The Triumphant Return From the West

If any of you spoke to me in my zombie ramblings yesterday and thought I seemed a bit out of it, that probably has something to do with me having gotten very few hours of sleep thanks to two insufferable crying children on my redeye back from Los Angeles Wednesday night. The true shame of this comes from Virgin America's low mood music and deep, soft purple lighting, which should knock anyone on the plane out in fairly short order. But they simply didn't account for parents who are disinterested in calming down their children now did they?

Of course not.

Well, it's a day later, I'm refreshed, and there's much to discuss over here in Kalanville. Perhaps it would seem prescient to start with the obvious, which is that the1920s gold prospector from Chicago you see in the top right corner smoking a cigar with me got married this past weekend.

It really just looks like a standard tuxedo until you include the pocket watches. They take them to a whole new level.

So, I suppose my brother's wedding was probably the most important thing I did in my third trip to the west coast in the past five weeks, but don't worry, there's actually plenty that was relevant to this blog that happened, too. My sister and I decided that following this wedding would be a perfect time to make a drive down the coast from San Francisco to Los Angeles, which for her purposes meant beautiful scenery and the chance to see her friend Lily. For mine it meant the chance to visit one of my favorite Stadiums -- AT&T Park -- and the chance to see a new one -- Dodger Stadium.

Some of you may recall my brutal near-miss in my attempt to see Dodger Stadium in July following my weekend trip to the San Diego Comic-Con. This time no force on heaven or Earth was going to stop me, which I'm sure caused my sister more than a little anxiety as I sped wrecklessly on I-10 East in Los Angeles.

I would have been on time for the game, too, were it not for the obnoxiously long line to pay for parking.

No matter. We got the game in and despite the lack of excitement from the action on the field Wednesday as the Phillies knocked off the Dodgers, it was still a lot of fun to see a new building, which, while not my favorite, has a lot to like about it nonetheless, namely it's color scheme which looks just how you'd expect a building from 1962 to look, and the beautiful view in the outfield. When I give this jaunt the full written rundown I'll give much more insight into its delightful antiquated charm, and moreover, despite the claims of one Evan Hung, the Dodger dogs are actually pretty decent.

Don't worry, Evan. San Francisco still has its superior garlic fries.

In fact, the garlic fries are extremely necessary since San Francisco, for some reason I can't possibly explain, irrationally relishes the fact that it is always mid-fall and chilly in that city. Aside from being a kind of bizarre place, I'd actually rather like the City by the Bay were it not for every day feeling like October 24th there. Monday night when we attended a Giants-Rockies game that had me frustrated for not starting Jonathan Sanchez on my fantasy team the same night I saw him throw eight-plus shutout innings in person until the Giants lost in spectacular fashion in the ninth inning, it was somewhere between cool and freezing. My sister was prepared with a scarf and later bought a knit hat for the occasion, I came with a long-sleeved shirt and jacket, and all of my Bay Area cohorts came layered, including Stacy who had gloves with her just in case it was particularly nippy.

It was August. Late August is still August.

In any event, the trip was a good one had by all, and I now get to enjoy a whole 12 days in New York before I head to Boston on Sept. 14 and then go to my next new sporting venue, Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis, for the Manning Bowl on Sept. 19.

Wahoo.

Speaking of the Giants, with the season getting underway for Big Blue on Sept. 12, I made sure to have my tickets earlier today for the first regular season game ever held at the Giants and Jets brand-spankin'-new and totally necessary Meadowlands Stadium. I won't know for sure until they arrive, but I'm hopeful the tickets will be the fancy shmancy laminated commemorative ones that most season ticket holders are getting.

Getting those tickets was a nice uplift after seeing (Warning: Dave is about to talk Aussie Rules Football) Geelong play well beneath its abilities for most of Friday's Qualifying Final with last year's Grand Final opponent St. Kilda. The loss was a particularly brutal one as a questionable foul with 61 seconds left nullified what would have been a game-winning goal by captain Cameron Ling, the huffing-puffing fire-headed chap you see to the left.

