

Back to this experience, I was not going to be driving so you can all breath a sigh of relief. And, after having this experience, I know there is no way in hell I could ever drive a race car. I am well aware of my limitations but, I'll get to that later. For this experience, a professional race car driver was going to take me for 3 laps around the raceway at speeds of up to 175mph. Holy fast car batman. Maybe I should wear a diaper for this experience. ( I did not. I was able to control myself. It was all good.)

I was a little nervous about my ride but
super excited as well.
This was what living life was all about! 

Before showing up at the track for my ride, I had to register a date and time for my stock car experience. I chose the first Saturday in October 2003 for my experience. I also had to give my weight and height (for safety reasons.). FML!

I always hated giving my weight and was not above lying about it my entire life but, in this instance, I couldn't lie about it since it was for safety purposes. Didn't want to risk a possible injury over my reluctance to reveal my true weight to complete strangers. I sucked it up and wrote my weight down. It was a very painful experience.

When that Saturday rolled around, the weather was typical for an autumn day in the Poconos. The air was chilly and breezy. The sky was gray but thankfully, it was not raining. We arrived at Pocono for my 10:30 am car ride a little early. We were lead to pit row where I was assigned to race car #6. Mark Martin immediately popped in my head. I liked him. He was a great driver and a cool guy. I was totally down to ride in #6.

The staff fitted me for a helmet, explained the rules and had me sign a waiver. They pointed out that my driver was taking another person for a ride, then he would be over to pick me up. I clutched onto my helmet nervously as I watched the race cars pull in and out of pit road.

There were quite a few people here. I wasn't expecting that. It wasn't a bad thing, just unexpected. Several race cars were racing around the track while some driving school students were getting lessons on Pit Road. The sounds of the revved up engines circling the track was music to my ears. I always loved that sound. Fast and loud! Rev it up!

The Dork is strong in this one. 
Me not knowing what the hell I was doing.

The #6 car pulled into Pit Row. My guide came over and walked me to the car. He informed me that he would help me get into the car. I looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. Of course a bell rang in my head when it dawned on me that there would be a strong chance I would need assistance getting into the car. Stock cars don't have doors genius, I reminded myself. You have to climb into them via the window. These short legs were going to struggle doing that. Of course, I wanted to try and do it without assistance first.

The net on the passenger side of the car was unhooked for me. My first error was trying to climb into the car while wearing my helmet. The guide strongly urged me to not wear the helmet until I got into the car. My second error was throwing the helmet onto the seat before entering the car. Yea, it was tight in there. That was not going to work either. Thankfully my driver not only had experience in racing cars but also had experience in dealing with complete morons. He grabbed my helmet off the seat so I could climb in.

3 hours later.......I am in the car. God Bless America!

My driver also got to witness the train wreck of me climbing into the race car. While I did not kick him or anything, it certainly was by no means a graceful or smooth entry into the passenger seat. There was a well defined struggle trying to hoist both my legs into the car without falling awkwardly half in and half out of the car.

The guide was walking back over to assist me, probably because he wanted to save me the one ounce of dignity I had left, but somehow I managed to get in without pulling all the muscles in my body. I only pulled about half of them. Fortunately the excitement and adrenaline pulsing through my veins masked the pain but trust me, I would feel it later. ( I swear I should have bought stock in Motrin with the way I injure myself.)

Once I was in my seat, I noticed immediately that it was super tight in there. The seat was molded almost completely to my body. After I put my helmet on and rested my head against the seat, which was cradled by a neck support, my guide buckled me in. My mobility was pretty much non existent as of that moment.

Naturally my thoughts went to the race car drivers. How the heck do they drive these cars at high rates of speed while being glued into their chair?  How do they maneuver? How the heck does Jimmy Spencer or someone super tall like Bill Elliot even fit into these cars? They obviously had crazy mad skills.

My driver asked me if I was ready to go. I gave him the thumbs up. He asked me how fast I wanted to go. I told him as fast as he was allowed to drive. Slowly, he began taking off down the straightaway towards turn one. Then he revved the engine, shifted gears and stepped on the gas. The sound of the engine from inside the car gave me chills.

And we are off.......

The rest of the ride was just insane. The car was shaking, the view out the windshield was blurry and the grin on my face was so big it hurt. The driver yelled out the speeds as we hit turns and straightaways. Shakily, I would occasionally glance at the speedometer. I saw it hit 175. Madone! This was crazy.

