It's Not Yankee Stadium...

But it's still America's Pastime. That includes me since I'm an American. 

The venue is Chase Field in Phoenix, Arizona. The local Boys of Summer (Diamondbacks) are playing the Los Angeles Dodgers. I'm cheering for the old Brooklyn Bums. Besides, they have Donnie Baseball AKA Don Mattingly managing the team. 

Mattingly has always been a Yankee fan favorite. (That's me) He played his entire 14 year career for America's Team. Afterwards he became a hitting coach and bench coach for the Bronx Bombers. He was a finalist for the managing position when Joe Torre was ousted from the job. I still miss Old Joe and never warmed up to the new Joe. 

I wish Donnie Baseball was given a chance to follow in Joe Torre's footsteps. I'm sure there are other Yankee fans who feel the same way.

So...Go Dodgers and Don. 

Of course Go Yankees and Rockies too.

For those keeping score, the Dodgers were shut out tonight. 6-0.

It was still more fun than going to work or being in Kansas.

So Long Tucson...

My A Team did an admirable job of watching over me during my stay in Southern Arizona. 

Thanks Sid and Clara! 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/watching.html

Nothing catastrophic happened, physically or emotionally. 

Tucson hadn't changed much in 18 months and neither have I. The Old Pueblo still seems to be a city living from paycheck to paycheck. In 2011, it had the dubious distinction of being the 6th poorest Metro area in the US. In a recent survey by WalletHub, Tucson ranked 143 out of 150 cities as far as recession recovery is concerned. 

As I drove the main drags in town, I couldn't help but notice the over-abundance of pawn shops, tattoo parlors, trailer parks, thrift shops, used car dealerships, check cashing businesses and billboards announcing "We Buy Ugly Homes!" 

Transients huddle up at major intersections facing the cardinal directions holding handmade cardboard signs. The signs don't resemble the one I made. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/two-years-of-being-homeless.html

Clearly, the city center doesn't scream "We are a thriving Metropolitan!" 

There's fits and starts of pockets of prosperity. There's a shiny new trolley system, a well-developed bicycle trail along the dusty dry river beds and a few new tony restaurants and pubs Downtown. Tucson is a slow work in progress. 

It's not all negative though. Tucson is a great place to whip your body back into shape with its abundance of hiking trails. After being a reluctant Beach Bum in Hawaii, I needed to move! 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/02/goodbye-to-hi.html

It's a fine place to sit still for March Madness.

University of Arizona baseball is the lovable bastard child of Tucson sports too. 

Tomorrow morning, I'll partake in my all-time favorite Tucson activity. I'll get in Barley the Van and leave the Old Pueblo behind. 

The road trip starts!

Have You Seen...

Peggy? AKA the "Gila Angel"?

The plan was a simple overnight backpack trip in the nearby Rincon Mountains. 

We set up the shuttle before the sun rose and and began hiking uphill.  I might not have been paying attention for a moment or three to the whereabouts of this almost septuagenarian power plant. I crested a short rise and waited in the shade. I waited and waited and waited. Crap! 

I double-backed about a half a mile at a faster than usual clip. No blond-haired Minnesotan marathoner in sight. Crap II. With visions of the Arizona Daily Star's front page reading, "Ex-Firefighter Abandons Granny!" I sought cell phone service on a rocky outcrop. 

 I phoned the Misplaced One first. It rang a few times. I held my breath. She picked up!

"I'm lost!" (That was an understatement)

I scanned the landscape from my aerie and spotted some motion. 

"Walk around. I think I see you." Sure enough it was my hiking buddy. 

"Stay on the trail and walk away from the City. Stay on the trail!"

In a few minutes, we were reunited. So.. Just like Lewis and Clark, "We proceeded on." The rest of the 21 mile, two day trip was kind of  ordinary. 

What's anything but ordinary is Peggy. Her resume reads 70 marathons finishes. She slogged through  the Bataan Death March Marathon just two weeks ago. (Try running on sand for 26.2 miles!). Her energy is boundless. I'm a statue compared to her. All this motion from a retired nurse who was born during the Harry Truman administration. Simply amazing. 

Meeting Peggy in Tucson was one of the few social highlights of my four winters here. She's an inspiring friend. 

I'll keep a better eye out for her the next time we hike. I promise. 

Baseball is calling me to Phoenix on Saturday, and I must go. 

Don't get lost.

Jeff