When things go right

Sometimes, life gives you a second shot at things, and they go just swimmingly. Today was one of those days, to my immeasurable relief.

Today marked Day 2 of singing the national anthem at the Taiwanese All-Star Series! As I mentioned yesterday, the pressure was kind of on since we sucked before; beyond that, today marked the last of the 5 games in the series. In other words, today was our last chance to redeem ourselves as not-too-horrible singers who just had an off day before.

Fortunately, I wasn't the only person who had come to this conclusion, and those with the power to do so took steps to fix the problems we had yesterday. In other words, we actually used our lined-up time to practice, novel thought, and we practiced with a leader, one of the people with an earpiece. Furthermore, said leader actually turned to face us so that we could follow his lips, rather than the echoes of his voices reaching us far too late to do any good whatsoever.

And the results of all this logical-and-not-too-difficult thinking were encouraging: when it came to the actual singing, our voices were neatly corralled into a single strain of song, and that song was almost perfectly aligned with the music everyone else heard. It was absurd and more than a little difficult to follow someone's lips when you can also hear his voice several seconds behind, singing with what sounds like the part of the song you should be on, but it worked!

Our waiting period was infinitely shorter and less eventful, but we did have a false alarm and several quasi-exciting moments. Walking back from the bathroom, I passed a tall, fit black man in a Yankees jersey; turning around I spied the number 24 on his jersey. I smiled at him and ran back to the press room where we were waiting then.

"You guys, who is number 24 for the Yankees?" (Clearly, my MLB knowledge is in desperate need of an update.)

They turned to look at me, and Emily (one of the biggest Yankees fans I've ever met) was quick to the answer: "Robinson Cano."

"Is he a big black guy?" (Really, how did I get into this event?)

"YES!" Emily disappears into the hallway, closely followed by Brittany, Rachel and I--to discover that is was just a Yankee manager who happened to be wearing Cano's jersey number. Oh well.

In the tunnel going in, we once again got to see Screech (Nationals' mascot) and his sidekick, and once again got to see Kaohsiung's mayor--but none of the pictures I took of these instances are even remotely good enough to post on here, thanks to my I'll-just-hold-the-camera-and-click-it-without-looking-when-they-come-past strategy. On the plus side, I got to high-5 all of those people! On the negative, no viable proof of this exists; just half of them walking into my photo frame.

What I did get this time, though, was pictures of the field from as we were leaving!

Then, while walking back to get our stuff, we were halted in the hallway so that the entire Taiwanese team could pass in front of us. So, there's that--at the front of the line, I got to see pretty much everyone just a few feet away.

We soon realized that the tickets they'd given us were for the outfield seats which, while we could live with the location, did not actually exist. No reserved seating in the cheap seats + popular game + trying to find seats late + group of 6 people = nowhere whatsoever to sit. So we improvised and bluffed our way back into the lower level of the stadium, then climbed up till we found a row of empty seats above the first baseline where we could sit.

Then, of course, came the game, which was pretty great--Robinson Cano hit a home run, and the MLB team ended up winning 6-4, cementing their series-long winning streak. We had some yummy food (ENTIRELY different from US baseball food; aside from my Coke, I had fried chicken and fries eaten out of paper bags using a wooden skewer and an iced tea--and those were way on the tame side of the food stand offerings in the foyer), bought some merchandise (official T-shirts, and a Mariners hat for me, since I somehow left Seattle without buying one...), and enjoyed the game.

Then, as the last inning came to a close, came the real excitement.

The KAS adult leaders had told us to meet them down on the field level after the game for a chance to meet the players; Red Sox player Josh Reddick's dad had spent about an hour chatting with them before the game, and had promised to see what he could do about getting us in to meet people.

Well, that never happened. BUT, as we stood along the hallway across from the press conference room (and once again, incidentally, were reminded of how annoying high schoolers can be in important situations), along came Robinson Cano for his press conference! Hearts stopped all along our line, and he waved to Emily before going into the room and leaving us to anxiously await his return while griping about the photographers and others who were blocking our view through the windows.

This is not zoomed in at all.

Eventually he emerged, along with the World Series-winning coach of the San Francisco Giants (who unfortunately eluded our cameras in our obsession with the major league superstar mere feet away), and announced that he would sign autographs for five minutes. His managers and security personnel told us, anyway, and asked us to form a line.

Let's see. Take over-excitable high schoolers in Taiwan, add a celebrity and the chance to meet said celebrity, and then ask them to form a single file line. Yeah, that turned out exactly as well as you would expect it to.

Into the press, though, Mr. Cano's dad, Jose Cano (who used to play pro baseball in Taiwan), came walking and selecting people to come to the front of the line. He was looking for kids initially, then grabbed Emily: "come," then me: "stay," then Rachel: "come," then one of the high schoolers standing nearby: "definitely come." And I regretted that I had left my Mariners hat upon my head.

