MONDAY, MARCH 3
Got a late start, exactly at noon. Wanted to leave by 9 a.m., but a gruelling though fun weekend work schedule for the Big Ten Network pushed everything back.
So much for whining (though it probably will crop up again, later). Strike the word "probably." It will.
The bags are packed, the 14-year-old van (which was shiny and spanking new when Jose Mesa was on the mound in Game 7 in Florida) ready to go.
The good news is that the sun is shining along the 7-mile trek to Interstate 71 for the first part of the journey. The better news is that the 16-degree temperatures wind-whipped to near-zero wind chill will soon be in the past.
The only construction encountered in Ohio was a small stretch of the inevitable orange barrels north of Columbus. The traffic is light, and the sailing is smooth. It is the same on I-270 around the capital city and then on I-70, heading into Indiana.
A word to travelers: gas up at end of Ohio, as the price there ($1.81 at the time) was the lowest encountered for about 500 miles.
Going through Indiana was easy, even though the late start made for a 5 p.m. arrival in Indianapolis. Rush hour ... oh, oh.
Not to worry, actually. You want to stay on I-70 through the heart of downtown, rather than take the I-465 belt around the city. There is consctruction along that route. This way was just fine. A few extra cars, but sailed right through.
I-70 through Indy becomes four lanes in each direction and passes right past the new Lucas Oil Stadium, home of the Indianapolis Colts ... then straightens out and heads through Illinois.
One word for anyone embarking on this trip: SUNGLASSES. I-70, and later I-44, I-40 and I-10 put all drivers moving directly into the sun at sunset going west or sunrise going east. At one point, two pairs of sunglasses were worn simultaneously over one another (who needs to look cool when you are trying to survive?) ... and it wasn't enough.
The best thing to do: stop for dinner near sunset, or for breakfast near sunrise on the return trip home.
Didn't stop at all until reaching Brazil.
Say what?
Yep, Brazil, Indiana ... near Terre Haute ... which is near Illinois. Regular unleaded price at the time was $1.83 -- better than anything found along the road in the Land of Lincoln. Get it before "crossing over," and save a few cents, which when gassing up a 30-gallon van, turns into a few bucks.
The Illinois part of trek was overall the most pleasurable, since old Sol had set. This combined with the fact that they keep truckers in line makes it a rocking-chair drive. The posted speed is 55 (or else) for truckers, 65 for cars (old vans included). Truckers adhered steadfastly, and traffic was nil. Oh, what a pleasant evening.
By the way, didn't see one highway patrol car looking for speeders from mid-Indiana until mid-Arizona ... though maybe they were in cahoots with the sun and well hidden.
Approaching St. Louis, the Gateway Arch shone in the night ... not nearly as brightly as the casinos on the other shore of the Mighty Mississippi in East St. Louis, Ill. Nevertheless, a wonderful site -- the entire metropolis glittering.
Suddenly sprung free, however, the truckers make a mad dash to make up time. They passed on the left, on the right, doing 80, swerving in front of one another throughout a section of eight-lane highway. To compound matters, those heading west at this juncture must look for the ramp to Interstate 44 -- making sure not to get onto Interstate 64, Interstate 55, or staying on I-70 towards I-35.
Manny Ramirez would never have a chance -- unless he just bought all the freeways and allowed only him and his agent to drive on them. Come to think of it, unless it was a fastball or a curve, chances are Manny might not make the right decision. Then again, Al Einstein could have struggled. Who would have figured?
You want I-44. And it takes you through downtown, into the St. Louis suburbs and all the way to Oklahoma City.
After a few miles, the road starts to resemble the Pennsylvania Turnpike, with gentle hills and curves. Without the trucks, it's a pleasant drive. With them, it can be a hassle, as they try to pass, but with an engine resembling Doug Jones' changeup, clogging everything.
There's nothing really remarkable about this part of the journey -- especially when compared to the upcoming wild west. It was cold late Monday night, there was snow piled up -- but nary a flake in the air or on the roadway.
The trek through the Ozarks is rather unremarkable, though you see an occasional shanty that makes you think that Oliver Douglas may have gotten snookered by Mr. Haney so that he could grow crops "shoosting up to the sky."
If you're too young to remember "Green Acres," too bad. Funny show. Still is after 44 years, though it is hard to imagine it was that long ago that it premiered.
Reruns can do that.
The power of WTAM radio reaches well past Missouri, so listening to Joe Tait broadcast a Cavaliers game, as he did this night, is always a must. Tait is the best in the business now, just as he was during the first year of the team. And that was 39 years ago. Oh, my. Or, "whistle and what?", which is my favorite Taitism.
Got to Springfield, Mo., and called it a night. Filled the tank at $1.61 a gallon -- the best price of the trip.
Eight-hundred miles was short of the planned first-day goal, but a restful night can lead to increased distance on round two.
Having gone through the entire trek -- with proper preparation and rest, it can be done in two days ... one long haul to Tulsa, Okla., and another on into Goodyear. If the drive is shared, you can cut it down considerably.
All in all, a pleasant, if somewhat boring start to the journey. A slight side-trip, plenty of funny thoughts and a few exasperating moments (whine time) will follow.
It's all worth it, as these photos will attest:
Minor-leaguers stretch out before taking the field for hitting, throwing and fielding practice.
All players in the Major League camp had Thursday off. Any minor-leaguers not in the big-league camp, but considered top prospects -- about 100 of them -- are already going through daily drills. And other minor-leaguers trying to make an impression, but not really due in camp yet, arrived early and worked out on their own in the fabulous weight rooms or indoor batting cages.
Hall of Famer Bob Feller, with son Steve and grandson Dan were on the fields, tossing the ball around. Bob, at age 90, is quicker than ever with an anecdote or quip. When asked what he thought of former teammate Joe Gordon being elected to the Hall of Fame this winter, he went into a series of stories.
For a baseball fan, it is mesmerizing. He told of pitching in an All-Star Game to Arky Vaughn of the Pirates. The catcher was the Yankees' Bill Dickey. Vaughn hit a sharp grounder headed towards center, but Gordon ranged over from second base, fielded it, flipped to Red Sox shortstop Joe Cronin who threw to Tigers first baseman Hank Greenberg for a double play.
"Vaughn could fly, too," Feller said. "We got 'em by two steps." Then he chuckled when it was mentioned that all six players (including Dickey who called the pitch) are in the Hall of Fame.
He went on to tell another All-Star story in which he claims he had the best stuff on that one particular day that he ever had. That, even for Feller, is saying quite a bit. "Yessir, the fastball was there. Of course, when I was young, it was there every day. But my curveball that day was like an epileptic snake."
Feller throws a good line like that past people today as well as he fired his fastball past hitters 70 years ago!
Infield prospects Lonnie Chisenhall, left, and Jared Goedert take fielding practice at third base. Maybe some day they will have tales to tell like Bob Feller ... but it's doubtful.
NEXT: Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas and New Mexico.
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