Published: June 25, 2008 12:01 pm         

Take me in to the ballgame ...

The annual baseball trip this summer was to Phoenix.

Not cool. In fact, it's the most uncool place I've ever been to: 112 degrees on Saturday; 115 degrees on Sunday. And if I hear one more person say, "Oh, but it was a dry heat ..." I'm going to warm up an oven to 115 degrees, ask the person to stick his head in it for a half-hour and then ask him how comfortable he was in that dry heat.

Don't misunderstand, on Saturday morning I took a jog at 8:30 a.m. when it was only 92 degrees, and it was nice. I perspired, but I perspired modestly - unlike the way you perspire here when you exercise in 92-degree heat. As the mid-June Arizona day grows longer, though, that sun - yes, that dry sun - just tears at your hide. Particularly if you are fair-skinned and of Irish descent and the only bright light you're accustomed to receiving is a neon sign at a watering hole. I wasn't alone in this regard, but I did OK. Still would love to do spring training in Arizona in, say, March, because Tempe, where our band of misfits stayed and spent most of our time, is a great place to be.

As for Phoenix itself, the city didn't do much for me as it didn't appear there was too much in the downtown. The ballpark is downtown, and, naturally, we went to Chase Field to see the Diamondbacks take on the Kansas City Royals, since baseball was the point of the trip.

Chase Field, formerly known as Bank One Ballpark, a.k.a The Bob, had our attention for about the first three innings we were there. The best way I can describe it is when you see ballparks such as Yankee Stadium, PNC Park in Pittsburgh, and Camden Yards on television, the medium doesn't do those places justice for a variety of reasons.

Yankee Stadium, for instance, has that world famous facade and the deep left-center field that television can't capture completely. PNC has the gorgeous Pittsburgh cityscape, and Baltimore has the B&O Warehouse that, again, can't be done it's proper justice by television.

On the other hand, TV seems to do Chase Field in Phoenix and Miller Park in Milwaukee too much justice. I watched the Orioles play in Milwaukee last weekend on television and the beautiful shots of the ballpark and of the ambiance I saw on TV were nothing I saw when I was there in person (although the bratwurst makes any trip to Miller Park worth your while - it is the greatest ballpark delicacy in baseball history).

Conversely, everything I ate while I was in Arizona was off-the-charts fabulous, particularly the Southwest Mexican food. Oy! That is, except at Chase Field. The place didn't seem to have a signature food item there that I could find - such as the crab cake in Baltimore, the Nathan's hot dog in New York, the Fenway Frank in Boston, the Primanti Sandwich in Pittsburgh, and the brat in Milwaukee.

As was the case when we were in Milwaukee, the retractable roof at the ballpark was closed for the game. Of course, it was closed when we were in Milwaukee because it was 52 degrees and rainy. It was closed in Phoenix because it was 112 degrees with Flight of the Phoenix-like sunrays beating down on you. That's understandable in both instances, but when you're watching a baseball game indoors it's like sitting in an auditorium taking the SAT. Actually, in Phoenix, it was like sitting in a library.

Don't misunderstand, our group has the innate ability to bother any fans around us in any ballpark we invade - on either coast or in America's heartland. Believe me, we have the track record to prove it. When we go a visiting, we are the Al Czervik presence at Bushwood Country Club.

This time, though, it was different. We were subdued by our standards (and I have 20 witnesses to verify it), but at Chase Field it was like being in a library and having people shooting us put-off glances for talking too loud.

Now don't get me wrong, it was a dog of a game almost from the outset (the Royals just put a fanny-whipping on the D-Backs and Randy Johnson, who looked much older than his age on this night), but those fans were dead as doornails. The night we were there it was floppy hat night, which is an apt promotion for Arizona; but with the crowd that was in the ballpark that night, a more fitting giveaway might have been compact mirrors so fans could check every third inning to see if they were still breathing.

One cabbie told us, "That's 'cause nobody who lives here is from here. There's no bloodline passion for any of the teams out here."

The cabbie was one of the many folks from Michigan we met who had migrated to Arizona. The first person from Michigan we met was the crabby bartender at our hotel. He was from Detroit, and he was none too happy to see us enter the room (see Al Czervik: "Hey, everybody, we're all gonna get crazy!"). It really bothered us that he was fired the next day ... Well, no, it really didn't.

As for the roof at Chase Field, according to the cabbie, because there is real grass on the field, they leave the roof open all day, then close it a few hours before gametime and fire up the air conditioning.

Well, they need more air conditioning. Or at least artificial turf. Because there isn't air conditioning anywhere that can cool down a place that big after it has been baking under heat that intense for 10 hours every day.

I felt like I was in the packed courtroom scene in "To Kill A Mockingbird." It was the first time I had ever lost six pounds sitting at the ballpark. But that good work was soon negated as, by the seventh inning, we were on our way back into the city to put that weight back on.

Overall, it was a great trip. Tempe, in particular, was a lot of fun.

The next time I go, I'm skipping the ballgame.

Contact Mike Burke at mburke@times-news.com.