Eventually I did make it to the front of the line, though, and he neatly signed my baseball and handed it back to the security guard to his right, who then passed it back to me. I stared down at my hand for a second, then realized I was still less than five feet from him and whipped out my camera.

We turned to leave, abandoning the possibility of KAS connections eventually coming through because, really, who could top Cano?

And that's when I discovered JUST how amazing our group's interaction with Cano had been.

Emily was wearing a hat. Emily had not been wearing a hat when she entered the stadium. Nor had she purchased one from the hawkers upstairs. No, the hat she was wearing was Robinson Cano's hat.

As we left, she explained: after she had gotten her shirt signed (which itself happened after he went to sign the Yankees jersey she was wearing and stopped when he realized that it was Jeter's, not his), she turned to go, and felt something alighting on her head. She turned around and he nodded to her, hatless. There were tears in her eyes as we left, and we spent a good portion of the ride home asking her to tell us more details, and passing it around before she returned it, probably never to leave again, to her head.

Plenty of people can claim to have Cano's autograph. But how many can claim to have the hat he used in the final game of the Taiwan All-Star Series, in which he hit a home run? That would be one: Emily.

We returned home with our prizes, still beyond jazzed at our wonderful day.

"Once in a lifetime" can't quite contain the events of today, especially when held in conjunction with the events of yesterday. To be honest, it can't contain any of the events of this year for me. They just spill over, one into the next, and create a world which I really can't believe I'm living in. I am truly blessed; every day I live here in Taiwan reminds of this truth. Especially days when things just go right.

An MLB sort of day...

It's a Saturday, but I set my alarm for this morning with not the slightest bit of resentment. There were two reasons for this: I didn't actually have to get up too early, and I was getting up so that I could go sing the American national anthem at the Taiwan MLB All-Star game.

Rachel, Brittany and I set out earlier than the others, in the hope of getting to see batting practice. We arrived at the stadium to discover, however, that it was cancelled. We further learned that we were the first of our group to get there, so it took a bit of cajoling to get in at all.

Once we (and by we, I mean Brittany and Rachel--I'm still utterly useless) talked one lady with an official pass into letting us in, she whisked us along the corridors behind the Taiwanese team's dugout, past multiple security guards and a barrier to a waiting area, where the dancers who were going to perform before us were eating lunch.

Meanwhile, their costumes were busy being creepy in the corner

And there we sat. For a good 45 minutes or so. We chatted, Brittany and Rachel listened to music on their iPods, I played sudoku on my phone. If it hadn't been for the numerous security personnel we passed on our way in, we would have been forging towards the MLB dugouts on the other side, but from what we could tell, they were letting NO one back there other than the players and staff. Shoot.

Eventually, the other Fulbrighters (Samia, Lydia, Emily, and Fonda) showed up, and we learned that the rest of the group had since arrived and were waiting in the press conference room. So we went there, and picked up our Kaohsiung American School shirts, since it had been decided that we should all match, despite the fact that we were NOT actually from KAS. We then got kicked out of the press conference room and headed back for the green room, from which we were promptly excised so that we could line up, a full hour early, in the non-air-conditioned hallway.

And that's when they began: the high school memories. And not the warm, fuzzy memories of fantastic jokes with friends. No, more like "OK guys, be SERIOUS from this point on!" "We have an extra person in row 4--everyone in row 4 raise your hands!" (a few seconds pass in which a few people didn't hear the speaker) "Come on, you guys!" "Put away the cameras and just stand still!" All direct quotes, and I could go on. The point being: I had forgotten how little respect high school students get, and how little they even deserve, in many cases.

I hadn't realized how used to getting treated like an adult I had become, and going backwards was less than pleasant--especially as it involved standing motionless in a crowded, hot hallway for an extended period of time, lest we wander off or somehow forget where we were supposed to stand. (Which, it should be noted, some of the high schoolers did, notwithstanding the fact that we weren't allowed to move.)

But I did manage to get some photos. As I told the nice older gentleman standing next to me who identified himself as a trialing spouse of one of the KAS teachers, and a Texan, I don't go to this school! (As it turned out, that was a necessary distinction to make: he guessed I was a senior in high school.)

So close and yet so far...

Standing and waiting and standing and waiting...

Eventually, we moved our lines down the hallway, and for a minute I was excited that we might be venturing into MLB area, but no such luck. No, we were just moving into the entryway near home plate, where we would be singing. We did pass a few Taiwanese players in the hallway, though--number 32 and number 6, if you know your players--but no luck on venturing into American territory. Instead, we still had a good 20 minutes of waiting ahead of us, but now we had to do it in an even more confined space, pressing four lines into the space that previously held two so as to allow people to pass.

