I went to my first away game yesterday. Well, sort of away. The A’s played the Giants at PacBell SBC AT&T Park, which is technically closer to my apartment than going all the way to Oakland. Before the game, they held the wives’ (and Bobby Crosby’s significant other) softball game, and while the women ran around thebases, the players sat on the sidelines and cheered them on. You can
see some of the pictures I took here, or check out the sidebar. I made a few Giant Cookies (Eat those Giants!), along with some chocolate mint brownies with coconut and chocolate chips. Chad Gaudin’s eyes lit up when I handed them to him, which proves that yes, the way to a man’s heart is still through his stomach. Now let’s hope he shared with the rest of the team. (And if only we’d won!)

Susan Slusser wrote a piece for today’s San Francisco Chronicle about how the A’s learn to balance nightime activities with they "day job." My favorite part of the piece? That Bobby Crosby drinks cocktails!

Today we went with some friends to the A’s game vs. the Mariners. As it was semi-spur-of-the-moment, I had made last minute bullpen nibbles: O O O Treats. Basically, Rice Krispie Treats but with Honey Nut Cheerios instead of Rice Krispies. Yum. We got to the game, and our friends refused to sit behind the bullpen. What?!?! you might ask. Yeah. Exactly. They’d sit in the $20 seats in the 2nd deck, but wouldn’t shell out $10 more for amazing bullpen seats. After secretly pouting and realizing that I wouldn’t be able to see Huston’s chiseled self up close and personal, I trudged with them to section 228. To be honest, the view wasn’t too bad, but it was nothing like 128. Nothing.

Exhibits A, B, C, and D (From section 128, June 4th):

Pitcher Warm-ups

Kirk Saarloos, Joe Blanton, and Barry Zito taking a little pitching practice.

Rich Harden warming up for his return (to the mound and then the DL).

Bend. And stretch. And Bend.

Now, Exhibits E, F, and G (From section 228, June 14th):

Just not as much fun. Really. So back to the story.

There I was, sitting in my seat in the 9th row of 228, and I had a huge tuperware of O O O Treats. By the 7th inning, the guys next to me were salivating, but I wasn’t going to be denied. No, I slaved away for 15 whole minutes, mixing melted butter, marshmallows, and Cheerios. These baked goodies deserved to see their day in the limelight. Or a pitcher’s stomach.

I trudged down to 128/129, got past the first few guards, and there I was, steps away from Chad Gaudin and Joe Kennedy. But no. The guard decides to question me. What’s my birthdate? Where did I live in 1998? Can I walk a straight line? Recite the first 5 prime numbers. Backwards. How many pitchers are on the DL due to mystery cookies and such?

He sends me to another guard who has to give me approval. Well, then that guard convenes with another, and there’s a pow wow. Could these gooey snacks be the downfall of the bullpen? So then I’m sent to Guest Services at 120, where I need to gain approval before I can even contemplate returning to the bullpen for another go-around. Where is Stanley, oh skinny yet friendly guard with much facial hair, when I need him? Sigh. I marched back up the stairs and to 120, where a very nice man said he’d make sure my desserts got to the locker room. Which is right down this hallway. Really? This hallway, right here, behind you? Hmmm. So now I have visions of the A’s eating O O O Treats. In their towels. Maybe sitting in 228 isn’t so bad afterall.

Earlier this week, someone gave me the idea to make Twinkies for the bullpen, as that’s one of the nicknames for the Minnesota Twins. I thought this was a great idea: I could take a vanilla cupcake recipe and expand upon it. Except for one major problem. There are no Twinkies molds in San Francisco. You can find pretty much anything else in this lovely city, but after several days of unsuccessful searching and pleading (and I think I’m now on the do-not-answer lists of Crate & Barrel and Sur La Table), I discovered that nobody carries canoe cake molds or the official Twinkies do-it-yourself-set. I could have made Twinkies in the shape of corn (with nicely molded kernels), but it just wouldn’t have been the same.

Finally, as time began running out, I decided on Low-fat Coconut Macaroons. Simple. 4 ingredients. Low maintenance. Perfect. Or so I thought. Note to self, Egg Beater egg whites don’t peak. They are not recommended for angel food or meringues. Or macaroons. All you get is sloppy mush. In round two, with real eggs, they peaked. All soft and nice. Added the sugar in slowly, doing a little dance at the same time… And I lost my peaks. All of them. So it became egg/sugar/vanilla mush. But with only so many eggs left and my patience quickly waning, I decided to see what happened if I used it. So in went the coconut and chocolate chips. 20 minutes later, I had these tasty marshmallowy-like coconut discs, which I appropriately named Chocolate Chip Coconut Thingies, but later transformed into Chocolate Chip Coconut Crispies. Moist coconut on the inside, crisp on the outside.

Now, what have I learned from this?
1. Plan in advance. Leave enough lead time for free super saver shipping from Amazon.
2. Push my limits, but not too much. Baby steps are good. Milton Bradley’s taking them, so so can I.
3. The bullpen will eat anything.

I’ve got to be honest. I haven’t always loved the game of baseball. In fact up until last year, it was more a hate than love relationship. During baseball season, I complained to my boyfriend if we watched more than a few innings at a time. Or I fell asleep. Or I mysteriously threw the remote control out the window and into our neighbor’s backyard. I felt like the game was too slow, there was no "team effort," and no pitch ever looked the same as the next one. Plus, who were all these guys, why’s it so hard to be consistent, and why do the Yankees have infinite pocketbooks? Yep, I was one of "those" girls. Back then, that was my sports-related nagging girlfriend stage.

Early last year, this same ESPN/fantasy baseball-obsessed boyfriend handed me Michael Lewis’ Moneyball. Shocked that he actually read an entire book, I figured it had to be somewhat decent. And it was. I couldn’t put Lewis’ book down. I read it on the bus while squished among lots of suit-clad professionals who thankfully used Degree, secretly embedded in a work-related magazine while supposedly doing funding research, and glued to my lap while getting my nails done. Within 3 days or so, I’d gone from baseball repellent to geek. Or semi-geek. Perhaps minute-baseball geekette. Both amazed with all of the factors of the game and impressed with what the A’s have accomplished on such a limited budget, I wanted to know more. So instead of complaining, I started watching. And observing. And reading. And my appreciation continued. I watched games on TV (thank you Action 36, FSN Bay Area, ESPN, and when desperate, Kezar Pub on Stanyan!), went to games wearing my Sweet for Street t-shirt, and read the paper’s sports section. And you know what I learned? That the A’s are hot. In potential. And ability. And looks. At least most of them. *Sigh*. And I think I’m addicted.