DanMargarita.com

Mar. 7---I fly into Orlando by way of New York. The captain introduces himself and his crew for reasons I cannot fathom.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. This is your captain, Frank Doherty. I want to welcome you aboard American Airlines flight 1640. I'll be joined by my Co-pilot Tom Langton and Navigator Evan Wainright."

I'm tempted to stand up and yell "Oh my God! Not Wainright! You mean they let him fly again?!"

I don't care if Ronald McDonald is flying the plane, if he can land it safely.

I get to the airport and there's some confusion about getting a ride. Namely, where and when. You know, small details like that. I'm ready for some dinner but the only real restaurant is a Chilli's Too. The staff is working hard there, which I gather from not only their fast-paced strolls, but the fact that the place reeks of perspiration. I try to hold my breath through dinner.

Mar. 8---We get up a little late, so there's no time for breakfast. It's a long drive to Ft. Myers to see the Red Sox. We get there in the second inning and the Sox are losing to the Twins 1-0. To add further insult to injury, former Red Sox Jose Offerman blasts a home run over the right field fence. To think, the Red Sox signed him to replace Mo Vaughn's on-base percentage.

Our seats are down the left field line, in the shade which makes it a little cool. Nevertheless, a big cheer arises when they announce that the temperature in Ft. Myers is 75 degrees while in Boston it's 30 degrees and snowing. This makes me feel better since it had been mild the week before I left, when I had been hoping for 5 degree weather to rub into the faces of friends and family.

Thanks to a late inning Twins pitching implosion, the Sox come back to win. There is no night game, so we head for dinner at Nino's, an Italian restaurant of which Sox broadcaster Jerry Remy has often spoken fondly of on telecasts.

Mar. 9---We do get up in time for a delicious Bob Evans breakfast...which causes us to be late for the Pirates game in Bradenton.

We have three extra seats to unload. The first guy I approach is very suspicious. He looks at the tickets and asks why they don't have the Pirates logo on them. I try to explain to him that it's because they came through Ticketmaster, but his suspicion gets the best of him and he passes. The next three guys I meet buy the tickets, which are pretty good seats...not nearly as good as ours, though. We sit a few rows behind the backstop, literally right next to the Pirates coaches who sit on chairs outside of the dugout.

Bill McKechnie Field is an old stadium that has been remodeled but has maintained that old-time stadium feel. The concession workers are retirees, who are very pleasant and are sure to let you know that tips are donated to help crippled children. God, that's nauseating. After years of dealing with surly, uncooperative concession workers at Fenway Park, this politeness is a shock to my system.

Then it's back down to Ft. Myers. A nine-piece choir sings the national anthem. Remarkably, they all manage to be off-key, but in harmony.

Our seats are down the right field line, near the field and like seats similarly located at Fenway Park, you have to crane your head to your left to see the action. Unfortunately, someone further down the row to my left has chosen to lean forward which means that the person next to them has to lean forward to see and the person next to them has to lean forward to see, etc., etc.

There is an open seat to my right, though. I assume I have some extra cushion, so when a foul ball bounces off of the warning track and into the stands over my head, I lunge for the ball. Unfortunately, I don't have as much room as I thought and I sort of land on an older guy to my right.

Mar. 10---We have to get up early for a three hour drive across the state, so there's no time for breakfast. A Dunkin Donuts coffee and donut will have to suffice.

The middle of Florida is quite unlike what most people see of the state. Instead of the Route 1-like strips of highway with gas stations and strip malls that most Disney travelers are familiar with, you pass orange groves and cattle grazing peacefully. On the horizon a few fires burn in the distance. They could be from the occasional brush fires, since the state gets little rain, or they could be intentional fires to clear away brush. You can tell when you're getting near civilization because the radio stations go from religious shows and country music to rock.

Though we have bleacher seats we upgrade to grandstand seats from a guy out front. I look at the tickets which say "complimentary" and when he asks how much I want to pay, I'm tempted to say nothing, since he obviously didn't pay for them. Instead I buy them for $20 which is about what they'd cost.

It's the Red Sox vs. the Cardinals, but the Sox have only brought a couple of regulars for the long trip and early noon time game. It's windy and chilly, but you can feel the sun beating down on you're neck

After the game, while milling about in the souvenir store, I notice a man flipping through clothes on the rack next to me and realize it's St. Patrick's own Father Schmidt. An avid baseball fan, he too has followed his home town team across the state.

