New York Mariners?

On November 13, 1851, the Denny party landed at what Seattlites know to be Alki Point. What is not so well known is that Arthur Denny named the new settlement 'New York Alki'. 'Alki' In Chinook Jargon means 'eventually' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alki,_Seattle,_Washington). And New York means 'big apple-like place with lots of buildings, people, sports teams, and congestion'. So, literally this first settlement's name meant 'eventually to be an apple-like place with lots of buildings, people, sports teams, and congestion'.

We now fast forward almost 157 years to the Pyramid beer garden outside Safeco Field just two nights ago. A friend from our softball team had offered two tickets to see the first game of the Yankees-Mariners series. I, of course, accepted and convinced Joseph to come.

Earlier that day, we had discussed meeting at the beer garden with a co-worker, who himself was going to a Mariners game for the first time since the Jamie Burke debacle earlier this year. This co-worker - we'll call him Steve since that's what everyone else calls him - had come prepared for the game with a Mariners hat and a Mets jersey.

Tangent. Steve was born in the Bronx and then had lived in Long Island growing up. He is, in fact, a Mets fan. Mr. Met, as it were. And no bandwagoner is he. He's been a fan since they were established. As a kid, he endured the lovable losers but was awarded with the 'Miracle Mets' of '69. He often recalls the likes of Seaver, Agee, Koosman, and Cleon Jones.

And so, although many of the people in the beer garden accused him of being confused, I knew that he was just representing both the team he loved and the team he wanted to win.

While drinking our Hefs, Steve decided to have a little fun. He hypothesized that he could ask ten people wearing Yankee garb where they were from and that nine of the ten would not be from New York. I suggested that they would have to be from the tri-state area - since I'm from CT - and he agreed. Having had a few beers - and having originally been from New York - he began the show.

He approached a young guy with a Rivera jersey. 'Hey, you from New York?' Steve stood smiling. 'Yep, Brooklyn,' he said. 'One for one,' I said. Steve said to him, 'You serious? Where?' The guy told him. Then he admitted he now lived in Chicago and flew in to see the game. Strike.

Next was a 30-something woman with less impressive gear. 'Hey, we're doin' a survey. You from New York?' he asked. A little surprised, she came back with a full-fledged Jersey accent. 'I was boarn dare. Then I lived in juhsey. Now I live in Tarrytown. But I still commute. I love Metro Noarth.' Steve engaged her a bit more, then turned to me and said one of those words not made for television. 'You already lost,' we said. 'Yeah, but I gotta do the whole ten to see if I'm even close.'

The next gentleman was an unassuming man with a Yankees cap. In his 40s, he stood with a woman of about the same age, who herself was wearing no baseball affiliated clothing whatsoever. 'Hey, you from New York?' Steve asked. 'Yep.' 'Aww, @#$%' Steve exclaimed to himself. 'Where?' I was laughing so hard I didn't catch where. 'But we live in Chicago now.' 'Oh yeah, this guy lives in Chicago,' he pulls in the Rivera-shirt-wearing guy. They start talking about the Windy City.

'I can't believe this,' Steve says to us. Three of three. Next? 'You from New York?' 'Yep, Long Island.' 'Oh yeah, where abouts?' 'Northport, Exit 51.' 'Oh yeah? I'm from Plainview. Exit 45.' Four for four.

He proceeded to ask another two nearby. The first replied, 'Yep, I'm from the Bronx, two blocks away from the stadium. 161st and Sheridan. I bet you can't find anyone else here who can give cross streets.' The second answered, 'Yep, I from da Bronx' and kept walking.

Finally, on the seventh try, Steve found a Yankees fan who was born and raised in Washington state. A fan of Louisiana Lightning, he knew that players and the stats but not the city.

The final three? Jersey, Connecticut, and a guy from Queens that Steve chided for not being a Mets fan. In the end, Steve's theory that 9 of 10 would not be from the tri-state area was not just wrong, the end result was completely the opposite of the theory. 9 of 10 were from the tri-state area.

It's obvious that Denny foresaw the emersion of Seattle as a big apple-like place with lots of buildings, people, sports teams, and congestion. We have most of those in Seattle. What I don't think he foresaw is that the Seattle people would actually root for non-Seattle sports teams more often than not.

So, to boost the fan base of the Seattle teams, I suggest we rename them with 'New York Alki'. The New York Alki Mariners, the New York Alki Seahawks, and the New York Alki Oklahoma City Sonic Thunder. Maybe then - well eventually - those teams might win it all.