On the fun side of things, the people passing us to get onto the field included one MLB player (missed who it was, just registered that he was white and in a baseball uniform), the 90- and 94-year-old Taiwanese ex-pro-baseball players who were going to throw the first pitches of the game, and the Washington Nationals' mascot. So that was cool.

Fonda wasn't in the ranks, so she got some good shots from the front of the queue 

There it is.

Mascot and the Taiwanese team!

Once we were good and sweaty, we finally filed onto the field for the big moment. We were standing on the 3rd base side of home plate, facing the audience, which looked pretty pitiful behind the plate but which was actually pretty full, considering the outfield seating pictured above and later shots I saw on TV of the rest of the stands.

Oh, and the MLB team was standing right behind us, maybe 15 feet away. Right behind us! Did I mention we were not allowed to turn around? Torturous. But, again, Fonda to the rescue with the pictures!

Then came the singing. IF, that is, you could call it that...

We were set up to fail, really. Though the KAS kids had practiced for a while at school, apparently, we combined forces with them just yesterday, at which point we got a grand total of two run-throughs. Then, because all things must be symmetrical and aesthetically pleasing here, we had to have 40 people; yesterday we had just 28 or so, so KAS scavenged among their students and staff to come up with the remainder. As a result, today we had roughly 12 people who had never practiced the song at all.

Then there were the electronic issues. They gave us two mikes, and were told to follow those who had the mikes, because they also had earpieces to hear where we actually were in the song, rather than listening to the slightly-delayed music radiating down to us from the stadium speakers. There were several problems with this: 1) there were 2 'leaders,' who were not even remotely synched with each other, 2) one of the earpieces wasn't functioning fully, 3) the only way we could follow the mic'd people was by following their mic'd voices, ie those coming over the stadium speakers. As a result, we had roughly 3 groups singing their own unique version at any given point in time. It was disastrous.

I have never understood so clearly why EVERY MUSICIAN EVER ALWAYS has earpieces in at all times, or even why, in smaller settings, a personal amp is not enough to create cohesion. If only we could all have earpieces, we might have been synched, and then things would have been fine--our singing was okay, it was just our inability to sing as a group which spelled our downfall.

Oh well. We'll try again tomorrow, and there's really nowhere to go but up, right?

After the singing, we filed back out, laughed at ourselves, and most of us headed home.  But first, of course, a picture.

Well, I've got to go now to set my alarm for tomorrow morning. After all, the second time's the charm, right? And who knows, maybe we'll be more successful then in finagling our way into meeting the MLB players. All problems aside, I still have no complaints whatsoever about getting to sing the national anthem at an MLB game here in Taiwan.

Kaohsiung in song

First of all, I'd just like to point out that this is my hundredth consecutive post on this blog. And, while the perfectionist in me would like to pour hours and hours of time into it so that it does not suck, I'm fairly certain that a) none of you really care; b) I've killed any chances of it being epic by simply mentioning that this is my 100th post; and c) I do actually care about getting some sleep tonight.

And not without reason: tomorrow, I will sing the American national anthem at a MLB game. Not alone, of course, and not in America, but STILL: tomorrow myself, 5 other Fulbrighters, and a group of high school students from the Kaohsiung American school will sing the American national anthem a the Taiwanese MLB All-Star Game.

So, yeah, we'll be on international TV.

Today, though, was just practice, which essentially entailed the group of us standing in the hot sun in the baseball stadium, waiting our turn to run-through the song a couple times. That, and taking jumping pictures.

Umm, I think we have a problem here...

Love the facial expressions...and we're getting closer!

Win!

Annnd epic win!

But I'll have plenty to write about on that account tomorrow and Sunday, after we've actually done more than a run-through followed by a long speech by the mayor, who came for the performance.

So, to rewind a bit: this morning, my 5th and 6th graders had a field trip! And I, naturally, went with them. It was a short affair; we walked the five or so blocks to our destination, and the whole trip took about an hour and a half. But it was fun! We went to Qing-Shan's original building, which has since been converted into a government factory which manufactures clothes for Taiwanese soldiers.

We meandered around the old complex, the kids getting important tidbits of information from the Director of Academic Affairs, in Chinese, while I savored the scenery and absorbed the occasional paraphrase by Patty. The complex was actually quite picturesque.

When we went inside for the actual tour, I found myself wondering who would wear the clothes, and about the home lives of the workers--I had been told that a good number of my students' parents work here, and I wondered which ones they were? No way to tell--when they saw me trailing along at the tail end of the procession, their reactions were universally gasps and occasionally a proffered English phrase like "Hello!"

Our procession.

So that was our field trip.

Fast forwarding a bit, past the MLB practice, song came into my life a second time today, at Zhong Shan Da Shue's (中山大學) 13th annual "Singing Contest in Chinese & Taiwanese for the Foreign Students." In other words, glorified karaoke.