I started laughing insanely with complete joy and amusement. In the back of my mind I was also wondering how the hell the race car drivers were able to drive at these speeds and make the maneuvers and passes that they did. Being a spotter in NASCAR must have so much pressure attached to it. They are literally the eyes of the race car drivers, telling them when to pass, where to move on the track and what cars to avoid. A huge wave of respect and admiration for these drivers and their crews washed over me. This was a dangerous sport indeed.

But, I can also see how it could be so addicting for a driver. The rush was wicked. I also realized that there was no way I could ever safely drive a car at this speed. Even with training, I would never trust myself. And with anything, there are different types of fears. Some of those fears are rooted more in anxiety while some of those fears are rooted more in capability and the trust you have in yourself. If you are honestly afraid you are not capable of safely accomplishing something, don't do it.

I'm all for living on the edge, trying new things and having outrageous adventures, but I also want to survive them. Some people have a natural affinity or natural skills for certain things, some people acquire them from years of practice and some people are just not meant for certain things. I am not saying this in a negative way, I am just saying there are so many things out there to experience and try. Know your capabilities but also know your limitations.

That's me in the car going 50 million miles per hour.

But enough lecturing. I may not trust myself to drive an actual race car at a high rate of speed but I still got to experience a race car at a high rate of speed. See? It's all about perspective. And to this day, the stock car experience is still one of the coolest, most exciting things I have ever had the opportunity to experience. It was a total blast and I would highly recommend it to anyone who is looking for a safe but adventurous adrenaline rush.

One other thing, I think the price was well worth the experience.

Gentlemen, start your engines!!!! Let's go!!

The Stock Car Racing Experience @ Pocono Raceway

Chrissy

#454 Play In A Tournament

So, just like the golf tournament I wrote about previously, my place of employment was also having a softball tournament. Of course I signed up. I signed up to cheer for the team. LOL! However, so many people from my facility signed up to play softball that there were enough peeps to have several teams. The catch was, we all had to play.  My anxiety started hovering around Level 2. I never played softball before in my life.

Wiffle ball, yes. Kick ball, yes. Softball, no.

I can look the part.....but that is about it. 

My sister was the all star softball player growing up. My brother was the all star baseball player growing up. My dad was a little league coach. Me, I won the first grade spelling bee. I was the nerd in the family.

Alicia and Billy got cleats. I got awards for essays.
Alicia and Billy got gloves. I got invited to take the SATs when I was 12.
Alicia's and Billy's teams went to baseball and softball playoffs. I kept the score logs for the junior high girls' basketball team.
Alicia and Billy played in district softball and baseball tournaments. I cheered for the junior high wrestlers in tournaments.
Alicia and Billy saw their name in the newspaper for athletic achievements. I placed 2nd and 3rd in the state for articles/stories I wrote for my award winning junior high newspaper.
Alicia and Billy got trophies. I got the Presidential Academic Achievement Award.

Junior High Days

I could dance. I could cheer. I could twirl a flag. I could run. That takes some athleticism. Actually, that takes a lot of athleticism. I just never played an actual "sport". As a kid, sometimes the boys in the hood would let me play wiffle ball in the street with them. I wasn't great at it but it was fun.

Maybe some of that would come back to me. I mean, I couldn't be any worse at softball than I was at golf. Could I? (Thankfully no.) I still sucked at softball, not gonna lie. I just didn't suck on the epic level that I did with golf.

I did put in a request to be on the non competitive team, if there was one, because I didn't want to hold anyone back. I also didn't want my teammates to be mad at me because I was not very good.

Turns out, most of my peeps at USCS are damned good at softball so there was no "non competitive" team. But, the team I was placed on was absolutely awesome. They were all cool, supportive, and way fun. My anxiety was gone as soon as we started our first game of the tourney. But, I will get back to that shortly. Let's talk some more about my brother and sister.

I told my sister I signed up to play softball because the golf tournament was a lot of fun and even more peeps were going to the softball tourney. I also confided in her that I was a little nervous and scared. She was very excited for me. She gave me tips and pointers. She dug out her gloves and insisted I wear her cleats because it was safer for me. She told me to have fun and not be scared. My sister was awesome, supportive and wonderful.

My brother on the other hand, well, it went down like this.

My brother explaining softball to me.

