Favorite Spot: Citizens Bank Park
Neighborhood: Sports Complex
Address: 1 Citizens Bank Way Philadelphia, PA 19148
I am: You’d think an umpire, looking at the play, in person, as it is happening a few feet away from them, would be able to make a call better than me, miles away and watching through a slightly delayed television feed. But they can’t. It’s uncanny. What I’m saying is my eyesight is terrific. My sense of speech; not as much, as they never seem to hear me through the TV.
Years in Philly: 2005-09; 2012-present
Current Home: Francisville (Broad & Poplar)
My Love Note:
Dear Citizens Bank Park,
There are days when killing us both seems like the only logical conclusion.
There I’ll be, kicking a wall near the left field gate, screaming nonsense words at Kyle Kendrick as a disgusted security guard mutters,“Yeah, it’s him again,” into a radio while slowly reaching for his taser.
But it’s the pits of despair show me how much we really know about each other. Some would call that love. Other, professional people, would call it “intensely unsettling.”
Some people think it’s rude to ask to turn on the game while a child is blowing out their birthday candles. Well I’m sorry, friend’s child, but I DON’T SHARE YOUR CONFIDENCE IN OUR BULLPEN. You think Jason Heyward’s not gonna mash that 2-1 meatball Papelbon’s leaving up too high because your cake is shaped like a LEGO??! THIS IS REAL LIFE, MAN. AND IT DOESN’T STOP BECAUSE YOUR PARENTS SPRUNG FOR A NOVELTY PASTRY YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH. I’m sorry. I’m sorry everyone.
CBP, I miss you in the winter. You pulsate with the city’s summer heart beat, quaking with screams and stomps until we’re too emotionally exhausted to face the cold months. Sometimes I wish I didn’t care so much; that I could just go to the park and enjoy the company of friends and a $9 beer; fist-pump a Howard bomb and give Cliff the good vibes to finish off the side.
Then, I’d go home and think about my shoes or keys or North Korea; whatever people are thinking about these days. That’d be nice – a calm summer evening of baseball and contemplating nuclear war like a sane person. But it’s not to be.
You have been a refuge, a museum, a workplace, and a first date for me. And someday, when some misguided person succeeds in kicking the place apart one brick at a time, having built a resistance to taserings, you will live on, in sunburns, ticket stubs, grease stains, and replays – the pulse of the city will keep beating, long after our final withdrawal from The Bank.