OK, five days are up and what better occasion to rejoin the festivities than during the Phils weekend journey to the worst city for major league baseball in the civilized world?!
That's right, folks, "the worst". No sandlot in the Dominican Republic or aging bleachers in Havana nor the most basic diamond in the Dutch Antilles can compare to baseball in Miami.
Have you ever noticed that baseball telecasts from Miami have their own sound? The sound of those vuvuzelas reverberating off of the 40,000 plus empty seats. The PR system that seems to originate from a mine shaft. The sound of a foul ball rattling off all those seats. Boos that don't cascade (there is a minimum number to reach "cascade" level. See Citizens Bank Park for reference.)
Placido Polanco batting cleanup.
Chris Wheeler making at least 100 references per game to the size of the park, made larger by the absence of occupied seats. Last night's game was probably seen by more tourists from Quebec than residents of Florida including the vendors, ushers and grounds crew.
The sheer extortion of it by the Marlins' ownership, getting the local citizenry to fund the new stadium only to watch him trade away most of their best players.
It almost makes one wish for Bowie Kuhn.
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