Me: Visiting my parents and mentioning to them that I was playing softball next week.
My Brother (overhearing the conversation): " Please tell me you didn't join the work softball team. Please god tell me you didn't do that."
Me: "It's just a tournament. Kind of like the golf outing. It's not like we are playing a regular schedule."
My Brother: "Why Chrissy? Why do you keep hurting these people like this? I feel bad for them."
Bill Sr. laughing.
Me: "I don't think I will be as bad at softball as I was at golf."
My Brother: "I think you will be."
Me: "No BILL. I won't be as bad."
My Brother smirking: "Yea, okay."
Me: "Zip it!"
My Brother: "Chrissy, can you even swing a real baseball bat?"
Me: "I don't know. We can find out. Get me one and I'll swing it at you!"
My Brother: "I would knock you out before you even had a chance to swing that bat."
Me: "Whatever Bill."

Billy then spent the next 30 minutes telling my dad and I stories about how much fun he had on his softball teams. I wanted to have that fun too! I told him so.
My Brother: "Yea, okay. It is fun. You will have fun. Just don't get cracked in the face by a line drive or anything."
Me (wincing because knowing my luck, that will happen.) " I'll duck or fall to the ground or something." 

A few minutes later my brother returns with one of his gloves. I didn't even ask him for one. He was being nice to me. Wow! He told me to use that glove to play. He also told me to catch the ball with the glove and not with my head. His finals words to me......

My Brother: "If you ruin or lose my glove, I will find you. I will hunt you down and you will pay."

My brother explaining the rules of his glove.

Talks of hunting partings and pending death soon subsided as Saturday, September 17th fast approached. The tournament was slated to start at 10 am. Schultzie and I headed down to Allentown to meet up with our other work peeps. I bought two cans of Vanilla Bean Monster drinks hoping they would keep me energized. I never had them before. I was hoping they would work. I drank one on the way down. My right eye started twitching and I had the steering wheel in a death grip to prevent me from waving my hands in the air like I just don't care. Yep, they work.

I also brought the vodka mini bar with me but I was by no means planning on getting blasted like I did at golf.

Number #1: I drove this time.
Number #2: The vodka was mostly for pain management.

I remembered to bring ibuprofen as well. I have never played in a tournament like this before so I had no clue how long we would be here or how many games we would play. I was afraid I would get excruciating pains like I did with golf. I was terrified actually. I still cringe thinking of the pain in my lower arms and wrists the day after golfing.

We arrived to the park. Ed greeted Cindy and me. He suggested I move my car all the way down the road by his car since I parked right next to two of the softball fields. Good thinking! I do have a warranty on my car as well as full coverage but why even put myself through the possible hassle of a smashed windshield or window right due to a fly ball? I totally moved my car. Then Cindy and I walked the five miles back to the field and set up our chairs.

I noticed a few of my peeps were tossing softballs around, practicing. I figured now was as good a time as any to showcase my shitty ball throwing skills to my potential teammates. I picked up a ball.  It was smaller, like a regular baseball. I thought were were playing with big softballs. Guess not. I started playing catch with Joe, Jeannine, Mare, Artie and Cindy.

I definitely could not throw very far but surprisingly, I also wasn't horrible. My aim was pretty good too. I was able to catch a lot of the balls thrown at me so that was an added bonus. I was already doing way better than golf and the games didn't even start yet. My anxiety was slowly decreasing.

Larry arrived with all the gear and apparel. We were given really nice burgundy and white baseball shirts to wear. They said "Hazleton" because, that is where we are from. Hazy in the house yo! Better watch yourself! I got to pick the color of the hats for my team. I picked white hats so we could all be white hats for the day. (It's a work thing.)

As more people arrived and game time approached, I decided to have one of the mini bottles of vodka. I gave one to my gorgeous girl Alicia, whom I was incredibly happy to see. I missed her face at work. It was so awesome to spend time with her. I also gave a bottle to another beauty, my co-worker Steph.

It was now tee time. Just kidding. It was time for the first pitches of the tournament. We were split up into our respective teams. Our facility had three teams playing in the tourney. My team was going to play on the field at the far end of the complex. We were playing against the Quakertown facility.

We packed up our drinks and made our way to the field. It was kind of warm already. Not 90+ degree, threshold of hell warm like the golf outing but it felt like it was going to be in the high 70's, low 80's. I was eyeballing the free beverage table to make sure there was enough beverages to quench my constant thirst. There was thank goodness.

I need my beverages!

As we arrived at the field, I told my fellow teammates that if there were too many people and not enough positions, I would be okay sitting out since I was not that good. My teammate Kelvin said no way. I was a member of this team and they wanted me to play.

I was going to be the catcher. I felt so happy. I was so honored. I was going to be Gary Carter for my team. I was gonna make them so proud in three...two....one....
Wait for it.....
Wait for it.....
Now!
Anxiety level 70000. Oh my god! I was going to be Gary Carter for my team? There had to be a mistake.

