9/20/2011 7:02:14 PM
FORT MYERS, Fla. -With the Perfect Game WWBA Florida Qualifier still fresh in my mind it's time to re-pack the suitcase and get ready for a week in the desert. The Perfect Game/EvoShield Underclass and Upperclass National Championships will be played at breath-taking venues in the Phoenix area Sept. 23-26, and I'm supposed to be on plane at 6:30 a.m. Wednesday heading that direction.
I almost got a 12-hour head start. After a busy morning spent in the hotel's business office printing out travel itineraries and driving directions, and an afternoon spent soaking up the sights in the greater Fort Myers area one last time before I return in two weeks, I got back to my hotel room and unintentionally took a short nap. I woke up and the clock said 6:10. I thought I had overslept and was sure to miss my flight, but I hurriedly got dressed, finished packing and shot out of my room, hoping to make it to the airport in, what, two seconds?
I was halfway down the hall before it hit me that it was 6:15 p.m. Tuesday and not 6:15 a.m. Wednesday. Even as I write this several hours later I feel as if I dodged a bullet.
The Florida Qualifer was great and I expect the Arizona events to be even better. I sort of got a handle on things when I met up last night with PG veterans Ben Ford, Matt Bliven and Ben Collman at an outdoors venue right across a large mall parking lot from my hotel called "World of Beer." That's right. It's no typo. The place is called "World of Beer." Before the night was over, I felt like I had been around the world several times. The last beer I had was from Taiwan. Or maybe it was Trinidad. Tampico perhaps? Toronto? Nevermind.
I decided to spend my last afternoon in southwest Florida away from a computer screen and drove back out to Fort Myers Beach. I stopped for lunch at place just off the main drag called the "Smokin' Oyster Brewery" or the SOB, as the sign says. Another sign inside the open-air piece of heaven informs customers that "SOB" also stands for "Shrimp-Oysters-Beer." Other small signs behind the bar proclaim such words of wisdon as "Save the Earth. It's the only planet with beer," and "Notice: If you're in here drinking to forget, please pay in advance."
The bartender/cook was an old hippie (I know, that's kind of redundant these days) who wore a faded T-shirt emblazoned with the words "Peace, Love and Oysters." I didn't catch his name - he didn't offer and I didn't ask - but I'm guessing it was probably "Rick" or "Sandy" or something along those lines. The music being played covered everything from Mountain's "Mississippi Queen" to America's "Sister Golden Hair." I had Rick bring me a bottle of LandShark and a fried shrimp po-boy. I have eaten po-boy sandwiches in New Orleans, where I believe they originated, but this one was the best ever.
I left SOB and walked two blocks to the beach, where I embarked on a half-hour walk along the seaside while ominous clouds built out over Gulf of Mexico. Living in the Midwest, I have seen thousands of thunderstorms build over corn and soybean fields, but this one - gaining strength over the emerald-green Gulf - was truely a thing of beauty. The wind kicked up creating white-caps out on the usually placid sea, and I barely made it back to my car before the rain drops began to fall.
I have enjoyed my six days here in the Fort, and will look forward to returning on Oct. 4. But just ahead there are stops in Phoenix and Austin, Texas - the latter for the WWBA South Qualifier - which promise more great baseball and restaurants and hospitality. I only wonder if I can find a decent po-boy in Scottsdale.