My name is Jeff and I am coming to San Diego very soon. I'd like your help in organizing my Saturday, May 7th (AKA Bud Black Bobblehead Day). It shall be my maiden voyage to Petco Park and I'd like some advice from you all on where to park, which restaurant to hit up before the game and any other useful tidbits of information that can make for a splendid afternoon/evening for my family and I as we frolic in the Plymouth of the West.
First, a bit of personal history, just so you all know that despite my undying devotion to the Oakland Athletics, I do indeed have a soft spot for the Friars... In October 1984, my grandfather and I placed a wager on the World Series. At the time, I was a nine year old aspiring first baseman. Since my A's were saddled with Bruce Bocthe manning the first sack, I had to find a new player to model my game after.
I am not sure if it was the sweet Taco Bell inspired uniforms, or the ultra hairy forearms of Steve Garvey (or the fact that my Donruss baseball card showed that we had the same middle name)... But something about that Padres team resonated with me. I adopted Mr. Garvey as my Sith Lord by donning number 6 on the back of my Lemoore Little League Hawks jersey.
As the season progressed, and my A's continued their suckitude, I became more and more enamored with Mr. Garvey and his cohorts. When Leon Durham foreshadowed Bill Buckner, I was hoooked! I became convinced that the 1984 Padres were a run away freight train that could not be stopped in any way, save for pulling into World Serious Trophy Station.
I informed my grandfather (Popo) of this fact and he asked if I would like to place a wager on the series against the evil, Shere Kahn inspired, Detroit Tigers. I gladly bet $20 that the Padres would crush the Motor City Kitties. It is important to note that besides being my grandfather, Popo was my sole source of income. I mowed his yard for $10 a month.
Despite Kurt Bevacqua's best efforts, we all know that I lost this bet. I still remember the call from my Popo, right after Willie Hernandez got Tony Gwynn to fly out.
"Jeff," he said. "Times are tough and we are going to have to cut back on your salary. I am thinking five bucks a month is about all I can spare..."
So, on that day I learned a few things. Chief among them was never bet on baseball. If only Pete Rose had a Popo and an infatuation with the 1984 Padres.
I can't wait to visit your awesome park... I appreciate any and all suggestions for making that particular Saturday fun and easy.