Here's how that went down: some people sucked. Like really, really sucked. The first guy to lead off was one of those, which I appreciated as a boost to everyone's confidence. Then there were a few people who were okay, and a few who were absolutely fantastic and need a record label to notice them now.

That would be this guy. He also needs to stop wearing v-neck shirts now, but I won't quibble.

One group even dressed up in costume and did a comedic bit, which was pretty great.

And then there was us.

At the last second, Tiffiany had to leave because she had a bus to Kenting to catch for her birthday weekend (because sometimes life is just rough, you know?), and so our teacher recruited some of her other students, a group of French guys, to help us sing our song.

Yeah...that did not go so smoothly.

The thing is, they knew the chorus of the song, but that was about it. Not that we were too much better--we had our lyrics sheets in hand--but we had at least practiced it; knew what we were doing and had agreed weeks in advance to standing in front of a crowd and singing this particular song. (I blogged about it clear back in the beginning of October.)

So here's what ended up happening: the four of us who had prepared stood on one side of the stage, intermittently singing and laughing at ourselves, with a single microphone pointed, not at any of our mouths, but at a generalized point in the middle. I'm fairly certain no one could hear us.

On the other side of the stage stood the French guys, leading the crowd in clapping (clapping??? For Wode Bao Bei???) and chiming in whenever the chorus rolled around. And did I mention they had their own mike?

Fortunately, as I mentioned, we were still laughing. A few audience members laughed, too, which was more a relief than anything else. Because what else could we expect from that scenario? As Lydia said while we were leaving, in that sort of situation you have to be either completely amazing, or completely sucky and able to laugh at yourselves. I'd say we probably fell into the latter category.

Nonetheless, We'll be back out on the baseball field tomorrow, singing our hearts out for an international audience: proof that talent matters infinitely less than tenacity and happening to be one of the only Americans in Kaohsiung. And, as this 100th post attests, I have no talent but the talent of staying constant, whether to blogging, to being American, or to singing--poorly.

Lazy Saturday...and Baseball

We did very little of note today, and that was absolutely necessary and absolutely wonderful.

We slept in.
We sat around the apartment.
We read.
We ate.
We watched TV.
We didn't leave our apartment until 4:00pm, when we met Fonda downstairs to go to our first Taiwanese baseball game;

Brother Elephants                                        vs.                                 Lamigo Monkeys.

Now, I've been to a few professional baseball games; I count myself a Mariners fan and I thought I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. I was wrong.

In America, a baseball game is pretty straightforward: everyone pays for a ticket, goes in, gets searched on the way in to make sure you don't have anything dangerous like *gasp* bottled water (the only danger, of course, being a cut in the stadium's concessions revenue), and then sit down in whichever section your ticket places you, depending on what gigantic sum of money you decided to lay down, and watch the game. Occasionally, a digitized cheer will start up; a few times in the game you'll be prompted to 'turn your attention to the Jumbotron' for a special announcement or prearranged video game; as each player comes up, his own theme music will play. Other than that, you're pretty much left to your own devices.

Not so in Taiwan. First of all, tickets for the outer stadium are free; a seat in the inner stadium sets costs the paltry sum of $300NT, or about $10US. Outside food is a-ok (I enjoyed some tasty pizza and Taiwanese style tea while I watched); there's no screening process; and once you get there, you discover that the entire stadium is split down the middle, with each team's fans sitting above their own dugout.

And there's good reason for this.

Each team has its own cheering section (these are NOT necessarily your typical cheerleaders; ours wore matching yellow jerseys and long shorts, while the Monkeys's wore skanky outfits the likes of which haven't been seen in professional sports arenas in America) and its own band, the only requisite instrument of which seems to be a large bass drum, in addition to a microphone. And all of this lends itself to the single most distinctive feature of Taiwanese baseball: the cheering.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone (ourselves included) comes to the game equipped with large plastic cones in their team's color--for us, yellow--and for the length of the game, these cones serve as surrogate hands/mouths/vuvuzelas, and are in pretty much constant use.

This is where the seating arrangements, drum, and microphone come in: for the ENTIRE LENGTH OF THE GAME, if your team is playing, you're making noise, led by the drum, the cheerleaders, and a man with a microphone and a seemingly boundless store of energy and little ditties with which to fill blank space, including such classics as "Popeye the Sailor Man." It's insane. It's amazing. And it would revitalize American baseball if we could get it to catch on here. Allow me to illustrate:

This video was not taken at any particularly exciting moment in the game; this is just how things were. It actually got MUCH louder and more raucous at exciting moments, like when the catcher dropped the ball and an Elephant dove in from third to score. I loved it!

The game was an absolute blow-out; we left in the middle of the 9th inning, before the Monkeys's last at-bat, but the score was 18-3 Elephants; I'm pretty sure there's no coming back from that.

It was an amazing day, despite the 3 bug bites I got while cheering on the Elephants--a little itching is totally worth it.