Gary Carter is a legend. Gary Carter was really, really, realllllly good at baseball. I can't be Gary Carter. I'm nowhere even remotely on the level with Gary Carter. Gary Carter had extensive baseball knowledge, athleticism and talent. I personally saw his plaque hanging in the Baseball HOF. It was on the wall. I took a freakin picture of it! I gazed at that plaque in awe and amazement. I mean it was Gary Carter, all star catcher for the 1986 World Champion Mets!

I didn't even know what a softball was supposed to look like. I was walking around earlier in the morning with my brother's baseball glove on the wrong hand for Christ's sake. I was a speck of dust on Gary Carter's cleats. As a matter of fact, I should not even be using my name and Gary Carter's name in the same sentence. It was sacrilegious. WTF is wrong with me?

Ed's typical reaction to me.

Panicked, I run over to Cindy and Ed. I announce that I am going to be the catcher and I have no clue how to be a catcher. I did not even have a catcher's glove. This was bad. This was epic failure. We were so much going to lose because of me!

Laughing, they both reassured me that catching in a softball tourney is not the same as catching in a major league baseball game. But Gary Carter had to catch all those foul balls and he got knocked over a lot guarding home plate. What if someone has to throw a ball to home plate?


Ed laughed and said to stay out of the way of the pitcher. I looked at him like he had two heads. I do that a lot. I ask him why? He said the pitcher will run to home plate and catch the ball. Okay but what if the pitcher catches the batter's ball but there is a runner at third base coming to home plate and the pitcher has to throw the ball to me?

Ed's reply was that I should try to catch the ball. I think the color left my face because he stated that there were enough basemen around to help me catch balls at home plate. If I see them coming, stay out of their way and let them do their thing. He was right. I needed to calm down. I always do this stuff to myself. If the pitcher throws the ball and I miss it, the Earth will still rotate around the sun and we will all live to see another day.

Chill the F@CK out Chrissy!

Freakin' awesome. Still get the chills!

What a great pitcher catcher combo back in the day.

Sighs. I liked the bad boys at an early age I guess. 
Dykstra, Dr, K and Strawberry.

We took our positions. I crouched down behind home plate like Gary Carter used to when he played for the World Champion New York Mets. We won't get into his Montreal Expos stint. I'm definitely going to achieve a personal best for squats today I thought. I was kind of excited for that.

As for the rules of home plate, if the ball touches home plate at all it is an automatic strike. Each batter also starts with one strike already against them. I guess it helps move the tournament along faster.

Our opponents strike out pretty fast. Yep. The rules definitely helped move things along pretty fast. It was our turn to bat but the other team did not have enough gloves. Someone on my team picked up my brother's glove and was going to hand it to one of our opponents. I had a mini heart attack.

You see, my brother was really, really being nice to me because he gave me his best, most favorite glove to use. That is why he threatened to end my life if it got lost or ruined. His name was not on the glove and I did not study the glove enough to recognize it. I could not lose this glove. I did not want to die.

I retrieve the glove and place it by my purse. I turned my head for a moment and someone else picked up my brother's glove and handed it to someone. Oh my god! Please don't do this to me people! I really want to share but the consequences could be fatal for me. I have two kids in college that need their mother.

What my brother will do if I lose his glove.

I walked over to the guy who had been handed my brother's glove. He had really long, perfect dreads. I called him Troy Polamalu. Troy did not wear his hair in dreads, I know this, but this guy was very soft spoken like Troy, and had long black hair like Troy. He was also wearing black and yellow socks. The guy took the nickname as a compliment.

I explained the whole brother situation to him. I told him that he was the only one allowed to use the glove and that he must give it right back to me after each inning because I wanted to live. He laughed and said it was a deal. He promised to take good care of the glove. And he did!

I sat on the bleachers watching my teammates at bat. Holy shit they were good. Kelvin, Rafael, Alex, Clay, Robert, Alex #2, and even Ed, were all knocking them way into the outfield. These guys were good. These guys were real good. The boys definitely came to play today.

Ed asking me why I was swinging at every ball.

When it came my turn to bat, I did not knock any balls into the outfield like my team mates did. But, I thrashed the hell out of the air not once but twice. For a moment there I thought I experienced zero gravity. Not really, I just struck out. It's okay. I was just warming up.

The second inning went pretty fast too. I also tried to catch my first foul ball. Actually Ed saw the ball fly in the air. I thought it went into the outfield. (The sun was in my eyes.)

