Thoughts from the Diamondbacks series: “It’s hard not to be romantic about baseball…unless you work concessions”
Here’s a little factoid that may be of interest to you, since I was previously oblivious to it: it’s a pretty safe bet that anyone who serves you food at AT&T Park knows literally nothing about baseball and has no investment in the Giants’ success. Back when I was a proud member of the lunatic fringe with a pipe dream to sell garlic fries, I assumed that most employees were like me — nutcases who wanted to go to every Giants game for free. The truth is that about half of us are just stuck there by temp agencies, and those of us who are Centerplate employees usually just chanced upon the job. It is pretty impossible to remain a devout, attentive Giants fan while working at the ballpark, unless — this is an educated guess — you’re an usher. I think the ushers get to watch the games.
Also of interest: it’s a pretty safe bet that any fan you encounter at AT&T Park knows literally nothing about baseball and has no investment in the Giants’ success! I used to jump down the throats of anyone who suggested that Giants fans were a bunch of bandwagonners… but we’re a bunch of bandwagonners. This is not to suggest that our real fans aren’t good ones, because I think they are, but a lot of people show up to those games just because it’s a fun place to be. The good news is that we sell out every night and the bad news is that we sell out every night, and that when I ask anyone from my endless stream of customers questions like, do you happen to know who is pitching for the opposing team tonight? Who knocked Posey in during that rally? What is the score? they usually stare at me with an expression that clearly says, “please give me my fries and stop asking me these difficult questions.”
One of my fellow concessions workers, by the way, asked me what the word “homestand” meant. REALLY?
I must confess that my own relationship to our dear AT&T Park has been transformed over the past season. There was a time when I considered any voyage to that place to be a kind of hajj; stepping inside took my breath away. Nowadays, the Giants and I are a bit like Norm and Vera on Cheers. Norm loves Vera. He really does, even if he never stops making jokes at her expense. But the truth of the matter is, the “honeymoon” phase of their marriage is over and for the most part he would rather hang out with his friends at Cheers.
I, too, would rather hang out with my friends at Cheers.
Oh, and in case you wanted an update on my coworker’s love affair with the real-life giant from the last entry, christened by her as “big boy” — he has not returned. Presumably she has been heartbroken over this, but last night her recovery began when she made the acquaintance of a new gentleman. This fellow was about two heads shorter than “big boy”, but instantly proved his love by whipping out his phone, taking a picture of her, and screaming, “I’M GONNA TWEET ABOUT YOU TONIGHT!!!!”
I was in the background preparing a tray of garlic fries, so I am now preparing to go viral.
He’s gonna tweet about her! If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.