The Omaha Adventure - Day 2 Redux at Notre Dame

After leaving sweltering Motown behind, we continued on our journey to the promised land.  This would be the easiest day of our journey as I decided only to drive a couple of hours from Detroit to South Bend.  It was time to see Touchdown Jesus.

The game got out around 3:30.  Or that was when I told the boys we had to leave short of not getting our hotel room (wink, wink!).  That walk back to our car was one of the hottest 10 periods I had ever experienced.

All this way, and this is as close as we got...

A thunderstorm here or there (ever had the feeling that you should pull over and let the storm pass, but I was too macho to pull over...yeah me neither) did not derail our plans.  I wanted to get to the campus in time to see the stadium. When we get to Notre Dame the first thing G remarks about is the golf course right on the corner of the main street and the street leading to campus.  Even I was getting excited.

Then we come across the construction at the stadium.  No one told me that the stadium was under going massive reconstruction and rehabilitation.  We couldn't even get near the stadium.  The closest we could get was to eat dinner at the University-owned bar - Legends.  Bummer.  At least the beer and the food was good, even if no one wanted anything to do with us that late on a Sunday.

We got back to the hotel, watched Clayton Kershaw, plugged in our phones and got prepared to make the final stretch run to Omaha.  See you soon!

The Omaha Adventure - Day 2 Tiger Time and Touchdown Jesus

Day 2 of our Omaha trip has broken.

After dodging all of the Model As in the parking lot, we began our easiest day of our adventure to Omaha.  No 5am wake up calls and no 8 hour drives.  Today was going to be a leisurely trip to Comerica Park for the Tigers Game and then a trip to South Bend to get a picture of Touch Down Jesus at Notre Dam Stadium.

The day started innocently enough as I took a walk around the buildings seeing if any of the older gentlemen in attendance at the car show needed CPR or something.  Seeing that everyone was happy and healthy, I gathered the kids together to make the trip to Detroit.

"Dad, is it safe where we are going?" G asks as we drive out of Toledo.  Although he hasn't done his Summer reading, he apparently has reviewed guide books about how dangerous the mean streets of Detroit are - or perhaps he watched 8 Mile recently.

"No its fine." I explain.  We're parking next to the stadium and this area is a lot like Fenway.  I guess, I haven't been to Detroit since 1980.

"So we're not going to die?" C asks looking up from his phone.  No we're not going to die...in Detroit, at least.

This goes on the entire hour trip up to Detroit.  Do they rob people at the ball park? Not that I know of.  Should we bring all of our stuff so it doesn't get stolen?  Sure, why not.  And the best one...why was that homeless guy sell you American Flag pins?  I was donating money to the homeless veterans.  So worldly. As we park our car, the boys are astonished at how many people are around.  The lines to get in near the Tiger are extra long for this Sunday afternoon game against the First Place Indians.  Justin Verlander is pitching though so the Tigers have a chance to get back one game against the Indians.

As we finally get in, we get the first taste of the heat we are facing.  It has to be 90 degrees out.  I'm actually not interested in drinking any of the Michigan beers that you can find at Comerica (yeah right), even though the craft beer stand is just 10 feet from the batting cages and pitching radar that the boys wanted to do.

After watching C throw 60 miles an hour and G throw 47 miles an hour (the gun must be wrong C rationalizes to no one in particular), we sit down at our seats.  Good seats, but we are nowhere near shade as the Sun is beating down on us.  Even the obnoxious Indians fan that I am sitting next to only yips and yaps occasionally even though the Indians come out hot against Verlander.

After we make our way around the field, looking at the plaques and statues in Right Field and enjoying some Mediterrean fries, we sit back down to watch the rest of the game.  This time, without mentioning anything to G, I have him sit next to the obnoxious Indians fan.  I tell the guy that I'm now sitting next to that that guy was a huge pain in the ass.  He smiles at me and then turns serious.

"Just wait," he starts to explain while bouncing a baby on his knee "a couple of more beers and the guys behind him are going to beat the sh*t out of him."

With that, I start to plan when we are going to move on to our next destination.  Verlander is getting killed (6 homers) and the Tigers are not keeping pace.  Meanwhile G is in some serious need of air conditioning as he continues to fan himself down with the Verlander poster he received as a free from the park.

"Can we go to Notre Dame now?"

Sounds like a plan (keep reading for part 2)  

The Omaha Adventure - Day 1 The Toledo Model A Club

It started innocently enough our adventure to Omaha.  I had decided that Toledo Ohio would be our first destination.  A mere 11 hours away "as the crow flies,"  Toledo seemed like a good idea.  When I was younger, my family and I went to the outskirts of Toledo to visit my aunt and I remember that the drive was a great adventure.  I didn't have Pokemon Go, Instagram or Snapchat then either.  How bad could it be for the boys?

