Happy Birthday from Philadelphia!

We love you and miss you!

The long drive from Dallas to Minneapolis was an arduous one but we made it.  We passed the first real test of the trip.

While passing through the rolling hills of Iowa, its green landscape dotted with old barn houses and rusty windmills, we made a stop at the birthplace of John Wayne.  It was a neat little museum smack in the middle of a little neighborhood with a tour and a gift shop that carries every John Wayne movie ever made.

We were met in Minnesota by rain and wind but lucky for us the ballgame was being played inside a dome.  We had a Dome Dog and a couple beers and were able to sit 5 rows off the first base side.  We had a front row seat to a couple of fantastic Morneau plays.

We’re on our way to Dyersville, Iowa now.  Destination - Field of Dreams.  Then to Milwaukee for a 7:00 game.  We’re exhausted from the day but excited for tomorrow.

As I sit here in my cubicle in Philadelphia, pining away for my boys on the road, of one thing I am certain: they are most definitely not pining for cubicle life (or me).

Each day of this adventure seems to top the day before. From the kickoff at CitiField to the savory flavor of the Fenway Frank to tailgating with newfound friends, the boys have seen (and tasted) it all. Each day the guys call me with new stories from the road – phenomenal sights they’ve seen, incredible people they’ve met, rain delays, oil changes, stolen bases, grand slams, Joey’s ridiculous escapades, and everything in between.

People often ask me if I’m bummed that I’m not with them. My default response is this:

Do I wish I were in a van with 3 un-showered and consequently ripe dudes with nothing but canned tuna and marshmallows to munch on? Hell no. Am I completely envious of this adventure? Absofrigginlutely.

While I’m not on the road with the guys, this project has been equally remarkable on my end. This experience is proving to be bigger and better than any of us could have ever imagined. Now, with the halfway mark just hours away, this girl is having a moment of reflection. Humor me.

When the idea for “30 Ballparks in 30 Days” was born, we always assumed it would simply be the 6 of us manning the field. Since then, our roster has changed. We lost a player. We’ve gained hundreds of supporters. Ever since our first mention in the Philadelphia Inquirer, public interest in the project has snowballed and the response has been overwhelming. I am consistently inundated with emails and phone calls from folks all over the country who have heard about 30in30 one way or another, and the resounding theme is “What can I do to help? How can I be a part of this?”

This is exactly why we decided to make this film. It’s not a film about particular teams or the history of the sport…it’s a film about the people that live and die for those teams and consider the sport a part of their own history. That’s what makes baseball great and that’s what inspired us to make this film. Whether it’s a little girl at her first game or a man too old to still swing a bat, everybody wants in.

Call me biased, naïve, and idealistic, but it seems to me that baseball is a passion that bonds even the most unlikely of folks. People have offered up their preferred parking spots, made the guys rice krispy treats, shared their hot dogs and beer, and given the guys their cell numbers in the event of a flat tire. The common sentiment in every city seems to be, “You may be Phillies fans at home, but today, you’re one of us.” Even the most intense rivalries are forgotten (cough, Mets fans, cough…) when people hear what we are doing and the guys are welcomed with open arms in every city. All differences melt away, and what we are left with is baseball.

Now I should probably end my first blog with a moving quote or some sort of sentimental, Kalas-esque sign off, but instead I’m going to end with this:

Joe Mauer or Lou Marson, if you happen to read this, CALL ME!

PS – Go Phils.

After a long drive through Kansas and Oklahoma, we rolled into Dallas at 4:30 and headed straight to 411 Elm Street - the Book Depository in Dealey Plaza. Standing at the site of JFK’s assassination is a chilling experience, especially when you stand behind the wood fence on the grassy knoll.

From there we headed to Sherlock’s Baker Street Pub where we met up with Royce and Ralph, two people who had heard about is in the papers. Ralph bought us all a couple rounds of Shiners beer then we headed off to the ballpark on the pub’s complimentary bus service.

Rangers Ballpark is a great place to take in a ballgame and Texas has the friendliest people we have encountered so far. We can’t wait to revisit the Lone Star State when we make our way through Houston and the southern half in May.

Now we’re about to embark on our furthest drive of the trip to date - 990 miles to Minneapolis.

This is our guardian angel that we clipped to the visor in the Vanbino.  She’ll watch over us and keep us safe on these long drives we have ahead of us.

Even before arriving in Kansas City, we knew two things had to happen: we couldn’t get rained out and we couldn’t leave without having tried their famous barbeque.  The K, as it is called by Royals fans, was our thirteenth park, and we were prepared for our luck to run out here.

The day started warm and windy with overcast skies as we made our way up the St. Louis Arch before heading west to Kansas City.  The Arch is a site to see and if you ever have the chance to go, go.

As we made our four hour drive straight across Missouri, it began to rain.  We pulled into the Kauffman Stadium parking lot just past five and the downpour had slowed to just a light mist.  Despite the cold, crappy weather, the lot was crowded with tailgaters.  We happened to park right next to Adam and his buddies, a great guy who happens to work at a famous KC barbeque place, Jacks Stacks.  He gave us a gift card and a reservation for after the game, so we were all set.

The K was an amazing park with an unbelievable scoreboard in center field, beautiful fountains, and food that we haven’t seen in other parks.  Warm mini sugar donuts and a rib-eye steak sandwich which just may be one of the greatest things I have ever tasted.

That was before Jacks Stacks, though…

Jacks Stacks, with their barbeque pork ribs and their crown prime beef rib, showed us why KC is famous for their barbeque.  Thanks to Adam, Chris, and Jake who made our short time in Kansas City time worth remembering.

Lucky 13 really really did turn out to be lucky, afterall - we got the game in and we had the barbeque, which we’ll be finishing tomorrow for breakfast.

We were met in the Busch Stadium parking lot by a family who drove three hours to meet us and tailgate with us.  It was flattering, to say the least.

Carrie (a Cards fan) and Brent (a Cubbies fan) brought their two kids Montana and Clarke (named after the famous 49ers catch that won the NFC Championship game) and beat us to the lot but saved us a spot next to them.  They cooked up some Italian sausages for us and we washed them down with ice cold Stag beer.

After the game, we went to Schlafly Brewery for a couple beers then to the Oyster Bar for some steamed crawfish.  Great bars, great food, great fans - we really enjoyed our time in St. Louis.

We stayed over in a Comfort Inn 15 minutes outside of St. Louis last night.  These Comfort Inns have been our favorite so far - comfortable beds, great water pressure, and a continental breakfast that includes waffles.

We got a phone call a couple days ago from a Cards fan in St. Louis who heard about what we’re doing.  She invited us to tailgate with her and her friends and who are we to turn down free dogs and beer?

Looking forward to a great game between the division rival Cubbies today.  Hopefully the rain will hold off.

We arrived in Chicago around 2:30 this afternoon and since we had some time to kill, we headed down to Michigan Avenue to check out Millennium Park.  It was jam packed with people who were out enjoying the warm day.

A couple told us that we had to try the deep dish pizza from Pizano’s.  As we ate our pie and drank our Goose Island beer in the shadow of the elevated Metra rail, it began to rain.

Then it began to pour.  Game time was two hours away.

We made it down to the ballpark by five and by now the temperature had dropped about 20 degrees.  The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

We walked around the tailgating lot and met the loyal and passionate fans of the south side.  All welcomed us with open arms into their tailgate parties and one group even packed us up some burgers and corn on the cob for the road.

The people we met here at Comiskey (as Sox fans still affectionately call it) were some of the best we’ve met so far.  They love their city, they love baseball, and they love their White Sox.