For the night game we head to Kissimmee in what proves to be the chilliest night yet. The longest concession line all night is not the beer or food line, but the espresso/cappuccino line.

It was always one of my favorite ballparks because you could usually walk right up and get good seats from the ticket window before the game. They've since refurbished the ballpark, removing the metal bench grandstands and replacing them with comfortable seats with cup holders. They'e also signed Roger Clemens and Andy Pettite, meaning that all factors considered make tickets a little harder to get.

Mar. 11---Reds vs. the Blue Jays at Dunedin. Great seats on the third base side in the sun. A good day to get some color, but I'e loaded up on sun block. Not much color, but it means I won't agonize in the shower tomorrow.

For the night game we head to Tampa to see the Yankees take on the Tigers, who were the worst team in baseball last season. Still, when it involves the Yankees you've got to try to get tickets ahead of time. We have three, but we manage to scrounge a fourth.

Mar. 12---I' just about to get into the shower when I hear a knock on my motel room door. I ask "Who is it?" and get a response of "I need to talk to you" from a woman on the other side of the door. Clad in a towel, I open the door and the woman says her name is Delores. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to let you know that you're staying in a toxic room." She goes on to explain that the mold spots on the wall are more than just an aesthetic nuisance.

"We stayed in here last night my son got really sick because of the mold. I'm a nurse and I had to use his nebulizer all night so that he could breathe. They shouldn't be renting this room out. You need to get out of here right NOW!"

Well, I'm not about leave without my shower, but I manage to switch rooms without having to resort to the threats I was prepared to make if they give me a hard time.

A new experience for all of us in the Phillies new ballpark in Clearwater. It's the first beautiful day, the kind I'd expected in Florida. The ballpark set up is a great situation with all possible conveniences for fans. There's a "moonwalk" bouncing thing for the little kids. In left field, a thatched roof, full-fledged bar. There's a grassy hill that goes around the outfield for people to spread out blankets to relax on. You can stand behind left field and watch minor leaguers practice on adjacent fields. After the game, a live band plays music by the bar for two hours.

The only downside is that they follow the unfortunate trend of a constant noise barrage during the game. Every time a foul ball is hit out of play, the sound of glass breaking, a "boing" or some other wacky sound effect is blasted through the stadium. It's like reading a script from the "Batman" TV show. Between innings, when someone's not ready to pitch or hit, some music HAS to played.

There is only one Friday night game. It involves the Astros in Yankees in Tampa. As previously mentioned, the Yankees are always a tough ticket, but with the Astros signing Pettite and Clemens and it being a Friday night game, the only night game at that, this has long been sold out. We thought we had tickets coming in the mail before the trip, but one of our party was stiffed for $100.

We get there early, about 5:30 for a 7:00 game. There's already a long line at the ticket window for the late released tickets, and someone from the Yankees announces that there'll only be 70 tickets available. A quick glance at the line in front of us tells us that there are more than 70 people ahead of us. Sure enough, they sell out long before our place in line. The ticket scramble is on.

When I first began the sojourns down south, one could almost always walk up and get tickets at the window. On rare occasions when a game was sold out, you could usually find someone looking to get rid of extra tickets. Now professional scalpers roam the grounds and ask outrageous prices.

One guy offers me a $20 box seat for $50. I'm not willing to pay a lot more over cost for a meaningless exhibition game. Two scalpers get into a fight in the parking lot when they approach someone looking to get rid of extra tickets. Our patience pays off as we all manage to find folks with an extra ticket around face value.

As a result we are all sitting apart, and being a Red Sox fan in a Yankee crowd, I feel like Winston Churchill at a Hitler Nuremberg rally.

Mar. 13---My last game finds me at Dunedin to watch the Sox play the Blue Jays. Again, the Sox brought few regulars. We have good seats behind home plate which turn out to be just below Sox broadcasters Jerry Remy and Sean McDonough, who sign autographs after the game for some of the many Sox fans in attendance.

After the game ends, I sit and enjoy the sunshine and warmth and realize that it will be months before I get to sit at a ballpark in a T-shirt again.

Mar. 14---The flight home is bumpy but not as depressing as realizing that I started the day in a short sleeve shirt and am ending it bundled up in a sweatshirt and jacket.

Back to reality.