It all started early one Monday morning. Very early. My ride to the airport arrived at 6:00 AM. Bleary eyed, I rose to meet the fun... and challenge, of a week at Baseball's Spring Training with three other guys from work.

Parker, Hal, Tom and I stepped off the airplane in sunny Orlando and, after wrangling with a rather difficult car rental wench ("You just go sit over there and I'll let you know when you can have your keys...") we set out, map in hand, to find the Braves field in the sprawling Disney empire.

Not so bad once you get over the shock of a toll booth every few miles.

Arriving at Disney's Wide World of Sports, we faced out second shock: $10.50 tickets for a seat on the grass bank. But hey, it was really nice grass. So we settled in for half a game of baseball. Did I forget to mention that in the delay at "Attitudes-R-Us Car Rentals" and buying our way out of the airport toll roads, we missed the first half of the game? The beer helped ease the pain.

And we did get to see Pedro Borbon get disgusted with himself and walk off the mound in the middle of an inning. Just gave up and walked away. Which left a good number of good folks in both dugouts with their jaws dragging the ground. Not to mention the thousands in the stands.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Booboo has left the building!"

Astros 7; Braves 6
Game Recap; Boxscore

After the game it was time to see if we could find the hotel. Parker gives me an address and I grabbed the map. Found the right street on the map, too. So with yours truly directing, we set off. Some 20 minutes later we're going down the street the hotel's supposedly on, looking for address numbers, when Tom says, "Hey guys! Look! Isn't that the ballpark we just left?" Sure enough. We were passing the park.

I was relieved of the map.

We got checked in ok and Hal took advantage of the situation to grab a "Power Nap." Amazing individual, that Hal. He can squeeze enough rest in a 5 minute power nap to keep going for hours. Well, then it was off to find food. We ended up at one of the local tourist-type Italian places. The waitress had just stepped off the boat from Planet X. Reminded me of that movie about the Stepford Wives. Spooky. Rejuvenated by his power nap, Hal went for the all-you-can-eat pasta. I say it again: this is one amazing individual. I was talked into taking my chicken leftovers back to the 'fridge in the hotel room. For all I know, it's still there.

The next morning there was time for a leisurely breakfast. The hotel restaurant had good potatoes on the breakfast bar. The Amazing Hal set the pace right after breakfast by quaffing a beer. I began to have doubts whether I could keep up with this crowd. Well, then it was time we were off to find the Astros' park, somewhere in Kissimmee.

We found the park just fine, but ran into a little trouble with the ticket lady. We totally confused her by trying to use a pocketful of quarters and a couple of $20 bills. It seemed to be more than her feeble little mind could handle. We ended up with the same pocketful of quarters in change. It was some time later that we realized she'd gotten the last laugh: she shorted us $2 in the whole transaction.

We got to see Rivera pitch, and were treated to 5 home runs. Including a monster bash from Ivan Cruz. Parker missed it, though. Bummer, dude.

We got a pretty good show after the game, too. Some schmuck in a flashy red convertible (Mustang?) got impatient waiting for the traffic to clear out. Somehow he figured he could drive through the drainage ditch in front of him and get around the worst of the traffic. After getting himself good and stuck, he clinched it by gunning it and digging his wheels in even deeper. The last we saw of him he was abandoning ship and wading through the water to safety.

Yankees 7; Astros 8
Game Recap; Boxscore

Hal squeezed in a power nap before we set out for dinner at the local Pizza Hut. The pizza scored a D+ on the Hal-meter. Then we wandered around some more and found a 300 foot swing. No kidding. Pay the dude $30 and you get hoisted up horizontal to the top of the swing tower. Then you get to pull your own release cord and go swinging back and forth. It was big. Very big. Tom said he'd do it if someone did it with him.

We moved on.

The next day it was back to the Disney Sports Complex for more Braves baseball. This time they took on the Red Sox. We opted for the lawn seats again, since it put us right behind third base. We kicked back to enjoy the sun and the game. By the end of it, I think the sun enjoyed us more than we wanted. We all ended up toasted on the left side with really cool sunglass outlines. Hal ended up with a permanent Batman mask.

The game got pretty exciting toward the end. Jimmy Hurst gave the Red Sox the lead in the ninth inning with a three run homer. But then the Braves won in the bottom of the ninth on a passed ball. Ouch.

Red Sox 3; Braves 4
Game Recap; Boxscore

Then it was time to load up the party-mobile and head west. The evening's entertainment would be provided by the brand new Tampa Bay Devil Rays as they hosted the Detroit Tigers in Tampa Bay. We ended up right behind home plate. Sweet.