All I heard was Ed yell, "FESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! Get the ball!!!!!"

I start looking up into the sky, shoulders hunched up around my neck for fear of getting knocked in the head by the foul ball and proving my brother right.

As I was twirling around looking into the blinding sun above me for this damn ball, the umpire taps me on the shoulder. I spin around too quickly, almost tripping myself up and falling on my ass. I'm still all hunched up, paranoid that the ball is going to fall out of the sky and crack me in the head.

The umpire smiles and hands me the ball. I give him a confused look. How did he get the ball I wondered? Turns out it fell to the ground behind me like five minutes ago. I smiled and thanked him for doing my job for me. He got a good laugh out of it. So did I. Making an ass out of myself isn't just a natural talent for me, it's a bona fide gift. I embraced and accepted it a long time ago.

By the fourth inning of the game, it has become a slaughter. We are killing the other team. The score was like 12-3. I finally hit my first ball. It was a line drive but there wasn't much speed on it. I was actually shocked I hit it to be honest. It took me a moment to get my feet moving but when they started, I flew to first base. I was tagged out unfortunately. As we walked back to get our gloves to take the field again, a few of my teammates came over and commended me on my hustle. I was pretty fast for a little one.

I don't mean to brag but I did finish second in the 50 yard dash and third in the 100 yard dash in the fifth and sixth grade on track and field day. I got cute little red and white ribbons. In my sophomore year, my gym teacher recommended I join the track team but I worked full time. Plus, the girls on the high school track team were amazing. They were always making it to districts. I was fast but they were bionic. And forget long distance running. I had zero endurance. LOL.

In the fifth inning I realized that I was the only catcher that was crouching. The opponents' catcher was just standing behind the plate. I looked down to the other field. That catcher was also standing behind the plate. Perhaps I was taking this catcher thing too serious? I don't know. I decided to just own it for the rest of this game. Next game I wouldn't crouch as much. Maybe I would though. I was getting some serious leg work in. Hell, I was getting a total body workout. As I was pondering those thoughts, I got hit in the face with the ball.

Yep!

Seriously?? Did that just happen for real? No one else seemed to notice because I was able to get my hand up to the ball before it smacked my face too hard. I think Ed saw it but that was it. It still hurt way worse than the crotch ball I took in the second inning. People did notice that hit. I blushed and laughed that one off.

Anyway, I could feel my lip starting to throb and sting. I could hear my brother laughing in my head. My nose wasn't bleeding thank god but it hurt. This was all Billy's fault. He jinxed me. I shook it off but I also felt a very deep resentment towards my brother. Jerk!

On to the sixth. It was in the sixth inning that I had my one big play of the day. By now I was warmed up. I was laughing, screaming and having fun. We all were. Our opponents were awesome and hilarious. Ed was hanging from the fence managing the team like Davey Johnson. Schultzie and I both told him managing was in his blood. He couldn't help it. I still wasn't so hot at catching the ball but I was great at scrambling to pick them up off the ground.

The last batter of the game was at the plate. He smacked a foul ball into the air. I was able to keep my eye on it. My gloved hand was stretched as far as it could reach. As the ball was falling from the sky, I realized it was going to land right on my head.

"Don't stand directly under it dork!" I scolded myself. I backed up slightly. I have got to catch at least one foul ball today or I totally failed as a catcher I tell myself. Why I decided to reach up and catch the ball with my bare hand was beyond me but it did it. I regretted it immediately. It freakin' hurt!

I caught a ball!!

I heard Ed screaming in the background that I just caught that ball with my bare hand. I had a death grip on the ball, mostly because my hand really hurt. The shock was still reverberating down my fingers and into my arm. I did not want to drop the ball either. My teammates congratulated me as I stood frozen in shock behind home plate, the ball still in a death grip. I was completely dumbfounded because I actually caught a ball. It was great! I could not wait to tell my other peeps what happened. See, I'm not so bad at this.

Just kidding. Yes I am.

We walked back down to the main field. There wasn't much down time though. We were slated to play one of our own teams next on the main field. Mare pitched for this Hazleton team. She was too cute standing up on the mound too. I was cheering for her but since we were supposed to be bitter rivals I informed her that I could not cheer for her too much. We both laughed. I still cheered for her though. How could I not cheer for my girl. She did awesome but our team ended up winning that game too.

This game went on a little longer because both teams were good. There were a lot of runs scored on both sides. I was starting to feel some fatigue. Thankfully, we were able to sit for a few minutes after this game while the other two games finished. The third Hazleton team made their way back to the main field. They had won too. We were playing them next.