We make good time through Massachusetts and the Albany area.  We stop at a couple of rest stops along the way, including a McDonalds that required us to go over a bridge over the thruway to get to it.  While the boys were struck at how fast the cars underneath them were going, I was just looking at my watch thinking "I really want to get there in time for the restaurant to be open."

After driving through the Buffalo region and a great ride through Cleveland seeing Progressive Field (Jacobs Field to me), Toledo seems just a stone's throw away. 

Finally, after 13 hours - that trip to McDonalds probably took an hour itself - we get to Perrysburg.  A little bit closer to us than Toledo, the boys were excited to be at the destination sooner than we thought.  Even better, the hotel was right off the highway.  Little did we know that we would be the youngest people there by about 30 years...

I don't have words to describe this scene.

The Model A Restorers Club had its annual rally in our hotel, at the same time that we stayed there.  While dodging guys in walkers and trying to navigate the "Model A Parking" signs we stop in to the restaurant, a quasi Irish pub that served the most American of pub fare. What the Hell is going on with all of the old people and older cars I ask the waiter in the nicest of terms. It seemed that we were just at the beginning since all of these guys and their trailers were just starting to grease things up.  Seriously, what the Hell is going on?

After listening to his answer, the waiter starts in with how we were in Town for a baseball tournament.  C tells him that its actually the College World Series in Omaha where we are going, and the guys starts going nuts.  He starts going off on tangents about Kris Bryant and Anthony Rizzo and he starts talking about how he goes to Cincinnati by himself to watch games.  While I acknowledge his flamboyance, the boys just think he's "crazy."

"I can't wait to tell everyone on Tuesday that I talked to a couple kids about the College World Series and they are going to be there!!"  the waiter exclaims.  C just shakes his head and laughs.  G is looking at his phone.  I order my Guinness and tell him that we have tickets to the Tigers game.

"Kate Upton is all I'll say"  he tells us as he walks to get more drinks.

After dinner, we take our weary bones (or is that just me?) and play some pool and ping pong in the nice indoor courtyard.  Overall, a nice place despite the fact that I was looking around to see where all oft he AEDs were...just in case.

Day 1 was in the books.

The Omaha Adventure - Preface

7 Days.  5 baseball games.  3 Men. 1 Car. 

It would be a trip of a lifetime for C, G and JMR.  C's baseball team was going to a tournament in Omaha, Nebraska (well actually, Council Bluffs, IA) for the Slumpbuster Tournament.  The options included flying in or driving.  Being an "On the Road" kind of guy, I took the road less traveled and decided to drive.

It would take 3 days to get there and 2 days to get back.  We spent 2 full days in "Omaha."  Over the next couple of days, I will catalogue our adventures.

Would C hit a home run?

Would G be called up to play?

Would JMR find a Dunkin' Donuts?

Would all 3 of us come back alive - or would one or both of the boys be left in Nebraska?

7 days.  5 baseball games.  3 men.  1 car.   

Gordie Howe and his Hartford Whalers Legacy

RIP Gordie Howe.

A lot of memories came back when I heard of Mr. Hockey's passing a couple of weeks ago. 

My first hockey game was in his 51st year.  This was the Hartford Whalers' first year as an expansion franchise after having several successful seasons in the WHA.  A great portion of that success in the late 1970's was Gordie Howe.  And it nearly didn't happen.  After leading the league in scoring as a 40 year old, Howe's injuries forced him into retirement.  Only after having successful surgery on his wrist, and after yearning to play with his family, did Howe actually start up the second phase of his career in the WHA. 

After leading the WHA in points in his mid to late 40's with the Houston Aeros, Gordie and his sons migrated to sunny New England.  After playing a couple of seasons for the New England Whalers in the WHA, he made the jump with the newly minted Hartford Whalers to the NHL for the 1979-1980 season.

But on this night, we were watching what was clearly one of his last games. 

Maybe it was sport that he had trouble giving up, or maybe he wanted to play with his two hockey-playing sons, Mark and Marty, we were watching a man who loved the sport that he gave so much to.  We were also watching a man whose gray hairs out numbered his dark hairs skate around players literally half his age.  I don't remember him scoring that night of my first hockey game, and I definitely don't remember the Gordie Howe Hat Trick that he became known for.  But I do remember the helmetless head gliding around the ice and I remember him being an integral part of the playoff team that season.

I've spoken before about that long lost hockey stick that I received from Number 2, Rick Ley.  I had the choice of that stick or a puck signed by Gordie Howe (the Whalers practiced at the arena in my home town) But one of my best memories was seeing Mr. Hockey speak to our summer camp back when I was a mere 8 years old.  i also remember getting that prized photo with his autograph after his engagement.  While I can't find that hockey stick, and I can't find that photo, the memories will last with me forever.

As Gordie Howe retired from the sport, he became a great ambassador all the way up until his health problems caught up to him as he reached his 80's.  It saddens me to think about one of the icons of Hartford Whalers hockey being lost, but that sadness is fleeting.  But I think the memories of that first night watching hockey and that autograph will last with me forever.