They had a nice stadium, right on the waterfront, but when the organ started playing "Jingle Bell Rock," we all had doubts about the Devil Rays' future. The bratwursts were a bit on the small side, but that was all forgotten when we saw the serve-yourself mustard containers. Picture cow udders that squirt mustard when you squeeze them. I'm not making this up. Mustard udders and "Jingle Bell Rock." Makes ya wonder...

We were treated to some friendly fans sitting behind us (a 60's drugged out vet and college kid on break). Tampa Bay scored all seven runs in one inning. Estaban Yan started for the Devil Rays. He was stinky. It was cool watching a brand new team play, though. ...Very cool. The hot chocolate helped.

Tigers 6; Devil Rays 7
Game Recap; Boxscore

The next day (day 4?) we were off early to Winter Haven to see the Indians and Red Sox. They had a bunch of retirees running the show out in the parking lot. Just as we're passing one old coot, he starts running after the car in front of us and shouting at it. All we heard was "Godammit! No one listens!" at about a thousand decibels. We missed whatever he said after that because we were all laughing too hard.

It's a good thing they don't arm those guys or the car in front of us woulda bought the farm. These retired folk are kinda feisty.

Before the game, Parker scored an autograph from Dennis Eckersley. Mo Vaughn went three for three, all them homers and one of them was a grand slam. I was in heaven. Good game. Good beer. No dogs. For some reason, none of us could face a hot dog that afternoon.

Some drunk dude sitting behind us in the bleachers was rather amusing. He heckled me while I was one the cell phone back home. I'm not sure who enjoyed that call more: the dude, me, or Mary. We were all laughing pretty hard by the end of it. I doubt the drunk dude remembered it the next day.

Red Sox 12; Indians 9
Game Recap; Boxscore

During the game, we got the sad news that the evening game between the Braves and the Yankees was sold out. After much grumbling, we decided the only way to cheer ourselves up was with an evening at Hooters. We got to Hooters only do discover the service was lousy, the wings were barely edible (ok, they were inedible but we ate 'em anyway), and we had to wait forever to eat. Flat beer, greasy wings, and... well... shall we say a "less than impressive" staff. We left.

The evening was going from bad to worse, so we rounded up some beer and the SI Swimsuit Issue and headed back to the hotel for poker night. We didn't have any chips, but what the heck, we're young and determined so we found a solution. We tore up a coupon book into little squares of paper. Not elegant, but neither are we. Several hours, several beers and several dollars later, the night was trashed and so were we.

Friday dawned bright and cheery. We didn't. The day's agenda had us off to Port St. Lucie for the Royals and Mets. Parker grabbed his credit card and my cell phone and bought as many tickets as he could over the phone so we wouldn't get "sold out" of a game again. We drove forever to get to Port St. Lucie, but it was worth it. We ended up buying our tickets from a woman out in front of the ticket window. It seems she had some friends back out and she was left with extras. They were right behind third base so we grabbed 'em. We got them at face value, too, so what the heck.

Four stars for the game. Some of the best baseball we saw all week. And the fans were entertaining as well. There was some old lady that had to be pushing 100 sitting on the first row and yelling at the players and the umps the whole game. I'm tellin' ya, these old folks are feisty! Remember the old coot in the parking lot at Winter Haven yelling obscenities at the cars? I'd thought that might be the quote of the week. I was wrong.

We were seated in the midst of a group of 40-somethings from Yuppieville. The lady we bought our tickets from was one of them, sitting right in front of us. There was another lady sitting to our right who looked like your typical soccer mom. About the third inning or so, she shifts in her seat and puts her feet on the seat in front of her. Then she spreads her knees apart as far as they'll go and announces in a voice loud enough to be heard over five rows, "Well, it's time to air out the crotch!"

I swear I'm not making this up. She didn't actually use the word "crotch," though. She used one quite a bit more vulgar. Even more shocking was that none of her friends batted an eyelash at her. Like it was the most normal thing to say. We four looked wide eyed at each other and then spent the next several innings stifling laughter. I almost snorfed a hot dog through my nose.

Royals 8; Mets 9
Game Recap; Boxscore

After the game we headed on down to Jupiter, Fla. for the Marlins and Expos. Two words: good eats. Right after we get in the park, Hal spots a stand selling Hebrew National Kosher Dogs. He peels off from the group, makes a dive for the target, and pulls up inches short with two fingers stuck in the vendor's face like some sort of misshapen meathook. "Two, please!" sayeth The Amazing Hal. Without so much as a flinch, the good dog-dude slides two magnificent Hebrews at Hal. I think I caught a look of understanding in the old fellow's eyes.