Wow! We are playing a lot of games. I had a feeling we were going to lose this one. I asked Cindy if she was good staying to watch all the games, even if we were eliminated. She said absolutely. She wanted to stay and watch too. At this time, I had no clue it was a double elimination tournament. I thought it was one and done.

Awesome players and team mates.

Our third game was slated to play on the field where we played our first game. We all walked back down. I brought two cans of diet coke with me. I'm glad I did because a stupid yellow jacket flew into my first open can. He wasn't coming back out either. I covered the can with a tissue and tossed it in the trash. I made sure to cover my second opened can with something so none of the flying bastards could ruin another refreshment on me. It was midday and the sun was hot. I needed my beverages.

Cindy had twisted her knee a little in the previous game so I agreed to be a pinch runner for her. She was good to play and bat, but didn't want to make her knee worse with running. I was excited for the opportunity. I couldn't hit a ball to save my life but Cindy could. I had a good shot of making it to a base with her batting. Teamwork people! It's a beautiful thing. I actually got to run a few times in this game. I only made it safe to first once but once is better than never right?

Hazleton representing.

As expected, our team got our asses handed to us. This Hazleton team was just too good. I'm not gonna lie, I was actually a little relieved we lost. I was losing steam fast. Cindy and I walked back to our chairs. They were cooking hamburgers and hot dogs on a grill. I wasn't hungry yet though. I just wanted to sit. A couple of peeps sat with us. A couple of peeps went across the street to watch the game taking place on the third field.

I walked over for a few minutes to see what teams were playing over there. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Mare's team was playing. Hmmmmm. It dawned on me this was a double elimination tourney. I was not done playing softball. I was okay with that. I was getting one hell of a workout. I figured if I played in one softball tournament a week, not only would I be a skinny bitch but I would also be able to eat and drink anything I wanted. I began wondering if there were any softball leagues in my town for shitty players. Probably not huh?

Now this I excel at! Napping!

Unfortunately, we sat in those chairs for almost two hours until we played again. It was beautiful and breezy. We were all chatting and having some laughs. But, my muscles had tensed up. I was starting to feel sore.

Earlier in the day I was getting exhausted, but my body was so warmed up from being active that there really wasn't any soreness. There was now though. I did not want to move at all. Mare's team had to be spent. They played like 5 or 6 games in a row. I got even more exhausted thinking about that.

I had hoped it would be Mare's team that would we would be playing but unfortunately it was not. I watched what happened in Mare's final game and my team was about to face it next. I can't really get into it too much but let's just say we were not thrilled to be playing this team. I took my place behind home plate. Didn't realize we were allowed to play with Sammy Sosa specials in this game. I mean, it was just a softball tournament right?

There was a lot of crying going on. LMAO!

It's not like the MLB Commissioner's trophy was being awarded to the tournament winner. Sure there was some facility pride on the line but this was supposed to be a fun outing. And up until that very game, I had fun in every single game I played against each and every team I played. We laughed. We threw some playful smack talk around. We cheered when someone did something awesome at bat or on the field regardless of what team they were on.

This team on the field before us was not only a complete buzzkill but they were making everyone's blood boil. The cheating, name calling and rule changes were unbelievable. I was so happy when the game was finally over. I could care less that our team lost. There were a few decent guys on the team that came over to shake hands but the rest of them were calling us names and yelling and screaming.

Our undefeated Hazleton team had to play these guys next. This is where I am going to stop talking about the games. Let's just say, it turned into a total shitshow.

My sister's cleats!

As for the next day, I was stiff, sore and walking funny, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. There were no excruciating pains like I had with golf. It was funny because Monday at work, we were all still walking all stiff and funny. Tuesday at work, we were all still walking stiff and funny. I was not alone in my soreness. It took me almost a week to recover but like I said, it wasn't even a bad pain. It was like a really good workout kind of discomfort.

In closing, I really enjoyed playing softball. I wore my sister's cleats and used my brother's glove. I got to experience part of what their childhood was like. I did it at the age of 43 but it was still awesome and special to me nonetheless.

And despite the shit show that became the second half of the tournament, I would still play in it again. What I am really hoping is that we have a Hazleton only softball tournament. I think even more people would come because it would be local. But, I would still go to the one in Allentown again. I know what to expect now. We all did. I won't let anyone ruin my fun. And boy did I have fun!


"Crying? There is no crying in baseball.....or softball!"

 Chrissy