David Eckstein, clearly buggered by this Inception-level poopoo.
At this point, the author pauses to pose a question most hypothetical: you, most handsome or beautiful reader -have you lost weight?- would you prefer a blog post supplemented with visual affirmation that your humble recorder of the fates was "there" (which is purely metaphysical nonsense!)? Of course not. How droll.
Besides, if a picture's worth a thousand words, I think Bret would be fairly pissed if I posted two images and called it a night. Onward we go, lovable reader, onward to the past.
Saturday, 02/09/13 09:30 hours: I arrive, ahem we arrive at 2013 Padres FanFest. Isn't it grand? The fellowship! The camaraderie! Our first welcome gift is a voucher conferring us an autograph with the seminal Will Venable! We first make our way to the garage sale, set up to benefit the Padres Foundation. There are all sorts of wonderful trinkets here, game-worn pants, jerseys, bats (hopefully not game-worn, but always a possibility!), buttons, minor league apparel, helmets, signed merchandise, and excessively large banners. There are even leftover promotional items! We totally should have gone to that one, reader, but you said you were busy. It is of no concern now though.
9:35 A.M.: We find Laura, fair maiden of Bret and a General Baseball Fan. She spends the next five minutes crushing the souls of young and old Baseball Fans alike, as she turns them away from the sizable stash Bret has accumulated in his short time here. We see at least 20 helmets and, well, a crap ton of pants would be a slight inaccuracy. For us math fans out there, if we had a literal ton of crap, we could fit slightly under 15 pounds of poop in each pair of pants. And you said math never had any practical use!
10:00 A.M, February Ninth, Two-thousand-and-thirteen Anno Domini: With our sizable haul properly stored, we passed through the entrance gates a second time. Ah, a Logan Forsythe autograph voucher. Truly helping others is its own reward, especially when we receive tangible value for doing so. Like a wild beast, confused and frightened by its new environs, we return back to the garage sale. Hello Corey Brock! No, you don't know us. Catch a gander of these exquisite banners, glorious reader! This Will Venable poster will look most imposing as it dances in the stands of right field. Even better - this Will Venable banner is so large it will eventually block us during our photo shoot with the man himself, but we wouldn't want anyone to question our Fanhood, so the larger one it shall be. Bret agrees, and purchases some additional pants. For those keeping score, that actual ton of crap could now be evenly divided into twelve-and-a-half pound increments among all the pants Bret has purchased.
10:30 A.M.: Hello Nick Hundley! Hello Joe Wieland! I probably pronounced your name wrong Mr. Wieland, that is probably why you gave us an oddly bemused stare.
11: We visit the forum held by Tom Garfinkel and Josh Byrnes. I work up the courage (did you hear my voice waver, inspiring reader?) to ask Mr. Byrnes (regrettably not Mr. Burns) about the approach one might develop to gain a job working in a baseball front office and whether the Padres would see themselves signing Karsten Whitson (the Padres' unsigned 2010 first round pick) in the upcoming amateur draft. He responds to the first question by informing us of how he broke into the industry and mentions that while he does not believe Whitson will be available at the 13th pick, the Padres will continue to scout him. Matt and Alyssa join our blooming caravan of authentic Padres' fanatics (and one Tiger heretic).
11:30 ante meridian: Thinking quickly, we corner Mr. Byrnes following the end of his forum. He is gracious enough to offer us some additional advice about getting noticed in the Baseball industry: create your own scouting reports and conduct research in publicly available forums (he specifically mentions Fangraphs and Baseball-Reference). Of course I don't need to remind you of these proceedings, charming reader, as you are there.
12:00 post meridian: The player's forum begins and we are in awe of these strapping heroes of our past-time. We listen intently, and think of asking if an old-school player like Chris Denorfia could be the first player-coach in the World Baseball Classic. Our gut fails us though, and we decide to instead nod politely. Don't blame me, bright reader; after asking a question at the last forum, I did not want to seem like, "That fan".
12:30 aka Will Venable time: The moment of our exultation has arrived, jubilant reader! Here we are positioned mere feet away from the day's raison d'etre. After failing the directions of three separate ushers, we finally determine that we need to sit down before we get to stand in line. One could hardly blame us though, how should we be expected to remain immobile at a moment such as this?
12:45 on the Ninth of February, 2013 CE: We meet a few wondrous folk, namely a Brewers' fan from Saskatchewan with an enviable knowledge of minor league happenings. We have never met a Brewers fan or a Saskatchewan native, much less a single entity adhering to both qualifications. We are duly impressed.
13:00 hours: Most dreadful of news, eager reader: the line has been cut off in-front of us! A nearby father is incredulous at the notion that the player's free time doesn't revolve around him. Fortuitously, the players agree to wait until the autograph line has subsided. The fore-mentioned Logan Forsythe appears nearby, ready to take his place among the autograph table - I call out to ask Logan how's he doing, but I only think of starting the Wolverine nickname after it is too late, witty reader. Will Venable (and Adys Portillo, who we pass over in hopes of keeping the line behind us moving at a happy pace) are genuine and seem like Good Guys.
And the rest...: We wander about the field in a daze. The clubhouse tour is probably our favorite moment of the day's activities, and we would be hard-pressed to fully describe the facilities beyond the mystique they hold to us common fans of the game. We reach the field and become as children - in baseball, that's okay curious reader. Base races ensue. A home plate picture is the ultimate culmination of the day, and we quickly fire off a sharp joke to make it all-the-more saccharine ("Friar or no Friar in your picture?" "Extra Friar!" "Ha ha!"). We are even treated to special guests in our section of choice (section 135, forgetful reader, I shan't remind you again). Our special guests are revealed to be Joe Thatcher and Andrew Cashner, who were already present for the day's proceedings, but are enjoyable fellows nonetheless. We remark on the unkempt five-o'clock shadow outlining Joe Thatcher's face and the quick turnaround in Andrew Cashner's recovery. A successful day, spent reader, on all accounts.
As we slowly levitate back to our corporeal forms, tethered to the dull nature of the here and now, let us reflect back on our journey! Quite thrilling, was it not? But exceptionally taxing! Transporting consciousness across space-time tends to do a number on you, wouldn't you agree? It is my goal then, patient reader, to charge my damn phone before my next expedition so you shall no more suffer these ill effects.
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