This doesn't end the Cats' hunt for a fourth Grand Final trip in as many seasons and a third premiership in that span, but it doesn't make it easier. With a win Geelong would have gotten two weeks off until a win-or-go home Preliminary Final with a berth in the big game at the end on the line. Instead the Cats will have to win a match this weekend against either Fremantle or Hawthorn (which famously upset Geelong in the 2008 Grand Final) to reach the semis.

Then again, as a fan of the Mets (who have to deal with being attached to Snooki), the Giants (who never make it easy), the Devils (who apparently need six weeks to sign a free agent), Northwestern (which wears purple), Southampton FC (relegated twice this decade) and the Knicks (Do I need to explain this one?), I'm used to taking the long road to victory. And with Northwestern opening its season tomorrow night against Vanderbilt, I'll get a quick reminder on how long a season can be if the Wildcats get upset by the 'Dores.

But since I don't cross the Mississippi again for two and a half months, at least I won't have to deal with jetlag by the time I experience that collapse.

Right?

Go West, Young Man. Again.

Some of you might have noticed that my updates have been somewhat sparse lately, and I will plead your forgiveness by offering a few reasons why. You see, the month of August 2010 has been particularly busy for me, with work, weddings and travel galore. Also, the downtrodden Mets have left me with little to be excited about in sports beyond the start of Southampton's League One season and the run up to the Aussie Rules Football Finals, which Geelong should figure to impact rather heavily.

But y'all cats aren't necessarily interested in all that, though perhaps the coming start of Northwestern's college football season might excite you. Or maybe not. I'm sure my four readers would feign interest while I rambled about the Cats' prospects at a surprise Big Ten title or my Geelong Cats' prospects of a third premiership in four years, but I wouldn't want to make hypocrites out of all of you.

In any event, I will come clean and tell you all why this month has been so busy, and essentially, I will revolve it around my zany trip to San Diego to see the annual Comic-Con, and a trip I made two weeks ago to see my friends Dave and Caitlin tie the knot in Portland, Oregon. This would be the same Dave with whom I saw that magic moment for Ken Griffey Jr. last June. In between all of those events I've been juggling a typical work schedule, the precipitous downfall of my Mets, the impending start of the season for my Giants, the fact that Ilya Kovalchuk somehow still isn't under a contract that passes muster and my brother's impending nuptials this Sunday.

See how I slipped that in there? Eh? Eh?

That, my friends, is what we call burying the lead. Burying it after the jump is equally as bad, but you've got to entice the reader to keep on reading no?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Elliott, Emmy-winning comedy writer, terrible movie enthusiast and newly minted comic book author, is getting hitched to his fiancee Danielle this Sunday in Sonoma, California, which means, I have to book it to the airport tomorrow morning for a flight to San Francisco that will mark my third trip across the country in five weeks.

Yep. That's right. The third time in five weeks.

Fortunately, this is no longer the era of covered wagons like you see to the left here, so my accommodations -- the newfangled "airplane" -- will get me to San Francisco in at least half the time.

Now, surely none of you really care all that much about my travel plans to my brother's wedding, beyond offerings of congratulations and curiosity over just how big a disaster my best man speech is going to be, but here's why it matters for this space. There will be baseball. West Coast Baseball. The Mets would not exist were it not for the California-bound relocation of the New York Giants and Brooklyn Dodgers half a century ago, and because the actual Mets are, well, terrible right now, I will instead scope out the forbears of my favorite team who are much better than terrible and actually even in contention for what they call "a playoff berth".

We Mets fans may be unfamiliar with that concept these days, but I assure all of you, it actually exists.

And so, because I will be on the left coast, my sister, I, and a few assorted others will be attending this Monday's Giants-Rockies game at AT&T Park, and while this will not be a new experience for me -- I've been there twice -- it just may be my favorite. Two days later, if we can wake ourselves early enough to make the drive from San Luis Obispo, we will be in Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles to, at long last, knock the second oldest park in the National League off of my list. I'm awfully excited about the prospect.

