I was actively watching the game last night. When I say actively, I mean I was tweeting during the game. Some would say I was tweeting too much. Some would even go so far as to direct message me to tell me I was tweeting too much. Perhaps they were annoyed that I was filling up their timeline. I became self-conscious after that and since the Padres had a sizable lead, I retired to my study.
I checked back in with the Padres later, only to find that they had already won. With no more baseball to watch I decided to snoop around the ballpark using the Omni webcam. It was about 10:30pm, the fans had all left the park and the lights had been turned off. All was quiet.
I refreshed my image of the hooded retired numbers one last time before powering down for the night. That's when I noticed that a blue basket crane suddenly appeared. I refreshed again. Men were being lifted on top of the batter's eye under the cover of darkness! I refreshed again and again.
Men started to gather around the numbers and began to remove the secretive hoods placed over the numbers. I became giddy with excitement as I was about to get the first look at each of the new numbers and Trevor Hoffman's #51. I tickled myself with delight.
I watched for over an hour as if it was a really slow time lapse movie. I gave it more attention than I had given the game itself. As they removed each of the hoods I grabbed screen shots, hoarding them away.
Unfortunately it appeared that the Padres workers had the numbers wrapped in cardboard, keeping the numbers themselves out of sight and masking their shape. Still the tops of the numbers can be seen and perhaps with careful study more clues are available about the placement and font of the numbers.
After the workers finished futzing about, one by one they replaced the hoods over each of the numbers like an executioner preparing the condemned for a mass hanging.
Suddenly a man in a white dress shirt and slacks appeared atop the batter's eye. He stood out from the other workers who all wore the same navy blue short sleeved shirts. The man in the white shirt inspected their work. He appeared to be a manager of some type, a VP perhaps or even... a President/COO!
Then as quickly as they appeared -- they disappeared and the park was dark again and still.