"White, Discussion" in Charleston

 

I Talk of Freedom
You Talk of the Flag
I Talk of Revolution
You'd Much Rather Brag
And as the Decibels of This Disenchanting
Discourse Continue to Dampen the Day
The Coin Flips Again and Again, and Again,
And Again As Our Sanity Walks Away

"White, Discussion", Live, Throwing Copper (1994)

The capital city of West Virginia, Charleston, sits at the junction of I-79 and I-77. It is about 280 miles from Hillsborough and 230 miles from Pittsburgh so it makes a nice mid-way stopping point on the journey back to the 'Burgh.

On a trip to see the Pirates in August, 2005, Chris and I stopped for a night there to take in a West Virginia Power game at the (then) newly opened Appalachian Power Park.

This was a really weird evening. 

As usual, we got there just as the gates opened to check out the park. It was a warm and muggy Tuesday evening. We were staying downtown in a somewhat seedy area but it was within a couple of blocks from the park so we walked from our hotel.

Quick tour of the ballpark and its time to quench the thirst. Pull up to the concessions and see that they have a 32-oz domestic draft for $4.00. I am all about value (and I am not driving), so I go with that. At the DBAP in 2005, $5.00 would only get me 24-oz - do the math - prorated that is like 16 oz of free beer. Pay the man the money, grab my brew and exit left only to hear "Excuse me sir - this is Two-For-Tuesday - Buy One - Get One Free Night."  Yikes!

Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. - Benjamin Franklin

At this point, I am a bit conflicted and the gears in my mind start grinding. I have never been able to slam or binge beer and have never had a real large capacity. Free beer is a gift, but warm beer is icky. On the other hand, wasted beer is a tragedy. Screw it, I grab my sixty-four oz and head to our seats.

We were sitting a couple of rows behind the visitor's dugout. It was still an hour or so before first pitch when I started attacking the first beer. No one else was sitting in our section but there was a group of five middle-aged guys standing on the concourse behind our section. From their looks, they appeared to be suburban middle-manager types (trust me, I know the look) who had started getting their drink on much earlier than I.

A couple of minutes later, one of the visiting players, a Latin American who looked like he was about 17, emerges from the dugout and heads down the line to join some teammates stretching and throwing. It is still eerily quiet when one of the middle managers (a portly Michael McDonald-lookalike with grey beard) yells to him:

Hey Martinez! I slept with your sister last night! She was awesome!-Michael McDonald-lookalike

To the kid's credit, he just smiled and kept walking. This would go on the entire evening. Relentless. Persistent. Creative. These guys were all over the visitors. Free beer and West Virginia make for a potent combination. (I am really glad that I didn't wear any Pitt paraphernalia that evening.)

But we are just getting started. Around the second inning and well into the second 36-ozes, I notice the smell of burnt hamburger buns wafting over from behind home plate. I also strain to make out what sounds like an organized chant when a Power pitcher strikes out a batter.

At the end of the half-inning I walk down to that section to check it out. Sure enough, there is this dude in the first row by the visitor's dugout with loafs of bread and a toaster (sitting on a little table) plugged into a full-duplex receptacle. I am in the presence of the legendary Toastman.

Atr this point, I am thinking that if I hadn't already purchased Bucco tickets for the next 2 days, I might just stay here for the remainder of this series.  Free beer, Michael McDonald, and the Toastman. But the main event was still yet to unfold.

Around the top of the sixth, Chris and I leave our assigned seats and take a walk to get vantage points of the game from different locations. (We often do this.)

We settle on a position behind home plate, standing on the concourse to take in an inning or two. Within seconds, it is apparent that a couple of late thirty something men (within 10 feet of us) are having a spirited discussion about politics.

On the Left, we have a short, thin, balding guy with a vague resemblance to Jeff Van Gundy. Kind of soft-spoken compared to his opponent. On the Right, there was a black-haired husky guy with a beer belly and a beard. Imagine a slightly toned-down version of Stan Van Gundy with a beard.

For the next 50 minutes and 2 1/2 innings, these guys went hard at each other in a classic mano-a-mano. Think Borg-McEnroe on Centre Court in 1980 for 5 sets. Twice the frantic action was interrupted as the participants drained their weasels and restocked on that free West Virginia nectar.

About 10 minutes in, I looked at Chris and asked him if he wanted to head back to our seats, but he was hooked as well. "Nah - I am good here". Even at age 15, kid knew he was witnessing something special.

Liberals and Conservatives. Now there are a couple of 4-12 teams. - Dennis Miller, before he fixed his business model.

Every imaginable, superficial, talking point was levied in this battle. Every easily debunked myth was fired. Every opinion echoed as fact with 100% certainty in its purity of truth.


Clinton was responsible for 911. USS Cole. Clinton apprehended and jailed the 1993 Trade Center bombers. Wag the dog. Bush ignored the PDB. Yellow cake. Reagan emboldened terrorists by bailing in Beirut. Reagan single-handedly won the Cold War. Carter's incompetence. Reagan's imperialism. Cheney and Haliburton. Cheney is no longer with Haliburton. Cheney still has stock options. We are fighting them over there so we don't have to fight them here. Why is Haliburton uniquely qualified to do no-bid construction projects? Why don't you support the troops? We armed Saddam Hussein. You are either with us or against us. Bush lied and people died. Why don't you want the people of Iraq to have freedom and democracy?

Geez Louise! This was just on the War on Terror piece of this marathon. Clearly these guys had a long-standing relationship from the tone of their heated discussion. After 15 minutes or so, as they transitioned from topic to topic, I would (internally in mind) arrange a check list to see how many predictable themes I could identify before they brought them up in their enlightening discussion. I was batting 80% when I stopped trying.

The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter. - Winston Churchill

Things got out of control at the end when the discussion moved on to a vote that WV Senator John Rockefeller had made in support of funding for education and contraceptives to curb teen pregnancies. Stan remarked that he'd wish that funding was in place when Jeff's mom was trying to conceive Jeff. No he didn't! Oh snap! Jeff got right into Stan's face, Stan pushed Jeff back and they tussled for about 10 seconds before a security guard escorted Stan out. (Why Stan? Yet another chapter in the book of the Conservative Persecution Complex.)

What a Night!