As most of you know, I spent last Friday afternoon at a wedding in California, followed by a harrowing journey up the California cost with a rock wall to my right, a steep drop to the frigid Pacific waters to my left, and a puddle of urine at my constantly-braking right foot.

Why take such a dangerous trip? Why, to bring you a firsthand report about AT&T park, home of Barroid Bonds and the San Francisco Giants. I arrived outside of San Francisco late Sunday night, shaken but alive.

After an outstanding day in beautiful San Francisco, I attended Monday night’s Giants-Braves matchup, which featured ageless stud John Smoltz taking on the promising Giant Matt Cain.

We walked into the gates of AT&T about 20 minutes before game time. One of the members of my party was trying to chug a bottle of water before entering the park, assuming that the Gate Keeper would not let her in with the bottle. Much to our surprise, the Gate Keeper explained to us that we were allowed to bring outside food and beverage into the park. What’s more, AT&T allows its patrons to exit and reenter the park, as well as to walk into the bar attached to the park, purchase a $5 beer, and walk back into the park with it (where beers are $8). I was stunned. I didn’t even know until this season that Wrigley Field allowed fans to bring outside food or drink into the park (a charming tradition which was grandfathered in due to the age of the park). Here I was being told that one of the newest parks in the country adopted the old Wrigley Field tradition.

Upon entering the park, I was struck by the fact that the place looked more like a mall than a ballpark. It’s not a knock against AT&T, but a simple observation. If you thought John McDonough was a corporate whore, you’d despise the look of AT&T. There are advertisements everywhere there is space, and the place is filled with little shops, food stands, and people checking one another out. It was, no doubt, beautiful, however.

We found our seats in the upper deck about 15 minutes before game time. The seats were in the 300 level. I hate when people say, “There isn’t a bad seat in the park,” but as I looked around I couldn’t imagine where that one bad seat might be. The view was outstanding.

On to the game.

I’ve never been one to be overly-sensitive about Wrigley Field. I do love Wrigley. I think it’s an outstanding place to watch a ballgame. I think it’s charming, and it truly feels like home. But I’m not one to pretend that the food is good, that the ticket prices aren’t absurd, that the corporate jackasses, Chads, and Trixies in the stands aren’t obnoxious, or that the ballpark matters even 1/100th as much as the team on the field. The Cubs could play on the surface of the sun (if “Dusty’s guys” were playing) and I’d hitch the shuttle from Airplane II to go watch them.

AT&T Park, however, gave me new appreciation for Wrigley Field. I understand that the next-generation baseball fan might love the bells and whistles of the new parks. I know flashing lights, pretty scoreboards (God damn the AT&T scoreboard is clear, bright, informative, and nifty), and loud music are there for the casual fan more so than for most of you guys. But Wrigley really is all about the game. AT&T was not. I honestly could have kept myself entertained throughout the entire game without having to watch a single pitch. I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad thing, but it certainly attracts a good number of fans there who would be just as content going to a movie as watching a baseball game.

In the seats to my left was a Giants fan who I wish I had more time to get to know. The guy would have fit right in at HJE. The first time Barroid came up to bat, someone behind him was discussing how Barroid was only three home runs away from breaking Hank Aaron’s record. The fan chimed in, “And holding it until A-Rod breaks it in two years.” His comment wasn’t the only one which gave me the impression that even Giants fans don’t really like Mr. Potato Head.

In the seats to my right was the opposite end of the spectrum. To my right was the Giants answer to Polyellon. Wearing a Giants hat embarrassingly covered with Giants pins, he sat, diligently kept score, and bitched about every single pitch that wasn’t called a strike for starter Cain. From the 300 level. What’s more, we did what we could to avoid making him stand up to let us out of our seats. We only got up between innings, and that only twice the entire game. His eyerolling was so pronounced when we did ask him to move, however, it was nearly audible. I wasn’t rooting for either team, but I did have to giggle at his exasperation when Cain gave up three runs (and threw FORTY pitches) in the first inning.

One disadvantage to the 300 level, as far as I could tell, was that no beer vendors dared brave the relatively steep 300 level. I saw churro vendors, Lemon Chill vendors, and hot cocoa vendors. No beer vendors. And it wasn’t worth walking around the ballpark to pay $8 for a Bud Light (though I did get one for the souvenir cup). During that trip, we also purchased AT&T’s famous garlic fries. The fries were overrated, in my opinion. They’re just fries with garlic cloves on them the size of Barroid’s head. I don’t know what I was expecting out the name “garlic fries,” but at the price they charge they should come with a happy ending, or something.

Also, everyone in San Francisco who claims it’s “chilly” at night games is a pussy. It was perfect out the entire night.

The game was mediocre. I spent Barroid’s at-bats taking a picture during every pitch, and then promptly deleting said picture. The asshole went 1-3 with no homers and a walk just to spite me. His play in left field makes Matt Murton look like Rickey Henderson. Let’s just say if I were a Giants pitcher, I’d be fucking pissed every time he was penciled into the lineup and didn’t drive in three runs.

Each time Bonds game to the plate, the scoreboard informed us that he was “Chasing History” or some bullshit. Everyone in the park would give him a half-assed ovation like a prostitute servicing a John. Let’s face it. No one likes this asshole, and I don’t think anyone would shed a tear if he broke his hip one homer shy of 755.

Smoltz, on the other hand? He’s still the shit, and it’s hard not to like him. The guy is a gunslinger, and he had it going on Monday, giving up 1 ER on 7 hits in 7 innings in the Braves’ 4-2 win.

One thing I noticed during the game were the absurd promotions ALL THE TIME. It actually made me respect McDonough somewhat. The Giants actually had a kid announce the first three batters of one inning in some promotion. Later, they had some random contest-winning dude sing the 7th-inning stretch. As Donald Duck. People were booing three words into it.

As the game was getting late, we pissed off Pollyellon again to take a walk down the right field line of the stadium. We caught some great pictures of the kayakers and the Bay Bridge (to Oakland) from that side.

We then sneaked around to the left field area and checked out the Coke bottle slide.



The view from left field was impressive, as well.



I also got a shot of the Coke bottle and glove in all of their glory.



On the way out of the park, I noticed the gift shop was selling anatomically-proportional statues of Barry Bonds. I didn’t buy one, but I was impressed that they had enough plastic to create his head. I was also surprised to see that Barry Zito is a giant with a lowercase “g.”

AT&T Park was a great experience and is, without a doubt, one of the nicest ballparks in the majors. Call me a purist, but for better or for worse, I’ll take Wrigley.