"Now batting for the Iowa City Crackers..."
The dork in me has taken over. I’ve spent most of my day at work clicking links on Wikipedia pages about Major League Baseball stadiums (the journals are in a slow period). Did you know: The city of Los Angeles told Spanish-speaking homeowners in the Chavez Ravine that low income housing would be built on the site, and displaced residents could have first choice of the new homes? Instead they built Dodger Stadium and a giant parking lot.
Wikipedia is addicting, especially for an obscure knowledge glutton like me. I learn a lot of stupid shit I won’t ever need to know, but it’s fun. I’ll be reading about one thing then click on a reference to something I don’t know. I do the same on the next page, then on the next, until I find myself on a subject unrelated to the first.
Here’s an example: While on the list of MLB stadiums, I clicked the link for the Kansas City Athletics. I was redirected to the Oakland Athletics page (the same thing, only the team moved in the ‘60s). While reading the history of the team’s elephant emblem, I clicked on the link to the mascot profile. The mascot’s page was a stub, but I was able to access the list of all MLB team mascots. Bingo. Another useless list, just like the one dedicated to Whammy quotes. Thank God for people who have a lot of time on their hands.
Wait. Would that include me?
The mascot for the Milwaukee/Atlanta Braves was Chief Noc-A-Homa. That name is so politically-incorrect-in-a-‘50s-way it sends chills up my spine. He lived in a tipi on a platform built over unoccupied seats. When a Braves’ player hit a homerun, Chief Noc-A-Homa (eegh) ran out of the tipi and danced around.
(Here’s a thought: What if a baseball franchise adopted the name Crackers. The Iowa City Crackers. I wonder what the mascot would be? I’d suggest an alcoholic white guy in jeans and a wife beater, who lives in a trashy trailer built in the middle of the outfield bleachers. When one of the Crackers hits a homer, the white guy throws open the screen door and fires a shot gun, then dances around to the Rednex version of “Cotton-Eyed Joe.”)
Despite how horrible and culturally shameful Chief Noc-A-Homa (aaagh!) was, he reminded me of another mascot — Bernie Brewer in Milwaukee. Each time a Brewer hits a homer, Bernie slides down a yellow slide. Before the team moved into Miller Park, Bernie slid into a giant mug of beer in the bleachers at County Stadium (maybe he still does at Miller, but don't know for sure).
Anyway, here’s what I’m getting at: the Sausage Race. Brewers employees don tall sausage costumes and race around the baseline from dugout to dugout. The contest pits a bratwurst, a Polish sausage, an Italian sausage, a hot dog, and a chorizo against each other.
I think I looked at this page because I’ve been craving sausage. My dad (who’s a Wisconsin German all the way) cuts kielbasas into pieces and fries them. Each piece plumps and oozes its fatty oils as it cooks. The outside skin turns maroon and the tender circle of meat browns if you keep one end pressed to the skillet. I grilled kielbasas and brats with my friend at our old apartment. The Friday before Hawkeye football games, we’d fill a pan with Pabst and let links of bratwurst soak in the beer over night.
To my amusement on a slow day at work, the characters in the Sausage Race have names and profiles. Check them out here. It kept a smile on my face for a few minutes. If you don’t check that out, then check out the race’s page on Wikipedia. Use it as a starting point to get lost.
Ah, aimless posts. I love them.
Wikipedia is addicting, especially for an obscure knowledge glutton like me. I learn a lot of stupid shit I won’t ever need to know, but it’s fun. I’ll be reading about one thing then click on a reference to something I don’t know. I do the same on the next page, then on the next, until I find myself on a subject unrelated to the first.
Here’s an example: While on the list of MLB stadiums, I clicked the link for the Kansas City Athletics. I was redirected to the Oakland Athletics page (the same thing, only the team moved in the ‘60s). While reading the history of the team’s elephant emblem, I clicked on the link to the mascot profile. The mascot’s page was a stub, but I was able to access the list of all MLB team mascots. Bingo. Another useless list, just like the one dedicated to Whammy quotes. Thank God for people who have a lot of time on their hands.
Wait. Would that include me?
The mascot for the Milwaukee/Atlanta Braves was Chief Noc-A-Homa. That name is so politically-incorrect-in-a-‘50s-way it sends chills up my spine. He lived in a tipi on a platform built over unoccupied seats. When a Braves’ player hit a homerun, Chief Noc-A-Homa (eegh) ran out of the tipi and danced around.
(Here’s a thought: What if a baseball franchise adopted the name Crackers. The Iowa City Crackers. I wonder what the mascot would be? I’d suggest an alcoholic white guy in jeans and a wife beater, who lives in a trashy trailer built in the middle of the outfield bleachers. When one of the Crackers hits a homer, the white guy throws open the screen door and fires a shot gun, then dances around to the Rednex version of “Cotton-Eyed Joe.”)
Despite how horrible and culturally shameful Chief Noc-A-Homa (aaagh!) was, he reminded me of another mascot — Bernie Brewer in Milwaukee. Each time a Brewer hits a homer, Bernie slides down a yellow slide. Before the team moved into Miller Park, Bernie slid into a giant mug of beer in the bleachers at County Stadium (maybe he still does at Miller, but don't know for sure).
Anyway, here’s what I’m getting at: the Sausage Race. Brewers employees don tall sausage costumes and race around the baseline from dugout to dugout. The contest pits a bratwurst, a Polish sausage, an Italian sausage, a hot dog, and a chorizo against each other.
I think I looked at this page because I’ve been craving sausage. My dad (who’s a Wisconsin German all the way) cuts kielbasas into pieces and fries them. Each piece plumps and oozes its fatty oils as it cooks. The outside skin turns maroon and the tender circle of meat browns if you keep one end pressed to the skillet. I grilled kielbasas and brats with my friend at our old apartment. The Friday before Hawkeye football games, we’d fill a pan with Pabst and let links of bratwurst soak in the beer over night.
To my amusement on a slow day at work, the characters in the Sausage Race have names and profiles. Check them out here. It kept a smile on my face for a few minutes. If you don’t check that out, then check out the race’s page on Wikipedia. Use it as a starting point to get lost.
Ah, aimless posts. I love them.
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