Stalking the Wild Coincidence

I offer my apologies, dear readers, as I was too exhausted last evening to cogitate and type anything of merit. And the coincidence about which I intend to wax 'prosetic' is the reason...

The story begins approximately two and a half short days ago. Traveling home from work, Joseph and I stopped at Costco. A 4-pack of candles. Cream cheese for bagels. Processed meat for sandwiches. It was a quick stop for necessities as we had to get to our friend's home for an informational session regarding the Breast Cancer 3-Day.

We sidled up to an empty checkout line when a short, auburn-haired woman of about 40 slipped over carrying a box of dog bones. 'Do you mind if I go in front of you?' she asked Joseph. 'Yes,' he replied. His back was to me, so I couldn't tell if he was being serious. I couldn't imagine he was. She looked up at him in shock, but not yet in indignation. 'Really?' 'Yes, really.' But Joseph couldn't keep a straight face. 'Yeah, go ahead.'

She put her box on the conveyor belt. Joseph said, 'Wouldn't it have been crazy if I didn't let you go?' She smiled. 'I gotta tell ya. I'd a had to say something. I'm from New York. I don't do this Seattle passive aggressive @#$%.' We chuckled. She related a story. 'I was at work this one time and this guy was being a pussy, so I told him so. He stopped talkin' to me for a while, and I thought nothin of it. Then, one day three weeks later he comes up to me and tells me that I hurt his feelings. What is that @#$% ? Just tell it like it is.' By the time she finished her story, she was checked out and ready to go. 'Alright, take care,' she said. 'You too,' we answered.

'That's my kind of woman,' Joseph told me as we were checking out. 'I'd like to have a beer with her.'

Fast forward to last evening. A pair of generous friends invited us to the Yankees game (what Seattlites might call a Mariners game). I'll be relating the pre-game festivities in another post. As for the game itself, well, the Yanks were no-hit by Morrow into the 8th. And lost. Not much more to say there.

After the game, we said goodbye to our friends and walked down 1st Avenue South keeping pace with the other departing fans. Just past S Massachusetts there was a bar, evidenced by the intoxicated smokers on the sidewalk and the big 'BAR' sign jutting from the building. As we passed, Joseph recognized someone - not an uncommon occurrence. 'It's the Costco lady!' he announced to anyone within earshot. 'I can't believe it's Costco lady.' She immediately remembered us as well. 'I love you guys,' she said rather gushingly. And then she proceeded to announce the fact to the rest of the intoxicated smokers. For the next few minutes, Costco lady and Joseph engaged in an interwoven duet of 'I can't believe it's Costco lady' and 'I love these guys'. It reminded me of a bad musical.

'You have to have a beer with me,' she shrieked. 'Okay,' Joseph agreed. He turned to me, 'Is that okay?' 'Uh sure,' I replied. Just rolling with the punches. 'Manny's?' she asked us. We nodded. We entered the hole-in-the-wall bar - called the Hooverville - and accompanied her to the counter and then to her seat. An empty booth with multiple full drinks sitting atop the table. A few moments later, a tall man, a fat man, and an atheist walked into the bar. What, am I in the midst of a bad joke, I asked myself.

They sat and commenced with a political discussion. The atheist claimed that Sarah Palin was just a smoke screen. 'Two months before the election, she'll get bounced and McCain will pick up Condoleeza Rice for VP. And then they'll win because they can take the black vote. And we'll be @#$% out of luck for another four years.' I didn't have the heart to tell her that we're at two months before election time. Then, she turned her head towards me and Joseph, pointed, and asked 'Are you Christians?' 'Yes,' we each answered. 'Do you know which minority group is most discriminated against in this company?' she continued. We shrugged. 'Atheists!' she yelled. 'Well good luck with Jesus,' she said before turning back to the fat man. The night had definitely taken a turn for the weird.

I listened, thinking myself merely a fly on the wall. Relationships. Politics. Music. Work. Sex. Same old, same old. But with an odd twist, i.e. my involvement through a random dog-bone toting Costco lady. Finally, Joseph turned to me and asked me if I was ready to go. I nodded. We discovered that Costco lady had a name. Hope. She and Joseph traded numbers. And we left. We continued down 1st Avenue South about an hour and a half after we left the field, got in the car, and drove home.

The silver lining of our encounter? No traffic. Oh, and this story...