Opening Daze

The whole purpose of the story I told
Was mainly to inspire you to reach your goal
Stop walking through life as if you were blind
You should reach for your goal cause I'm reaching for mine...

Today marks the 13th straight Opening Day I will attend at beautiful Coors Field here in God's Country. That's every single first game since Coors Field opened back in 1995.

I've seen Dante's mullet flowing in the wind, 250 pound guys without their shirts in 30 degree weather, two-time Slushy Gutter winner T-Dub return from the game only to passout on a toilet seat, and drank lots of Coors Light. I saw Clint Barmes blast a homer to win the game (only to crash down some stairs months later carrying a sack of deer meat), a vicious cat fight outside of LoDo's bar, and sampled lots of Coors Light.

I saw alleged number one starters Mike Hampton and Brian Bohannon (who could probably eat most of Coors Field), the Big Cat, NL MVP Larry Walker, Juan Pierre, Ellis Burks, and Vinny Castilla. I drank Coors Light, saw two-time Slushy Gutter winner Juck make a beard out of cotton candy, sweated and burnt my head to a red crisp in nearly 80 degree weather, and watched my old homey Scott La Rock sell CDs to have beer money for the game. I've had friends fly in from miles away for the game, seen bars around the yard that come and went (Stars, Blake St Baseball Club, Wazoo's, Walker's, Hooters, and Cooperstown), saw plenty of boobies on the rooftops, and sucked a few smooooooooth CLs.

I ate burritoes from Nancy, hot dogs, E-Train's strange request for pizza with extra sauce, Breckenridge BBQ, Jackson's chicken sandys, plenty of Coors Light, and developed a crush on the beer girl at Splinters. I stayed up late to catch the NCAA championship, crashed early to miss the NCAA championship, christened my new house with a steady stream of vomit upon my return, seen more than half the teams in the NL, and watched my dunn CeeTuck try to "create." I've seen dads with sons, grandpa with grandkids, Dinger with a stream of kids following, the Rockpile line nearly 1000 deep, high hopes for a Wildcard, the division, the pennant, even the World Series, and plenty of expected last place finishes. I've drank beer from keg cups, pint glasses, cans, bottles, and pitchers.

Sleeveless pinstripes, black home unis, and traditional whites. I've seen Coors Light girls, Miller girls, drunk frat boys, old men playing the clarinet, and the same bunch of scalpers each year. I've parked at the Skyline Cafe, paid $5 for parking, paid $30 for parking, walked a mile to the game, taken the bus to the game. I've made big bets on football games, sat in the Pavillion, in the nosebleeds, along the baselines. I've seen more players that I couldn't remember if I had a cheat sheet (Kurt Abbot, Jeffrey Hammonds, Nelson Cruz, Henry Blanco, Terry Shumpert and his mini-stache, Brent Butler, Masato Yoshii, Gary Norton, and Jayhawk Owens)... maybe due to all that Coors Light.

It's baseball, it's every team at 0-0, it's your buddies, your family, the smell of fresh cut grass, and did I mention the Coors Light? Play ball!