In two days, Tucson's most fan-friendly time of the year begins when the Arizona Diamondbacks throw out the first pitch against the Chicago White Sox at 1:05 p.m. local time.
Lest any of you miss out on the glory that is spring training in Tucson, here's a guide to spring training, college-style.
We'll start with the basics. Though Tucson Electric Park's modernity, grass outfield lawn and superior concession variety may lure you, don't be fooled: Hi Corbett is the place to be. It's a much shorter drive from campus, and a $2 sandpile ticket gives you access to scores of empty bleacher seats in a setting intimate enough for you to reach out and touch the players. However, actual touching of the players is strongly discouraged and will probably result in ejection from the premises. Or so I hear.
Sure, two different teams play at TEP, one of them being the home-state D-Backs. There's more star power on the field down on Ajo Way, with Frank Thomas, Magglio Ordonez, Richie Sexson and Luis Gonzalez patrolling the foul lines on any given day.
But let's be realistic here. The rising tide of irritating D-Backs fans who resulted from their improbable World Series run has receded back to a miserable trickle. Nobody ever really cared about them, and the people who do are the same kind of people who bring gloves to games when they're 30. There's no such thing as a die-hard D-Backs fan. If you just want to see Frank Thomas, go to Maloney's on a Saturday night and look for a black Bentley with a "JUS HURT" Illinois license plate. Or look for the most talented blonde in the place ÷ either way, he's bound to be nearby. Gonzalez, on the other hand, prefers lower-key joints, like the incomparable Red Garter.
If you want to see some real characters, look down the same Hi Corbett sideline Willie Mays Hayes sprinted to make the team in the baseball classic "Major League," which was filmed there. Section R on the left-field line is not only a renowned hangout for drunken coeds, it also puts you 10 feet from the bullpen and the most promising addition to this year's spring training slate ÷ the tooth-necklace-wearing, spitting, cursing, frenetic home-run-waiting-to-happen known as Turk Wendell.
For once, though, Turk will have some competition for the title of strangest man in the park. That would be Captain Earthman, the self-described "Intergalactic Space Hippie" Rockies beer vendor. He's hard to describe, but you'll know him if you see him ÷ look for the beer man with peanut earrings and a plastic beer bottle on his head. Once you buy from him once, you're set. Just get one of his business cards emblazoned with his catchy slogan ÷ "Selling no beer beneath my dignity" ÷ and his cell phone number. Then, whenever you're thirsty, give him a call and just say your section number, and he'll be right over with a cold one.
If you're not the patient type, head to the third-base side of the concourse, where you'll find the lovely Kathleen, a friendly blond lady who will remember your name by the third game. She's the patron saint of beer vending, always ready to listen with a cup in one hand and a tap handle in the other, never judging you if it happens to be your second of the inning. She will, however, cut you off when you've had too much. Or so I hear.
Beware overindulgence for another reason as well: it tends to make one less aware of their own pasty, winter-paled flesh searing in the sun. Just remember to bring sunscreen and resist the urge to bare too much.
Speaking of baring too much, you may be tempted to bring a lady friend. That's all well and good, but don't allow yourself to be big-leagued by the big-leaguers. Should your lady have the right qualifications, she'll soon grab the attention of players looking for diversion on their month away from home. Frank Thomas has to get those blondes from somewhere, folks. Just look what happened with Jennie Finch ÷ one day, she's beautifying the UA campus as a Wildcat, and next thing you know, she's at the ESPYs with some minor-league chump in tow.
In closing, I'll leave you with a few final guidelines. Heckling is not only accepted, but encouraged. If at any point there are two players with the same number on the field at one time, immediately heckle whichever person doesn't have a name on the back of their jersey. Should anybody with a number higher than 50 make an error, feel free to yell the classic Dave Stevenson line, "You're cut!" Whenever D-Backs prospect Casey Daigle gets rocked, make sure to chant, "Jennie's better."
Don't stop short of heckling the Rockies' useless mascot, Dinger, either. After all, no self-respecting person should ever suit up in a purple dinosaur costume and expect anything but rough treatment. But be warned ÷ doing it on the weekends, when kids are around, can get you escorted out of the building.
Or so I hear.
Justin St. Germain is a senior majoring in English and creative writing. He can be reached at sports@wildcat.arizona.edu.