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Tribe Rewards and Bleacher Tales The Cleveland Indians have rolled out a new program for season ticket holders called Tribe Rewards, which I am fully taking advantage of.

I have a partial plan in the bleachers, and I am included in the program. Basically, you get "points" for your ticket plan and for listening/watching away games and plugging in little codes. You can redeem these points for everything from bobbleheads to suites.

With my little plan and small amount of points, I thought for sure I would be stuck with nothing more than a pile of skateboard decks and C block ts. That is until I saw the option for Batting Practice on the field. I cashed out about half my points for this experience and I am madly scrambling for more points so I can do it again.

You and a guest get a couple of ts and then are escorted down on the field to watch the Tribe take some swings...that and Nick Swisher lining little kids up to do the O H I O. Sadly, no autographs for us that day, but there is something special about being down on the field. I highly recommend the adventure.

Speaking of adventures, I had a doozey in the Bleachers recently.

If you have never sat in the bleachers, the best way to describe it is remembering back to the days of being a kid on a field trip. Where did all the rowdy kids gravitate to? The back of the bus. The bleachers my friends, are the back of the bus.

While John Adams takes his perch at the top, the seats below are filled with a weird mix of families, drunks and miscreants. The bleachers are also quite like a reception, people dropping in and out, sitting where ever their butt lands.

After batting practice, my pop and I took our seats and watched a drunk hammered young man repeatedly get tossed out of somebody's seat. He was like that little cartoon cat...he just kept coming back.

Then, a loud couple sat behind us that clearly had a favorite word. Sometimes it was hyphened, but it was always present. Cursing, for the most part, doesn't bother me. I don't like it in front of kids or old people and I certainly don't like every other work screamed in my ear. It was so bad that I was contemplating how to get security involved when the guy behind me pushed me to the brink. I heard Popeye's voice in my head "That's all I can stands cause I can't stands no more."  I was wearing my Matt LaPorta jersey and the guy loudly proclaimed MATT LAPORTA SUCKS!


I turned around, giving the guy the evil eye just the way my grandma taught me, much to the delight of his girlfriend. "Ooooo...she heard you!" followed by "Hit him! Hit him."

The guy then tried to scooby doo backwards, "oh hey I didn't say nuthin" he muttered, waving his hands at me.

I said something to the effect of if he has an opinion fine stand behind it but I would prefer that he shut his pie hole.

The couple quieted down for the rest of the inning until they decided to stumble on for another Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Just another day at the ball park.

Posted by Cleveland Chick at 8:32 AM Labels: bleachers, cheap seats, Cleveland Indians, cool stuff, mat laporta, tribe rewards
