No. 199 – Intermission / Jimmy

Performer: Tool

Songwriters: Maynard James Keenan, Adam Jones, Justin Chancellor, Danny Carey

Original Release: Ænima

Year: 1996

Definitive Version: None.

As I mentioned, my big present for my 33rd birthday in 1997 was the best birthday present I ever got—money to scalp a ticket to the All-Star Game in July that year in Cleveland.

The All-Star Game was just the main event. I wanted to hit FanFest and, if possible, the Home Run Derby, too. Dave was more than happy to come down from Flint and join the festivities, although the All-Star Game itself was too expensive for him. But he could get into FanFest free thanks to our now-routine use of the press credential, but he wouldn’t be able to come down till Monday.

So, I drove up on a Sunday with Ænima blasting away on my tape deck. I went to the Cleveland convention center and hit up FanFest to kind of get the lay of the land. It was pretty amazing.

FanFest was essentially like half a National, or what the National had been. By July, the National’s misguided decision to kick out the sports and card companies in 1997 had become widely known and derided. FanFest had all that—the fun carnival-type games and card companies giving away freebies—plus a room full of card dealers selling merchandise.

Even better, it was all baseball stuff. Sure, the dealers had some non-baseball merchandise: They were looking to make a buck after all, but it was a baseball bacchanalia.

You had baseball batting games and baseball pitching games and baseball running games. There was a booth where you could call your own play-by-play of some famous event on videotape (and get a copy after). Best of all, everything was free, well, everything that wasn’t connected to a card dealer, of course. Hell, even the autographs were free. I got several that weekend. The best was Robin Roberts on a baseball, which began a collection of single-signed baseballs by Hall of Fame pitchers.

Dave and I met there, and he brought Andrew with him as the price of permission. That was fine, although as the day wore on, Andrew got a little cranky, which was understandable given everything we did. That included the Home Run Derby after all.

I figured tickets wouldn’t be too tough to come by; I just didn’t know how much over the face value of $20 I’d have to pay. However, back in those days, the Home Run Derby wasn’t the big production it’s became. (In fact, 1997 was the last year it was held during the day and televised on tape delay.) That worked in my favor.

Dave and Andrew hiked over to Jacobs Field with me to soak up the scene, although Dave couldn’t justify the expected going rate—particularly if he had to buy two tickets.

The first guy I came upon near the corner of Ninth and Carnegie had several tickets in the upper deck along the third-base side: $25 apiece. Hmm, not bad. How much for three? He said he’d do $50 for three together. Oh, Dave …

Dave quickly agreed that the price was right, so in we went. We bought some food and got to our seats just in time to see Mark McGwire hit a batting practice ball off the scoreboard, which was to be a far more impressive feat before we learned years later why he was able to do that.

With little fanfare, the Derby started. The whole thing took an hour and a half, maybe two hours tops, which is amazing considering now the Derby now tops three hours regularly as guys wait for the perfect batting practice slowball before swinging. (I blame Sammy Sosa for starting that nonsense.) In fact, it went so fast that we had time to go back to FanFest after it was over, and Dave and I could record our call of Joe Carter’s 1993 World Series winning home run, with Andrew providing guest commentary.

Dave and Andrew spent the night with me in my home away from home in Middleburg Heights before heading out the next morning. I went back to FanFest for more autograph-collecting—I got Gary Carter on my Home Run Derby ticket—and purchases before it was time to head to the ballpark.

Despite the success of the previous day, I was under no illusion that I’d be able to get a deal on a ticket to the actual All-Star Game. Anyone who scalps tickets to a sporting event knows that the longer you wait, the less you’ll pay. Scalpers want money, not tickets, so if you’re patient, you’ll get a good deal—like we had with the Home Run Derby.

However, I wanted to be in my seat for the introductions. To me, one of the best parts of the All-Star Game is the players toeing the chalk before the game. So I’d happily pay top dollar. Fortunately, I had $200 earmarked for that, so I was good to go, regardless of how much the price was marked up over the $60 face value.

I was approached by a few scalpers as I hiked closer to the yard, but the prices were a little too rich for my blood. I went over to the corner along Ninth Street, where I’d met the guy the day before, but nothing was happening there.

Scalpers for the actual All-Star Game were more discreet than they had been for the Derby, so I continued my lap around the park. As I got on the other side of the park, close to Gund Arena, I overheard a scalper trying to talk turkey with another fan. The fan wasn’t going for it.

What do you got? He said he had a single in the upper deck on the first base side. How much? $200. Without batting an eye, I said, done.

Then he took me on a little tour around the ballpark. He had me walk behind him a ways, up Ninth Street until we were past the ballpark out of sight of prying eyes. I was wondering what the heck was going on. Finally, he came upon someone else who had tickets and bought a ticket from him—probably for a lot less than he sold it to me—and turned over the ticket.

It looked real, and somewhat tentatively, I passed over the cash. Then came the scariest five minutes of my life. I walked to the ballpark, wondering whether I had been scammed and whether my ticket was real. The ticket-taker flipped it over, scanned the back … and the green light went off. I was in!

That was the highlight of the night. The All-Star Game really was anticlimactic, even though I got to see the humorous Randy Johnson-Larry Walker confrontation, and it was cool that hometown hero Sandy Alomar hit the game-winning home run in the seventh inning. But just being there was enough for me.

Overjoyed by the realization that I was seeing my first “event” game, I did the yes-yes dance upon entrance. Then I hiked to an empty spot and promptly called Debbie at home from her borrowed cellphone so she could share vicariously in the moment and to thank her once more for the greatest birthday present ever.