Oh, but it didn't stop there. This place had self-serve sauerkraut and jalapeños! Truly, a gastric wonder of the modern world. Unfortunately, that's where it ended. Except for getting to watch Lee Smith and Livan Hernandez, the baseball was stinky and the crowd was worse. Mostly Marlins fans. At one point I looked around and counted only one out of every five people actually watching the game. The rest were just there for social hour. Which, I guess, wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just shut up and quit standing up in front of us. One dweeb sitting behind us was actually watching the game, but every time the ball was hit out of the infield, he was on his feet shouting "Oh! That's out of here!" Quite possibly the stupidest crowd I've ever seen at a park. Maybe it was a blessing, though. The Marlins are the pits. The Expos whooped hiney, 11-4.

Hal's Batman mask sunburn started shedding. Ick.

Marlins 4; Expos 11
Game Recap; Boxscore

Off again the next morning, but not until Parker had a little adventure at breakfast. We were just finishing up and had done the pay-the-cashier thing. Parker was slowly walking through the lobby waiting for the rest of us to catch up. He stopped and said to Hal, just behind him, "Baseball rocks!" He turned, only it wasn't Hal. There was this big dude standing there looking at Parker like he'd lost his mind. Finally he said, "Whatever you say, Boss" and walked on out the door.

After having a good laugh at Parker's expense, we headed out to Fort Myers to see the Red Sox and the Pirates. Another very nice park. Of course, it's almost brand new. Tom seemed to enjoy the Italian Sausage. We got to see Tim Wakefield pitch four innings and impress us all with the knuckleball. Of course, his replacement gave up 3 solo home runs. Tom and Parker were busy finding Italian Sausages at the time and missed them all. I did a little browsing in the souvenir shop and blanched at the $100 jerseys. Whew!

Pirates 7; Red Sox 9
Game Recap; Boxscore

The evening's game took us back to Tampa Bay to see the split squad Reds take on the full strength Devil Rays. It wasn't enough. The Reds still won. Springer was T.B.'s starter, making this a two-knuckleballer day for us. Quinton McCracken managed a two run homer for the home crowd. Some dude sitting behind Parker screamed "He got all of that! 420 feet at least!" Yeah. Whatever. Live it up, chump, this is going to be a long season for Devil Rays fans.

I think Parker had more fun at the game than the rest of us. Some good ole boys sat next to him and got so rowdy, they got thrown out. And on top of that, they weren't allowed to drive themselves home and had to take a cab. I think Parker missed all the cigarette smoke once they were gone. But the highlight had to be the monster dog that Tom ended up with. We got to the snack bar and Tom spied something really big sizzling on the grill. "What's that?" he says. The grill dude smiles and says, "That's our foot long." Tom went for it. Folks, I've seen sides of beef that were smaller. Tom lugged that thing back to the seats and spent the next several innings gnawing on it. The jokes about certain male porn stars started flying. To his credit, Tom finished the beast but looked a bit green for most of the game. He finished off the evening an hour or so later with a big order of nachos, just to prove he could. What a guy!

Reds 9; Devil Rays 8
Game Recap; Boxscore

Sunday marked our last day of baseball and we loaded up the super cruiser and launched back down to Jupiter. We ended up way out in the bleachers, but managed to sneak into some better seats a coupla innings later. Parker and Tom downed two dogs each. I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. A solid week of hot dogs had done something to me I'd really rather not remember. Hal was even slowing down. Of course, that may have had something to do with the mostly raw bratwurst he ate. Weird thing was he discovered it was raw and kept eating anyway.

Mets 5; Cardinals 4
Game Recap; Boxscore

We staggered back to the airport the next day and somehow found our way home. In seven days we'd seen 10 games in seven parks, watched 14 major league teams, ate 39 hot dogs and managed to live through it all. We watched newcomers trying to make their mark on Baseball, and oldtimers trying to stay in the game just one more year. We met a lot of savvy fans and a lot of really stupid ones, too. We endured each other's jokes and trivia but didn't kill each other. We spent too many hours in the car and I can't believe it was over so fast. What is it about Baseball that, in spite of itself and its stupid mistakes, keeps drawing us back? Does it remind us of ourselves, as individuals and as a whole? Or is it just plain fun? Does it really matter? Grab a beer, the regular season's about to start.

Tastefully Done.