Oh yeah. And my brother's getting married. That's pretty exciting, too. One of my best friends in college, Luisa Badaracco of my venture to Fenway and TD Garden fame, was at her sister's wedding three years ago when Clay Buchholz threw a no-hitter in his second career start for her Boston Red Sox. Will history repeat itself for my brother Sunday as the historically pitching-rich Mets finally get their first no-no? Well, the odds are a little slim, though this isn't the most unlikely thing I've banked on -- in High School I once told a teacher I'd have to miss a club meeting because I had Mets tickets and I liked their chances for a Perfect Game against the hapless Orioles. The Mets probable starter is R.A. Dickey, who already has a one-hitter under his belt in a surprising knuckleballing season that has him stunningly in the top ten of the NL's ERA chase. His foe -- the equally as hapless Houston Astros in the pitcher's haven of Citi Field.

The stars are aligned. You can pretty much take it to the bank.

On one last note, it was revealed this week whom the Mets will be visiting in 2011 for interleague play, which is always of great interest to me as I look to strike down stadiums on my quest. Despite much hub-bub that the Amazins would be visiting Minnesota's new Target Field, they will in fact be visiting Rangers Ballpark at Arlington and Comerica Park in Detroit. While I have already been to Comerica Park, the Texas Rangers are new on the list. Who's up for a road trip?

And that's all the news that's fit to print and a whole lot more that isn't in these parts. California beckons tomorrow, again, and the Kalan family will be changed forever. If I can keep my eyes open after crisscrossing the U.S. one last time this month, I'll be sure to tell you all about it next week.

Back From California

I have something heartbreaking and shocking to reveal to all of you. Are you ready? Ok. Here it goes.

Sometimes, once in a while, I will take a trip that does not include a sporting event. Of course, I should note, it is not for lack of trying. This past weekend I made a swing out to San Diego for my brother's bachelor party weekend, where we celebrated bachelordom like all men do: at a Comic Book Convention.

This was a pretty interesting experience with more wild costumes and crazy comic book obssessees than you can shake a stick at. I enjoyed myself even if there were no baseball games to go around, but the lesson should be taught that sometimes you're going to have to accept that not every plan will come to fruition. For this weekend in San Diego and Los Angeles, that was certainly the case. I had accepted the fact that the Padres would not be in town the weekend I was there -- and after arriving it became painfully obvious that Comic-Con so takes over the city that hosting baseball games is a ridiculous idea -- but I had not yet given up hope that I might catch my Amazins, who were going to be in Los Angeles over the weekend.

But, of course, it didn't work out that way, nor did I get to catch the Angels in Anaheim the next night due to a number of mixed signals and confused schedules. Not that this is the worst thing in the world. As I have explained, Los Angeles isn't a city I don't expect to go through again, like, say, Oklahoma City. I will be in Los Angeles again, though after the 45 hours I spent there, I'm not sure how many times I can be there.

That isn't a slight against my hosts, who were phenomenally generous and fun, but L.A. just isn't my kind of city. And in many regards, it's a total fantasy land.

At least I did get to take more than my fair share of looks at Petco Park in San Diego, which was literally next to our hotel, and came within walking distance of Angel Stadium in Anaheim. Whether or not you can view these things as cool sightseeing or cruel teases is up to you.

In the meantime, a valuable lesson was learned about how sometimes things just won't work out. And I'm probably just going to have to cope with that. And unlike when some best laid plans fall through, I won't always have a Russian oligarch to bail me out.

And so, with that, I have come to accept that I will have to knock the Dodgers, Angels and Padres off the list some other time, but considering the Mets were in L.A. to polish off a season-torpedoing 2-9 road trip, it may be best for my health that I avoided the situation all together.

Plus I got a totally awesome production drawing of Wolverine from the X-Men animated series that I'm going to frame and hang up. And once I arrived home, I found my tickets to September's Giants-Colts game in Indianapolis had arrived.

Until the next stadium some cardboard and a drawing of adamantium will have to keep me satisfied. I think my brother would be proud.